I have not forgotten the first time I went to my Valan Mission.

All the Valan soldiers took off their armor and helmets, put their weapons on top of their own, went barefoot and wore short, tattered clothes. Each of the Valan soldiers tied their hands behind their backs, the first row of soldiers in the back, the last row of soldiers tied their hands to each other, and finally only Eric was left alone, holding the double-headed eagle banner of the Valan Legion, waiting for my arrival. The soldiers stood in the mud. In front of them were long wooden poles, between which were held ropes, from which swords were hung.

This was the Gate of Defeat for the Valan Legion during the Chanda period, through which every commander who suffered defeat on the battlefield had to pass through it. The Varan soldiers were dressed like they were after they were defeated and captured, and they wanted me to see how they might be down. I took off my equipment, put on my upper body, and walked through the gate of defeat with the Valan soldiers beside me in shame. The sword cut wounds in the shoulders and backs of each of us. I walked through the door, and one by one I untied their bound hands, dressed the Valan soldiers with their equipment, and finally, hung their weapons around their waists. The whole process was very slow and lasted more than two hours.

The failure of this operation made the soldiers of the Valan Regiment decide to discipline themselves once. The old legionary honor is being restored, and defeat can inspire shame in soldiers and bring them closer together.

I armed one soldier after another in the mud, and the muscles of the leachest soldiers had begun to bulge, the result of the training of the officers of Valan. But as their commander, the result of the battle I brought to them for the first time was a humiliating defeat.

After rearming, the Varan soldiers watched as I dug up two graves, which needed to be deeper than my knees. I dug through the dirt with shovel after shovel. Under the watchful eye of my soldiers are buried my fallen warriors. The two Valan soldiers were burned to ashes in Costholm, and after scattering their ashes in the grave, I placed their equipment beside them. Although he has converted to the doctrine of the Eastern Church, at such a time. All the Valan soldiers still blessed the two warriors with their ascension to Valhalla in their prayers. Get a glimpse of the Valkyrie goddess and immerse yourself in the spirit of the ancient heroes.

"The wind blows in my chest. There is a clear spring flowing from the mouth'''"

The low spiritual song looked unusually sad in the wind and rain.

The ancient Varan immigrants migrated to different places in tribes, and at that time, they would consider their people to be young. His own tribe is also young, like a newly unsheathed sword, shining with silver light. However, when the first tribesmen die, the Varans settle down and the first tombstone will become the center of the Valan village. At this point, the tribe is no longer young. From now on, it will be combined with this land, and then all the clansmen will be reduced to dirt when they die. After that, the new Valans will grow up in the burial grounds of their ancestors and eat the wheat here. Drink the water from the springs until you become one with the land.

When I was in Djalkhara, I once heard a very beautiful song, "Haven't you tasted how sweet the water is?" Don't you see how strong the wheat here is? Don't you know that my lamb is about to give birth? The wandering singers of the countryside collected these phrases from the peasants, and sang them to the tunes of the Rhodok countryside as they traveled through the valleys and hills of the mountains.

Alyosha's 'home' still touches me.

Perhaps for these homeless Varans, the death of their companions reminded them of the oldest traditions, and that they were ready to forget their homeland and make the burial place of their companions their new home.

When I sprinkled the last handful of earth on the graves of the two warriors, and slapped the dirt with my blood-soaked hands, I almost fainted and collapsed beside the graves. But before I could fall to the ground, one of the Valan soldiers held me up, followed by the second and the third, and all the Valan soldiers finally gathered around me, lifted me on their shoulders, and touched my armor with their hands, hoping that I would pick myself up after defeat and bring them victory and hope.

Our camp is at the southwestern end of the borderland, and is inhabited by fishermen, beggars, and the homeless poor. On this stormy night, they watched us all around, curious in the darkness about the new arrival. But the curiosity didn't last long, they had already seen too many soldiers of the Empire, and each time these soldiers came with the slogan of saving them, and after tossing and turning here for a while, they returned in vain. This time, it was no different for them either. Before the funeral of the Valans was over, the men dispersed, and they hid in their huts, begging for the wind and rain to end quickly, begging for the dawn to come slowly--- the wind and rain meant the leakage in the huts, and the dawn meant that the tax collectors, either of them could not cope with it.

