Under the broken Fort Gate and walls of Foldburg, a large number of corpses and limbs were scattered.

Several black crows were parked on the chest of a Viking warrior with a huge wound on his chest and pecking at the rotten flesh in his body. From time to time, they raised their small heads and looked vigilantly at the people who were constantly passing through the corpses in the distance.

A crow raised his head, and his watery brown eyes reflected a reflection of a person, and it grew bigger and bigger.

"Ga, ga!" The crows were frightened and flew away in all directions, leaving only a few black feathers and flesh and blood pulled out of the corpse.

A young militia wearing a blood-stained linen robe, wearing a pair of leather gloves that had been very old and disgusting smell of feces and sour sweat, walked to the Viking samsome body, squatted down, untied the soft armor cap, mail turban, and lace up on the head of the corpse.

"God, pity me, a poor man who had nothing to do because of war, even almost lost his life. Please forgive me for my sins." The young militia thought silently, looking around for a while, and then confirmed that there was no one nearby, carefully removed the exquisite armband of the right arm of the Viking warrior's body and put it in the cloth bag around his waist.

However, the decorative goose helmet on the head of the Viking warrior and the leather armored militia on his body did not dare to secretly take it for himself. First, this thing is very big and difficult to hide, and it is exposed in this village with almost no personal privacy. Second, he has almost no reason to go out to the village to secretly sell these armors.

"Okay, the next bad guy." After packing up, the militia dragged the naked Viking warrior's body to one side and placed all the clothes lined with shoes, boots, pants and other clothes on the other side.

"I'll help you, Ion." A militia with spots of bald hair came over. At first glance, this guy was a very hard-working guy since he was a child. His face full of gully face said that he was from the age of eighteen to sixty and no problem.

"It's you, bald head," said the militiaman who asked Ion, looking at the person who came, and continued to remove the armor and clothes of another Viking warrior's body with no interest. "Does the master have any new orders?"

"No, the battlefield over there has been cleaned up and the bodies are being transported. They are coming here to clean the battlefield. I will sneak up in advance to get some benefits." The bald militia named Bree squatted beside a headless Viking warrior, and decently untied his armor while groping in the cloth bag on his body and waist.

"Oh, put down your salted pig's trotters quickly. If the lord sees them, they will be punished and punished!" After watching Baldhead Bray find a small silver cross from the Viking's cloth waist bag, Yion's eyes turned red.

"Bah, you slippery ghost," Baldhead Bray gave Ion a disdainful look, and took the small silver cross pendant back into his waist bag. "I saw all your sneaky and despicable behavior just now."

"This," Ion lost his confidence in an instant, his face turned red like an apple on the tree, "Don't talk about this, I saw nothing just now. Why does this pagan have a cross in his waist bag? Is he also a Christian?"

"I don't know," Bald Bray looked at Ion, who was discomfortably changing the subject, "maybe it was stolen from the northern territory, these bandits who should go to hell."

"Hey, you two lazy guys, who will allow you to clean the battlefield without approval? Get over here and carry the corpses!" The fat man roared fiercely at the two militiamen who were sneaking beside the pile of corpses under the wall of the Nanduan Fortress.

"Come on, Lord Hoffman." The two guys who embezzled the arms and crosses smiled and walked towards the fort gate in shame.

At this time, people carrying naked bodies of the dead in the fort gate kept coming out and putting these white-haired and purple-haired corpses on the clearing ground on the edge of the village under the fort hill.

It's just now that summer has turned to autumn, and many flies crawl around on the corpses. Perhaps in a short while, the rotten meat will be covered with maggots.

"Poor Lovin, just left us." A militiaman held a muddy and bloody head and placed it on the chest of a headless corpse wearing tattered cotton armor.

On the other side, an old man who was watching the militia carrying and cleaning the bodies sighed, and stepped on the stirrup and tried hard to get off the beautiful war horse wearing a brightly colored Dorsten family heraldic style horse suit.

"My master, I'll help you!" An old servant wearing linse clothes and wrinkles on his face hurriedly met and helped the old baron get off the horse.

I saw the old baron's square ply helmet with a stuffed and a chain armor turban on his head, wearing a delicate heavy scale armor with a heart-protecting ply, wearing a nailed neck guard and a family heraldic burqa, wearing a chain armor glove, stomping on the chain armor to protect his shin, holding another decorated refined grooved armed sword at his waist, slowly walking towards Simon.

"Coother, my father," Simon bowed and saluted, "Thank you very much for your timely reinforcements, saving me and the whole village from the fire and water."

"Ha, Simon, your battle is difficult enough. If you hadn't built such a simple wooden fort at such a fast speed, I'm afraid that the village of Fold would have repeated the mistakes of the previous two years." The old Baron Koother was amazed and looked up at the wooden fort that had resisted the fierce Vikings for two days.

"Yes, Koother," Simon nodded. Due to long-term immersion in this language environment, Simon no longer felt uncomfortable calling his father's name.

"Little Simon, I've been out for so long, do you still remember your dearest brother?" At this moment, a low magnetic bass sounded. Simon looked at him happily and a tall man wearing a lock armor and wearing a long heraldic burqa was strode from the direction of the Vikings' boat. After a closer look, it turned out to be his elder brother, Sir Lange.

"Of course, Lange," Simon felt an indescribable discomfort when he looked at Lange's rock-blind face, "I miss you day and night when I was in the village of Fold."

"Ahh, there's no need for this. I hope that the person who thinks about me at the night is a beautiful and virtuous girl, not you, a big and thick brat." Lange just raised his lips and said lightly. This made some people who don't know Lange unable to tell whether he was joking with Simon or quarrel with Simon.

Simon could only smile bitterly. In the memory of the former owner of this body, Lange was such a serious guy, with a stern face that never changed everywhere, making the people around him feel pressure and serious at all times.

But Simon knew in his heart that this brother Lange was a secretly cruel, cunning, and competitive guy. He had to get along with him carefully.

"Simon, the Vikings guarding the other side of the ship have been killed by my cavalry. Jonas found a large amount of food and wine on one of their ships, and the other was filled with many exquisite silver and gold grail bowls and plates of crosses, as well as many spices and dyed cloths." The old baron said, looking at the fat and fat old man behind him, wearing a gray robe, with a gloomy face.

"Hello, my Master Simon, it's been a long time since we met." Jonas saluted respectfully and said slowly. But Simon always felt very uncomfortable listening.

"Indeed, Jonas, the chief financial officer." Simon frowned slightly at the old man, but couldn't think of where he had offended him.

At this moment, the village chief and stonemason Ryan, carrying a large piece of parchment, walked over from the riverside, and behind them were the militia and serfs who were constantly unloading the spoils from the Viking warships.
Chapter completed!