The cold north wind is wrapped with snowflakes and dances gracefully among the black forests and farmlands and village castles.

The earth seemed to be covered with a layer of soft high-end wool from Flanders, which was very touching, but also very frozen. The poor serfs on this barren land were deeply touched by this.

Today is Sunday. On this cold morning, farmers who don’t have to work hide at home, burning the firewood collected with their firewood certificates before the beginning of winter, and huddled with their families to the edge of the fire in the middle of the house to keep warm.

A muddy road extends from the distant black forest to this small plain full of farmland and fences, and a T-junction is split in the middle of the plain, leading to the village at the foot of the small hills not far away.

Next to the T-junction is a quaint street sign wrapped by withered creepers, which read "Isumburg" in Latin.

On the small hills that are beside the village, there is a wooden lord tower surrounded by sharpened wood.

Although the wooden castle was so simple and ugly to the descendants of these lords a hundred years later, it was the most secure place for the nobles in this era of constant melee.

Due to the very cold weather, the farmers in the village did not go to the village chapel as usual and danced around the bonfire. The road in the middle of the village was covered with a layer of snow as thick as ankle, and there were only footprints of the night watchman stepping out last night.

"That's a hell, why is it me every time?"

Next to the fort gate of the wooden castle, a soldier with his ears red from his ears muttered and complained in a low voice. He pulled down the scarf wrapped around his nose and neck with his left hand that was almost frozen unconsciously, revealing a bit of crooked and tattered yellow teeth that kept breathing at his hands, trying to get some warmth.

His potholes had a obviously sunken helmet and dirty old armed clothes filled with cotton. A layer of white fresh snow fell on his shoulders.

Perhaps he couldn't stand it anymore. The young soldier with a yellow fluffy beard blinked his green eyes, looked around carefully, and even quietly poked out half of his head and looked inside the fort gate.

After confirming that no one would come, he immediately placed the spear in his right hand on the wall of the wooden castle, stamped his feet, patted the snow falling on his body, and angrily rushed towards his hand that was constantly rubbing.

"drive!"

Suddenly, the dull sound of horse hooves and conversation came from the small plain not far away. The coward was so scared that he shivered all over. He immediately picked up the spear like ice on the wall, stood by the fort gate again, staring at the white snow curtain in front of the lonely village.

He was extremely scared. He recalled the painful past when he made a mistake and was beaten and ravaged by the head of the private army with a whip. He prayed that the visitors would not notice the footprints he had just stomped his feet to keep warm by the wall, and never say bad things about him in front of the lord or the head of the soldier.

"Dudongdudongdudong."

A fast horse broke through the snow curtain with light steps and walked through the quiet village to the next door of the fort. A servant with a brown-haired beard mixed with white snowflakes and a beautiful red cloak stopped the horses, raised his head and looked at the doorman with a dodging look with a proud look on his face, saying loudly: "Dear Count Luo Weng is here!"

The facts proved that this young soldier was just a thief and thought too much. No one would be so bored that he would pay attention to the footprints at his feet and infer whether he was lazy.

"Luo, Count Luowen..." The young soldier recovered from the joy of being glad that he escaped, and then trotted into the fort gate with light steps, looking for the paging officer in the castle.

After a while, several cavalrymen and a dozen private soldiers walked into the village. They saw them surround a fat man riding a bright horse-dressed war horse like stars. He thought he was Earl Luo Weng.

Earl Luowen has long yellow hair that is neatly combed - but that doesn't mean it has no stench or fleas. He has blue eyes, but his drooping eyelids always make people feel that he is squinting.

His nose was very wide, and his nose was like a piece of garlic clove. Under his nose was a dense bush, with wine he had not wiped out last night. His wide double chin was covered with oil and residual food residue, trembling with the horse's pace.

Like many people of his time, his face was full of pockmarks and his skin was as rough as sandpaper.

On his head, he wore a leather cap that was shiny with rabbit oil by the servants not long ago and a beautiful pointed Norman helmet with a mask.

He was covered with a thick yellow wool cloak for keeping cold, a heavy armed suit and a shiny chain mail that was also cared for. He wore a pair of large deerskin gloves that were comfortable and fit, and a pair of warm pointed-toed noble boots with high-quality rabbit-wool lining.

"I, respect, respectful Count, please allow me to lead your horse into the stable."

In front of the castle field, a teenager, a snot-free horse boy, was wearing only a thin linen robe and a patched linen hood. He was so cold that he shivered all over. He raised his head and said to Earl Luoweng with a trembling trembling.

"Um."

A large ball of white steam spurted out from Count Luowen's nose, indicating that he agreed. The horse boy trembled and stretched out his frostbite hand, took the same cold reins, knelt on one knee and pressed the horse's head, allowing the horse to bend down to make it more convenient for the count to dismount.

"Ri'an, my monarch, your most loyal vassal, Quinier. I am glad to see you, thank God for bringing you here, and your arrival makes this ordinary land shining brightly!"

The passionate tone came with the steady footsteps of a middle-aged man with a big waist and round waist.

The man who claimed to be Quinier waved his hand behind him, and the servants and maids who followed him stopped, while he quickly stepped forward, knelt on one knee in front of Count Luowen, kissing the gem ring on his finger.

"I'm very happy to see you, Quinnier, get up." Earl Luowen narrowed his eyes slightly and curled the corners of his mouth, as if he was enjoying this feeling.

It snowed in winter, and the feces and urine that could have been seen everywhere on the castle were frozen under the snow, and the smell became much lighter. But with the bonfire, the warm Lord Tower was different.

