The flames were gradually extinguished, the haze in the sky had dissipated, and the flying snow was replaced by the smoke and dust that drifted up, and the murderous shouts and wails were long gone.

It was a pair of eyes, brown.

Even though it had lost its brilliance, Theodore could still feel the passion it once had, its unyieldingness, or the feelings it once wanted to express but could no longer express.

The calloused palms of his hands kept turning in his collar, and he found what he was looking for in his chest, peeling aside the iron armor and the red military uniform stained with sweat, mud, and blood.

A nameplate with his name on it.

"Marcus," Theodore whispered, and then turned his eyes to the face, and a patch of black blue, pursed lips, and the brown eyes.

Theodore knew him, the shy young soldier who claimed to have fallen in the morning, who was not much older than him, and who had pretended to pat him on the shoulder, telling him to remember courage and honor.

The palms of the bandages, still clenching the broken spear, were so tight that they could not be broken.

"Your Excellency!" a voice woke Theodore, causing him to glance over at Valence, who was standing beside him with his head bowed.

"Ah, Valens!" Diodore shook the other's hand as if he had just woken up, and breathlessly said, "Go and get some straps quickly, and medicine to stop the bleeding, if there is salt...... Why don't you just go and call the doctor!"

"My lord!" Valence pressed Theodore's shoulder, "He's dead, no amount of bandages is useless." ”

Indeed, from the left shoulder to the right waist, the chain mail was cut into two sections, and the wound with deep bones was visible, and even in the twenty-first century, it was certain to die

"Dead, yes, dead. Theodore closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then turned to look at the soldier standing there beside him: "Which of you knows him?"

"We're all one squadron, Caesar!" replied the soldier with his head bowed.

"That's great!" Theodore smiled, "Well, who of you knows, Marcas, how many enemies he killed?"

"Well, this, not very clear. The soldier slurped, his eyes flickered back and forth, and he glanced at Theodore's face from time to time: "It should be three, uh, it could be four!"

"Be clear, soldier!!" said Theodore solemnly, "How many are there?!"

"Not a single one! Caesar!" the soldier shouted at Theodor with wide eyes, "Not a single one!"

"None of them. Theodore repeated, the corners of his eyes twitching a few times, and he continued to ask, "Then does he have any relatives or something?"

"No, my lord, he has no relatives. He is an orphan, he came to serve as a soldier in order to eat, and he always dreams of becoming a big man one day!" The soldier couldn't help but say, and then followed: "Many of the people in our squadron are like this, including me, my lord!"

............

"Thank you for your answer, soldier!" Diodore was silent for a long time before he uttered these words: "Find him a new uniform to change into, and tell Mehemus to prepare a new uniform for all the brothers who died in battle, and say that it is my order!"

"Understood!"

"Go, and don't forget your work!" Theodore did not look at him, and tightened the reins of his horse: "Valens, let's go!"

"Understood, sir!"

The soldier did not move, but looked at Theodore's back motionless, his originally erect and undesecrated back a little gloomy, and his cloak full of dirt was more intimate than before.

"Caesar!" the soldier shouted, gasping for breath, looking at the body of Marcus at his feet, and looking up again: "You are a good Caesar!"

"I, yes, xiexie you!" Theodore raised the corners of his mouth slightly, and with a slight smug smile: "I killed one with my own hands, and I did it with my own hands!"

The work went on, and small episodes didn't change much, and the soldiers carried their brothers on stretchers, dead or alive, crippled or dying, always with a glimmer of hope in their prayers.

The brutality of war envelops everyone, and in this day and age, even a small inflammation can kill many people, and a small casualty figure can become terrifying. The air and water polluted by the corpses caused an unstoppable plague that completely cut off the lives of the wounded.

Those who could not endure the torture would ask their brothers to give them a happy life, and the soldiers who were not seriously wounded could be treated and accompanied - this is the privilege of the victors, and to minimize the casualties of their own side, as for the vanquished, their miserable fate will be ignored, and they can only pray to God to give them a way to live, or a happy one - depending on the severity of the war, if they encounter a more vindictive, the cruel torture will not cause the indignation or surprise of others, but will be taken for granted.

As for healing, it was simply impossible - in ancient times, where resources were not abundant, even the most merciful army could not have given precious medical supplies to the enemy!

Walking into the barracks in almost silence, Theodore sat down in his chair without saying a word, arms folded, head bowed, as if thinking about something.

Mehemus picked the corner of his eye and glanced at Valens, but he just shook his head and didn't answer.

"Mehemus, and Pabrik, Quintus, why are you here?" Diodore suddenly raised his head and looked at him without any expression: "Is there something wrong?"

"Caesar. Mehemus sorted out his words: "We're here, well, to report to you the results of the battle!"

