What are people looking for in this day and age?

Is it to sit on a chariot and chase the power of the crown, to lean on a mountain made of gold coins to watch time pass by, or to stand in a church revered by thousands of people and become God's messenger on earth?

Everyone has their own ideals, but most people's ideals have been crushed by reality.

Wouldn't it be ridiculous to think about any ideals if you haven't even achieved food and clothing?

The poor die for money, and the weak are wiped out by the strong, so can we turn everything upside down and make the world tremble!

"The sword is for slashing, for killing, for lethality!" Shabak rushed towards Vikos with his two-handed sword, his rapid running speed and the tremendous force of his feet acting backwards kicked up puffs of smoke and dust behind him.

The nearly five-kilogram giant sword was clenched by Shabak with both hands and raised above his head, the blazing sunlight made the sharpness of the blade even more terrifying, and the cold light gave birth to a debut essence at the blade. "Choke!" Like lightning falling from the sky, the greatsword slashed through the air, making an uncomfortable noise for the eardrums, and slashed straight at Vikos.

The great sword that descended from the momentum, along with the amazing physical explosiveness of Shabak, bit on Vicos's cavalry shield like a lion's sharp teeth. The wooden body of the iris shield collided with the giant sword, making a loud bang, and the hard and elastic kis shield xylem could not withstand the huge power of the giant sword as if it was about to collapse.

The blade of the giant sword was deeply embedded in the shield, biting the shield body fiercely, and it slid from top to bottom, pulling out a beautiful line.

A corner of the camp in the light of the sun. A strange scene appeared.

A knight-like warrior of near middle age, dressed in chain mail. Holding a giant sword in both hands, it pressed against a young man's iris. The young man wears a shield on his left arm and supports the ground with his right hand. The one-handed sword that was originally in his right hand fell to the side, grabbed the ground fiercely with his palm, and fell to the ground with his body tilted and half lying on the ground.

Sweat soaked Vikos's hair and gathered into strands of drooping hair, the ends of which bent slightly upwards as the sweat flowed downward. It could be seen that Vicos's imfully developed body was about to be unable to support the pressure from the greatsword.

"Boom!" Shabak's eyes narrowed slightly, and with a sudden force, Vicos instantly felt an infinite pressure coming from his sword, his body that should be considered stronger than his peers. Unable to withstand the huge force, he fell to the ground with a bang, stirring up a formation of sand and stones on the ground.

"Now. The dusty wind was suddenly sliced open, and the sharp blade of the sword was next to Vicos's neck, straight into the ground, "You're already a corpse." Shabak lowered his head, stared into Vicos' eyes, and said in a flat tone.

"Whew, whew!" Vicos gasped, his breath burning as hot as the midsummer sun. His eyes looked at Shabak like a falcon. It was as if you wanted to look straight into his heart and see through what his heart was.

"If I were your enemy, you should have gone to heaven and confessed your sins to God by now. Shabak narrowed his eyes tilted slightly upward. "Repent of what you've done in your short life, and see if God can give you a coupon!" Shabak tilted his greatsword toward Vikos's neck, as if suddenly remembering something. against his slightly delicate skin.

The delicate two-handed sword was repeatedly beaten by a skilled craftsman. Even though the blade has been rolled up after years of fighting, it still has a sharp glow. Therefore. Even if it was against Vicos's neck, a red thread was cut, and blood slowly oozed outward.

"I will wait for you, in hell, not in heaven. Vicos pinched the blade of the sword against his neck with his fingers, and his face, flushed from the fierce battle, showed no signs of panic. Because in Vicos's memory, Shabak's treatment of himself so strictly is already similar to the ordinary and frequent occurrence of a dispute between a certain viscount and a certain baron in this era.

In this world, there are always people who do not know their identity, and their parents may have died in the war, or they have been abandoned by their parents in front of churches or villages. Because their families could not afford to raise another child, they could only pray for God's care for their newborn people in this way.

Vikos was an abandoned orphan who found this little life when the priest of the village of Ekachi opened the wooden door of the chapel in early spring. Speckled traces of sunlight in the forest, through the gaps in the green leaves, dotted the baby's body. No one knows where the child came from, except that in the bedding tightly wrapped around him was a roll of parchment written with Vicos Metoglio written in the plant pigment oozing from the Trina tree. The blue handwriting is as beautiful as the flowing water of a stream. It can be seen that this baby has a noble birth, and in this era, those who can write, except for the pastor of the church, are specialized in the profession of writing, such as clerks and scribes. Most of the nobles also did not know how to write, because they did not have to, nor did they need to write, and the sword and power were what they were willing to know. The only remaining literate people were the true nobles or the mystical magicians, warlocks, and learned scholars.

