The joy of such a rich harvest in the nameless valley has not infected the world outside the valley.
Since the fall of Bogdan last summer, the war situation in southern Provence has become increasingly unfavorable.
Just after the severe winter, the Principality of Lombardy launched a larger-scale invasion into the southern border of Provence. Although the troops recruited by Count Olesny from the northern border were continuously replenished to the important cities and military fortresses on the southern frontline, the southern border of Provence was still eroded by the first city of Lombardy.
Misfortune never comes alone.
Just after the autumn harvest, Duke Witote summoned an army of nearly 3,000 men to march north in person. He followed the Rammel Mountains all the way north and broke through various fortresses in eastern Provence...
At this time, the Marquis of Collay, who had lost the strategic fortress of Verno in the east, fought and retreated with less than a thousand remaining troops, and retreated all the way to the central town of Aosta...
The urban freedmen in the occupied areas of southern Provence and the eastern part of Provence that were about to become war zones, as well as small lords and gentry with some assets, took their families and moved north early to escape the war. Unchecked bandits are also becoming increasingly rampant in the mountains of eastern Provence.
After autumn, more and more refugees fleeing northward flooded into the southern part of Burgundy. They included free citizens from Wilno, peasant gentry from Alfero, and even people from the Aosta region began to flee northward. Duke Witott carried out the most greedy plunder and the most brutal massacre in the occupied areas. The captured towns and villages turned into hell, and everyone in the cities and villages that were about to become war zones was in danger.
At the end of September, Duke Vladis recruited all the strong men in the north who were over seventeen and under thirty-five. An army composed of more than 5,000 combat soldiers and 3,000 auxiliary soldiers and laborers was led by Duke Vladis personally to rush to Aosta...
………
Three days ago, on the business road from north to south along the Lameier Mountains, a middle-aged fat man wearing a silk lining and a gray cotton gown, with a black agate dagger hanging on his waist, was leaning on the back of a donkey. A caravan of caravans was composed of caravan guards wearing leather armor, holding short spears, and swords hanging from their waists. Behind the caravan, there was a large group of traveling merchants and hawkers and women wearing heavy makeup and low-cut corsets. They were either butchers carrying bacon and mutton legs, farmers carrying apples and onions on their backs, or even wandering beggars accompanying them empty-handed. The group rushed to Aosta day and night. They were as excited as vultures smelling carrion, and the war might not be so bad for them.
The caravan in front suddenly stopped advancing, and all the caravans shrank together to form a square formation. The caravan guards all stood guard ahead with spears and swords drawn.
The bald and pot-bellied caravan leader was standing among the guards at the moment, wiping the sweat from his head while asking the guards who went to explore the road.
"Are you sure there are four riders?" Baldhead asked.
"Yes, sir, I can see clearly, four riders plus a horse carrying cargo." The young guard replied affirmatively.
"What kind of flag are you flying?" Bald asked.
"There is no flag and no armor." The young guard replied.
"It's strange, there is no flag and no armor. Whose army is this?" The bald man said to himself.
"Regardless of whether there is danger or not, everyone should arm themselves and get ready for battle! Rick, go and put up the coat of arms of the Dean family and Count Olesny. Jon, go to the back and tell the tails that there may be danger ahead. Those who are afraid of death should run for their lives. Those who are not afraid of death should come and help us guard the carriage. You will be rewarded afterwards!" the bald man ordered to the people around him.
After a while, a puff of smoke and dust filled the south side of the business road. Four riders wearing hoods and casual clothes, with swords hanging from their waists, galloped towards them. As soon as they saw the caravan, the four riders reined in their horses and stopped.
After a moment of confrontation, a leader-like man whispered a few instructions to the people around him, and then the four riders drove their horses down the commercial road, bypassed the caravan from the farmland beside the road, then rode their horses towards the north... The bald man turned around and stared blankly at the dust behind him, wondering~
The alert had just been lifted, and the caravan drivers were about to drive forward. At this time, there was another rumble of horse hooves not far away, and a large cloud of dust rose up...
"We are the caravan of the Dean family of the County of Burgundy. Employed by Count Olesny of Provence, we are transporting military rations to Aosta. Please get out of the way, otherwise you will bear the wrath of Lord Olesny!" The bald man pointed at the flying eagle heraldic flag on the caravan and shouted in a stern voice, but his voice was trembling.
Opposite were a dozen masked riders riding poor horses, followed by more than thirty small men in ragged farmer's clothes holding blunt knives and long sticks.
The jackals chasing a few hares met a group of plump lambs... At this time, the robbers were obviously not afraid of the earl, who was already troubled by the war.
At sunset, except for a dark red stain of blood, the business road returned to its former peace.
………
In the northeast of the Nameless Valley, next to a boulder on the slope at the exit of a canyon, Art was smearing wolf dung on a muzzled green mule.
