"You stupid northern barbarian, do you know the rules of duels here?" Sir Linton took off his helmet and a weathered old face appeared in front of everyone.

The triangular eyes, as sinister as an eagle, looked extremely cruel, and the thick scars extended from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbones. The wrinkles as wide as caterpillars were like gullies between mountains, unscrupulously spreading on his face.

Simon saw that Sir Linton's covered helmet had a soft armor filled with lining, and in addition, he also wore a leather turban on his head. I guess if he didn't wrap it thicker on his head, it would be very uncomfortable to wear the covered helmet.

"Well, it's interesting, why don't you tell me?" Simon stepped on the horse and got off the horse.

Since Sir Linton did not ride a horse, it was obviously extremely unfair and disgraceful to Simon duel with him on horseback.

"If I don't go around with you, the victorious party can take away the armor of the loser, and the loser has to pay a ransom to the winner, otherwise he will become his slave. How about it?" Linton greedily glanced at Simon's strong throat-protecting long-sleeved mail, licking his dry lips without any restraint.

"Is that so? That's good. Let your servant prepare the ransom now. I have to hurry to go to Rotenberg!" Simon moved his joints, not caring about Sir Linton who was so angry that he smoked his orifices.

"Hehe, you will pay the price of your arrogance and underestimation to make you regret your life!" Sir Linton's facial features were squeezed into a mass of anger, looking both ferocious and scary.

"Young Master, be careful!" The fat man said to Simon worriedly. Based on his intuition, Sir Linton should not be a role to mess with.

A gust of strong wind blew across the bare land. The farmers in the fields shivered, pulled the corners of their clothes that were lifted by the cold wind, stood up and looked at the duel between their master and strange knight at the distant entrance of the village.

"May God bless this strange heroic knight to let Master Linton, who should go to hell, go to where he should go, I mean, at least cut off his head with one sword." An old farmer wearing a tattered straw hat held a yellow dog-tail grass in his hand and waved the wooden fork in his hand excitedly.

"Hey, whisper, the housekeeper is here!" The young farmers beside the old farmer seemed to be disgusted with their lord, Sir Linton, and gently arched the old farmer when he saw the housekeeper coming here.

At the entrance of the village, Simon and Linton, who were wearing a covered helmet, had already pulled out their hands and half swords, and looked at each other carefully in T-step.

"Haha!"

Sir Linton took the lead in launching the attack. What surprised Simon was that he actually used the Italian roc to spread his wings, bent his knees and raised the sword in his hand and slashed at Simon.

"Stop, ping!"

Simon quickly raised his hand to block Sir Linton's attack. Linton's sword made a sharp friction sound along the body of the Simon's sword and slid towards Simon's hand, but it was blocked by the thick cross sword grid in front of Simon's hilt.

"What the hell is this?" Sir Linton was a little surprised. Obviously, he had never seen a cross sword grid that was so long and thick and solid than the sword in his hand.

However, Simon would not give him time to think. He shook the sword in Sir Linton's hand that was stuck in his sword grid, turned around and took advantage of the situation to slash Sir Linton's right shoulder without mail protection.

"Damn it, not good!"

Seeing that it was impossible to block, Linton's brain quickly made a judgment, took a step back without hesitation, and at the same time, he turned the sword in his hand and put it in a defensive position.

"snort."

Seeing that the attack was cut by the empty attack, Simon did not continue to attack rashly. Instead, he carefully set up his T-step again and stared at Sir Linton's movements.

You should know that this kind of life-and-death struggle in reality is not as good as a game. You may have hit the opponent with your sword, but the opponent's attack on you will not stop. The final result is that your sword hits his arm, but his sword pierces your neck, which is not worth the effort.

"The stupid donkey from the north was just warming up just now!" Although Sir Linton's face was covered by a thick mask with a covered helmet, Simon could still feel the old and ugly face behind the mask's face now.

"Go to die!"

Simon felt that every cell of his own was burning. He raised the sword in his hand and slashed it towards Sir Linton's right neck. At the same time, the sword in Sir Linton's hand also moved.

"Block, block me quickly!" Simon's mind went blank. He threw everything behind his head, stared at the sword in Linton's hand, and focused on the movements in Linton's hand.

For a moment, Simon seemed to feel that time had been slowed down many times, and all other things in the world disappeared, leaving only him and the sword in his hand, Linton and the sword in Linton.

"Aha, I'm taking the bait!" Simon's face was instantly happy, and Linton did not choose to retreat and dodge as before, but instead turned to the sword in his hand to block it.

