Outsiders' specific perception of Westminburg often begins with a request, when they realize that this is not a fortress the size of a town, but a town fortified into a fortress.

The complex, which occupies the top of the hill, not only houses permanent quarters, warehouses, stables, training grounds, but also a small but elaborate chapel, winemaking and supporting wine cellars, livestock sheds, and small areas for growing fruit and vegetables, mainly lettuce. It is not difficult to see the attitude of staying in it to the ground.

While the uninteresting besiegers ate high-altitude throws on the long hillside where the round stones can run for several minutes, the castle owners will taste fresh and fatty vegetables and meats on the terrace of the upper floors of the inner fort, and watch their show with a cold beer or wine freshly served in the deep cellar.

Of course, there will be no shortage of workshops, craftsmen who deal with wood and stonework, ironwork and repair, as well as luxury craftsmen who meet the needs of the high-end. They have been involved in the construction of the building since their parents and even grandparents, and have inherited the service of the building, and most of the objects seen here, no matter how large or small, are made by them.

Today, however, the craftsmen are being asked for something special that they have never heard of before.

"No, no, no, I don't think the feather tube is good, it's hard to pierce the skin, and it can easily break." With a little force, the feather tube in his hand was broken into a corner, and the demanding outsider threw it into the stove next to it, "I need a hollow tube that is at least as thin as this one, but much harder and tougher, preferably metal, and can be attached to the cylinder." ”

The people present looked at the jeweler, and the skillful hand that could attach a grain of wheat to the earrings was also difficult, "I have never seen anything like this, but I have seen a hairpin of bird bone before, and it is indeed hard and thin." ”

"If you have to make metal, I can try it, but it's not guaranteed." He added with a bitter face. Unlike most of his peers, who only had to follow the hand-me-down craft, they had to face the strange demands of the nobles, and the demands of this young nobleman were among the most outrageous among all kinds of whims.

Medieval High Quality Party A held his chin and said nothing, seemingly not very satisfied. Today he has accepted too many compromises, the inflator may have to use the kind of enema, the hose is only leather stitched and glued, the length is still short, and a birdbone chest needle is added, as if the shaman of the primitive tribe wants to dance the gods.

He fell into self-doubt, whether his request was really inappropriate, and he should adjust the form of the equipment according to the objective conditions.

"Is Professor Kraft here?" The sound of hurried armoured walking interjected into the conversation in the workshop.

Kraft stepped out of the crowd, looked towards the door, and was surprised to see a man who should have left the castle three days ago, "Martin? Didn't you go to the port? ”

"There is something urgent, is it convenient now?" Martin wiped the sweat from his face and took off his helmet, his soaked hair sticking and compacting, like freshly caught seaweed, which could produce salt grains.

"Of course, anytime." It's hard to imagine what it's like to get to Westminburg with all this gear in the sun, and Kraft is sure no one will want to be left to be fine, and Martin should have given him the answer he wanted.

Out of respect for the people who are running around outside, he can give up thinking about the shamanic style first, "That's it, try both, I'll be back tomorrow, and if there are any questions before that, you can pass on them to my servant." Koop, Yin Feng, can you watch here for me for a while, and if you need anything, you can tell them, you don't have to wait for me for dinner. ”

Kraft walked briskly away from the workshop, following Martin down an unreminiscent path, the voices of the people moving away from them.

"You asked when that sect came to be?"

Martin plucked the bladder from his waist and poured the last bite into his mouth, licking his dry lips. Obviously, this is not enough to replenish the lost water, but he has no intention of spending a little more time on this, "As early as four months ago, it was the church that dealt with the first case, because that guy tried to scam the believers out of money, and as a result, he was targeted for collecting too much. ”

"And then I found more and more." Kraft continued, "I remember you saying that some people have believed in them for a few years, and they can continue to live together without incident, why have they been active recently?" ”

"Although it doesn't make sense, and there is only some overlap in time, I always feel ......"

"You think they're meddling in something they shouldn't be moving." A declarative sentence in an affirmative tone.

This surprised Kraft, after all, he was only an uncertain thought that he had caught in trivial fragments, and there was no intermediate evidence, so why would Martin think of it with him.

He re-examined Martin and found that the knight had somehow put on that stuffy helmet again, and the hot flashes could not stop him from gaining a little subconscious comfort through this movement, "What happened?" ”

"Do you remember Diego? It's the steward at the banquet. At this point, Martin instead brought up something that seemed unrelated, "We used to have some friendship, and when we first arrived at the port, we wanted to go to him, but I heard that he went out of the city to chase down some prisoner involved in the missing eucalyptus." ”

It was a real impression, and I could see that he knew Martin well, "Yes, I remember." The slightly chubby knight. ”

"At first we thought he was going to catch some unrelated thief." A certain emotion like plaque attached to the intonation made the narrative complex, probably regret, depression, and something that shook his spirit, "Maybe he thinks so himself, twenty people, not far outside the city, what's the problem?" ”

He seemed to be recovering Diego's thoughts, and he seemed to be in disbelief.

"And then?" Kraft felt something was wrong.

"Diego, knight of the Duke of Westminster." He paused, and walked on, leaving behind something unseen, "and my friend, who has proved to be faithful and brave in returning to the arms of his Heavenly Father in a way befitting his identity." ”

Kraft was speechless for a moment, confirming that he had not understood the wrong meaning, and that someone who had only been close to him had been confirmed dead within a few days, and that someone he didn't know well had relayed it to him, lacking real sense. He only blurted out the phrase "May the Father bless him."

Then he quickly connected back and forth, and looked at Martin in surprise.

"That pagan?!"

He had seen the equipment of the guards, a knight under the duke, with twenty or so men and servants, actually planted not far outside the city. His guess was probably right, and it was hard not to associate all the bad things with a pagan religion that could do such a thing.

But the most important thing now is that Diego died, and he also broke the clue that he accidentally hit here. The pagan probably packed up and ran away.

"Is it too late to continue the search? Or can we find something else? Kraft asked hopelessly.

As they talked, they had reached a remote courtyard that appeared to be a training ground, but the dummy stake had been moved to the side, and the duke's soldiers guarded several long wooden crates, just the size of an adult to lie down.

Kraft realized what these were and quietly shut his mouth. He didn't understand what Martin needed his help with, and it was a bit rudimentary to be a knight or a servant's coffin, and it didn't fit in with the status of a normal man killed in battle. But this is someone else's internal business, and he doesn't plan to put his beak in it.

"That's where we need your help, have you ever seen anything like this?" Martin pulled the dagger from his waist and plunged it into the gap, priing one of the boxes open.

Somewhat surprised, Kraft leaned over to look inside the box, not the body of the fat manager he had imagined, but an ugly face.

In the white ring on the chest of the robe, a piercing sword wound pierced through the heart, and the wound was implicated by filaments.