The Nords of No Promise

('On the other side of the sea, the treasures of the Nords are piled up, and the bones of the Nords are also buried. --- "Wolf's Notes".

For a long time, Wolf has been troubled by a question: Is being a Nord really a mistake?

His father had obviously given him a very solid iron rice bowl: a young priest in a village, his only job every day was to eat and drink in the name of Odin. Don't think that this is an easy task. It is really a test of a priest's skills if he wants to blow the cowhide for a day and night in front of many simple Nuo villagers.

Because most of the time, a dignified pig will stop eating because of shame, but Wolfe's family's flicker... for a hundred years and six generations have never stopped.

On Greenland, the sharp throwing axes and Germanic swords drew countless terrible and deadly blade circles in the hands of Nord warriors. How many people were struggling with hunger and pain, but Wolfe could still eat enough to support him. Turn over two pages of ancient books when you are reading. No matter which warrior who kills without blinking an eye is in front of him, no matter how disdainful they are in their hearts, they must bow their proud heads to show their respect for Odin.

Sometimes when Wolf is full, he will gesture to God Odin: "You stupid (beep——)! If you really exist, come and see, what is your cute little priest eating? That's right, it's your sacrifice! If you have the ability, a thunderbolt strikes me!"

Fortunately, Wolfe doesn't drink alcohol, otherwise if these words are heard by the pious villagers, how much they believed and loved this sixteen-year-old young man in the past, they will press this magic stick to death in the latrine so much now. Maybe remembering what his parents and grandparents did, realizing some goddamn scam, could dig his immediate family out of the grave and "practice". Don't think that the Nords are so jokey, otherwise they wouldn't think that Calradia is full of milk and gold.

In fact, objectively speaking, Wolfe is very smart and very healthy. But the ridiculous thing is that he can neither use the tall noble Germanic sword, nor the Nord battle ax that is suitable for all ages. The short spear and shield in the hands of this little priest are even more horrible. According to some tricky people, they look like a bear playing with a ball in a circus.

If it were not for heaven's fault, he would be one of the best scholars in the University of Pravin, the capital of Swadia. But fate just likes to make inappropriate jokes with people: six generations of Wolfe's ancestors have never left the black currant village where he lives. semi-tribal peoples.

According to common sense, in this society where "Odin is the boss and the fist is the second", Wolf should spend the rest of his life holding books and eating unpalatable Nord bread, until one day he can't move and die at home, As for whether little Wolfsson will come to bury him, that depends on fate.

No one predestined you to live a meaningless life. The real opportunity is that when the storm comes, you choose to continue to stick your head into the dung pile like an ostrich, or raise the broken sail and take a good bet with Thor Bet! In fact, it's not that Wolfe will have anything to offer, it's just that his family has stuck their heads in the dunghill for a hundred years, and it seems to be used to it.

It seems that Wolfe has no intention of breaking this record, and the discerning people in the village have also seen that there is always a group of old-fashioned guys calling Wolfe "good-for-nothing" behind his back, and gradually this has spread to The whole village has become the code name of Wolfe.

Careless Nord women will yell at their children in a voice that can kill cows: "Go! Put this salted fish at the door of the 'promising' house! Let him worship Odin for us!"

If you think this is embarrassing, you should think of other ways as soon as possible and leave this small dilapidated village, because life will always be worse than you imagined. A group of brats often block Wolfe's door, and the two most common words are: "No prospect, let us summon a dragon to see!" and "No prospect! Why are you so worthless?"

In fact, if it weren't for that afternoon, Wolfe might continue to be so unpromising.

There are always only two seasons in the homeland of the Nords: one is winter, and the other is a season that resembles winter. So even in the afternoon, the air is always cool. Wolf tossed back and forth in the tool room of his house. The dogtail grass grew in the mud, and the mud covered the deep pit in the thatched house. Wolf, who was actually only less than 1.73 meters tall, bumped into it unconscious How many times in the head.

Almost no Nords can walk here without hindrance. Some people joked that if Wolfe had a wife, 80% of them would not be able to get in.

"This roof is really vicious, I'm obviously very short!" Wolf cursed muttered, while groping on the platform, "Why didn't the old man tell me before he died that only he was 1.6 meters tall and could enter this house? "

The climate in Greenland is actually very unsuitable for living in thatched cottages. Except for some mad lords, most landowners are quite "kind" and built wooden houses for their serfs. It's not that they take the world as their own responsibility Ambitious, but there is really no shortage of people who freeze to death in Greenland.

Although tenant farmers and serfs are not human beings in their eyes, they are still heavy labor and large animals. Who will farm for themselves if they freeze to death? So Wolf doesn't need to worry about his tool shed being taken over by the homeless -- if there is a homeless person who dares to live in it, and doesn't freeze to death overnight or be squeezed (short) to death by this hut, he can send him away.

Wolfe was looking for a magical thing in this little world that belonged entirely to him—a cauldron, to cook a sticky paste made of stink beans that dogs would not eat, to help men in the village mend shield. That's a lot of income.

After all, even Odin's oracle mentioned: "The Nords claim the land and need the shield to contribute their strength." When expelling the aborigines in northern Greenland, they only need to line up the shield wall, push it up with a shield the size of a pot, and knock the more uncivilized hapless people to the ground and crush them to death.

So, for a Nord warrior, the shield is both companion and eater. According to Wolff's special paste covering skin, according to his own words, the shield can be made as strong and elastic as vines, and it can slide spears, battle axes, and battle swords more effectively. Odin also bestowed on Wolf a pair of delicate hands, and the coat of arms he painted on the shield was as lifelike as the one on the banner.

Good stuff, Wolff is right, but he really doesn't know how to use a shield himself: once the shield is gathered over his head, he will fall nervously. So many years later, Wolf stood under the city wall of Zhiva Cheze, his legs were still shaking, and he staggered when he walked. The sharpshooter of Vikia on the tower could not aim at all.

According to his father's accurate judgment of his son: "Wolf, a first-rate scholar, a second-rate businessman, a third-rate politician, and a low-level warrior."

He dragged the cauldron to the yard and put it on the pot stand. A group of little heads stood on tiptoe outside the fence curiously watching Wolf pour water into the pot with a painful expression on his face.

The little heads thought they were chattering in a low voice, and a child who was very annoying to Wolfe began to chatter and ask again: "What do you think he is doing?"

"Hmm, I guess he's cooking frogs and bats!" said a kid.

Another brat took over the conversation: "It should be summoning an elf or something!"

The child who asked the question said with disdain: "Can you be normal? Do elves smell that bad?"

Seeing his confident appearance, the bear kids asked one after another, "What are you saying he is summoning? Jack, tell me quickly!"

Jack scratched the non-existent beard on his chin very gracefully, and imitated his father's tone and said loudly: "You guys remember! The worthless one is calling... the dragon!"