The birch forest looks like a thin layer of shallow snow, and the crystal white trunks make the forest look like a beautiful snow scene and an active ice sculpture.

As the mountains move, the woods appear denser and denser as they go inside. The roads that were originally recognizable in front of them are gradually covered by thick fallen leaves on the ground. And as they enter the depths of the woods, even the sun above them is blocked by the large canopy branches. Even in winter, when the dead leaves are already empty, it is difficult to see the direction of the sun when you look up.

Strangers will soon get lost when walking deep in such a forest. Except for the trees that look the same everywhere, those walking here will become confused and even panic because they lose their direction.

The birch forest in winter is very bleak, but it exudes a solemn beauty, but such a place has a fearsome secret.

Deep in this huge birch forest, there is a swamp, and the fallen leaves accumulated over the years have been covered on the ground and turned into fresh fertilizer, making the land fertile and soft, but this is dangerous and terrible. Even in winter, when those seemingly hard lands are stepped on, the ground will quickly sink, and then the cold mud will tightly wrap around the unlucky legs. Whether it is the legs of a human or the four legs of an animal, they will be unable to extricate themselves from stepping into this bottomless abyss. The consequence of panic struggle is that it sinks deeper and deeper, when the legs are completely trapped in.

The body that cannot leverage the force will sink faster. When it reaches the chest, the victim will gradually lose consciousness and strength due to depression, and will gradually flood the neck. At this time, the victim can no longer breathe. The final struggle of the mouth wide open can only let the mouth be filled with mud, then the nostrils and eyes. When it is finally out of the way, there may be a few strands of hair floating on the surface of the swamp, but in the end it will be completely submerged as the mud is squeezed into the middle. Only then will the swamp calm down and there will be no trace of any life that has devoured.

Such a place is so terrible that almost no one dares to come to the swamps deep in the woods for many years.

But this is only "almost", and some bold people are still willing to stay here or even live. Through the birch forest and the terrifying bottomless swamp that keeps making "scrolls" sounds in the cold wind, you can see that there is a large camp on the edge of the other side of the woods.

This camp consists of a row of houses made of birch trees. The walls and roofs of colorful birch trees blend together with the surrounding woods. If it weren't for the curling smoke from the roof, you wouldn't have easily discovered this camp in the forest unless you were in a very close place.

Outside the camp, there was a circle of low-tall walls built with tree trunks. One was also not tall, with a lot of leaves on the roof, between two adjacent birch trees. A man in a thick leather robe stood on the observation deck and stared at the distance.

The movement from the distance of the camp attracted the attention of the lookout whistle. He first looked carefully. After seeing the people's team clearly, the lookout immediately sent a loud signal to the people in the camp below.

The entire camp suddenly became lively. Whether it was outside or in the house, they rushed towards the camp gate, and many people were shouting to see those who came back.

The team gradually approached, first appeared in people's vision, and then gradually saw clearly. When they saw the vehicles they were rushing, people couldn't help but cheer again.

"God bless them, I hope they all come back safely."

An elderly old man said nervously, which caused another old man next to him who was slightly younger than him but was gray-haired.

"We should be happy for their bravery, not saying such timid words, I want to say that you are becoming more and more timid now."

"I'm not timid, I'm just worried," the tall old man looked at the old man next to him with dissatisfaction. "You know, my father even faced the most severe punishment in order to convert to the Vatican, because of this..."

"It is because of this that your family can become a noble person. You have said this a lot," the gray-haired old man looked at the team getting closer and closer and said disdainfully, "You must know that real noble people don't always deliberately mention those old past events. My family was a noble person many years ago. Our family tradition is to tell their descendants what kind of responsibilities they should bear as noble people."

The tall old man's face turned red. He knew that the other party was hinting at him as a nouveau riche, which made him angry. However, before he could speak, the leader of the team had already stepped on a small stream in front of the camp and came to the camp gate.

"Our hero is back!" The gray-haired old man shouted loudly first, and his shouting caused another cheer. People who had been impatiently waiting immediately rushed towards the team. People were somewhat anxious to find their families in the team.

"Don't worry, everyone must be back." A man wearing a cylindrical felt hat and a musket on his waist shouted loudly to people. His words caused laughter all around him, and at this time, several people dressed slightly gorgeously and looked quite qualified walked over from the crowd.