The Trina tree is a plant that grows north of the Vantelli Mountains, and although it is not rare, it can only be planted north of the Vantelli Mountains and cannot be transplanted elsewhere. To the north of Mount Vantari, which was part of the Mosanlana Orc Empire, the hostile forms of the races determined that the supply of this pigment was scarce. The blue color of Trina ink, with its subtle violet fragrance, made it highly sought after among all races, so Trina ink became a status symbol that was not available to the non-powerful.

In this way, the mysterious Vicos Tommelio became an orphan adopted by the church of the village of Ecachi and a squire of the Knight Chabak Richter, the owner of the village of Ecachi.

This was not the first time he had seen Shabak look at him with a murderous look, Vicos calmly looked at Shabak with slightly silver hair above, not at all worried about his words that did not fit the identity of the squire. While a knight can behave in a manner that does not conform to the etiquette of his attendants. punished, but Shabak uncharacteristically never attacked Vicos for such a faux pas. After all, he is also a person who does not behave very well and does not conform to etiquette.

"Woo-woo!!" suddenly came the sound of a rapid horn in the center of the camp, a rhythm of two long notes and one short note. The message to the crowd was to assemble in front of the battle in a quarter of an hour. It is not the sound of a quick battle or an enemy attack, but an order to assemble when two opposing troops send each other to negotiate with each other.

Shabak raised his head and looked at the enemy's position in the distance, and although he could only see the horizon bordering heaven and earth, his gaze seemed to be able to see through thousands of miles and see the traces of the enemy's camp.

He shook his sword-wielding right arm and drew the greatsword, which quickly pulled out the wind it carried. A red mark appeared on Vicos' handsome face.

"Bang. With his two-handed sword, which was nearly 1.5 meters long, Shabak picked the handguard sword that had fallen to the ground at Vikos. His slightly cloudy brown eyes looked deeply at Vicos, who was lying on the ground and reached out to grab the handguard, his upper and lower lips slightly opened, as if to say something, but turned his face away again, and left without saying a word.

Vicos looked at the gradually blurring figure of the knight, looked at Shabak wearing chain mail and carrying a giant sword, and always felt that the summer sun was too scorching. It was too dazzling, so that he couldn't see things in front of him clearly.

Ironak was anchored at the camp's station with a horse as dark as his hair, his black eyes looking around for his companion Vikos.

Just two hours ago. Vicos was called to a corner of the camp by his master, Shabak, to warm up before the battle. But the war was so sudden, and he was doing nothing on the ground to wipe his long sword with a sword test stone. Startled by the sudden sound of the preparatory bell. And his duty is to take care of the horses for his master.

But Shabak is an eccentric knight who does not allow anyone to touch his weapons against his beloved Pisavres. Pisavres, a tall, snow-white Delos horse. It is said that he accompanied Shabak in his lifelong campaigns, and from his first day as a knight, he was inseparable from Shabak. Whoever touches something he loves will be scolded at least and lashed out for a while. Ironak once rode a Pisafras once when he was a child, which caused Shabak to be whipped with a blunt stick for three hours, and the scarred wound can still be seen in Ironak's back.

Since then, no one has been too intimate with Pisaffles, so Schabac's war horses have always been his own, and Ironak, who is a squire and horse breeder, has been left with only Asr, a steppe horse from Lake Le Mans, to take care of him.

"Ao! Metolio, you're finally here!" Vicos spotted Vicos as soon as he entered the station, Ironk's keen eyes spotted him.

"Asr, Herod!" Asr, who had been meekly lying on the ground and enjoying Ironak's strokes on the head, stood up with a sigh of relief when he saw his master, and jumped up on his front legs, trying to break free from the reins around his neck and run to his master.

"Asr, quiet. Vicos, who came to Ironak's side, reached out and patted Asr on the back, letting it calm his agitation.

Miraculously, Asr seemed to understand Vikos's words, and slowly quieted down, and rubbed his head on Vikos's hand affectionately.

