Kingdom’s Bloodline Chapter 111: The era of mercenaries

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>Chapter 111 The Age of Mercenaries Catalog Setting Bookmark Comments Chapter 111 The Age of Mercenaries

Fiction: Kingdom of blood: No Man's sword Words: 8726

Tyles sat on the edge of the bar, looking at the old Xihuang beer in his hand, depressed for a while. 35xs

During this period, the fast rope went into and out of the tavern in sweat, rummaged through the accounts, checked the numbers, and was busy with the fortune left by Kanze during his lifetime. Louisa, Dean, McGee, and Dante’s great swords also One by one, they came to the tavern and went up to the second floor to meet with Seaman and Old Hammer.

"Huaiya, are you sure you can sit here?"

Dean squeezed into the noisy tavern and went upstairs to look suspiciously at Thales, who was sitting on the sidelines.

"Yes," Thales, who took his face out of the cup, burped, staring at Tampa on the other side of the bar with a bad expression, biting his teeth: "I know the tavernkeeper. "

"That's good," Dean gave Tampa suspiciously. "Tampa is a more reliable mercenary agent. He knows a lot of connections. If you find your way home, maybe... "

Thyls nodded stiffly.

Dean shrugged and walked upstairs to attend a meeting within the mercenary.

Time passed, and soon, the night after the sunset came to Camp Yaga.

People come and go in the tavern, coveting them.

Many people noticed Thales sitting in the corner, but most of them were forced back by Tampa's eyes.

While the bards are soliciting business with a smile, they are alert to the competition of their peers. The exposed girls sway between the wine tables, using the gully on their chests to attract money and show their faces. Or the mysterious person shrank behind the table, whispering and arguing under the countertop, doing a dirty deal that Thales didn't want to know or dared to know.

Tyles has seen the sunset bar in the underground street, where there is often noisy people coming and going, but everyone knows that it is the site of the Brotherhood, no matter how chaotic the scene, not many people dare to be inside make trouble.

That's not the case at all in my bar.

When Thales saw the guests at the third table fought against an unevenly distributed business, he finally couldn't help but say to the boss: "You just look at it?"

"Otherwise?"

Behind the bar, Tampa waved lazily, beckoning a buddy to deal with the mess.

"This is Bladeya camp, full of benefits, calculations, opportunities, and dangers, while laws and morals only appear occasionally. It's strange that people don't fight," Tampa opened his account book and quickly recorded something : "Don't worry, the simple folk customs of the blade Ya camp didn't see that they lost money after breaking the tables and chairs?"

The folk customs are simple...

Thyls twitched his cheeks.

"What if they don't lose money?"

Tampa raised his head, the scar on his neck trembling.

"Everyone knows that I know many mercenaries and adventurers in the camp, and I often introduce them to business," the tavern owner smiled politely: "and many of them are professional debt collectors. For the sake of face, they only took a cent and covered the aftermath to collect the corpse."

Thyls nodded slightly, his face was clear: "That's it, you are really talented here."

Go to his mother's folklore is simple.

Thinking about what to do next, Thales absently asked the tavernkeeper: "So, Cohen saved money with you? Why?"

"This used to be a custom. At the end of the Scarlet Year, the soldiers who went on the expedition kept the reward money in the rear, and then they would take it if he came back alive."

Tampa sat comfortably behind the bar, watching the guys go around in a hurry, as if it had nothing to do with themselves: "Later, Baron Williams, in order to motivate the fighters, promised the victims to get the money. Double the savings...After the Surgery Campaign, I retired and took over this habit, hoping to make a business."

"But it seems..." Looking at the fast rope sitting in the distance in front of a businessman trying to count the money, Tampa sighed helplessly.

"Purge... the battle?" Thales asked: "Is it part of the desert war?"

Tampa snorted slightly.

"I guess you haven't seen the desert war ten years ago?"

Thyls shrugged: "It's obvious."

Tampa nodded, and put on a look of "I knew it": "Of course you haven't seen the cleanup campaign that lasted for several years after that."

"How to say?"

Tampa squinted his eyes and looked at a couple of drinking guests in the distance, watching them go from hooking shoulders and being like brothers to verbal and fisting. It seemed to be normal.