Seeing these people, the man immediately put away his smile on his face. He respectfully possessed himself and saluted. The flying ears on the felt hat were hanging at a right angle to the brim of the hat.

"God bless you all come back safely," a middle-aged man with a pure gold medal hanging around his neck stretched out his hand wearing a gem ring for the man to kiss, and then he looked at the team behind him. "Tell everyone about your experiences. You must know that the birch forest and the mountains blocked too much news, and we still don't know a lot of things."

"Sir Viscount," the man smiled in the hopeful eyes of people, and slowly put away the relaxed look on his face. "If I were to tell the truth, Bosnia is not good now. I am talking about the north, because the south has long been completely occupied by pagans."

People sighed a deep sigh, and the middle-aged man, known as the Viscount, also drew a cross on his chest with a serious expression.

"Then let's talk about the north," Viscount greeted the man and walked into the camp with him. "We have been hiding here for a long time, and now we all want to know what's happening outside as soon as possible."

"You don't have to hide here. After all, as you are, even the adults in Zagreb must respect you." The man with a felt hat answered with a playful answer, but when he saw that the Viscount's face did not improve because of his words, he gradually put away his smile.

"Some people in Zagreb may hope that I will die early," Viscount shook his head disapprovingly at the man with felt hats. "You know, I am blocking too many of them."

"But you are..."

The man with felt hat wanted to say something, but was stopped by the Viscount's gesture. He took people to the open space in the camp and stopped and asked, "Tell me what everyone is interested in. What is the current situation in Northern Bosnia, Knight of Morko?"

"It's a bit bad," the knight named Morko looked at the people around him with a little discouraged look "I know everyone hopes to hear good news, but it may disappoint you. Although there are still many people in Northern Bosnia resisting the Ottomans, both in size and in the army are very small. Many people just resist spontaneously but no one leads them. The great nobles may fight with the pagans today, and tomorrow they will enthusiastically call the messengers sent by the Sultan to call them brothers. It can be said that no one has completely stood up."

"oh."

A disappointed low voice came from all around, and people's emotions became a little deeper because of the joy of the team returning.

"But it's not all," said Knight Morko, bowing slightly to the viscount. "It's your cousin who is braver. When we were about to return, we heard that he had just attacked the pier established by the Ottomans on the north bank of the Nausava River. His army drove the Ottomans directly into the cold river to give them a bath, and he also burned all the supplies prepared by the Ottomans on the dock, which were prepared by the Sultan for his expedition."

"Roy?" Viscount asked with a little thoughtful look and then nodded. "It seems like he did it. In the whole of Northern Bosnia, he is probably the only one who is so brave. Tell me what else he did?"

"Doing a lot, people are now rumoring that he might become the new Bosnian king."

Knight Morko seemed to realize what he said was wrong, and the atmosphere around him instantly became slightly condensed.

Some people looked at the viscount with a calm face, and the tall old man behind Moorco had already poked his son hard on the waist.

"Okay, Morko, you're tired, go and rest with your friends." Although Viscount saw the old man's actions, he didn't say anything else. After he gave instructions, he made a gesture to the people around him to follow him, and then turned around and walked towards the largest house in the camp.

"You idiot, did God only give you a body but not a head when he created you?" As soon as the Viscounts walked away, the tall old man immediately grabbed his son's shoulder and walked towards his house. As if he realized the problem in his words, the old man stopped and drew a cross devoutly before whispering, "God forgives me for saying such disrespectful words, but how can you ask whether the king is not a king in front of the Viscounts?"

"Dad, I just said it casually, it was what the Viscount himself wanted to ask." Knight Morko looked around while struggling hard in secret. "Dad, can you stop like this? I am the Knight and the captain appointed by the Viscount. You have to leave me some face."

"Bad face, you have made Master Viscount unhappy. Maybe your captain will be gone tonight. As for your knight, don't forget that your father gave it to you. At most I will take it back." The old man kept nagging until he saw a young woman at his doorstep looking at them with concern.

Seeing the woman, the father and son froze in place in an instant. After a while, the old man remembered something and quickly let go of his hand holding his son and smoothed his wrinkled clothes.

"Oh... that Morko, don't forget the instructions of Master Viscount. You must know that this is the master's trust in you." The old man instructed his son seriously, and then blinked immediately when he turned around.

