The Lords of Longinus, under the direct rule of the Grand Duke of Sebstan, owned vast tracts of fertile land rich in oats, barley, and wheat and rye, which could be used to bake bread, and the farmers cultivated the wastelands into agricultural fields for food, so that the small slopes and flatlands southeast of Pomberra were long without dense woods to shade the sun, and there were not even many streams scattered on the ground like white satin.

As the scorching sun covered itself in the westernmost part of the sky, and the silver moon Noreas rose, the army finally stopped at the edge of a stream. The thirsty and hungry infantrymen sat down on the ground without waiting for the officer's order, laid down their weapons and skins, and rubbed their heavy legs, which seemed to have been filled with molten iron. Although the feet of the cavalry are not tired from the march, they have to endure the grinding pain and burning between the inside and the back of the horse, and then limp to the river to drink the horse. The noble knights certainly didn't need to do this, so the squires had to do more. They had to drink the horses, bathe them, wipe them clean with a soft linen cloth, and then lead Lucius back to the camp to feed the horses wheat, grass, and water.

During the day, the Rangers fought with their squires in fear of the Harrisons, but when the news spread that a large shipment of food was about to arrive, the soldiers regained their old spirits. The idea of drinking only one bowl of oatmeal porridge with thin water per meal has already made the soldiers who need to march physically demanding to go crazy. They crave a filling piece of brown bread, even if it's stuffed with prickly wood chips and bitter-tasting bran.

The Flame of the Dragons and his ministers thought that the convoy would catch up in three days, and while each wagon would be filled with heavy** sacks of grain, the low, locally produced horses that excelled at endurance were not much slower than the infantry, even if they were still dragging carts on four wooden wheels. The pot-bellied, oily-faced aristocratic quartermasters agreed, so the miserly nobles finally agreed to take out the stored dry hard black bread and the equally moldy jerky and distribute them to the soldiers, which were supposed to be kept for the soldiers to replenish their strength when the war began.

Hungry soldiers would boil precious jerky into soup with stream water, soak the rock-hard bread and eat it. The nobles were able to receive the more precious round white bread and fresh meat baked with wheat flour. The land was full of fat hares and voles, and the soldiers could always hunt a lot of them, and they would fill their stomachs with precious pieces of meat or some of the surplus prey in exchange for more food. The Quaids also caught some, but they roasted all the pieces of meat crudely and stuffed them into their stomachs, and instead exchanged precious steel or bronze coins for ale in the quartermaster's sinister smile.

When the silver moon was still half an hour from the top of the sky, countless white smoke slowly rose from the camp in the hazy moonlight. They danced in the breeze like elven shadows until the cold air above them vanished without a trace. The ground was as terrifying as a volcanic area of lava, densely packed with flaming grease torches or pyres that lit up the shadowy corners and made the hot water and flesh of the metal helmets roll and tumble.

The farmland has not yet been sown for more than a month, so the muddy but dry land is only covered with weeds. They protect insects that crawl out of the wet soil, even if they have begun to nibble on young leaves and make loud chirps. These newborn insects grow up quickly, and after a few natural weeks it's time to find a mate, and the memories and instincts buried deep in their veins allow them to start searching for food and give birth to a large number of offspring before the next winter.

The Quaids did not want to disturb the courtship of these weak creatures, and gathered at the fire waiting for the broth to boil, whispering and singing as they handed the skin containing the ale to their companions until the half-gallon of ale was drained in turn. The barbarian who finally took the cowhide bladder even shook his head and shook it until the last few drops of the wine with the cloudy residue rolled into his throat before letting out a satisfied sigh.

Over the next two days, the march of the Dragonus army became extremely slow. The ministers and nobles were not anxious, and they followed the markings on the rough and ugly parchment map, stopping and camping each time after finding a stream spring at a suitable distance. The Grand Duke of Sebstan did not resent the speed at which the army moved five miles east every day, but he had the noble knights send scouts around the area to prevent the elite Harrison rangers from slipping around the camp again.

On the third day, the weather was still as hot and humid as before, but the 'Fire Dragon Flame' was extremely happy to get the news of the grain transport team. The convoy of the Count of Lytognes, the consul of the North, consisted of 2,000 men and 600 chariots, accompanied by 500 infantry and an equal number of cavalry. It wasn't without Harrison's rangers spotting the convoy along the way, but the dozen of these enemies, no more than a dozen, attempted to leave only a single corpse under the fire of spears and bows.

When the cavalry that had left a few days ago reappeared with their heads hung, and five thousand bushels of food dragged into the camp under the watchful eyes of the soldiers, the morale of the Roninus was finally high. Now they don't need to actively seek out the Harrisons to fight as before, but only need to move forward steadily until the 'Blue Cattle' come to their door.

