I was supposed to be eleven, but the strongest one died inexplicably next to a dung pit, his hands tied behind his back with ropes, and his nose and face were bruised.

When we finally got out of town, there were only ten of us.

Only me and the other two Wikibians had horses, and the rest of the Negroes carried five emaciated mules and dragged three carts with seven or eight boxes and two corpses on them. It is said that the two men had relatives in the city of Ulric, and wrote to them for a hundred bags of wheat or twenty vats of flour, provided that they were delivered in their entirety, with no foot or arm missing. Black soldiers always liked to make necklaces from the bones of dead people, so this task was not very easy to accomplish, and Abi repeatedly asked me to watch these two guys before leaving. The two Creelians died so well that they didn't have to be afraid of them escaping, mainly to prevent the black soldiers from coming and cutting souvenirs. They especially like the thumbs on their feet, because they feel that it is a source of agility and luck, and when they make necklaces, they can easily run away when they encounter lions on the grassland, and mosquitoes will not bite them when they sleep at night in summer. For this reason, I always lifted the straw blanket that covered the corpse after a while to see if there were still ten toes.

These two Creelians must have been rich, fat as two bears, and it was unbelievable that they had such big bellies when they died.

The Negro smeared the box with mud to make it look worthless. It was a total wasted effort, I remember after the Valans captured the merchants. I often take a stick and pound my intestines, for fear that someone else will hide a gold coin or two. In short, after the merchant was targeted by the Valans, the pain of losing money was healed in about a year or two, but an unspeakable sense of humiliation would stay with him for a lifetime. Let's pray that we don't encounter any bandits on the road, I am most worried about the horse bandits who are in groups of dozens of people, these people we can't win or run away from alone, and they don't worry about Abiy's subsequent revenge. These people are the most unscrupulous.

I was a little relieved that these blacks were carrying a couple of huge hyenas, almost the size of a pony, and wolves were said to be afraid of such creatures, and I don't know how they were used as pets by these blacks. And these hyenas are all "hairy" and fat, so although I am curious, I don't really want to ask them what these dogs eat to grow so strong.

"If a dog mongrel comes on horseback," a black soldier said to me when he spotted me looking at his hyena, "these darlings, tear the horse's throat in one bite." One bite tore open a person's throat, two down, as fast as lightning. ”

"Can your baby be smart enough to eat only people. How many horses are left behind?" Paul's mount was a little scared of these hyenas. As they run around with their tongues stuck out from the edge of their hooves, their limbs stiffen and their eyes widen, and Paul has to reassure his mount repeatedly.

"I didn't have a chance to train them like that," the black man's nose was cut off, and his nostrils looked twice as big as the average person's. Sinking into a nose socket, "If you, white-skinned Paul, are willing to help me, I can let them practice with you." "[ ] Lord on the other side of the mountain75

Paul didn't dare to smile at these black hippies. I had to hold back my temper and retreat, and said helplessly. "I don't want to lie down with those two guys. I said, those two stink, we're really going to take them all the way to Eureka?"

"Twenty vat of flour," the black man licked, "how long has it been since you had eaten bread?" What's wrong with smelling a little stink. ”

"All right," Paul drove his horse to the upwind, spat out his phlegm, pulled down his trousers on the horse's back, spilled a soak of 'pee', and trotted in the direction we were heading to find the way.

We walked after us boredly.

It was quiet and weedy-ridden in the wilderness, and who would have thought that the place we walked through used to be the most fertile sugar beet field, where hordes of slaves were at work, and the foreman with the whip rode on the back of the little mare, walking about boredly, and whipped anyone who was lazy. Now there was nothing here, and every distance there would be a dead man or two, Creelians and blacks, whose bellies had been eaten by vultures and wild dogs, and the stench was terrible. We passed by a pond in the morning, and were about to have a drink, when we saw two dead men, a man and a woman, holding each other tightly together, with a stone tied to a rope under their feet. These two guys have ruined our appetites, and no one wants to drink the water here. We had no choice but to proceed, and I stood on the edge of the pond and watched for a moment the two men, dressed in well-made Creelian robes, now spread out in the water, as if they were standing on a high platform, blown away by the wind, and nothing weighed under the water, light as a dream.

