The Lothar brothers were woken up by a loud noise.

He held a sword in his arms and slept on a wool wrap in the warehouses of the monastery.

The warehouse was filled with a lot of damp cloth, as well as some untreated wool. In this area, wool used to be a very expensive commodity, and when the craftsmen recruited for the screwing, they only had to promise a few feet of wool when the work was over. But now the price of hiring an artisan is staggeringly high, and the price of hiring an artisan used to feed a family of artisans: they can rent a decent log cabin in the town, eat white bread two or three times a week, and even occasionally eat meat and apples.

This is simply a robbery for money, Lothar thought to herself, which made Lothar herself want to change her career to become a craftsman. However, Lothar knew that once he left the protection of the monastery, the guards of Little East Lake City would immediately arrest him and send him to the island in the center of East Lake to hammer stones. However, things may also change, in the past, the Berkes had the final say, but now that everything has changed, maybe no one will ask about the fact that he swore to stay in the monastery for the rest of his life.

The contents of the warehouse are related to the livelihood of the monastery in the coming year, and it is impossible not to be careful. In previous years, at this time, the town's carriages would block the road, and the bridge would break down today, and tomorrow the merchants would raise money to fix it, how could it be like now, all the supplies were piled up in the warehouses and no one cared about it, and the bridge had been broken for so long without anyone care.

Lothar sat up, drew his sword, and looked at it as if it were a lover. This sword is the craft of the Salander people. The blade of the sword is like a bright river, and the leather on the scabbard is scalded with extremely beautiful patterns. Vecchia's clumsy craftsmen can't learn the craft of the Salanders for a hundred years. Lothar had followed caravans across the desert to the cities of the Salanders. The cities were full of crowded bazaars, the roadside was filled with jugglers, the butchers broke the necks of the chickens and ducks, hung them upside down, and left them to spin on ropes, and the children would compete for the heads of the chickens and ducks that the butchers did not want, and the heads of the poor animals would tremble for a while after they were separated, and the children would laugh. This made Lothar often suspicious of what the preaching brothers said about the children being kind, and that the children were tyrants. Lothar had always thought so. In the cities of Salander, the domes were painted with gold paint, the stone walls of the houses were extremely high, and the whole street was shrouded in shadow. Countless children surrounded the travelers, waiting for opportunities to steal their belongings, and one child tried to steal Lothar's wallet, but Lothar grabbed him by the hair and carried him up. Elsewhere, such a thief will admit it. After being beaten, he will run away. But the Salander kid poked his mouth bloody with the blade he was carrying, and then a group of Salander men gathered around him, demanding that Lothar compensate their beloved treasure.

This was Lothar's most terrifying moment. Countless strange and fierce Salanders gathered around and scolded and beat him. And the child stood in the middle of the crowd and smiled cruelly at him with a mouth full of blood.

Little children are tyrants.

Lothar muttered. He put away his sword and stood up. Checking the contents of the warehouse.

Honey that had turned like ash, dried dates, olives, pickled mint, white salt, piles of turnips, rabbit skins strung with strings, horns that I didn't know what to do, dark red dried petals in jars, many heavy bottles with blue patterns painted on them. Written with the scriptures of the Salanders. There was a strange smell in the warehouse, and it was definitely unlike any other, it was the smell of a mixture of many wonderful goods. Much of the stuff had begun to rot, and Lothar often found bugs crawling around in the corners, and before she went to bed, she saw an extremely large rat whose fur was shiny brighter than that of a well-fed war horse. War horse, Lothar was bitter in her heart, she would never have the opportunity to have such a fascinating beast again in her life. The horses of the Vycians are at their most expensive in the autumn, when their eyes are shiny, their hair is fine, and their flesh is bulging like oiled dough. Lothar had the ability to avoid autumn and buy horses when they were at their thinnest, knowing which horses would only need a while to turn into steeds, and which were dying sick horses that the farmers used to fool people. Lothar's comrades-in-arms trusted him and would always come to him for advice when buying a horse.

Lothar had handled many horses, and at the most he had owned two, one of which had died, and had been pierced in the chest by the Burkes with hollow spears, and his last breath sounded like a feeble bellows, and his mouth was foaming with blood. Lothar gave the horse one last blow, and then fled from the battlefield. The other was given to a Salander woman, who needed a horse to set up her caravan so that she could migrate to another oasis with her only remaining family. At that time, people heard rumors that strange diseases had spread in the oases of the desert, and that dead people were filling the city like heaps of salt. When the poor heard the news, they would find a way to move with their belongings, and people heard that in those cities, naan was as cheap as sand, and the sherbet that could not be drunk was used for bathing, and the poor always did not care about the danger, but first focused on the profit.

Lothar haggled with the tough poor widow of Salander, whose children sat on the roof of the mud hut with daggers in their hands. These rudimentary armaments were not enough to make Lothar fear, but Lothar was not an indiscriminate use of force. When the widow found Lothar, who was leading a horse and was wounded and destitute like a beggar, she gave him water and dried meat, and said to him, "Come to my house, and I will exchange this horse for what you want." ”

Lothar had thought that what the woman was talking about was herself. For a man like Lothar who spends all year in the barracks, a woman is attractive, with a hot body and a shy or debauched expression, which can often make Lothar fall in love for about two weeks. Lothar had faith in himself, he was doing well, he was confident that he would only be able to do it for two nights. Let the widow be inseparable from herself, and feed herself and her horse until he can regain his strength. Back to the battlefield.