The territory of Dragoninus was wider than Riga had imagined, and it took a week of slow marching for the army to approach the southern frontier and see the castle of Head that crept like a giant beast on a hillside. This is made of a sturdy old castle. The stones of the fortified buildings have been covered with dust from the passage of time and the wind and rain, giving them a deathly black color along with the dead moss on the corners or the walls.

The six-sided castle had clearly been attacked by the Harrisons, and was already in tatters under the onslaught. The walls were covered with scars and black dust from the impact of stones and flames, the wooden baffles were stuck with steel arrows that could not be pulled out because they were broken, the moat was surrounded by stinking corpses lying on the ground or soaked in water, and broken weapons and broken banners were buried in the dirt mixed with blood and mud. The castle was as devastated as if it had been attacked by a dragon, but now that there were no Harrison troops around it, Archduke Sebstein ordered the noble knights to move forward, and through the black smoke they saw the tattered dragon banner of Inus, a tattered dragon on the towering tower, which had been stunned gray by the smoke.

"It's our Red Dragon Banner! Castle Head hasn't been taken by the Harrisons yet. Blessing the dragon god!" the first platoon of cavalry attendants immediately tightened the reins and waited two hundred yards from the city wall. The knight told one of the soldiers to turn his horse's head back and inform the nobles and ministers, but the castle's gates, made of rough black steel, had been slowly opened by a dozen sturdy horses.

Clad in tattered chain mail with blood, dust, and yellow-black rust, a dozen horsemen burst out of the gradually opening gates and approached the massive army in a splash of mud. The knight at the front was different from the others, he was clad in a fine, shiny half-new chain mail, his head was protected by a cloth hat and a hood woven of wire on the outside, and the dragon badge and a small shield were painted on the chest of his long coat like black specks of dried blood.

The knight expertly steered the horse forward, letting the horse's hooves crush the head of a Harrison soldier before coming to a halt within fifty yards. He raised his arm to the squire, so that the iris shield on his arm was divided into four parts of different colors by a cross and glittered in the sunlight, and a small black shield of fine beauty was carried at the intersection of the other two white horizontal bars. It made it clear to the squires on the other side that it was a knight - Viscount Antonio Adra, master of the Iron Shield Keep, commander of the Southern Legion, a warrior known to the southerners of Dragoninus as the 'Iron Shield with Dragon Scales'. It is said that when he was younger, he participated in a knightly tournament held by the Harrison nobles under a pseudonym, and after defeating all his opponents on the field, he returned to the realm with the captured Miss Harrison nobles and the prize money.

"Dragons are above, my fellow citizens. I am Viscount Antonio Adra, Commander of the Southern Legion. Now Hede Castle is finally waiting for you. The viscount leaned forward vigorously and shouted hoarsely at his attendant. "The Harrisons must have known about your whereabouts for a long time, so the two of them retreated to the east without hurrying a few hours ago. ”

"Viscount Adra, I think Your Excellency will reward you for your hero who guarded the castle against the enemy. A tall knight in silver-plated chain mail squeezed out of the squire pile, saluted respectfully, and said excitedly. "I am Baron Kyle Kingsley of Cassia, and I believe that your deeds will be sung by poets. ”

"I hope they don't turn around and scold me. The viscount straightened up and saluted back. "My legion was raided during the rainy season and suffered heavy losses, and now it has lost the entire southern border. ”

"I believe this is not your fault. "The Marquis of Caroninus rushed at him on a rather strange-looking beast, until the horses present began to move their hooves restlessly, and came to a halt about twenty yards from each other. "After all, you defended the castle of Head, otherwise an army of 'blue cattle' would have come back and trampled on the fertile land of the Grand Duke. ””

"Lord Marquis, may the Platinum Dragon God bless you forever. The knights present saluted almost at the same time, but they quickly focused their attention on the mount under the Warlock Marquis**.

Taller and stronger than Lucius's fast-paced horse, its fur and mane swayed quietly in the breeze, and its long, sturdy hooves trampled repeatedly in the mud. The strange horse, with a few scales on its forehead, suddenly raised its head and roared, causing the soldier's horse to erupt into confusion as it raised its front hooves and kicked hard in the air like a mallet on a leather drum.

ps: I took a look at the collection today, and it dropped more than 500. I'm dizzy, you can mention it if you have any opinions, and you can also leave a message, the amount is large and you don't need money. Some Kavin, oh, four thousand didn't make it, let's come back tomorrow for three thousand (to be continued.) )