There are places on fire on the west side of the earth, and some settlements have fallen. It's a good thing, if there are any bandits in the wilderness, they're going to try their luck there. No matter what settlement has been looted, there will always be something left: grain, dead horses, dead dogs, dead men and living women, in short, anything worth their try.

Negroes told me that if you eat the flesh of a dead man, your eyes turn green.

I told him that his eyes were hungry green before he ate the dead, and he got the order wrong.

The black man laughed and said that he hadn't thought about it, and then he quietly asked me if I wanted to know how the Salander butcher in the city made the soup.

I knew it in my heart, but I didn't know much about it, so I shook my head and said I didn't know, so I could wait for him to do the following.

At this time, the sound of horses' hooves was heard in front of him, and Paul was nimble on horseback like a happy dog, galloping and whistling.

Our group stopped.

"There's a tavern up ahead." Paul said. "I saw people on the sidelines, at least seven."

"Tavern? The kind of tavern that sells ale and grilled bacon and comes with a proprietress to accompany you to bed?" The Wikibian who stayed with me asked. This Wikibian didn't know what he had eaten, and he had to jump off his horse for miles, and his face was covered in a fine layer of sweat. Glowing with a gray glow.

"It used to be." "I thought it was gone, but I didn't expect it to be unscathed, which is a strange thing." I suspect there are quite a few people in there, or someone is protecting the place. "[ ] Lord on the other side of the mountain75

Our group was led by an elderly black man, who had been sitting silently beside the corpse all the way, and at this time he had spoken a few words to some of the black soldiers in the vernacular dialect.

Then several of the black men stopped, as did the cart carrying the corpses. They found a tree. Silently we began to dig the hole, and we slowed down and moved on.

After about a quarter of an hour we came to the high ground where Paul had found the tavern, and looked at it from a distance, which was built on a hillside, surrounded by several burned-out farmhouses, and below the slope there was a contiguous abandoned town, which seemed to be still smoking. But the tavern was, as Paul had claimed, unscathed, its round façade as white as Giovanni's concubine's ass.

There seemed to be a trumpet or something in the distance. There were only two rings. After that, there was no sound.

"We've definitely been discovered." Paul judged.

"Then go straight to it," said the black chief, "and shrinking is something that only Creels do." ”

"I hope they're just guys who sell alcohol." Paul said gloomily, and took the lead in striking the horse and walking down the high ground.

Another Wikibian followed, "I wish there was a boss lady." ”

The two of them quickly disappeared into the bushes, and Paul could be heard complaining from afar. "Did you pull inside your pants, it stinks like a Valan?"

Several blacks also walked down the high ground one after another.

As we walked into the woods, the trees grew darker and darker, and we stopped under a few large trees. The cart was abandoned, and the box was tied to a knot. Hang on both sides of the mule. We underestimated the difficulty of the descent, which was a half-height ridge all the way. The mule slipped a few times, and then did not dare to jump after the man. We had to bend up and down the mountainside, and by the time we reached the plain, it was already dark.

Paul complained that it was dark and he couldn't see anything on the other side, and he would suffer in the past.

A black man said, "Then they can't see us." ”

This sentence choked us for a long time before anyone began to laugh. The black chief, presumably sensing an offense to his skin, coughed majestically, and no one spoke.

Not long after coming out of the woods, a few black men who had been digging a pit behind them rushed up, carrying boxes, panting and sweating. I thought they had buried a few of the most important boxes, but I didn't expect them to bury those two dead people. Actually, it's also true, it's always inconvenient to carry two dead people on your back in danger. But I always felt like we looked stupid, swaggering around with a few boxes on our backs, and the nearest reinforcements were a day's away, and we were like fat sheep. Fortunately, these people live in fixed places, and they will not be rogues, and they will have some scruples, otherwise I would really have to object to going to this tavern.

