Fighting broke out suddenly.

Samwell threw away the corpse in his hand, sighed that the "red viper" was indeed poisonous enough, and then carried the war hammer and prepared to fight.

The Dornzes seemed to be genuinely concerned about the four statues of the Seven Gods blocking the gate on the first floor, and instead of taking out the battering ram to hit it, they brought a ladder to climb and tried to attack from the second floor.

Perhaps in the eyes of the Dorn, taking this temple is not a problem at all, so there is no need to blaspheme the Seven Gods.

I don't know if they will still be so pious if they can't attack it for a long time.

Although the Statue of the Seven Gods restrained the Dorn, the battle was still fierce.

After all, the Templar is not a specialized fortress fortress, and it is not suitable for defense, and the defenders are all cavalry, and both the weapon configuration and combat skills are more inclined to charge on the battlefield, so it seems a little rusty to deal with this kind of offensive and defensive battle.

In less than two hours after the battle began, the Doento rushed into the second floor, pulling the battle into the most brutal hand-to-hand combat.

Samwell wielded a war hammer with such ferocity that almost no one could stop his blow.

Even if the Dornish held the shield, it was useless, and with the blessing of Samwell's terrifying power, the shield was torn apart with a hammer, and the Dornish behind him vomited blood and flew wildly.

But even this could not prevent the overall situation from gradually developing in an unfavorable direction.

There are too many Dorn.

One by one, Samwell's companions fell, and soon his brother Deakon was wounded.

In desperation, he had to pull out the giant sword behind his back.

As soon as [Dawn] came out, the battlefield was suddenly clear, and more than a dozen Dornites turned into fire men.

This horrific scene seemed to press the pause button on the attack.

But it was only a pause, not a termination, and after a brief moment of fear, the Dornzes pounced again.

They are professional soldiers, not civilians in Sandstone City before, and their ability to withstand death is not of the same level.

What's more, this time, there is also the "Red Viper" Prince Oberon who personally supervises the battle below.

The madness of the Dornians can be imagined.

Samwell swung his sword again and killed a dozen more people, but he didn't dare to swing the third sword after all, and if the third sword didn't scare off the Dorns, he would have to be slaughtered.

As if seeing that Samwell couldn't swing the third sword again, the Dornites slashed even more ferociously.

Seeing that the situation was about to collapse, the Dorns suddenly receded like a tidal wave.

Samwell breathed a sigh of relief, but couldn't help but wonder what was going on.

When he released the falcon to hover in the sky, he found that it was the Iron Throne army outside the northern city gate that began to attack, and the Dornites naturally didn't care about them.

However, in order to prevent the people in the temple from coming out to cause trouble, Prince Oberon left some soldiers to surround the church.

Samwell and the others were finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

In just half a day, they had lost more than sixty soldiers under the frenzied attack of the Dorn, and such a huge number of casualties filled the temple with an atmosphere of sadness and even despair.

"Don't worry!" Count Jon stepped forward again to boost morale, "The Dornians won't last long! The Iron Throne's army has already captured the castle once, and it will definitely be able to capture it a second time! As long as we hold out for a few days, we will be able to wait for victory!" ….

He then led the crowd to pray to the seven gods.

The soldiers' emotions gradually eased, at least on the surface, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

Samwell helped his brother deal with the wound on his arm, but he wasn't in such a relaxed mood.

He had just watched the siege outside the northern gates through the eyes of the falcon for a while, and found that the attack of the Iron Throne army was not as fierce as expected, and the soldiers attacked as if they were on an errand, and retreated at the slightest obstacle.

This situation is clearly not normal.

If the city had already been captured once, the Iron Throne's army should be coming with great momentum at this moment.

Samwell quietly informed the Earl of John of these observations

。

"We can't control the attack outside the city." Earl Jon was also a little helpless, "No matter what is going on outside, the only thing we can do is to guard the Templar and try to contain the forces of the Dorn."

Samwell was also a little helpless.

Yes, they are trapped in the enemy's city, and they can do nothing but hold on to the Templar.

Over the next few days, the Dornish launched a dozen attacks on the Templar, but the offensive was noticeably less ferocious than the first, and it seemed that the army outside the northern city still held back their main energy.

Even so, the casualties in the Templar were rising day by day, and morale was declining.

And supplies are also a problem.

There was no shortage of dry food to be carried, but the fresh water had been drunk and there was no water source in the templar, so the Earl of Jon had to give the order to kill the horses.

Although horse blood is fishy and dry, it can at least quench thirst.

On the ninth day, it rained, and it looked like it was a carnival day in the church, and everyone gathered on the second floor, stuck their heads out of the window, and opened their mouths to drink from the rain.

Seeing this, the Dornites immediately attacked, and the two sides fought again in the rain.

Blood mixed with rain flowed wantonly on the ground, and the picture had a strange beauty.

The attack lasted for half a day, and the Dornes retreated again.