As I made my way to the mayor's residence, the depressed and drunken old mayor laughed lightly, and he exaggeratedly lifted his chair, put it under my ass, and pressed my shoulders to sit me down. That evening he returned to his home and left the sad place with his old servant--- who had come a few years earlier with two sons and a new wife. The municipal magistrate bribed the royal family with a large sum of money to get this appointment. At that time, the city governor was ready to show his strength, get rid of all the noble minions here, and turn the city into a town directly under the royal family, if so, maybe he would get a higher position in the royal family, even if he could not completely get rid of the intertwined noble minions here, as long as he merged them into a family, he might also be able to get the favor of the royal family, and even get a knighthood. But now, all he had taken with him was a carriage with no luggage, and his son and wife were long buried, next to the cemetery of the Valan warriors.

The few clerks left behind by the municipal magistrate stood beside me with trepidation, these were all employees of the old municipal magistrate, and the municipal magistrate, no matter how frustrated he was, at least their position and pay were guaranteed, and they did not know if I would continue to hire them.

The treasurer said to me the past few years. The annual income of the city was one hundred and twenty ducats, and the commission expenses of the clerks and servants were four hundred ducats.

Crime occurs every day, and smuggling and counterfeit minting here are almost open, the sheriff said. There were soldiers of the nobility to protect them. Even if the criminals are caught, it will soon be under pressure for the city magistrates to release them. And the soldiers who captured them were retaliated against. Before the plague, the ban on sake brewing was not enforced here, and it is said that there were three sake breweries in the city, after producing spirits from grain. It will be sold by smugglers to Parabun. On more than one occasion, the Paraven Wine Guild lobbied the royal family to close down the breweries, but to little avail, and after each lobbying, the Wine Guilds were harassed by gangsters hired by the aristocracy. It's hard for me to imagine this almost completely out of control area next to the Imperial Capital. The sheriff told me that this was the case in almost everywhere, especially when the nobles were heavily indebted and weakened by war. Large swaths of the area they couldn't take care of were turned into borderlands. The ultimate goal of these districts is to redeem themselves into free cities--- not free cities with mayors appointed by the royal family, but fully autonomous free cities like the North Sea region, and even city republics.

A few other staff members. There was a scribe, a messenger, and a captain of the Night's Watch, who had no men, for the magistrate had not allocated him a single gold coin for a long time.

Until I figured out the face of this chaotic city, I decided to continue employing these people for a while. But I gave the sheriff and the captain of the Night's Watch to Eric, whose duties had become nominal, and it was better to hire two soldiers who knew the local situation than two employees who ate for nothing.

In the end, the scribes and messengers chose to leave, all of whom were Palauweneans who had been worried about the chaos and preferred to return to Palauven at this time to find a secure job.

After a brief handover of these things, I swept the empty wine bottles and smudged letters left behind by the city magistrate under the table, climbed on top of the table and fell asleep.

I slept until the next day and was woken up by a loud noise.

A barefoot child brought me a basin of water, and the old magistrate hired him to boil water at the mansion for the price of two salted fish and a pickled radish a day. 『7』{7}『8』(8)[Say]{Net}

I washed my hands, washed my face, and pushed the door open.

The soldiers of the Valan Regiment were already in front of the official residence.

In front of our eyes, there were all the slums in a mess, and there were a few smoky workshops. The stone bricks on the street had been knocked out of the ground, and the pavement was covered in mud, and in a trance I thought I was back in one of the impoverished cities of Vikia, where there were not even the planks that Vekia cities paved!

Some people were beating iron rods and sticks, others were playing shrill flutes, and the small drums were pounding.

Strangely, there was not a single person in sight on the façade of this otherwise chaotic shack jungle.

I frowned, not knowing what kind of weirdness it was.

