Two hourglasses after the attack took place, the news of the Harrison attack was recorded in parchment and passed to the Grand Duke of Longinus. The old, gray-haired old warlock was smiling and enjoying the warmth and delicious breakfast of the sun, but the pale yellow paper hastily handed over by the clerk made him as angry as a dragon whose head had been stolen from his treasure.

"Five thousand soldiers!" the old man waved his silver knife and fork as if he were holding a weapon. "That's five thousand Dragoninus soldiers, not five thousand pigs! Otherwise, my soldiers would have eaten a pound of meat at every meal!Even though most of them don't know how to fight, tell me why a group of Harrison Rangers can attack the watchtower and retreat with their captives as easily as they do to the bodies of prostitutes?"

The old earl in charge of the northern camp couldn't help but mutter, but the 'Fire Dragon' cut off his retort as ruthlessly as he did with the fresh beef breast on his plate. "Five thousand! including a few hundred warriors you fed with bread and ham, loyal as hounds and strong as horses, and only to end up watching one barbarian kill two enemies?"

"The barbarians were closer to the watchtower, and the Harrison were cunning and hid in the woods. We didn't expect to be attacked, after all, there were 30,000 of us. "The Count of Congreve stood up at the signal of a group of ministers, and tactfully dissuaded Bustan from justice. The Great War was approaching, and the loyal nobles were extremely reluctant to quarrel in their own camp, or even worse, to split.

Irritable and irritable as a bull in his youth, Grand Duke Longinus had learned to restrain his dissatisfaction as the years passed, so the mighty warlock snorted a few times and focused his attention on the tender, bloody veal breast that he had eaten on his plate. The nobles and ministers stood across the long table until they wriggled their teeth and swallowed a piece of freshly cut meat.

"Give the barbarians a reward of ten steel coins. Grand Duke Sebstan wiped his mouth with a white and soft silk square cloth, and rinsed his mouth with spirits before saying casually. "That's some of the bravest warriors in the North, especially the warriors who can go berserk and defy pain. ”

"But their commissions are just too high. "Count Congreve once again disagreed, as if the purpose of his existence was to remind the 'Dragon's Flame' of carelessness and irritability. "Now there are just over 200 of them. But the amount of commissions and the amount of weapons and armor purchased was already enough to feed half the legion. ”

"I remember that the decree I signed was five hundred. The Grand Duke immediately frowned. "We need more barbarians, we need them to withstand the charge of the 'blue cattle'. ”

"But the finances no longer allow it, and the Count of Lytognis in the north of our country has sent a letter, and the second group of Mars mercenaries and barbarians are rushing here by dirt roads. After all, the unrest in Harusa had made the Fabrek River unnavigable, and I had heard that a group of sailors who had attacked the legionnaires had fled into the river and plundered the supplies we had bought from Chester on several occasions. ”

"Is this the reward for the trust that Lytonius has placed in me?" the flame that had just been extinguished in the heart of the Grand Duke of Sebstein was rekindled. Then he shouted and slammed the glazed porcelain dish on the floor. "I want him to capture those sailors and hang them on the city wall in the name of my family of Dragonus. Also, don't worry about handing over the steel coins to the barbarians, as they will be more proactive in getting them back into our hands. More!"

"Yes, sir. The Count of Congris and the nobles bowed respectfully.

"Then let the peasants begin their march. The Grand Duke stood up and waved his hand, holding a bunch of green-stemmed purple round grapes. "We're going to find the main force of the Harrison as soon as possible. ”

The Grand Duke stared at the nobleman and his ministers as they left the room. But when the two male attendants standing nearby also closed the wooden door and went out, the old but still strong warlock slapped the much-loved maid behind him in the face. "Don't hook up with that pointy-chin squire again, even if it's just eye contact! You belong to me, body and soul, unless you're willing to be the plaything of a bunch of filthy little devils. He stomped on the mass of food in the middle of the plate until he stepped the green leaves and small pieces of bloody beef into the patterned woolen carpet. "Remember to hang the cook on the gallows and whip twenty lashes. I hate cabbage, and you should inform those damn chefs. ”

This huge army soon set out again. And Riga was also rewarded by the Grand Duke in advance. He had scarcely changed into a new dress and cloak, and was about to re-braid, with the help of Gal, when the warlock who had taken him into his cell rode over. "Here you go, barbarian. A reward from His Excellency the Grand Duke. A small gray purse was flung out of the sleeve of the red robe studded with gold thread, and the mysterious spellcaster nodded to the hunter with his chin painted with a few black and cyan magic patterns. "You're good, Quaid. ”