The soldiers guarding the gate of the tower had just opened the door when a mixed smell of odor that was extremely indescribable came over, which made Count Luowen, who was breathing in the cool fresh air, frowned, and showed a look of disgust on his face without any concealment.

"Tsk, what expression? I haven't been to your Lord Tower. It's so strong that the smell is several times stronger than mine!" Baron Quinier, who was standing beside him, thought quietly, but smiled awkwardly.

Inside and outside the tower are simply two worlds. The temperature is already relatively high in the huge tower lord hall, and even wearing only a thin linen dress, you won’t feel cold.

The wide rectangular fire pit in the center of the hall exudes warmth and comfortable temperature. Some soldiers standing guard at the corner of the wall seem to be dozing slightly against the wall. No wonder the young soldier who was guarding the outer door of the castle before complained like an old woman in the city.

"Qunniel, you should know what I'm here for this time?" Earl Luowen said, walking to the front of the large wooden table in front of the fire pit, untied the cloak tie covered with melted snow water, handed it to his servant, and sat down on the backrest chair with animal skin that Quunniel often sat.

"Of course, my monarch," Baron Quinier sat silently on the chair next to Count Royon, clearing his throat, "I sent a few smart guys to pretend to be beggars and pilgrims to infiltrate the Baron Dorsten and Baron Duis across the river to collect intelligence. However, from the information sent back by the spies, I discovered many interesting things."

"Oh? What's interesting?" Earl Luowen leaned on the back of the chair with interest. Baron Quinier did not rush to speak, but instead waved to the attendant who was standing by the wall, asking him to carry the venison skewers he had prepared before to the grill to the middle of the fire pit to grill.

"That's right, my monarch, you must have heard of the village of Fold, right?" Baron Quinier looked at the back of the attendant who went to pick up the roasted venison and said slowly to Earl Loon.

"Yes, Baron Dorsten on the other side of the river led the village built by a group of refugees from our principality after they escaped." Earl Loeun looked at the two servants carrying the whole deer leg that was roasted in advance and touched her stomach, and answered absent-mindedly.

"Yes, in our original perception, it was very poor and often robbed by the Normans. But my spies told me that God is now showing holy, with a bumper harvest of food, a full grain silhouette, and a new wooden fort was built. And most importantly, they wiped out the Normans who had come to plunder every year in the past few years, and obtained a large amount of spoils and armor."

"What!?" Earl Luowen, who was not at Quinier, widened his eyes and his breathing became rapid. "Are you sure your spy didn't lie? You know, those who deceive me often end up miserably!"

"There is no lie, my monarch." Quinnil sat upright, patted his chest, and looked at Count Luowen's eyes with a firm look on his face.

Since Baron Dorsten and Baron Isum of Earl Roon are separated by a wide Rhine River, the two sides can only be connected to the ferry of the town of Dusseldorf, far south to the south, or the fishing boats of nearby fishermen who make a living by fishing.

Therefore, the communication between the Baron Isum and the Baron Dorsten in Quinil can be basically negligible.

In addition, the entire Earl of Loeun's territory was not on the busy business roads. Although there were caravans passing by, there were not many, and most of them came from the West. The destination was Flander, in the north of the Earl of Loeun's territory, and most of them brought news about the West Frank Kingdom.

So, when the news of the Norman pirates crushing the news of the Norman pirates following the caravans from the Duchy of Friesland passed through the village and passed through the business road to Cologne, Frankfurt, Mainz, and finally to Dresden, the Earl of Loeun, who was separated from them, finally caught a little wind.

The village of Folder blocked the attack and looting of the Norman pirates before the winter, which did not mean that Count Luowen had also resisted it.

Some time ago, a powerful Norman pirate climbed the land of Count Luoyon from the Rhine River. According to previous practices, he sent people to pull a ox cart to send the three large boxes of Transnier silver coins to the temporary camp of the Norman pirates by the river, in exchange for the promise of the barbarians not to invade.

Although the Norman pirates were savage and greedy, they were unexpectedly very trustworthy.

In less than a day, they demolished the camp and took Count Luo's tribute to the Waden Sea along the Rhine River. Until the beginning of winter, Count Luo's territory was no longer attacked by other Norman pirates.

Earl Luowen lost a lot of money and some prestige. At this time, he felt like he was catching his sleeves and elbows.

The warlike nobles under his command were ready to move, and the nobles who usually loved peace also advocated launching a war of aggression. After all, the wool came from the sheep, and the tributes were distributed by all the nobles.

So they looked at the Earl of Berg, who was almost as powerful as theirs on the other side of the river.

"Well, I really didn't expect that this Folder village is so rich now. Maybe we can start here first." Earl Loon looked at Quinier's servant put a plate of chopped roasted venison in front of him. While saying, he couldn't wait to pick up a piece with his hands and chew it in big mouthfuls. The greasy juice splashed on the mottled wooden table.

"In addition, after my monarch, after learning this news, I sent another spy who was familiar with our Duchy of Lorraine, and found the family of lords who ruled the villagers of the Folder village twenty years ago. Surprisingly, they still retained the contract between most of the peasants, serfs and craftsmen and their family. I spent a little money to buy these documents that are useless to them now." Baron Quinier smiled sinisterly and obscenely, and proudly hooked a maid behind the table, who struggled to flatten a stack of yellow parchment on a long wooden table.

"Aha, Quinier, I am the most loyal and proudest vassal of my pride. You have made a great contribution. Let's start with this village of Fold to find out their attitude and see how much they are!" Earl Luowen laughed and patted Baron Quinier's shoulder with his big, greasy hand. The latter had to helplessly look at the abrupt and ugly stains on his clean clothes.
Chapter completed!