The village of Folder was filled with thick morning mist, and at this time the serfs had already picked up their sickles and walked towards the public fields to start their day of work.

"The Vikings are coming." Simon held the sword on the arrow tower of Fort Foldwood and looked at the gloomy sky.

"That's right, my master, I feel that the morning breeze has been a little colder than before." Today, in addition to wearing the sleeveless linen that had not been washed for a long time, the fat man also had a patched multi-layered clothing brought from Dorstenburg at the time.

"The harvesting missions in the past few days must be fastened, and we will try to harvest all the wheat and store it in the granary of the wooden fort before the Vikings attacked," Simon looked at the serfs who walked into the fields and started working through the fog, thinking for a while, "If necessary, the militia can suspend training in the past two days and help collect grain."

"No problem, young master." As he said that, the fat man pulled over a militia standing guard next to him and gave a few instructions in his ear.

After listening respectfully, the militia nodded, ran down the arrow tower quickly, passed through the ridge wall, walked down the wooden ladder next to the large wooden door, ran out of the wooden door, and disappeared into the increasingly thick morning mist.

"Wait, have you heard any sound?" Simon suddenly heard a faint sound of bells and horses coming from the fog.

"Young master, don't be nervous, it's a caravan that is driving! Let's go and have a look." The fat man is quite experienced.

It is worth mentioning that after the construction of the cliff in Mubao is completed, judging from the regulations on the contract, stonemason Ryan has completed his task and can leave at any time.

However, this guy didn't mean to leave, but instead paid Simon a fee for food and accommodation, hoping to stay and observe how the cliff and arrow tower he designed performed in actual combat, and what needs improvement.

There was no way, and when Simon saw that he had made up his mind, he stopped admonishing him and arranged for someone to clean the vacant accounting room and lay a new straw bed.

"Your swordsmanship is quite good, where can I learn it?" Simon walked down the arrow tower and saw the stonemason Ryan who was practicing sword dancing in the open space in the wooden fort, and asked with interest.

"Master, I used to learn this when I was studying in Rome." The stonemason Lyan played a sword flower and took back the sword sheath, rubbed the dense sweat on his head.

"Interesting, maybe you can play with the fat man Hoffman when you have time. I really want to see what kind of sparks will the traditional Germanic swordsman and the swordsman in the Mediterranean area collided!" Simon walked towards the gate of the Wooden Fort with a smile, leaving the fat man and Ryan looking at each other.

………

Amid a complicated sound of horse hooves and a noisy conversation between various languages ​​and accents, a huge convoy drove into the village of Fold.

"Hello, dear Lord, we are a caravan from Lübeck. We have been running all night long. Can you arrange some food and water for us?" The leader of the caravan in fine clothes looked very tired. "We will definitely pay."

"Of course. Village Chief, you go and arrange it." Simon said to the village chief who came over the sound. At the same time, Simon noticed that most of the team had thick dark circles on their faces.

"Sir, I want to ask, why do you have to travel overnight?" Simon felt a little abnormal.

"Sir, you may not know that the northern Duchy of Friesland has recently landed many damn North-land barbarians, and I heard that even the solid Lyre Monastery of Oldenburg was looted," the caravan leader rubbed his sore temples. "We don't want to be prey to those terrible pagans, so we can only go south as quickly as we can."

"That's it," Simon thought, "it seems that there is not much time left for me."

The members of the caravan tied the horses and trucks to the edge of the village, drinking water, and discussing with concern. Several serfs arranged by the village chief were moving several large plates of freshly baked black bread from the small bakery in the village and distributing them to the members of the caravan.

Although the village of Fold is still peaceful and quiet at present, the shadow of war has arrived invisibly and envelops everyone's hearts.

"My God," the dwarf Kohler held the bread and listened to the situation in the north of a Germanic merchant in a caravan, and couldn't help but panic, "Just listen to you, I can smell blood and burnt wood."

"Yes, my child, if you have the conditions, pack up your things, pay the caravan leader, and follow us to the south." The textile merchant wearing a cheap fur hat and old dyed long-sleeved soft armor said to Kohler.

