The cowhide boots on Rigga's feet slid through the mud and walked forward with the strange sound of squeezing the wet gooey fluid. The grass on the ground was also woken up by footsteps, and made a sparse shaking and rubbing sound when it was pulled away or stepped on. The barbarians quickly dropped their water-soaked dirty boots on the ground, pulled two snow badger skins from their fur cloaks, and re-wrapped the soles of their feet. The soft fur will make his footsteps lower and make it safer and more discreet to approach enemies.

Closing their eyes in the frightening darkness of hell, hunters rely on their sense of smell as if they were hunting in an ice field after a blizzard. The cavalry in the watchtower did not die in vain, and the barbarians could be sure that there were wounded among the Harrisons. Although the night breeze was washing away the blood in the air, Riga could still spot the smell of blood mixed with the stinking muddy water on the muddy ground. From time to time, his leather-gloved left hand pressed into the wet mud, and Rriga moved forward on the ground like a beast. He held the spear's right hand to the side, making sure that the spearhead, which had been wrapped in mud, would not leak out of the reflection.

The closer he got to the woods, the more certain Riga was of the enemy's position. The thick, rotting leaves piled up on the ground made it extremely difficult to hide the drops of blood, so the Quaid came across the wounded man after a dozen breaths.

He was leaning against the root of a stout poplar, clutching a weapon with a head that curved like an eagle's beak. The darkness made it impossible for the hunter to see his movements, but the thick, even stinking gore made him know where the Harrison were.

The barbarian hesitated for a few breaths before slowly approaching, for he didn't hear the wounded man's long gasps coming from his throat. The wounded can't stand that long, so this enemy must have been kissed on the forehead by Avne. Taking two more determined steps forward, the Quaid reached out his spear and poked at the corpse, making sure there were no traps and approached it.

The Harrison man's starlit weapon was stuck in front of him, and Rriga touched his body and knew the Ranger's wounds. He was pierced through the abdomen with a long sword, though he was spared from being torn open by dodging in time. But the intestines were churned into a terrible mass like an earthworm. The barbarians touched the enemy again, and only left the corpse after making sure that only a piece of leather armor and a dagger remained. He needs to keep up with the enemy ranks and catch as many living Harrisons as possible.

Rriga believed that the Grand Guild of Dragoninus would reward the soldier who brought victory and capture to himself first, even if it was a barbarian.

A strong brown bear leaped onto the forest floor, and Riga sniffed vigorously in the rotting leaves before orienting the Harrisons. They smelled of sweat and rancid like dead Rangers, and their mud-stained boots left flakes on the leaves.

Follow the path in this forest to the north. Riga was finally about to shake off the deep shadows when he heard a low hoof. Quick-paced horses with shoes on their shoes run fast, so the sound of a sturdy horse stepping on the mud can be heard by the hunter. The Harrison Rangers spoke a few words in a language the hunters didn't understand, and then a few torches burned with the crisp clatter of flints.

The flickering flames in the shadows of the woods created a regular patch of light like a fence, allowing the barbarians, who had long been lying in the dark, to sweep everything into view. There were more than twenty sturdy and fast-paced horses, but there were less than a dozen cavalry, including the captive who was tied and thrown across his horse. The dragon inus cavalry was now lying on his horse in terror, bleeding from his shoulder from the crossbow arrow.

A Harrison with a long swinging feather on his helmet whispered, and then two of the soldiers in blue coats stepped forward and bandaged the prisoner's wounds with a ball of linen. They didn't pull out their crossbow arrows or do anything more formal, so the barbarians knew they didn't want the cavalry alive. Bandaging just prevents accidents before the message is asked for on horseback.

The Harrison had prepared in less than thirty breaths, so when all the Rangers stepped onto their horses, Riga knew it was time to strike. He stood out of the shadows, raised his spear in his right hand, and threw it with brute force between his arms and waist. The mud on the steel spearhead was wiped away by the friction of the air, and it pierced one of the Harrison horsemen with a scream that tore through the night wind. The Rangers, who also made it easier to move, wore only a piece of leather armor, so the weapons thrown by the majestic brute force pierced through the leather and flesh like parchment, pinning them to the ground with great force and twitching.

"There's an enemy! let's go!" the helmet-and-feathered officer Harrison immediately growled, and a group of Rangers followed him to retreat further north. Although the Quaids could not hear Harrison. But the barbarian, who had been born to fight, leaped and rushed down until he pulled another horseman off his horse with his legs that turned desperately like wheels.