"Don't worry, dad, I mean father, I will definitely do it according to the Viscount's order." Knight Morko responded seriously. Seeing the old man walking into his house, he turned around and bowed to the young woman. "Please forgive the respected Miss Aluoxia, I don't know you are here."

The young woman is very beautiful, looking like a ripe apple. Even in this camp of birch forests that is like a refuge, she can still vaguely tell her different noble temperaments from others.

The woman didn't say anything, but just looked at the Knight Morko quietly and with a little fun. Until she saw that the Knight Morko seemed to feel uncomfortable because she was uncomfortable, she broke the silence and said with a smile: "Have I disturbed you father and son?"

"No, no," Morko said quickly, but looking at the woman's quiet look, the Knight finally smiled bitterly. "Actually, my father is teaching me a lesson because I just said something I shouldn't say."

"Is it because you said to my uncle that Roe? The Marquis might be king?" the woman asked with a smile, and when she saw Morko nodding, she frowned. "You are indeed a little stupid. You must know that only a person as stupid as you would say in front of the son of the Duke of Zagreb, another person might be king."

Morko shrugged helplessly. He felt that he had done nothing wrong. After all, it was Viscount who asked him to tell him about Northern Bosnia.

The young woman, known as Miss Aluoxia, didn't seem to be really angry. She first finished speaking very seriously, and then smiled mischievously.

"But you are not wrong, after all, the only thing my uncle can rule after escaping from Zagreb is this forest."

A Luoxia's words made Morko not know how to respond, and the two of them fell into a slightly awkward silence for a moment.

Then, just as Miss Aluoxia was scraping her head and trying to break the awkward atmosphere and find a topic, Morko seemed to suddenly remember something and let out a soft cry from her mouth.

He bowed to Miss Aluoxia and said anxiously: "Please forgive me. I suddenly remembered that I didn't tell Lord Viscount. I have to report to your uncle quickly."

"Then we can go together," Miss Aluoxia immediately raised her chest. "You know that my uncle should be having a meeting with others at this time. If I don't go with you, you may have to wait a long time, so I can help you, of course, what you want to say first is really important."

"I don't know whether it's very important, but I feel it's necessary to report it to Lord Viscount."

When Miss Aloxia heard Morko say this, she nodded, then walked forward with a calm pace even in such a remote camp, leading Morko towards the Viscount's house.

Viscount was indeed having a meeting with his confidants, but he was not in a high mood. Except for listening to his subordinates' comments, he was mostly meditating alone.

"Sir, you must make up your mind," said one of the men to the Viscount. "If you continue to hide, Roe? may really become the new Bosnian king, and your last chance to return to Zagreb may be gone."

"But what should I do?" Viscount looked at his men helplessly. "You should know that when those rebels took advantage of the opportunity of paganism to invade Bosnia, they drove us out of Zagreb. They ignored my situation. I knew that he actually would rather see the people of the Herva family being expelled. After all, now he may become Northern Bosnia and even have the chance to become the king of most of Croatia. Do you think he would miss such an opportunity? He has enough army and endless money, and what do I have? I have nothing except a group of loyal ministers who follow me."

The Viscount's words made the others in the room silent. They knew that the Viscount was right. As the Herva family who had the most chance to inherit the Croatian throne, it seemed too annoying to the old and young people of the Bosnian Kingdom or to the current Marquis of Royes. Therefore, when the Orthodox people in Zagreb took advantage of the opportunity to fall into war in the south and killed the Duke of Herva who converted to the church and expelled the Duke of the Duke's son, the Marquis of Royes, who was a relative, just watched coldly and refused to save him.

"Is there anything I can do with Roe now? Or others to compete for the throne of Croatia and even Northern Bosnia?" Viscount Herva looked at his men in a daze. Seeing their silent appearance, the Viscount smiled self-deprecatingly. "The only thing I can rule now is this camp, and without an army, I can't even go to provinces that are still loyal to me."

Viscount's words made the room feel depressed, and everyone's heart was heavy, until a slightly tentative voice came from the door: "Sir, maybe there is a message you want to hear?"

Everyone's eyes turned to the door. Seeing Morko standing with his niece, Viscount's eyebrows frowned unaware, but he nodded: "Knight, do you have anything to say?"
Chapter completed!