It was already afternoon when I embarked on my journey again from Duisburg.

The fat man rode the beautiful horse sold by Baron Carl to Simon and walked in front with a glorious sight.

"A ox requires ten silver coins for Transnier, so a beautiful horse was originally worth sixty silver coins. Baron Carl gave me ten silver coins because I helped him get the horse back, so he spent fifty silver coins in the end." Simon thought silently, riding a horse and following the fat man.

"Master, maybe you should have a beautiful heraldic burqa for me and Miller, so that when we see us, we remember the Dorsten family's emblem and spread your reputation in all directions." The fat man's mail shone in the sun, but he felt that the mail became very hot, which made him very uncomfortable.

In addition to helping soldiers identify their own people on the chaotic battlefield, the heraldic burqa can also cover the mail that is usually ugly, which not only plays a beautiful role, but also prevents the mail from being exposed to the sun and becomes hot.

"That won't happen for a while," Simon quipped. In addition to helping the two of them buy ready-made linen burqa, dyeing the burqa prints and paintings will take Simon a few weeks.

"I can't wait for me to look like when I put on my new burqa." The fat man smiled happily and honestly.

"Master, there is a village in front!" Miller's shout interrupted the conversation between Simon and the fat man. Looking around, there was a small hill in the distance leading to the main road, and a village surrounded by pointed wooden walls could be vaguely seen on the hill.

"Let's go and have a look." Simon became interested.

Simon remembered that his father once told himself that there was a special territory in the county of Berg, whose lord was more like a tribal leader than a baron.

This village called Vitral retains a strong tribal atmosphere. After the village surrendered to the Carolingian dynasty, the entire village began to gradually receive the influence of the Frankish Kingdom culture. The tribal leader became a baron, and the tribal escorts under the leader became the baron's private soldiers.

What's different from other baron lords in Berg County is that the residents here are extremely stubborn and conservative, and still practice the customary laws of ancient barbarians in the territory, accustomed to wearing rough clothes made of animal skins, or directly bare-handed.

"I heard that the people here are so handsome, you will be more restrained when you enter the village." Simon reminded Fatty and Miller.

"Okay young master (master)!" Fatty and Miller answered almost in unison.

After a while, Simon, Fatty and Miller came to the periphery of the village.

The wooden exterior walls of the entire village are very mottled and stale, and it seems that they have experienced the ups and downs of generations.

There were two soldiers standing at the entrance of the village's big wooden door, braided beards, shirtless, holding oak spears, and carrying a small basket of spears behind them.

This village was previously remote, but with the stability and prosperity of the Cologne area and the passing of many pilgrims and vendors heading to the holy land of Cologne, Taverns and blacksmith shops were built in Vitral village to provide services to travelers.

"Who are you?" a soldier walked forward and said to Simon in a strong accent.

"This is Sir Simon of Dorsten," the fat man rode forward, "we are heading to Cologne and want to rest for a night in this village."

"Of course." The vigilant soldier breathed a sigh of relief, nodded to the other soldier, and the two retreated to the sides of the village gate.

"Go in." Simon drove his horse forward and entered this village with curiosity.

First of all, what greeted Simon was the everlasting stench and the feces that could be seen everywhere. Secondly, what caught my eye was a man in the small square in the middle of the village, covered in blood and scars, tied firmly on a thick tree.

Except for the lord's villa, tavern, blacksmith shop, and granary, the rest of the houses in the village are basically simple wooden houses with semi-floor styles.

Many villagers wore animal skins or had their upper bodies naked. However, some, like villagers in other places, wore cotton robes and rolled-sleeved linen shirts.

"Interesting." Simon found that basically every local soldier he saw was carrying a basket of javelins and a skinned shield. Most of them had a sharp axe around their waists.

"Young Master, why don't we go to that tavern first?" The fat man looked at Simon and pointed to the two-story wooden and stone house not far away.

When Simon and the other two arrived at the entrance of the tavern, Simon saw a black war horse tied in the simple stable next to the tavern.

“Cruff!”

The old wooden door of the tavern made a sad sound, and almost at the same time, everyone in the tavern focused on the door.