"Oh yes! Yes, I came for you. Theodore shook his head and pressed his fingers his temples: "I remember, I asked you to report the situation." So, who can tell me what the casualties are?"

"Six were killed, eleven soldiers could no longer go to battle, and one hundred and fifty-six were slightly wounded. Pabriuk read into the pamphlet in his hand, and then closed the book with a smile: "Even in terms of the number of casualties, it is a very remarkable battle, most of the casualties were injured by the opponent's javelins and those large tomahawks, so ...... Luckily, there aren't many tough guys. ”

"And to our surprise, although the other side is just a group of bandits, there are a considerable number of people with strong combat skills. Quintus picked up Pabrik's words: "Professional soldiers, to be exact!"

"Professional soldiers?!"

"It may be a mercenary, but it's more likely to be a deserter!" Quintus, who was slightly skinny, had unique experience in training troops, so his tone was quite firm: "Their chain mail is very shabby, but they have obvious uniform markings and styles, and their weapons are also uniform spears, round shields and short-handled axes, ordinary mercenaries will have a clear division of labor even if there are only a dozen people, but they don't." So I think they are deserters. ”

"How can you be so sure?!" Valence couldn't help but interject: "Maybe this is a group of veterans who have not received enough pensions and are gathering in the mountains and forests, this kind of thing is not impossible!"

"That's true, Captain Valens!" Quintus raised his voice suddenly, then coughed twice, and continued, "But if that's the case, at least their average age must be at least thirty or forty, and there are actually many veterans in the prime of life, but many of them are almost fifty years old. And they are much more loyal to their leader than the average employer and veteran, presumably that Colster was originally their captain, and for some reason fled from his original allegiance to his master, and led his men to raise a group of bandits near this castle, and then occupied the castle. ”

"Xiexie, your explanation, Quintus ...... another" Theodore turned his gaze behind him, "It's a virtue to listen to someone else finish what they say, Valens. ”

"This is what I'm supposed to do!" Quintus smiled, glancing triumphantly at the guy who had interjected.

"Ahem~" The somewhat embarrassed Valence coughed twice and sank his head.

"So, where are these guys now?"

..................

"Why don't you speak?" Theodore looked around puzzledly, "Is my question so difficult?!"

"Well, that's right. Mehemus took the initiative to stand up: "In fact, this group of 'professional soldiers' has been killed, all of them!"

"All?!"

"There are a few more alive, I remember it very clearly!" Quintus hurriedly said: "Because they are the only group that is still resisting to Zuihou, so I am impressed!"

"Well, you 'professional soldiers'!" Diodore deliberately emphasized the word, leaning back in his chair and stretching, "Tell me, how many prisoners have been taken?"

"Five hundred, or a thousand. Mehemus said: "The exact number may not be known until General Belisarius returns!"

"Call Virgil and we'll go see those guys!" Theodore stood up and shrugged his shoulders, "I see, and once promised them something, at least keep their word, didn't I?"

All the prisoners were confined en masse to the rear of the barracks, under the care of the 3rd Infantry Wing, which had the highest casualties of the entire regiment, for the simple reason that it had the highest casualties of the entire regiment.

In units of every ten people, the hands behind their backs are strung with a rope to prevent them from escaping. In addition, at the suggestion of a young soldier who claimed to be Orion, the two of them were to be tied together, one of each of them with one left and one of their left and right feet together.

This method is said to prevent rabbits from escaping, and now these guys not only have difficulty walking, but also have to squat to go to the toilet.

"So, where are the guys you're talking about?" asked Theodore, looking at the concentration camp, which resembled the labor camp in his previous life's preaching column, to Virgil beside him.

"There's a guy who's awake, and we'll call you right away if you want to see him now. The soldier in charge of guarding the captives replied: "Also, there is a guy named Baroque who has been clamoring to see you, I don't know ......"

"Baroque?"

"It's a leader of thieves under Colster!" replied Virgil.

"Yes, that's the guy who's been clutching a man's head and a sword, yelling at you to keep your promise. The soldier pouted disdainfully, "But that sword is indeed in the style of the Imperial Guard, so we didn't bother him too much, but just locked him up." ”

"Well, then bring him with you!" Theodore beckoned impatiently: "No matter what, you have to be honest, don't you?

"I want to see Master Theodore Julian, I want to see Master Theodore Julian!" Before they could meet each other, Theodore heard a rather rough voice, Baroque who looked like a bear was reluctantly crossed by two soldiers, struggling incessantly, holding a human head and a sword in each hand.

Valence frowned, and stood slightly in front of Theodore, blocking half of his figure.