"It's jealous, Vicos. This brute is so obedient to you" One thing Ironak never understood was that Asr was a horse with an extremely violent temperament, which did not at all live up to the reputation of Lake Le Mans as a good horse. But the strange thing is that as soon as Vikos comes, Asr will be like a docile kitten, with Vikos still in command. In other words, just like the centaurs on the Bilübil grassland, they have the ability to make their horses obedient, but Vicos is not like centaurs who can communicate with horses.

Maybe it's God's blessing. Ironak could only comfort himself in this way, because Ironak had an unforgettable experience when he was ten years old, when he rode on Asr under the guidance of Shabak, Asr used all his strength and shook wildly. Ironak, the poor boy, though he was considered very strong among his peers at the time, was thrown down by Asr and almost stepped on the chest. If this really happened, there would not be this more than two meters tall. A dark-skinned squire. Fortunately, Shabak, who was on the side, hugged the young Ironak and rolled to the side in danger. Dodged the fatal blow. But it was from then on that Ironak vowed never to touch Asr again.

A slight smile tugged at Vicos' lips, "I'd rather it be a grumpy horse." He stepped on the stirrup with his left foot and got on the horse, "I don't want it to be a coward who hesitates on the battlefield because of fear." Vicos reached out and took the nose helmet that Ironak had handed him.

"Haha, this rogue horse will definitely not let you be ashamed!!" Ironak laughed a few times, patting Asr's side of the belly with his dusty hand, "His personality is definitely enough for the soul on the other side to drink a pot!"

"Tienack. Vikos hung two spare spears on Asr's waist, "Tonight, I hope to see you come back with your shield." Instead of lying on it to be carried over. He straightened the nail plate that was stuck on the bridge of his nose.

In an ancient country that has been annihilated into history, a wife who sees off her husband on an expedition will say to her the words: "Come back with a shield, or come back from lying on it!"

Such a strong man's passionate words, but from the mouth of a woman, are enough to see how passionate the martial spirit of that country is. In direct proportion to this are the warriors who are still the symbol of heroes on the battlefield even today.

But it is a pity that such a country was finally buried in force precisely because of its own excessive obsession with force. This has to be said to be a great irony. Maybe it's the realistic interpretation of the sentence that those who are good at using swords die under the sword.

"A king sat high on the top of a rocky hill and watched Salami stand upright, and thousands of ships docked at the foot of the hill, and how many more teams were under his command! But where are they at sunset?" Vicos' eyes looked at the distant scenery and sang the famous poem from "Eleud". Then, turn the horse's head and gallop forward. No one knows why he did it all of a sudden.

"Hey, Metolio, what do you mean!" Ironak was confused as he listened to Vicos' chant. He was illiterate, and he didn't even know the simplest letters. Not to mention letting him taste the lengthy poems.

"Don't go so fast, Metolio, you bastard!!" Ironak was about to stop Vikos, but suddenly he noticed something that caught him by surprise, the Lothar hard candy he had pinned to his waist had disappeared, and there was no doubt that Vikos must have taken him by the hand.

Tinak grew up with a penchant for sweet food, so whenever he had the chance to go to town, he would definitely buy some sweets, which he would never tire of, even if they were luxuries. Because for him, it is useless to keep money, as a squire, he eats and lives in the knight's house, and he does not have to run around for any food, and buying and eating sweets has become his interest and hobby.

Whenever he practiced intensely, he would always eat a candy to enjoy the process of melting in his mouth and the wonderful taste of the candy. This piece of Lothar hard candy was originally intended to be eaten after the battle to calm his heart, but unfortunately it was stolen by Vicos.

Since he was a child, Vicos has always liked to take things with him, and although most of them are useless gadgets, he still indulges in such little tricks, which can give him the thrill of succeeding in a prank. Of course, this is not a good habit.

Why, is it still silent? Dumb at all? No, you listen to the ancient heroic souls! Just like the noise of a waterfall in the distance, they replied: "As long as there is a living person!

The sun had slipped from noon perpendicular to the horizon to a cloud in the middle of the curtain. If one were to be in the central square of the city of Mibimia, the jewel of the Ramoses Peninsula, looking at the great clock, which is arguably the greatest invention of our time, the shortest hand would have been at two o'clock in the afternoon. This is the hottest time of the day.

Five kilometers outside the grassy town of Bina, one of Viscount Bussepo's "troops" was lined up. Not...... If a largely peasant army could also be called an army.

"Old Jock, do you say that this time, do we still have good luck to keep us alive? "A young hunter pulls the arrows out of his quiver. One by one, they stuck in the dirt in front of them.