"But I can't leave even if I want to." Kohler sighed regretfully. He was just a serf with no power, not a free self-cultivator.

"What are you afraid of when you are a dwarf Kohler? Hasn't Lord Simon's wooden fort been built?" The thin serf next to him gently kicked Kohler in the butt. "The solid city wall alone is enough for our army to defend until we die of old age. How could we be afraid of the Vikings breaking the city?"

The thin serf was also a little confused, but he knew very well that this was the time when people needed to stabilize their hearts the most.

………

"Old, Master," Liberty Claude, wearing a wide gray linen scarf, a red and white color-blocked coarse cloth jacket, and a fine iron military mace on his waist, came to Simon at some point, "I want to sell the land to you and join this caravan to go south on the adventure."

"Oh? Adventures from south?" Simon couldn't help but sneer, "I think I'm going south to flee?"

"Okay, if you think so." Behind Old Claude was his wife and children. At this time, the three of them were carrying large cloth bags on their backs, and it seemed that they had brought their valuable households and property.

"So how do you plan to sell your land?" Simon knew that the old Claude family was free, and he had no right or reason to force them to stay together to face difficulties. However, for such a guy who escaped at the last minute, although Simon understood that this was human nature, he still had no good face.

"Master, I have the land certificate issued by the tax officer at that time, and there is a price on it, you see." As he said that, the old Claude took out a wrinkled and yellowed document certificate from his pocket and handed it to Simon.

"Village Chief!" Simon had a headache when he saw these Latin words and immediately shouted to the village chief who was talking to the caravan leader not far away, "Come and take a look at this document."

"Okay," the village chief ran over quickly, took the documents, squinted his eyes and looked carefully, and murmured in a low voice, "Well... the documents are real, Master."

"That's right, lord, I dare not do anything like hanging forgery of documents," Old Claude nodded immediately, looking at the caravan members who had already rested and walked to the horse to pack up their things, and said hurriedly, "I paid the old baron two Transnier silver coins back then, so sir, you might as well return those two silver coins to me now."

"Ha, I think so beautifully," Simon was really amused by the old guy's peasant cunning. "You are trying to escape so quickly now, does it mean that this land is worthy of being depreciated now?"

"Master, what's the devaluation? I don't understand." Old Claude was a little uneasy.

"Think about it yourself, this place is about to be robbed by the Vikings. Even if you sell this land for ten copper coins, no one will take over."

"This..." Old Claude felt a little cold sweat from his head. He wanted to refute it, but felt something was reasonable and didn't know what to say.

"So, my bid is ten copper coins. To be honest, I think I am quite generous." Simon smiled sly, looking at the old Claude's turbid gray-blue eyes that were flashing with anxiety and anxiety.

"No, Master, you are robbing!" Old Claude was in tears. The wife and children behind him were also sobbing in a low voice, looking very miserable.

"What are you talking about?" Miller, who was standing next to the caravan members, shouted loudly, held the dagger on his waist tightly, and stepped forward quickly, "Don't forget who you are talking to, keep your own stinky mouth!"

Old Claude was so scared that he stepped on the stones on the mud, and sat on the ground with his butt, constantly gasping.

"So do you want or don't want these ten copper coins?" The village chief also looked at this guy who was as annoying as a fence-bearing man with contempt.

At this time, the caravan members next to them had already begun to ride their pack horses under the leadership of the leader, board their own carriages, and head towards the road leading to the south.

"Okay, ten copper coins are only ten copper coins!" Old Claude looked at Simon, village chief and Miller in disgust.

"Ph." Miller spitted at the back of Old Claude's departure with the caravan. "I didn't even see the shadow of the enemy. Hearing such a little movement, he easily abandoned his home on which he relied on."

"He is old and doesn't want to take risks anymore. Forget this person, he has nothing to do with us anyway." The village chief was calm and shrugged and continued to supervise the serfs in the fields to harvest barley and oats.

"By the way, the village chief, why haven't I seen Elsa recently?" Simon looked at the village chief who had just turned around in confusion.
Chapter completed!