"The great victory of the desert war is always boasted: the dilapidated Star Kingdom rises up to mourn and courage, and bravely expedition to the desert, facing the barren tribes and orcs who moved eastward in a **** year Tribe..."

He snorted coldly:

"But you know, the hardest thing for us is not how to defeat **** and wild species. You can repel them once and you can repel them countless times, but how to protect your results after repelling them. After the gloriously victorious main force returns to the hometown to hug the baby, how to carry the flag and the cowhide they left behind, how to clean up the enemies hidden behind the dunes and caves bit by bit, those who stay waiting for the opportunity The remnants are brave, how to use their scarce strength to hold on to the passage, gritted their teeth and hit head-to-head when the **** come back again and again, so that the desert races, especially the stubborn orcs, get used to your existence and fear your power like a rascal Hyenas are used to the new territory of the Lion King."

"This requires a process," Tampa's eyes slowly drifted away: "In this process, there are no battles recorded in history, no decisive battles that regard death as home, no **** battles that are earth-shattering...but its tragic and sacrifices have never been Inferior."

"Victory is made with blood," he said lightly: "In order to consolidate victory, you have to pay more blood."

"This is the battle to clean up."

Tampa pointed to the hanging wall behind the bar: There was an old but still sharp old axe hanging there.

"Are you in it, too?" The prince asked solemnly: "Whether it is a desert war or a battle for elimination?"

Tampa nodded.

"The blade camp at that time was not like what you see now: the wounds of the Scarlet Year have not healed, and the main force of the desert war has been withdrawn. We have no conscripts from all over without money, no The golden and silver splendidly laid bare the noble private soldiers, there was no logistical food and grass supported by the army merchants and the royal family, there was no earth-shattering cavalry group, and there was no confidence and courage to order the whole army into the desert."

"We only have ourselves, the star people of the Western Wilderness: a legion made up by farmers, a commando team from mercenaries, a death squad composed of scum...The main force of the Duke of Lianxihuang, the skull guard from the wasteland We are all too poor. Our Crow Guard has more saddles than people who can ride horses. Only the first row of the Black Lion Infantry Brigade is full-trained battlefield veterans. The Baron’s Stardust Guards even had to get out of the prison of bones. There are many nobles exiled for sin after the **** years, and a considerable number of them are people with considerable family background and trained."

"But we can only bite our teeth. With the scarce medicine and a small amount of supplies, we can go deep into the desert, exhaust the sand dunes, and search every corner from the camp of the blade to the depths of the desert. In two groups, the **** and wild breeds who have infiltrated and tried to infiltrate them to death and death until they feel the pain, realize the price of returning to their homeland, admit the fact of failure, and never dare to send anyone to die."

Thyls stared blankly at the axe on the wall.

It is hard to imagine that he walked all the way, the sand-ravaged wasteland was once the most tragic battlefield.

"Among this, the stupid big Cohen is an outlier," Tampa laughed: "A noble who is so stupid that he can't get his hands off."

"Cohen?" Thales was slightly surprised: "He fought in the desert? Suppress the battle?"

"Fighted?"

Tampa snorted from his nose, seemingly amused.

"He is an iron fighter."

Tampa's eyes filled with nostalgia.

"A tough guy who was born for the battlefield, in three years, he **** a pile of orcs, and died to death."

"Why?" Thales asked in surprise:

"Cohen's identity...he is the heir of the noble Karabyan family. There is a whole Vola leader waiting to inherit, isn't he?"

"How do I know, those nobles who come and go," Tampa laughed: "How do I know what kind of wind he was smoking so that he had a good day but came to suffer."

The image of that stupid man appeared in Thales' heart, lost in thought.

"You know, once, we encountered an ambush."

Tampa seemed to feel quite emotional: "The gray **** of the Dead Iron Tribe wielded the hammer like a storm, leaving only the scraps of meat in the place that passed by, when it brought the **** down all over the mountain. When..."

Thyls suddenly felt his heart palpitations when he thought of the orc Kandal and the almost irresistible night raid.

"We were killed, lost contact with Qingqi, panicked, and ran away," Tampa sighed: "The stupid man and others were forced into the desert by them for half a month. No audio."