The tavern was very dark, and the torches inserted on the wooden wall columns were swaying their lifeless fire to provide bright lighting for the entire tavern.

Maybe it was because it had just rained here a while ago, the tavern was extremely wet, and even the rough, supposedly very dry stone walls were now covered with dense water droplets, shining under the torches.

There are five large wooden tables of wood covered with grease and scratches in the tavern hall. Customers who sit sparsely on long wooden seats on both sides, drink with wine glasses, or enjoy lunch with their heads down.

On the right side of the tavern entrance is a simple counter, with many clean wooden wine glasses neatly placed on it, two plates of freshly prepared roasted venison with eggs, and three roasted apples with brown and cracked skin. A row of nails are nailed to the beams and pillars on the counter, and a few sausages with glossy bits of greasy sausages, a bundle of herbs, and a few pickled fish and air-dried meats.

"Gentlemen, what do you want to come? Do you want to try the signature of our store, a large glass of cool beer with a plate of boiled sausages?" The enthusiastic tavern maid in a linen dress greeted her.

"Come three servings." Simon nodded. He really no longer wanted to eat the unchanging soup bread every day.

"Hey, Kommet, look at their fine equipment." In the corner of the tavern, a man with a thick beard, a stuffed leather hat, a green robe and a black hood, and a wooden beer in his hand gently arched the guy beside him and whispered.

"Hmm? Massi, do you want to have a vote for them?" The man named Komait, wearing a pilgrimage hood, a ragged long-sleeved nude robe and a sleeveless jacket, and a pair of gait shoes full of dirt. He was eating the thick soup in the wooden bowl with the smell of waxy black bread in his hands.

"Yes, just selling the mail and helmets on them is enough for us to let go for two or three years," said the bearded man named Maxi, who drank and covered his extremely excited asymmetry while drinking, but his greedy eyes could not be separated from Simon and the other two. "I think we only can't chew this hard bone, we have to find helpers. If nothing unexpected happens, they will also go to Cologne, which is not too far away, and we..."

"Good idea, as long as they go to Cologne, I won't be afraid that these three sets of fine equipment will run away like cunning rabbits." Coumet put all the bread into his mouth, picked up the wooden bowl and put all the remaining soup into his mouth, and wiped the soup overflowing from the corner of his mouth with his scarred and calloused hands, as if he had already eaten Simon and the other two.

………

There were all five tables in the tavern, so Simon and the other two had to choose one of the tables that sat down with only one person.

After Simon sat down, he casually looked at the stranger, but frowned strangely.

This guy is wearing a brown hair and blue eyelet, wearing an Anglo-Saxon-specific inner lining, but his lower body is wearing a very Rose-style loose striped pants. His outer armor is wearing a Byzantine-style cowhide trousers, but his head is wearing a Frankish-style wide-brimmed leather turban segmented dome helmet.

"Hello, gentlemen, maybe you are curious why my dress is so different from those around you, and it is out of place." At this time, the stranger who was focusing on his eyes was the first to speak, with a strong foreign accent. "But before that, I want to make a statement that I have all my equipment from myself, not from some despicable and naughty means."

"Well," Simon became interested and shouted to the maid who was adding wine to the customer, "We want one more beer and four more beers."

"Well, not bad," the stranger saw Simon asking for a drink, and smiled at the corner of his mouth and let go of his conversation. "My name is Gabriel, from England, a mercenary, or a former mercenary. I once followed the famous Odd Free Mercenary Group as a cavalry to conquer all directions. Wherever there is war and lords who are willing to pay us, we are there..."

"Gentlemen, I'm sorry to interrupt you. This is your wine." The maid holding a tray put four beers in front of the four, smiled, and then left.

"It's so good," Gabriel took a big sip of beer and continued, "I've been to many places, and I've killed countless enemies with my best friend Danny, whether it's the elite crossbowmen of the Franks, the hussars of the Baltic, or the military infantry of the Byzantine."

"Then why are you here alone now? Is there an irreconcilable conflict with the mercenary group?" Miller was fascinated by the hearing and couldn't help expressing his doubts.
Chapter completed!