Below the hill where the tavern was located, we passed by the burned town. The stone walls had been torn down, and the smell of smoke was strong, and it was estimated that it had not rained since the fire. Two homeless men huddled in a hut with strips of cloth glued to it, looked at us indifferently, and as we passed, they hid something behind a stone. Our squad was sniffing, yes, no matter how much the homeless man hid, he couldn't hide the aroma of the barbecue. The black soldier with his nose cut off looked at the two homeless men with disdain, the homeless man did not dare to look him in the eye, and the black soldier grinned at them and turned back into the ranks.

As we made our way up the hill along the winding path, it always felt like those two guys were watching us.

When the tavern appeared directly in front of us, the Wikibian and I dismounted, and the black man put the box at his feet. I found that a wide trench had been dug into the ground, and a long bridge slab had been pulled up. On the opposite side stood three men, one holding a torch and the other two drawing a bow and hunched over, with a half-helmet on their heads and dark gray leather armor on their bodies.

"Who is it?" The man holding the torch on the other side asked us.

I saw the black leader put the hilt of his sword against Paul's waist.

"Decent people." Paul reacted quickly, knowing that the black man had asked him to talk, "We need to rest." ”

"Decent people don't get involved with gangsters."

"Naturally not, it's just a slave." Paul said, "It's not easy to walk through with a slave these days. ”

"Hey, are you fucking kidding me?" The man squinted at Paul, "You're letting me let a bunch of gangsters in?" The blackmen deserve to die, you know the blackmen: when his father died, he took off his pants and sang spiritual songs with his tongue stuck out while fucking a mare. In this dog year, if there is a slave on the plains who does not stab their master with a knife, I will let you my daughter. ”

"Then I'll have to let your daughter see me a few times, I'm not used to strange."

"We don't have anything here, you guys go, don't get in trouble."

"All we need is hot soup and a few bales of hay, nothing else. If you want something to eat, we will buy it. Do you want salt or gold?"

Paul pulled out two small bags of things and threw them over, one containing two gold coins with sparse edges, and the other bag containing salt and half mixed with sand.

The archers on the other side dodged in a panic, and one of them took off the string, and the arrow "shot" low into the trench, and fell to the bottom of the trench with a few crackles.

Paul took an exaggerated step back, "Hey, we're just asking for a night's sleep, if that's not welcome, we'll go to the town below for the night." ”

The Vicchian beside Paul whispered to the archers opposite, "Hinata." ”

The torchbearer cursed the nervous archer in annoyance, then stuck a little salt with his little finger and licked it with the tip of his tongue. Then he spat out and shouted to Paul, "Damn, what did you put in the sand?" Earwax?"

"Uh, I guess I mixed a pinch or two of salt, it should be salty, can you taste it again?"

After chattering and scolding for a long time, he finally asked, "How many more fakes do you have?"

"Haha, that's a good start," Paul snapped his fingers, "and no matter how many fakes there are, I'll give you a whole bunch of them, enough for you to pickle a hundred sows." After that, if you want more salt, how about we sit down and talk slowly? By the way, I work for the Nords, collect gold, and from here to the sea, you will not find a second person willing to come to the door and collect gold. ”

A few of the men on the other side exchanged words, and sent the nervous archer to the tavern.

There was silence on both sides, and after five or six minutes the archer came running back with a man in a cloak.

A few men over there took one last look at me, and finally began to loosen the rope that held the bridge to one side.

The wooden turntable creaked there.

"Victor." The black soldier with his nose cut off quietly untied the reins of several hyenas in his hand, flicked a few tongues with his tongue, and the hyenas scattered and ran away.

"What." I looked at the other side and said.

"The two white skins who are baking the fire below are in the same group as the guy on the other side."

"Why?"

"Do you see their eyes?"

"Nope."

"Then I'll have to call you blind in the future, you're half blind anyway." "I'll tell you about Victor," said the black soldier, "and he whispered to me, smiling horrively and strangely," and that their eyes were the same color. ”

"'''Green?'''

The black soldier winked at me, showing his white teeth, "It's a pity not as green as mine."

He stopped talking, took up a chest on his back, and followed the swaggering Paul.

As Paul walked past the man with the torch, he asked him if there was a proprietress here.

"There's your mother." The guy with the torch replied to him.

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