"We all thought they could not come back."

"The team even collected their relics. According to Frank, the Baron even had a headache how to write an obituary to Cohen's noble father."

The noise in the tavern is still there, but Thales just listened to Tampa's account.

I saw the boss let out a breath.

"Then one day... a dozing sentry outside the camp suddenly discovered that in the distance, on the horizon between the sunset and the desert..."

"A figure appeared. 35xs"

Tyles' eyes narrowed.

"Come alone, walking alone, crumbling, bruised and bruised."

Thyls inhales slightly: "Cohen?"

Tampa nodded slowly.

"In the entire camp of Bladeya, all of us, including Baron Williams’ guard, stood there blankly, watching the noble young master walking all the way in a daze, limping and clenching his hands. With that **** gray bastard, the ugly head of the infamous killer'Meat Crusher' Xisa Deadtie."

"He was just like that, confused, and walking into the camp trembling, unable to recognize the most beautiful beauty Felicia standing in front of him."

"He just moved forward all the way, walking incessantly, looking confused, muttering to himself, until he fell down without support."

"The baron personally took the ugly head of Sisar's death iron from Cohen and tied it to the flagpole."

Time seemed to stop at this moment, and both Thales and Tampa fell silent.

Until the boss grabbed a bottle of wine and took a sip.

"From that day on, no one in the camp called him'Little Master', and no one secretly spit into his kettle," Tampa put down the bottle, took a deep breath, and sighed." From that day on, he became a'silly big man'."

"A good warrior at Camp Bladefang, true man,'big silly man' Cohen."

Thyls was silent for a long time.

Unexpectedly, that big man with a heartless smile and a lack of brains once had such a thrilling and passionate past.

"It's a good story," the prince nodded: "It is worthy of a song by the bards."

Tampa snorted, not knowing whether it was in a good mood or a bad brain, he actually took the initiative to serve a plate of food, put it between himself and Thales, and started eating: "How is he now?"

Now?

What floated in Thales’s impression was that Cohen who had vowed to support him in killing him back to the Palace of Valor six years ago in the Temple of the Moon.

"As far as I know, he didn't go home and was still a police officer in the capital, but I haven't seen him for a long time."

"The capital..." Tampa groaned.

"I know he is a nobleman, and the noblemen are very complicated and messy."

He shook his head.

"I guess that stupid big guy also has his own responsibilities and troubles."

Thyls didn't speak.

The boss finally sighed slightly: "I hope he is still that real man, as stupid as ever."

Tyles nodded and finished the slightly bitter beer in his glass.

"He will be," the prince burst into a powerful smile:

"And will be stupid for a lifetime."

Tampa stared at him for a long time and finally laughed out loud.

"Yes, I hope."

"So," Thales coughed: "After the war, Cohen went to the capital, and you opened this tavern?"

"No, I just took over...Did you see the sign on the door? "My house" has been open for two or three hundred years," Tampa waved his hand:

"When you are tired of swords and shadows...you know, ordinary little days are more attractive."

Thyls snorted ironically.

"Ordinary little days?"

"Believe me, according to my experience and the people I know," the prince said grimly: "The guy who can be a tavern owner in this kind of place is not an ordinary little life. '."

"Come on, didn't it just give you the'first lesson', don't worry about it," Tampa glanced at him disdainfully: "Like a damsel, are you sure you are not the fast rope girlfriend?" "

"I just don't like someone counting me..."

"Ha, I know from your face that you must have been cheated a lot since childhood."

Thyls gave him a polite and hypocritical smile, and looked down at his food.

"By the way, are you going to stay here and not leave?"

Tampa frowned: "You know you have to pay for these foods, right?"

"I'm waiting for Dean and them...wait, pay?" Thales choked, "But you brought it up!"

"That's why you are required to give the money. If you bring it yourself, what will I charge?"

Thyls looked at the boss dumbfounded.

"A Mindis silver coin, thank you for your patronage." Tampa smiled and said with a smile: "For the face of the stupid man, the price is discounted."

After reluctantly handing out a few Solon silver coins, Thales took a bite of the food with a feeling of not eating white and not eating. Looking at the tavern slowly quieting down, he frowned and asked: "Is it my illusion, or is there really fewer and fewer guests?"