The soldier with the torch seemed to have not expected to be attacked. So he fell backwards in embarrassment, his back and helmet falling into the foul-smelling, rotten mud. His boots still hooked into the stirrups, so the frightened horses ran faster, so that the soldiers who were dragged forward couldn't help but cry out for help in strange language. One of the horsemen who had rushed ahead tightened the reins and looked back, but when he saw the tall figure approaching with a scimitar, the Harrison soldier immediately kicked the horse's hips with the spurs on his boots and quickly left. Their task was to bring back the prisoners for the general. At the same time, he believed that his companions would be silent.

"Let's go. Bowman was finished, and behind him was a tall, strong samurai. The soldier shouted to the officer. But the ranger, with his long feathered helmet, stopped, and quickly took out a horned bow and arrows from his horse. "Then Bauerman has to keep his mouth shut, I only believe in the dead. He took two breaths before releasing the bowstring, causing Riga to watch in amazement as the embarrassed soldier was shot in the ribs.

"O Furyman. Please let this damn bastard live. The barbarian shouted and pounced on the Harrison cavalry, who was dragged forward like a dead dog, until he angrily crushed the horse to the ground.

"You can't die, you're worth at least a hundred steel coins. Riga dragged the purple-faced, suffocating foe to the ground, only to find that the reward was shining away from him. The arrow hit the cavalryman's lungs, so the poor man, who was about to be killed by his own men, twitched and touched the fingertips of the goddess of death, unless there was a priest who believed in the true god around.

"May God curse you and your murderer. Seeing the cavalry's grim face stop breathing, Riga could only sigh helplessly and cut off the heads of two enemies with his scimitar. He believes it will also pay for some rewards. The Harrison had left three sturdy horses here, so the hunter tied his bleeding head to the horse's chest and led the other two trophies in the direction of the camp.

The cavalry of the nobles of Dragonus finally began to search around, so when a cavalryman with a torch stepped out of the arbor forest. A dozen nobles immediately surrounded it with their attendants. "Who are you?" asked one of the nobles in fine chain mail, in a disgruntled tone. The knight, who had been disturbed from sleep, was about to find someone to vent his anger, so the barbarian even thought that he would be shot into a sieve in the next moment.

"I'm a Quaid mercenary, and I've just pursued those Harrison cavalry. Riga replied immediately, though his face was covered in stinking black mud and was a little unrecognizable.

"Indeed our people. Sir Martin was no less angry than the knight, so he rode over quickly and was lucky enough to hear the barbarians. "Swear by the name of the dragon god, Rigga. Do the two heads in front of your horse belong to the Harrisons?"

"You'd better find out for yourself. The Quaid blew a recently learned whistle and explained with a smile. "I don't understand them, but these people are dressed in blue, and they sound like the 'blue animals' you talk about. ”

"Oh, shit. Sir cursed as he jumped from his horse. "This poor man must have been pierced in the lungs by you, and then he convulsed himself and lay on the ground and died. You vicious fellow, his face is about to turn purple grapes. ”

"Then you should taste the taste of this ripe grape. The barbarian laughed in response to the Legion Leader. "It is true that he died, but he was shot to death by his companions because he was captured alive by me. ”

"Then he was a poor man who was unlucky. May the platinum dragon god let him rest in peace. ”

"Harrison's pagans don't believe in dragon gods. The knight, who had been the first to speak, finally found an opportunity to interject. "If you are from the west, you will worship the god of water, and if you are from the east, you will believe in the god of divine radiance of the Middle-earth Martas. ”

"Wouldn't their priests have scolded and sentenced them to be burned at the stake?" said Sir Martin, who was immediately stunned. "One kingdom, two faiths? sounds incredible. ”

"It's not that hard. The knight cleared his throat gracefully. "Every church acknowledges the existence of the Father of the gods, so we all have a deity of common faith. ”

"And then there was no war, no burning at the stake, no slaves?"

"Ahem, that's obviously impossible. The knight coughed in embarrassment, then fixed his eyes on the hunter as he took off his coat. "The Santa Marta Empire is a vast empire that requires only faith in the Father of the Gods. They conquered most of the continent, only to be torn apart by the Quaid barbarians on the Pamir Ice Sheet. ”

"You are a learned man. I think you should be more of a scholar than a knight. Snooker, Martin, I think you can call me snooker. Sir solemnly made a noble salute.

"Thank you for the compliment. The knight replied with a perfect salute, and then explained in a soft tone. "Actually, a few days ago I was a romantic poet. ”

"Oh, shit. I know who you are!" Sir Martin wailed, clutching his helmet. "The House of Aldington, known for its abundance of poets, the hunters of noblewomen and maidens. ”

PS: Ask for recommendations. (To be continued......)