"Lord Theodore! Lord Theodore!" Baroque's eyes lit up, and the tall knight in the purple ornate armor was instantly recognized by him, especially the sword that was exactly the same as his own. He broke free from the restraints almost by brute force, moved in the direction he had identified on his knees, and then hugged ―――――― Valens' thighs!

"I've seen you, my lord!" said the fierce face, crying like a child, and a lot of tears and snot stuck to Valence's trousers.

"My lord, poor Baroque will almost never see you! It's that damned Colster who dares to disobey your will! It's a crime that deserves death! You must keep your promise, the honest and trustworthy Baroque will surrender at the first time!"

The rigid and stern Valence's face twitched incessantly, and when he turned his head slightly, he saw Theodore and a group of generals looking at him with a smile on their faces, their eyes extremely ambiguous.

It's like saying, "You ...... Know?

Baroque over there was still crying about Colster's crimes, and then kept showing his loyalty, but his vigorous demonstration didn't seem to have a very good effect, or rather...... Reaction?

The long sword slammed into his shoulder.

"Who will allow you to call my master by his first name?!Take away your fat face from me at once, you big wild potato!" Valence blushed, word by word, and his tone was so cold that it froze people.

Just like a pug, Baroque, who was still crying silently, immediately shrank to the side and knelt down, quietly, and his eyes were full of ...... Weakness and helplessness and ...... Implore.

"You're Baroque?" Theodore looked at the man in front of him with a smile, his eyes lowered, and suddenly he realized that the head of the man himself, as if he had seen it somewhere?

"Colster?!"

"Yes! it's him!" replied Baroque, holding the human head in front of Theodore as if offering a treasure, "this deserving of death has dared to go against your will, and I have already killed him!"

"You killed him?!" said Theodore quietly, "He is your master!"

"But now you are my master!" Baroque looked up at Theodore flatteringly: "My lord!"

Theodore looked at Baroque's fat face, and a chill welled up behind him.

There was no unwillingness, anger, or disbelief in this guy's eyes......

When he died, he still believed that his subordinates were all loyal......

"Valens. Theodore's lips trembled slightly, and his voice was the size of a mosquito.

"Understood!" Valence bowed his head heavily, then turned to look at the soldier next to him and made a strangulation gesture.

"I'm loyal, I'm loyal, I'm loyal, I, you...... Aren't they all said yes?!Aren't they all said yes?!..................

"Caesar......

"Honor responds to loyalty, betrayal is damned!" Theodore picked up the splendid sword that had fallen to the ground, and weighed it, "am I right......? You. ”

The tattered chain mail, with his hair messed like a bird's nest, knelt to the side without saying a word, and his head drooped so that his face could not be seen clearly, and only the slightly floating shoulders proved that he was a living person.

Slowly raised his head, there was no nostalgic look in his eyes, neither fear nor surprise of surviving, even if he was called, it was that indifferent expression.

"So, are you going to kill me?"

"Kill you?" Theodore raised the corners of his mouth disdainfully, looking down at this "professional soldier": "Do you think you can live until now because of weishenme?!"

"Your name, your age, and your position. Theodore lifted his chin with his sword: "Don't try to leave anything out, my soldiers hate you very much!"

"Dio, 20 years old, a soldier of Lord Colster, in charge of sixty people. Dio said silently: "Don't ask about the rest, I won't say it, and I can't say it if I die!"

"Oh?weishenme?"

"Loyalty, didn't you say it too?" Dior seemed to laugh at something: "Betrayal will be punished by God, in that case I would rather die." ”

"Can't you say death?" ......as if he had heard the funniest joke, Theodore's eyes became even more disdainful: "If you insist on dying, no one will be able to stop you before you come!

"I don't have the desire to live, but I don't have the courage to die!" Pressing Dior's head hard, the star spitted on his face: "Do you know what people say about people like you?

"I'll give you two options, your name is Dio, right?" Theodore stood up and threw the sword in front of him: "Or, use it to cut off your own head, and I will give you the right to be loyal to your master, and your body will be buried with Colster!"

"What about the second way?"

"Take it and pledge your allegiance to me, and I will put you in charge of all the captives, and you will have to atone for yourselves with five years of labor, and then you will be set free. Theodore turned around and wiped his hands with the towel that Virgil had handed him: "As for you, you may be able to obtain the status of a captain of the guard, be respected, and your descendants will be proud of you!"

There was a mysterious and complex emotion coming from the cold blade, and Dio wondered what it was like to hold it for the first time Colester, the man who had always been so confident, and what made him so ambitious?

Gently drawing the long sword, the bright blade of the sword slashed through the sheath, and there was a beautiful grinding sound, pleasant and beautiful. The trembling palms shook back and forth as if he had forgotten how to hold the sword, forcing Dio to clench his hands and stick it on the ground.

"Your servant is loyal to you, my esteemed lord!"

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