"Haha, if you die. I'm long dead, why don't I die? Because God won't let me, an alcoholic, take such a wonderful thing as wine to heaven. So as not to indulge the angels in it!" said Old Jock, as he reached out and touched his red rosacea.

"If the group of fellows on the other side really want my life......" Leechtendon straightened up, aimed his hunting bow at the unseen distance, pulled it to the full string, and fired an arrow into the air. The bowstring made of the tendons of the hunting bow beast was shaken violently for more than ten seconds by the force of the rebound.

The first line of hunters who hunted beasts of prey in the deep mountains and forests wore simple leather armor with arrows stuck in front of them. Their keen eagle eyes were on the odds that might arise ahead. As soon as the enemy's trail is revealed, they will shoot a deadly kiss within 100 meters. Just like they had done in the forest in the past, only this time they hunted instead of beasts and humans!

A hunter is a warrior by nature, and they have more strength than a farmer called courage, so that they will not be defeated and flee at the first of their own casualties. Because they have been accompanied by bows and arrows since childhood, bows and daggers have replaced hoes as their survival tools that are different from those of farmers. Some good hunters are even more deadly than one of the knights. This is the bounty that the bow and arrow bestow upon them.

Therefore, in the event of war, these hunters are always the first to be drafted into the army, and their proud military skills are exactly what those lords need. So the hunter is about going to the battlefield to kill the enemy. Not as fearful as ordinary peasants, their survival is a sign of their fate.

Behind this army of eighty-two archers were more than three hundred peasants, well...... Gathered into a front.

If. Such loose and unrigorous pre-war preparations are also counted as battle lines.

"Quick, quick, hillbilly!!" the herald wielded his sword. Slapping the peasants who trembled at the imminent face of war.

Peasants, dressed in rudimentary patched clothes, are scrambling to prepare their "weapons". It's not so much that they have weapons in their hands. It's better to say that it's a farm tool. A sickle for cutting wheat, a straw fork for gathering grain, and an axe for cutting wood......

"Pick up your weapons and assemble quickly!!" the herald roared, letting the scrambled peasants find their place in this war, that is, cannon fodder for death!

The peasants, the class living at the bottom of society, were difficult and miserable, and their status was only higher than that of slaves, half-slaves. They did not have land of their own, only arable land leased to them by feudal lords, large and small. When the autumn and summer crops are ripe, fifty percent of their land harvest goes to the local nobles who rule over them, a tenth of it goes to the tithes that the church levies on them, the poor people who are unlikely to be favored by God, and the remaining forty percent is the fruit of a year's hard work.

Therefore, after a family has met its own needs, it will not have much remaining resources to exchange for the items it wants.

During the war years, peasants were forced to stay away from their fields and enlist in the army. If you're lucky, you'll get a few rudimentary weapons, but it's clear that most farmers don't have that luck.

These peasants may have been working in the fields with their hoes yesterday, but today they are facing the enemy in a working position. There is no doubt that these peasants are more willing to flee the battlefield than to fight. When they have the upper hand, the peasants rush forward in a chaotic manner, and in the event of casualties, their already low morale will crumble, like birds in the forest frightened by a dragon, and flee in all directions.

Behind the flanks of these peasants were two pairs of fighting units of foot attendants of sixty men each.

These squires have largely been detached from agricultural production, they do not have to run for their own livelihood, they have followed the local knights since childhood. Learn to use various weapons such as riding spears, spears, one-handed swords, two-handed swords............ And how to harvest life on horseback, of course, provided that they have a horse of their own. They were both the main force of the battlefield between the minor lords and the auxiliary army of the knightly troops, and their preservation was to suppress the battle line and cover for the knights' charge. If they are lucky, they will also be able to obtain a noble position and a fief.

Most of the squires are well equipped. They have iron helmets that protect them from lethal damage to the head from bows and arrows, as well as the decapitation of an enemy with a single sword. The vital parts of the body, such as the heart and joints, have particularly thickened leather armor, and some attendants even have some ingenious chain mail, which has a satisfactory effect on the sword chopping.

Their weapons were more like murderous weapons than those of peasants, sharp one-handed swords or man-high spears with iron tips. After parrying an enemy with a shield, stab them in the chest with your sword to stain the battlefield red with their blood, or preemptively slash them into the knee to incapacitate them and then let death strike. These are the favorite ways of fighting for the squires, and they are the lessons learned from centuries of war, and while they may not be loved by God, they undoubtedly expose the aggressive soul of the people. (To be continued......)