It's the third day, and if I'm not mistaken, the last time I was at Fort Clarion seemed to be much longer than this one, with more enemies and more soldiers.

It's been three days, and I've killed someone? Forget it, I can't remember it for a long time......

The purple-haired mercenary's body was supported by the sword, and the bloodstained and crumbling blade was still dripping blood, and the motionless Shrell Lightlane stood on the wall full of bones, the flesh already cold in the cold wind, covering the wooden wall two meters high.

The mercenaries around them didn't even dare to go up - just a quarter of an hour ago, when the wooden wall was almost breached, these guys who had just joined the Silver Blood really saw the power of Shirel, and the terrifyingly large two-handed sword was literally a sluice knife on the execution table, as evidenced by the bones piled up under the wooden wall!

The mercenaries of the West Coast, who were also known for their bravery, saw for the first time that they could split a man alive from the shoulder with a single sword, and that poor barbarian warrior screamed in mid-air with flesh and bones, and his internal organs and intestines were scattered all over the ground - it was only by such a ferocious Shirel Lightlane that he forced back the barbarian army that almost broke through the wall.

"Ray, Captain Lightlanch!" Finally one of the mercenaries came up and tried to speak to the mercenary, "The enemy has retreated, you don't need to stand here any longer." ”

The mercenary stood there in fear, even his voice trembling. But Shrell, who was standing in place, seemed to have just been woken up from her slumber, and only snorted softly, looking a little weak with her two-handed sword on her back. Tumble down the wooden wall. Only glanced out of the wooden wall before leaving.

The barbarians who had surrounded them set up camp along the pass and the nearby mountain forests. In the distance, you can see a little fire flickering under the night sky, like wolves licking their wounds, staring at their prey and never leaving.

"Let the uninjured people repair the camp and re-erect the breached wooden walls, and everyone will rest as soon as possible. As he walked, Shrell hadn't forgotten to tell the attendant who had come with him, "Hurry up and rest—but don't let your guard down and let Robin arrange for someone to take a shift vigil." ”

The attendant agreed, and then turned and left. Weary, Shrell returned to the camp alone, but saw no joy after the victory. On the contrary, it was gloomy.

The mercenaries who survived the catastrophe sighed around the campfire, and almost all of them were injured. The straw mats in the longhouse were soaked with blood, and there was no place to stay.

Looking at the dejected fellows, the equally exhausted Shrell was about to walk up and say a few words of encouragement, but found that he couldn't say anything - if it were Edward, there must be a way to get them back on their morale, just like at Fort Bugle. As long as he was there, the soldiers would be able to recover immediately.

Pick up the remnants of the army and treat the wounded. Rushing to repair the camp, collecting weapons - there was a tense but extremely dead silence everywhere in the whole camp. The busy mercenaries were all silent, and they could only hear the painful ** sound of the wounded soldiers, which was obviously subtle, but it was extremely harsh at the moment.

Back in the camp, the tired Shrell had only a pot of boiled soup for dinner, stewed with half a piece of black bread and cured meat, but it looked extremely delicious - the silver blood mercenary regiment on the march had only brought more than three days of rations, and it was not long to last.

Robin, who was sitting opposite her, was also tired, his eyes were scarlet, and his arms were too nervous to make half of his body twitch unnaturally, just staring at the stew, but he was not even in the mood to drink it.

"For three days the enemy had been attacking the village's camp without sleep, and the brothers had reached their limit—more than half of them were wounded, and the remaining half were eager to rush out and die, and then kill before they died. Leaning against the wooden wall, the little Robin grumbled while watching Shirrell's reaction from time to time, and only after making sure that the other party did not blame him before he continued to speak.

"Not only do we lack food and drink, but we also lack weapons - of course, the dead enemy has given us a lot of good things, and the number of soldiers is small, we can make it up, but without medicine and doctors, the wounded can only wait for death slowly, of course most people would rather rush out and fight those barbarians!"

"What do you want to say?"

"I want to say, why are we here, dying for that Turin man - just because he gave money?" Robin stiffened his neck and couldn't help but say, "We don't have to do this at all!"

"I know I'm late to join, and I may not be qualified to say this—but for the sake of our brethren, for the sake of every brethren of silver blood, I am not afraid of death. The more Robin spoke, the more excited he became, and he raised his head to look at Shrell, but his mouth was a little stuttering: "When, of course, I can also die for you, and there will never be any stinginess!"

"Then fight for the blood of silver, we have signed a contract that any task will be completed - it's not just a matter of whom, it's integrity and honor. Shairel glanced at him lightly: "Robin, did you say that you left the village to be a hero, and it is a hero to run away without a fight?"

"I see...... "Robin, a repentant little man, bowed his head and his cheeks flushed slightly, "I will fight to the end for the blood of silver - until I shoot the last arrow!"

"He's going to come. Schiller's voice was unwavering: "The enemy must be doing everything to thwart him, but he will come—it's only a matter of time." ”

"Why?" At this time, Robin finally asked the question in his heart, and couldn't help but blurt out: "How can you trust him so much - just because you fought with him, or ......"

"I trust him because I know what kind of person he is - this guy has more insight than anyone else, otherwise he wouldn't have been so eager for us to take this settlement, because it's very important for both sides!" Shirell then explained, "He's going to do whatever it takes to keep this place." ”

Such a reasonable answer made Robin nod his head, but there were also some small doubts - this guy was very keenly aware of something abnormal, because Shirrell usually doesn't say so much in one breath, how could he become so talkative this time?

It's like ...... It's like making excuses for the aristocratic lord of Turin. This thought made Robin extremely awkward, and he spent the whole night thinking about it - although he had always felt that he didn't have that kind of mind for Shirell, he still felt uncomfortable.

With this in mind, in the early morning of the next day, the mercenaries, who had been repairing all night, were once again ready for battle. Climb watchtowers and walls, take up arms and prepare to meet the barbarians.

The ancient and desolate war drums sounded again in the wasteland, and the war chieftain holding high the tribal totem shouted loudly, boosting the morale of the tribal warriors under his command, and the barbarian warriors in the mountains and forests were once again gathered, shouting ancient slogans, and scattered on the hillside outside the camp.

With a serious expression, Shirrell walked up the wooden wall with a two-handed sword on his back - the mercenaries suffered heavy casualties, and if there were no reinforcements, they would only be able to hold out for a day.

After all, it's not as good as that guy...... The self-deprecating Shirell thought so, and waved his hand behind him: "Come on, let's get ready to fight!"

Before she could finish speaking, the loud sound of the horn had already resounded in the sky! The startled herald and the mercenaries around him couldn't help but turn their heads, and after being slightly stunned, a flash of surprise flashed on their faces—the horn sound came from a distance!

A relaxed smile crossed her lips, and the purple-haired mercenary turned her head as well—on the hillside in the distance, an army marched in formation against the rising sun, coming from the icy wasteland in the direction of the settlement, and the battle flag was waving in the wind under the golden morning light.

It was Witwood's red cross on a black background. (To be continued.) )