Watching the warlock leave with some incomprehension, Riga picked up his wallet from his arms and shook it, listening to the crisp impact of the steel coin, guessing that he would casually throw it to the clansman next to him. "Go buy a few barrels of ale! The more you can drink, the more powerful Quaid is. ”

"Hirag is on top, Riga, you are the darling of the gods. A few barbarians couldn't help but let out a cheer, and then they ran and flocked in the direction of the town. The quartermasters lived in houses in the town. And as long as you have money, these guys can get you everything, even the prostitutes who are not allowed to follow the army. The Dragoninus gave the barbarians a high commission, but none of the Quaids left a few. They spend most of their wealth on liquor and fun, because the warriors think they can get more from their enemies' heads in the next battle.

The whole army passed under the walls of the town in order, and the Quaids set out with the party of the poet nobleman Viscount Aldington. But while Sir Martin was chatting with his favorite poet, the barbarians noticed a few fresh corpses around the stone wall. They were hanged on rudimentary wooden frames. The smell of the body and crotch attracts a swarm of mosquitoes, and at the same time stares at the hunter with bulging eyes like dried fish. "Who are these people? I remember not seeing these bodies last night. ”

"These are the poor people who were sentenced to be hanged. The sympathetic poet aristocracy replied first. "The gods may also carry their souls into the kingdom of God, but there is no doubt that the nobles spit on these hillbillies. ”

"Don't forget that you're also a nobleman. Sir Martin muttered in a low voice, but the poet's answer made him unable to refute.

"I am a nobleman, and my father is also a nobleman. Including my father's father, they were all aristocrats. But accustomed to the struggle between commoners and nobles, my family chose to become poets, even though the body still had rotten and filthy blood flowing in it. ”

Viscount Aldington's words confused the barbarians, but he continued to explain in those confused eyes. "I know the crimes of these people. Half a dozen were sentenced to death by hanging for running away, and one for dripping mud on the boots of the knights he had to be loyal to. And can you hear a faint scream coming from inside the town? That's a poor cook! Whipped and beaten to the point that he could only convulse in the mud, just because he had not been warned, he had put a decorative cabbage leaf in the Archduke's plate. ”

"You must keep your mouth shut!" Sir Martin whispered warning, wrapping his arms around the Viscount's head, letting his forehead rest against the cold chainmail and kissing his short flaxen curled hair as he sobered. "I must warn you! here are tens of thousands of soldiers dying in battle, not prostitutes who rush to the brothel while you sing hymns!"

"Blessed of the dragons, the sun and the light of March can cover the sky, but the dim stars are also indispensable. The viscount whispered an ancient hymn, and then pulled down his helmet and visor in the bewildered eyes of the barbarians, only his eyes still flickering in the darkness.

The mud on the road was still irritating, so the soldiers immediately became demoralized as soon as they set foot on the march. The nobles and knights received all kinds of food from the quartermaster every day—a few pounds of fresh meat or some delicious cheese—while the common soldiers and more farmers who had just laid down their hoes could only get moldy wheat grains soaked or long strips of black bread that were moldy and bitter. The Quaid were treated better, but it was just the scraps of the officers who feared the barbarians going berserk. Rega even once found a few hairs belonging to a certain part of the human body in a fine black bread baked with flour and bran. I really don't know what those rotten and damned aristocratic lords are doing in the flour.

The weather was better than expected on this day, and the wind and sand blowing from the east after more than four hourglasses were no longer howling. At the same time, there was no rain, only the scorching sun was shy to shine on the earth. The blazing heat caused the stinking rain in the muddy ground to evaporate and rise, but it also caused thirsty farmers to rush to drink the turbid water from the roadside. The march was an unusually physically demanding task, but the quartermasters did not waste their hands carrying too much worthless water. There were no streams or rivers near the town, which forced the soldiers to start drinking the muddy, stinking rainwater, even though the nobles were disgusted with it.

"We had to find a place with enough clean water. Riga quickly drank the water from his skin under the scorching sun, and said to Sir Martin in a very unkind tone. "I don't imagine an animal lying on the ground drinking this stinking and rotting water. But Jazz, who had dried and flaky lips, couldn't help it. "We must obey the orders of the Grand Duke of Sebstan, and no one can leave alone, unless you are willing to be hanged on a wooden frame. (To be continued......)