People in this chapter: (Iris Hallengoth), ('Giant's Buster' Tormond), (Hart).

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Chapter 040: (Giant Buster)

The August sun was like a fireball, the sky was bright, and the scorching sun was so hot that the ground was smoking.

Sweaty Iris, wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Bearded," he asked, pausing and turning, "what have you been following me for?"

"To protect you, of course. "What do you think I'm doing with you?" said quietly, "What do you think I'm doing with you?" he didn't seem to mind that he was giving himself an extra title to the bearded man.

Iris muttered, "I'm safe in the castle and don't need your protection." He didn't like the lovely, fat Virgian to follow him, just because they compared him to a girl.

"Not necessarily, boy," seemed to be mixed with helplessness in Tormond's majestic voice. "Otherwise, why would Lord Eddard order the Giant Buster to be your bodyguard, and no one else?"

"I don't know. Iris scratched his hair, hesitated, and then asked slowly, "Is someone trying to hurt me?" and that was the only reason he could come up with.

Standing in front of him, the short, fat Virginian was only half a head taller than himself. But what Iris couldn't figure out was why the soldiers would give him the resounding nickname 'Giant's Buster', could it be that this short, bearded man had ever defeated the intrepid little giant?

"You can know nothing, you don't know anything," Tormond, with his black beard, told him, "but when it happens, you have to learn to deal with it calmly." ”

"Can't you tell me now?" Iris retorted unconvinced. He observed that the Vigia was nothing special except that he was carrying a longbow and a few arrows on his back, a short sword on his belt, and a few throwing axes.

"There are some things that you can't say easily, you have to think about them with your own heart. Tormund replied in a low voice with a resolute tone.

Iris doesn't like riddles, which makes him look like a fool who has been kept in the dark. "Can you tell me where the kitchen is?" he asked, slightly embarrassed.

"In the castle," Tormund replied nonchalantly. "You can find it yourself. ”

"The castle is so big, how can I find it in a while?" Iris had enough of the suggestion. No one in my father's castle dared to speak to me like that, never before. He was thinking nonsense again.

"Boy, you have to use your brain, you can't rely on others for everything. Tormund replied unceremoniously. "Remember, you're just an ordinary knight's squire in the castle now, not a pampered noble young master. ”

"Bearded, I don't need you to teach me what to do," Iris glared at him unconvinced, and said stubbornly, "I can find the kitchen without anyone's help." ”

"Very well, that's what a man should be. ”

Iris thought back to the kitchen structure of his father's castle, and then looked around the buildings around the castle, but the houses here looked the same. This little castle was a world away from my father's imposing castle.

At this moment, a wisp of white smoke rose from the sky above the castle. The chimney puffed out billowing white smoke, like a giant white goose feather pen that was reading in the air.

Iris's gradually lost mood suddenly became cheerful again. He briskly ran in the direction of the black smoke, and then at the back of the main castle he found a separate building, with a square chimney emitting wisps of black smoke at the top of the house.

He could be sure it was the kitchen. "Little master," Hart said as he walked behind him with a bundle of firewood. "What are you doing here, are you coming to me?"

Iris shook her head. "I'm here to work. ”

"What's the job?" said Hart, frowning and confused, "This is the kitchen, what are you doing here?"

"Carry water, chop wood, or anything. Iris blurted out. "Even though I've never done any of these jobs," he told himself, "but if Hart can do it well, so can I." 」

"Young master, I don't need you to help me work. Hart refused.

"Hart," Iris emphasized, "I'm not here to do your job, I'm here to do my job. ”

"Are you kidding me?" Hart chuckled. "The work of the kitchen is the job of us servants, not the place where you should be. ”

"I'm not kidding you," Iris re-emphasized, "Hart, can you tell me where the bucket is?"

"No, no, you can't do the dirty work that these servants do. Without waiting for the other party to speak, Hart continued, "Didn't Master Edward say that he wanted to teach you knightly skills this morning?"

"Hart, I'm a squire now, so it's right to work for the castle's master. Iris patiently explained to his servant. "Besides, I do these jobs to be able to build my arm strength and physical strength. ”

"Who told you all this, Master Edward?" Hart didn't believe the little master would say such a thing.

"That's what I said. Tormund interjected.

When that big, unique voice came to his ears, Hart noticed the presence of another person. He turned his head to look at the middle-aged man in front of him, who was half a head shorter than him, and he knew who the other party was—the commander of the Black Hawk Infantry Legion, Tormon Thor, the 'Growler'.

"Your Excellency, do you need me to warn you, Iris—" Hart's respectful tone was mixed with a warning tone.

"No, I know what you want to say. "I just told him what to do, I didn't force him to do anything, it was his own choice." ”

Iris didn't want to start another because he had just finished an argument. "Hart, go about your business!" he said in a firm tone, "Leave me alone, I can take care of myself." ”

"Yes. Hart muttered, sounding dissatisfied, "Since you insist, I have no choice but to agree." As he spoke, he walked into the kitchen with the firewood in his arms.

"This servant is special," Tormund concluded. "He's very loyal and has a special affection for you. "In conversations with others, the Dwarven King is good at observing the other person's demeanor and subtle changes, and judging whether the person is dangerous or not.

"We are friends. Iris replied with a delighted face. He had always treated Hart as his best friend, not a servant, though most of the time Hart acted as a servant.

Tormund looked meaningfully at the boy in front of him, and he realized that this innocent boy had a very different personality from Lord Eddard. He deliberately reminded, "You'd better not tell anyone else." ”

Is there a friendship between the master and the servant? In the eyes of the nobles, there is no relationship, only a relationship of respect and inferiority, and the master gives orders, and as a servant, he must obey orders unconditionally. Especially among the nobles of the Swadia kingdom, befriending a servant was an act that other nobles spurned.

"For what?" Iris blurted out.

"Because you are people from two worldly realms, it is impossible for you to be friends. He pointed sharply. The gaze on the flickering black face became deep, like a deep ocean in the distance.

"We are obviously from the only world," Iris retorted with a straight face, and asked deliberately, "Why do you have to say that there are two worlds?"

Tormund frowned at the boy's answer, a little unpleasant. "Boy," he asked aloud, "do you really not understand, or do you deliberately pretend not to understand?

On his swarthy face, a pair of slitted eyes, his eyes were shining, sharp, and staring at him majestically, as if he wanted to see him through. Iris found that this man's eyes were so powerful, like a bottomless pit that could capture people's souls, and anyone who touched this vision would fall into it.

"Then who can be my friend?" Iris asked him with a blank face, "are you? or Baron Royce?

"Baron Royce and I won't be your friends either, but one day we will be your vassals and subordinates. His face did not change, and he replied in a deeper voice, "You will not have friends, and even if you do, they will only be temporarily tied together because of power and interests." Do you understand?"

"I don't believe you. Iris's teeth clenched, and he said stubbornly, "I'll have friends, and real friends." ”

"I'm looking forward to that day. Tormund looked at him and said, "But now it's time for you to get to work." ”

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A poem: The poetry of the Land of Ashes, what a wonderful love, the loyal and blind soul, completely locked together, there is not a single lie, only happiness, sorrow, hope and truth, woven together, from the first kiss to the last breath, the first and the last whisper of love.

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