Greenland, Don't Believe in Tears

('Actually, in Greenland, where the folk customs are strong, the boundary between bandits and farmers is not very clear. A seemingly honest Nord farmer is likely to be the one who took the whole village to manage the pirates' borrowing food. A big man with an axe. Sometimes between villages, because of land, water sources, or even small conflicts, whoever picks more apples can break out an armed fight.

Therefore, Holger's life is not easy. Most of the time, his main job is to be beaten, not to be robbed. Chased by the lord's patrol team, beaten up by the militiamen in the village, even his colleagues knew that he was a soft persimmon, and they all came to pinch him for the name.

Especially recently, there is a Nord cavalry team of more than ten people, sticking to him like a dog's skin plaster. It was led by a female chief, a mix of men and women.

I just captured one of their female companions, and made trouble with those brothers all night long. Those who haven't been chariot these days can't live in peace, even when going to the toilet, they have to be careful and careful, as if there is a ranger preparing for war hidden behind every tree.

But when he thought of the female leader's hot figure and swan-like pretty face, he couldn't help letting out a wretched smile: "It's really great! If she was the one who played that day... Hmph, if you get these guys in your hands, how can you ride them?" Riding her is also a matter of time!"

He looked at a hundred brothers, some of whom were even holding sticks and stones. Most have either a pitchfork or dung fork, or a rusty hatchet. However, this year is a good year because... this year is a bad year! Numerous serfs and small farmers were dying, and even the soldiers of the lower classes were forced into exile, or were expelled from the army and reduced to social blindness.

The bandit that everyone shouted and beaten in the past became the first spring of Nord's nearly forty-year-old Holder, who suddenly broke out and razed a small village with less than a hundred people to the ground. On the corpses of the villagers, he felt the joy of victory for the first time, feeling that his twenty years of scum career had been recognized by God Odin. Decades of soft persimmon career, let him know that in order to strengthen himself, he must find softer persimmons to squeeze.

So, he set his sights on Wolfe, the currently known little priest with a more idiot reputation than him. He knew that he didn't dare to grab it forcefully, what if this bastard was cornered and he bit someone?

He couldn't understand the weight of his own hands very well. Thirty spears and a hundred or so were old, weak, sick and disabled, so he had to fight them to the death. But asking for it is another matter. Although it is humiliating, you can think of it this way: "I am doing it for the village! What if they harm the village?"

"Damn it, take a gamble! This kid, maybe he'll go all out!" Holger rubbed his big greasy hands, and smacked his mouthful of thick phlegm on the snowy ground, "Why hasn't that bastard come here yet? Planning to be a coward? That would be bad..."

"Boss!" A younger brother alerted him, "They are coming! But it seems to be different..."

When Holger saw his flustered look, he couldn't help but get angry: "What's the difference? Can't you finish talking in one breath? If you don't take a big breath, you will die!"

"They..." The poor little robber stammered after being yelled at, "They, they,,,, put on our leather armor by themselves! Good, good, it seems like they want to fuck us!"

The so-called "ours" means that we have snatched them and haven't eaten them. The earliest robbers, the Logic Nords, are quite authentic originators.

Holger's brain felt like it was about to explode from the middle! At this time, the loud bugle sounded in the forest, and all the robbers saw that facing the noon sun, on the sparse forest crossroads, a surprisingly neat army was striding forward, wearing brand-new leather armor and hats. They marched steadily toward their place, a small jungle of shining spear points and tall new shafts. Their shields don't have the insignia of nobility, but they look solid.

Holger and the robbers were shocked: "Not keeping promises! Where are the recruits?"

Wolff took off the cornet that was hanging around his neck, and the loud and clear sound satisfied him. The soldiers also felt more majestic than ever. But Toman didn't understand, and asked Wolfe: "Sir, your family has never experienced military formations, why do you want to make a horn?"

Wolf said with a smile: "This is an old earl who likes to hunt. I ordered it from my grandfather, but he returned it after a while, because this thing is more powerful than the bugle. When he goes hunting and blows the horn, the surrounding The lord thought it was him for the big invasion, he had already been beaten several times. Although he liked the tone, he decided to ask my grandfather to make another one for him, because he couldn't take the beating anymore."

Tommen laughed loudly, and patted his chain armor with his big hand wearing armor and gloves: "Your family really has a lot of capable people!"

"Before this, no one has ever said that before." Wolf pulled out his axe, covered his body with a shield, straightened his leather cap, and shouted, "Forward!"

"Boss, let's slip away!" A scarred face weighed his own small blade, "This stubble is too hard!"

Holger glared at him, and waved his hand lightly: "Here we are, how can we run? Tell the boys to come over! Look at my gestures, one, two, three, let's go!"

"One!" The robbers gathered together nervously.

"Two!" Wolfe's soldiers took off their sawed-off old spears from behind.

"Three!" The robbers who looked at each other heard Wolfe's slightly trembling order, "Throw!"

Throw? They raised their heads and saw many spears with long imaginary tails flashing by like fish. Some people were even attracted by this scene and couldn't help reaching for them, only to find that they were so close to them, so close that they could He saw the tip of the gun sticking to his eyes.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Wolfe and his soldiers saw clusters of blood flowers bursting in the forest, like roses soaring to the sky, but with the stench of blood.

Wolfe waved his hand lightly, and the soldiers immediately held their spears, leveled them like knights, lined up, roared and surged up like waves! "Come on! For Nord! For Black Currant Village!"

The thieves who had just been stunned were still staring at the body of their companions whose lives had been taken away by javelins, and a row of spears stuck up like a death declaration.

The bandits in the first row were knocked down neatly like cutting wheat without even groaning, lying softly on the ground or lying on the shields of the soldiers. The robbers at the back just woke up like a dream after being spattered with blood on their faces. They swung their axes and forks desperately, almost counterattacking under the stimulation of fear and belief in survival. But the ridiculous weapon hit the bean shield and leather armor, except for the sound of percussion instruments, it had no effect.

Wolfe watched as the young man on his spear fell slowly, his fork scraping only the edge of his shield. But obviously not injured, Wolfe's hand was still twitching unconsciously.

Stabbing a cold weapon into a person's body is completely different from killing someone with a shooting weapon! The young face was still pale with horror, as if begging for mercy, but the blood from the corner of his mouth was flowing uncontrollably.

"This is a cruel battlefield." Wolf threw down his spear, howled like a beast, pulled out his sharpened axe, and pushed the shield wall with his shield with the soldiers, while the enemy moaned at his feet* Moaning and howling...that person, with red eyes, went mad with him. "It refers to the living or the dead."

Wolfe finally understood why his grandfather was so frightened that he fell ill after serving as a military doctor in the Lord's War, leaving only the last words: "Greenland, don't believe in tears."