At this moment, a cow that had been sawn off its horns ran out screaming, and its back was filled with small throwing spears several feet long. The ox rushed to a street in fright, but fell in fear, for at the end of the street appeared black men, men of half-a**, with imposing belts on their bodies, painted with fangs and claws on their chests, and red or purple turbans around their heads, and carrying all sorts of weapons: spears, iron crosses, scythes, and even the farmer's pitchforks, on which were either dead birds, dead dogs, or bloodstained clothes. The crowd let out a mocking roar, terrorizing the dying cow. The cow, sluggish from blood loss, stumbled again and could barely stand up, but as the crowd approached, the cow got up again and staggered to the front of a low wall. Just as the ox was about to hold on to the wall, the wall was torn down, and another group of people poured out from behind it, most of them were more neatly equipped, most of them were black leather armor, and their weapons were mostly short weapons, almost all of them had swords or scimitars, and the worst of them were iron sticks.

Once again, the cow fled in a hurry.

After the two crowds reconciled, a group of men on horseback appeared with various banners, all wearing ridiculous wigs, which made them look like a group of wizards over a hundred years old, almost every inch of their clothes was of a different color, and they were holding two-handed swords on their horses, as if a rainbow was moving with lightning. The appearance of this cavalry made the men before them cheer, and they knocked on everything at hand, cheering and whistling for these cavalry.

After all the men had gathered in front of the Municipal Mansion, an extremely tall man stepped out. His presence reminded me of the Valan who had been stabbed to death with a dagger by Eric. This guy has two horns in his hands! The bull saw that the man was almost mad, and it lowered its head and prepared to charge, but there were no sharp horns on its head, and no amount of instinctive resistance at this time was to no avail. The man laughed, walked over to the weakened cow, struck the horns of the cow with both hands, and deftly dodged the cow as it rushed at him.

The cow's movements became slower and slower, and from time to time it knelt down with its front hooves and struggled to get to its feet. The man struck the cow with his horns several times, each time causing the poor beast to fall to the ground.

Finally, the cow finally stood still, raising its head and wailing at the sky.

The guy with the horns of the bull pierced them deep into the bull's eye as if he were holding two daggers, and then held down the cow's head. The cow burst out with great strength at the last moment, its muscles bulging, its hooves stomping wildly, and tossing the ground around it, but it was so weak that the last struggle came and went quickly, and soon all that was left was spasmodic shaking and wheezing of its limbs.

From beginning to end, my Varan soldiers and I silently observed the group on the other side.

They numbered three hundred, or even four hundred.

If this number is extrapolated, it is likely that the population of the region that Copernicus told me was wrong, and that there may have been as many as 2,000 inhabitants.

After killing the oxen, the men formed an arc, and out of them came more than a dozen of the most terrible members, each with an axe.

The men began to chop the carcass of the cow, and with each attack, there was a loud noise.

When Western playwrights describe the brutality of the Wikibians, they always say that when two Wikibians are negotiating, in order to show their brutality, they will always kill one of their subordinates in front of the other to show that they are brave and fearless. This is just a ridiculous invention of the Westerners, who have never been to the East, and can only put the hooligans around them on the heads of the Eastern Lords to please their spectators who have never traveled far.

These circuses slaughter one of their own cows and feel like they have become warriors? They slaughtered one of their own cows, hoping to scare my Valan soldiers?

The chopping continued, and the cow was reduced to a pile of pureed meat, with guts and blood dregs flowing everywhere, and white Sensen's bones splattered everywhere.

I raised my hand, and one of the Varan officers blew the horn of warning, which is a common warning for the Vikian army: "Get out or attack." ”

The thug on the other side didn't know if they understood, but it didn't matter, it was better not to understand.

After the first horn, the rabble on the opposite side let out a reciprocal cry.

Officer Varan then sounded the horn of a second warning.

One by one, the circus members fell silent, and they seemed to be waiting for the third horn to see what we would do. Some of them were already looking back, and they were all looking at the men around them, cheering each other up.

The Valan corps went on a direct attack.

The torrent of iron armor tumbled forward under the fluttering of the double-headed eagle flag, and the loud shouts of the Valans were like the thunder of midsummer.

Iron sword and iron spear! Iron shield iron armor!

No matter for any enemy.

The Varans never warn the third time.