"In normal times, the later the time, the more people in the pub."

"But it's different recently. The composition of the Yaga camp is complicated, and there is a curfew every night," Tampa yawned: "If you go to the streets during the curfew, you will be caught by those patrolling soldiers... You know, many temporary conscripts came to the blade camp for the first time and took over defense when the royal standing army was away. They don’t know what it means to “open one eye and close one eye”, either to ruin money, or go to jail.”

"Just last month," Tampa shook his head: "That famous Hundred-Man Mercenary,'Blood and Whistle', was arrested. Many people went in. I said nothing to them, those The new army does not say anything about it."

Thyls frowned: "So you have a good face, can you say something for the prisoner?"

"For many years,'my family' has been providing supplies to the prison of bones, of course, it has its own way," Tampa snorted aloft: "You think, who took the owed fast rope out of prison? Fished it out?"

"Then you introduced the fast rope to Dean and entered the'Dante's Great Sword'?"

"You know, they weren't going to accept that kid with a comus accent," the tavern owner smiled, "but there seems to be a friend of the fast rope who knows the old Dante family..."

"So, whether it's fast rope or Kanze..." Thales asked consciously or unconsciously: "Dean was also introduced by you?"

Tampa shook his head.

"Dean was rescued by old Dante in the desert. Many of the people in their team came like this. Because of this, Dante's great sword can stay for so many years, even if old Dante died. "

Thyls thoughtfully.

"He seems to be very smart, I mean Dean."

Tampa agrees.

"To be honest, people like him are really awkward to be mercenaries. With his talents and insights, in the army, he is no less inferior to those big-bellied noble commanders. Just a few years ago, Dante His sword has earned a good reputation."

Thyls moved in his heart.

"You seem to know these mercenaries well?"

"After all, this is'my home'," Tampa is quite contented: "Men's will come here to find business, or business will come here to find mercenaries."

Tyles looked around, looking at the fierce guests, thinking about something.

At this moment, several armed silhouettes walked into the noisy tavern.

Tampa's eyebrows raised.

"Dear Ricky!"

The boss happily extended his hand to the oncoming guest: "How long has it been since?"

"It's only been a few months." The mercenary named Ricky said lightly, reaching out and shook Tampa.

Tampa looked at Ricky with a smile, and then at a middle-aged man with a sword beside him: "New face?"

"This is Clay, from the north. A good swordsman is not so good," Ricky pointed casually, and the middle-aged man nodded slightly to Tampa friendly: "Don't worry, he is already ours. People, don’t take personal work."

"It's a pity," Tampa shrugged regretfully: "You know, there are a few businesses that are short of good hands."

Tyles withdrew his gaze from the middle-aged man, and the **** senses he had raised since the First World War in the Waste Rock gave him a rare message: the middle-aged man's body was full of strange and restless power.

Looking at these new mercenaries, Thales' eyebrows jumped suddenly.

A man with a face covered on Ricky's left side was looking at the prince coldly, his eyebrows furrowed and he looked a little older.

His eyes flicked across the Time Crossbow beside Thales, narrowing slightly.

Thyls was surprised.

"As for this one, don't know. He just came to the camp, but he has a criminal record and is not clean." Ricky sighed and shook his shoulder to the masked man on the left:" Inconvenient to show your face."

In the end, the masked man slowly looked away, and Thales felt an unforgettable chill from him.

These people...

It's dangerous.

Thyls pressed on his inner anxiety.

"Of course, I only care about my business," Tampa raised his eyebrows indifferently: "How many tables do you want? Talk about business or look for chicks?"

Ricky shook his head.

"In fact, a few tables are not enough." Ricky took out a purse from his belt and instructed others to occupy the table. Only the middle-aged man and the masked man remained behind him: "We Tonight, Tampa, I’ll give you two hours. Empty this place including your guys. Don’t leave anything except alcohol and food."

Tampa frowned.

"But there will be a curfew in three hours."

Ricky smiled slightly: "Then we will drink until dawn, and we won't go out, and wait until the ban is lifted the next day."

Tampa squinted at him.

"Impossible," the boss shook his head decisively: "You know, I still have to do business, and I have to send supplies to the bones the next morning..."