Samwell walked to the main hall on the first floor, wet and about to take off his armor and rest, when a knight of the valley came running over and said:

"Lord Caesar, Count Jorne...... Seriously injured."

Samwell was slightly startled, for he realized from the look on the Knight of the Vale that Earl Jorne's injuries were probably worse than the so-called serious injuries......

He didn't care about taking off his armor, and hurriedly followed the Valley Knight to the north side of the main hall.

"I said it earlier, this bronze armor can't save lives." When Earl John saw Samwell coming, he still had the heart to joke.

Samwell crouched down and examined the wound closely, and saw that an arrow had just penetrated the left chest of Earl Jorne through the gap in the side of the armor, and the blood had already flowed all over the ground.

The Earl's second son, Sir Robert Royce, tried to stop his father's bleeding, but apparently to no avail.

"Alright, Robert, don't bother." Earl Jon was very open-minded, "None of the people who wear this suit of armor die well, how can I be an exception."

"Father......" Robert couldn't stop crying.

Earl John looked at Samwell and said:

"Lord Caesar, I can't continue to command, so the command of this cavalry squad is handed over to you. I hope you can lead them to ultimate victory." ….

"Okay." Samwell nodded heavily.

"Your armor isn't good either." Earl John suddenly pointed at Samwell.

Indeed, the suit of armor on Samwell's body had become scarred in the fierce hand-to-hand combat, the breastplate was sunk in a large piece, and the lobster gauntlet in his right hand was simply cracked.

"Wear mine, I don't need it anyway."

Samwell was stunned for a moment, and saw that Earl Jonne had already motioned to his son Robert to help him take off his armor.

"I ......," Samwell had mixed feelings, and finally accepted Count Jorne's kindness, "I will certainly not fail you!"

Count Jon took off his armor with difficulty, and gasped for a long time before he said in an extremely weak tone, "If you can help me kill the Red Viper, this armor will be yours."

"Father!" When Sir Robert heard that his father actually wanted to give the family inheritance armor to others, he immediately became anxious.

But the Earl of Yorne had already made up his mind, stared into Samwell's eyes, and asked, "How's it going?" Do you dare to accept it? I'm not lying to you, the person who wears this armor, for thousands of years, there has not been a good death. They all died on the battlefield."

Samwell froze slightly, as if he finally understood why this "Bronze Yorn" had been so stubborn.

"There's a curse on this bronze armor?"

"Huh

Ha, maybe. The choice is yours."

Samwell only hesitated for a moment, then began to take off his armor.

The Earl of Jon looked appreciative, and said:

"Curses and blessings are two sides of the coin. Lord Caesar, as long as you can withstand the curse, you will receive the blessings of the gods."

Samwell picked up the bronze armor with both hands, only to find that there was not a trace of blood on it, and there were no scratches left by the sword, as if nothing could leave a mark on it, except for the lines of the bronze itself and the strange incantations like hieroglyphs.

This is a relatively light set of armor that does not interfere with movement at all when worn on the body, but because of this, its protection range is smaller than that of heavy steel plate armor.

When Samwell wears it, he doesn't even need the help of an attendant, he can do it on his own.

Earl John kept staring at Samwell, and an inexplicable look flashed in his eyes:

"Remember her name......

After a pause, Count Jon's voice came again: "Time."

"Time?" Samwell felt the cold and vast aura coming from his armor, and couldn't help but mutter.

"Time." Count Jon also repeated, staring at the bronze armor as if he had traveled through thousands of years of time, seeing the scene of the ancient era,

"Time washes away everything, but, we remember."

Samwell put the bronze helmet on, and the words of the Earl of Jorne seemed to suddenly become extremely distant.

The light and shadow in front of him flowed, and the fog was filled.

When his gaze froze again, Samwell found himself in front of him a huge wall of ice, which covered the sky and the sun, and stretched between the mountains and fields, as if dividing the world into two parts.

The Great Wall of Desperation!

Samwell shivered slightly from the frost and cold air that rushed to his face, and he looked around to see fish beams and trees everywhere he looked.

Old faces were engraved on the trunks, and blood-red juice was dripping from their eyes.

The shadows converged and coiled among the trees, gradually forming seven figures.

They were dressed in ancient bronze armor, and the man at the head was Samwell himself!

He was startled, the world was spinning, and his illusions were shattered.

At one last glance, he saw a woman who looked like an ice sculpture.

She didn't have a trace of the breath of a living person, pale skin, pale lips, pale eyes, and the only color was the garland of winter snow roses on her head.

The only red is so glaring in a pale world.

Like blood.

The sound of cries in his ears pulled Samwell back to reality, and he looked down to see that Earl Jorne had closed his eyes.

The bronze armor still exuded a chill, as if to remind him of something.

Samwell bowed to the body of Earl Jorne, and then blurted out the Royce family saying:

"We remember."

Radish on the scale