As she walked to the widow's house, Lothar grabbed her by the shoulder. The woman turned around, and the black turban was blown by the wind and slapped on her face, which was covered by the black scarf. Lothar had never seen such an abomination and resolute eye, "Take your hand away, or I'll cut it off." ”

Lothar thought it was just a gesture, "Woman, you brought me home from the bazaar just to tell me that you are a chaste girl?" What are you going to trade for my horse? Lothar looked sarcastically at the Salander woman, trying to hide her nervousness. He found that he couldn't suppress the woman in terms of momentum. "How many days are you going to serve me? What posture to use? ”

"When a woman loses her husband, she loses her good name, and no one believes it unless she proves it with a lifetime of hard work." The woman said, "So why should I care what other people think?" But you better understand that I'm definitely not delicious. ”

The woman untied her face scarf, her beautiful face, her beautiful eyes, this woman must have been a beauty in the past--- except for the wound she had cut herself. Her face is impeccable. But now, there were two blackened scars on the face, which had been cut deep into the skin with a dagger, into the flesh. Pulling her face open and sweeping across the bridge of her nose with ferocity, the scar ruined her appearance. Ruined her troubles too. The flesh is stitched together with fine stitches on the scar, and it looks like two filthy and ugly centipedes perched on her face.

"How?" The voice of the woman scholar Lothar. Said sarcastically, "Your Excellency." Do you still think I'm the kind of woman who spreads her legs just to get your horse? ”

Lothar licked her lips, and only then did she begin to seriously consider the business. "Ma'am, I don't know what you want to trade, but I'd like to take a serious look."

The woman had her back to the doorway, like a victorious warrior, and her child crouched on the roof, looking adoringly at her mother. In the room, a timid pregnant woman came out with a sword in her arms. Lothar could see at a glance the value of the sword, which was worth far more than his own horse. But Lothar still weighed the sword with a critical expression. For a while, with the reins in his hand and the sword in his hand, Lothar was tempted to jump on his horse and walk away with the sword. Anyway, the family has nothing to lose.

But Lothar suddenly had a strange thought, "Madame, I'll give you the horse." Let me take care of you and your family in the future. ”

In response to Lothar's extremely loud ridicule, the woman did not seem to have imagined that this soldier was so unsophisticated, childish, like a chick, making promises to the woman she had just met, or telling lies that no one would believe.

Lothar took the sword in chagrin, and the woman took the opportunity to take his horse and close the gate. The child upstairs turned around and pulled out a fully wound crossbow, several sharp arrows aimed at his chest. Lothar realizes that this woman is more resilient than she thinks, and that the harsh circumstances have molded everyone into resilience.

Holding the sword, Lothar left the earthen house in the sight of several children, and with the sword in hand, Lothar spent the night on the hill. He saw the widow set the house on fire at dawn, and staggered out of the village with her children and her husband's wife, in a broken carriage. Walk towards an unknown place in the desert. Lothar wanted to know about this woman's past, she wanted to grow up with this woman, and she wanted to be a part of that woman's life, but it was not destined to happen.

It was the only love that Lothar had to remember, and then he returned to the battlefield with his sword in hand.

Soon after, the Burks routed Lothar's forces again, and Lothar fled and took refuge in the homes of a nobleman in the woods. This nobleman is said to have the blood of Emperor Chanda, but this bloodline cannot save the life of this family. The Berks executed the noble family, and only the old man and his little daughter escaped. Lothar was captured and forced to swear to join the convent and never grow her hair again and never return to the earth for the rest of her life. This must be God's punishment, Lothar thought to herself, for she had fallen in love with a pagan woman, whom she had only known for a long time, and had spoken a few words.

Lothar's memories lasted for a few minutes before they vanished, and now he was going out to see what was ringing early in the morning.

He pushed open the gate and saw a hundred farmers gathered in the clearing, and in front of them a straw giant thirty feet tall was piled up.

For a moment, Lothar thought she was dreaming, how did this behemoth come overnight? After the plague, there had never been so many people gathering, and the lively scene made people feel like a world away. So many peasants sat or stood, resting against the stone walls of the monastery, holding on to the straw pile, pointing at the great scarecrow, and obeying the instructions of the abbot and the gothic steward: pull up the rope, or stretch the huge stake over the straw giant, where more than a dozen peasants climbed on it, and carefully beat the scarecrow's body. The sound was made by the scarecrow's unsecured arm falling, and from the ground, the scarecrow's head towered into the sky, and the farmer above his head stood as tall as a bell tower.

"Lord Dean," Lothar's eyes froze, "what are you going to do?" ”

"So," said Master Innocent, "I'll light a big candle!" Come on, you can also help, I'm going to get a big scarecrow out that has never been around here, and then burn it down. ”

"But why is that?"

"There's too much bad luck, it's time to say goodbye to the bad sun," said the dean, rolling up his sleeves, "let the bell-ringers ring the bell day and night, let the priests go to every village, let all the farmers around, I have something to talk to them!" (To be continued.) )