Ricky put the purse on the bar, still smiling.

"Twenty gold coins, one night, you know, we have dozens of people."

Tampa gave an expression.

"This is'my house'," he raised his head, serious: "We have principles..."

"So we gave you a two-hour grace," Ricky still looks good at talking, but he doesn't back down:

"Thirty gold coins where we need you to talk about something."

Tampa glanced at the purse and shrugged: "We also have to close the door and rest. It is impossible for you to drive so late..."

The middle-aged man behind Ricky smiled.

"But your sign slogan says "Never close the door."

Tampa looks at him.

"You know, throughout the ages, if it is true if it is written on the slogan..."

The tavernkeeper raised his finger: "Then it won't be written with a slogan."

The middle-aged man raised his eyebrows: "It makes sense."

As if unable to watch their grinding, the covered-faced man stepped forward cleanly, took out a purse again, and slammed it on the bar.

"Fifty gold coins, no more."

Slap!

Tampa snaps his fingers severely.

"Deal!" He slipped away and put away the purse.

Thyls sighed and rolled his eyes.

I knew it.

Ricky shook his head and reluctantly led his companion to one of the wooden tables.

"Why, what big business did you take?"

Tampa, who just talked about a good charter price, looked at Ricky's back with open eyes: "Want to party for a night?"

"On the contrary," Ricky didn't look back. "After tonight, we will leave the Sabreya camp. You have also seen that the army of the stars are sent to the desert like no money. There is nothing here. Do business."

After Tampa retracted to the bar, he shook his head regretfully: "Is it? It's really bad news, whether it's for you or me."

Thyls looked at their backs and asked suspiciously: "They are..."

"It's'Blood Whistle'," Tampa said leisurely before he finished asking:

"Like Dante’s great sword, they are also mercenaries, but you'd better not provoke them. It’s a group of hundred people. From top to bottom, there are two or three hundred people. Only the soldiers who can be fully armed are on the battlefield. There are hundreds of people. They are not peasant soldiers. They are professional killers just like Dante’s sword."

"They only take on the work of war or the franchise business of royal merchants, and even the baron takes a high look at them."

"Blood whistling, group of hundred people?"

Thyls was taken aback, looking at the few people who were honking the horns in blood, some of them understood where that amazing murderous and threatening sense came from.

"From Dante's big sword to the **** whistle, they are all gathered here..." Thales thoughtfully: "So, around the desert, this place is indeed a paradise for mercenaries?" /

"Heaven?"

Tampa has a slight meal.

"It used to be."

"Almost twenty or thirty years ago, when I was a young idiot and didn't have an arrow in my knees," the boss sighed, "That's the golden age of mercenaries. The army of the stars guards itself, desert tribes. We have our own principles, a constant stream of businessmen, adventurers looking for treasures, shrewd bounty hunters, and sacrificial missionaries who work hard to teach. Everyone is looking for opportunities here."

"And now?"

Tampa shook his head: "A sword that is as shrewd as Dante has also suffered heavy losses, and it is as strong as blood and whistling to find another way out."

"The times are changing," Thales said silently: "The world is the same."

"Yes, twenty or thirty years ago, the army of the stars could not expedition to the depths of the desert," Tampa's eyes showed longing and nostalgia: "These are the privileges of adventurers and mercenaries. They are impassioned. Set off, come back alive to tell the legend, or wait for the bards to compose poems and sing everywhere."

"I still remember that at that time, there used to be a very powerful team of mercenaries around the desert, from the Camp of Bladeya to the Three Kingdoms of the Lost Sea, from Levorbon to the City of Steel, from the Land of Dragon Kiss to Thorns Land, whether it is a desert or a forest, an inner lake or a river, their footprints are all over these mercenary paradise, I also wanted to join them."

"Really."

Thyls was absent-minded: He saw Dante's great swords come down from the stairs.

"That mercenary...what's the name?"

Tampa was immersed in his own world, sighing: "Speaking of names, hey, they only had nine people at first, so they gave the team a dumb and dumb name..."

"It's called the'Nine Giants'."

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Chapter 111 The Age of Mercenaries, The Bloodline of the Kingdom-Shanwu Novels.com