"Little bastard, let me use my sword to open your throat, so that you will never speak wildly!" The moment when blocking Simon's attack, Sir Linton grinned and raised his sword to step forward and stabbed Simon's neck.

But Simon bent down at the same time, leaned his body right and took a step back to the right. The sword in his hand was unceremonious and slashed Sir Linton's unprepared left neck.

"Hmm!"

With a painful groan, Sir Linton not only stabbed the sword in his hand, but also instinctively covered the wound on his neck with one hand because of the severe pain in his left neck, trying to prevent the neck from gushing out blood like a spring.

"Beautiful job!" For a moment, Fatty man and others who witnessed the bleeding arrows on Linton's neck and the farmers in the farmland couldn't help but applaud.

"call!"

Sir Linton, who was just about to raise his head and stand up again, felt a strong wind blowing, and then his head sank and fell to the ground hard. The wound on his left neck seemed to have been torn a little bigger.

"Even if he was wearing leather gloves to hit his head with a covered helmet, his hands still hurt!" Simon shook his hand, gasped and slowly walked towards Sir Linton who was lying in a pool of growing blood.

"If you are wearing hooded mail and you are wearing throat protection, you can completely get this blow." Simon looked at Linton's covered helmet without any protection at this time, with a big wounded neck, and the simple sleeveless mail on his body, shook his head.

"This, this..." The middle-aged soldiers of the Linton family were already stunned. Looking at the owner who was gradually silent in the pool of blood on the ground, the expression on his face changed from surprise to joy, from joy to bitterness, and from bitterness to confusion.

The middle-aged soldier felt that his back was soaked with sweat again. The back of his beige-yellow, patched cheap cotton armor was soaked with sweat repeatedly. In addition to leaving a strong and stinky sweaty smell, it also left some white crystals. At this time, the crystals mixed with various filth were soaked with sweat again, leaving a layer of disgusting patina on the back of the cotton armor.

"It seems that the ransom cannot be obtained," Simon ignored Sir Linton, who was staring at him unwillingly on the ground, and twitched from time to time, and glanced over the middle-aged soldier, the farmer in the field, and Linton's housekeeper. "All those present witnessed this, and we fought fairly under the witness of God, and finally ended with Sir Linton's unfortunate death in battle."

"No, yes, you are talking about it. Now Master Linton's equipment belongs to you." The middle-aged soldier's voice was trembling.

"By the way, I have always had a question, why is your territory so poor, but Sir Linton has such a good covered helmet?" Simon took a roll of rag from Gabriel and wiped the blood left by Linton on the sword.

As the middle-aged soldier told, Simon gradually understood the whole story. It turned out that Sir Linton was an absolute armor enthusiast. Just two years ago, in addition to spending all his savings, he also borrowed money from Jews who were lending and customized this precious helmet from craftsmen in Milan.

Simon's era is not as exaggerated as in the last century as in the last century, as long as there is a horse, a sword and a mail, it can make the small nobles around him bow down and surrender. However, if you have a good pair of armor, you can not only save your life when necessary, but also make you respected in the circle of nobles.

While Sir Linton got his customized cover helmet, his territory was deeply in a financial crisis. So Linton found his relatives who were a counselor in the nearby baron's court to forge two claims, and then borrowed money to recruit people everywhere, breaking through the defenses of the other two knight leaders in one fell swoop, plundering a large amount of wealth, receiving huge ransoms from the two knight families, getting rid of the financial crisis.

Unexpectedly, Sir Linton was not satisfied. After the war, he wanted to buy himself a sturdy riveted long-sleeved headscarf throat mail, and replace the old sleeveless mail he is wearing now.

This chain mail that is easy for the Duke of the Earl and Duke is not something that a knight who makes a little money in war can afford.

So, in addition to levying more severe taxes on his people, Sir Linton also made up the idea of ​​forests in the territory, asking the housekeeper to lead a large number of leaders to cut down trees and sell the wood to lords and merchants who needed building materials elsewhere.

Over-logging did bring a lot of money to Sir Linton, but his territory became barren and deserted, and the ecological damage was very serious. Linton didn't care about this. He only knew that he had collected all the money to buy a new chain mail, and then took the money to Milan in person, found the best local armor master, and put forward his own customization requirements.

"Mr. Linton's new mail can only be completed in the spring of the next year. Otherwise, as you said, Mr. Linton, wearing a chain mail with a headscarf and throat protection, can completely take the fatal blow." The middle-aged soldier swallowed and carefully observed Simon's expression.
Chapter completed!