In recent times, Art often rides a green mule in the wilderness outside the forest to follow the traces of the Steppenwolf.
The wolf attack in early winter last year left a deep impression on Art, and also convinced him that there must be a large number of steppenwolves living in this wilderness. The fur of steppenwolves is much more valuable than that of forest wolves. After being fully prepared, he decided to take a risk. If he could catch a few Steppenwolves with intact fur, he and Cooper would have a better life this winter.
The hard work of more than twenty days was not in vain. Along the edge of the forest north of the valley hut, a half-day ride northeast, there is a canyon leading deep into the mountains. Deep in the canyon is the den of a group of steppenwolves.
Matt has figured out the hunting patterns of wolves, so he spent three days setting up several pit traps more than fifteen feet deep at the entrance of the canyon. This place is neither far nor close to the wolf den, and it is also the only way for the wolves to return to their den. The wolves are less vigilant when they return to hunt, and the possibility of trap hunting is relatively high.
As expected, the pack of wolves should return to hunt before sunset today. Early in the morning, Art led the green mule and hid behind the boulder at the downdraft of the slope of the valley entrance.
The sun was just setting in the west. Art was sitting on the ground with his back against a boulder. He picked up a water bag and poured out a handful of water and fed it to the mouth of the green mule in front of him. The green mule was about to lower his head to drink water when suddenly his eyes opened and his head moved back. Art immediately noticed the alarm, turned around, held the bow with his left hand and pinched an arrow with the right hand, put on the bow and pulled the string, and turned lightly out of the boulder...
In the wasteland in front of the canyon, a hooded rider in casual clothes led the way, followed by two cavalrymen wearing light armor and holding riding bows, one after the other.
Hooded Rider is a knight in the palace of a count in the Principality of Lombardy. Half a month ago, he and three of his men were ordered to set off from Wilno across enemy territory to the city of Besançon, the capital of the palace of the County of Burgundy, with a secret letter to the Marquis of Ivrea, the ruler of the County of Burgundy, and twenty gold cakes worth more than 28,000 pfennigs as a "meeting gift".
Hunting for half a month, except for being almost ambushed by a group of bandits at the foot of Lameier Mountain, the journey was smooth. Seeing that they have reached the southern border of Burgundy, they can reach Tyniec by riding one day further north. At that time, they will go to the palace of the Marquis under the escort of the local garrison.
But not long after they entered Burgundy, they were bitten by seven or eight light cavalry from the northern border of Provence. From the time he and three of his men broke out at noon until now, the two light cavalry behind him have been chasing him in this wilderness all afternoon, and the horse under the hooded rider has been foaming at the mouth.
The canyon was right in front of him, and the hope of escape was getting bigger and bigger. The hooded rider kicked the horse in the belly with his spurred boots. The horse neighed and sprinted a few steps before leaping over a pile of wolf dung. At this moment, there was a tearing sound of a heavy arrow piercing the air from behind. The hooded rider was hit in the back by a heavy armor-piercing arrow. He immediately fell off the horse. The right foot he had just kicked the horse hard slipped into the stirrup, so the war horse dragged the hooded rider for more than ten steps before stopping.
When a light-armored cavalry saw that the hooded rider was injured and fell off his horse, he galloped towards the canyon with his whip raised. Just as the hooded rider stepped on a pile of wolf dung for more than ten steps, the horse under him dwarfed and fell into a deep pit...
A light armored cavalry behind him saw that something was wrong. He immediately reined in the reins, turned over and dismounted, looked around with his bow, and groped forward. He glanced at his companion who fell into the pit and broke his neck, then walked around the pit and moved step by step to the hooded rider.
Before the hooded rider entered the canyon, Art had quietly moved from the boulder on the mountainside to behind a clump of dead grass at the entrance of the canyon. At this time, the light armored cavalry who was about to bend down to detect the hooded rider's breathing would never have thought that less than twenty steps behind him, a light arrow with a flat head had already flown out from the fully drawn bowstring with the arrow twisted slightly.
Chirp~ With the whistling sound of the arrow cutting through the air, a light arrow pierced the throat of the light armored cavalry.
After shooting down the light armored cavalry, Art quickly stepped forward and mounted the hooded rider's horse to chase back the frightened and running horses of the light armored cavalry. After chasing for a mile, the distance got further and further away, and the horse underneath him ran slower and slower, so Art had to give up.
Before sunset, Art only had time to take away the weapons and armor from the light armored cavalry on the ground. He pushed the corpse into the pit, and then used his war horse to carry the unconscious hooded rider with an arrow in his back back to the wooden house in the valley.
………
The next morning, the wooden house in the valley.
"Cooper, are you ready?" Art turned to the old man's cabin and asked as he adjusted the ropes on the saddle.
"Master, it's all packed. The guy was injured too badly and couldn't wake up for a while. But to be safe, I tied his hands and feet with rattan." As Cooper walked out of the cabin, he put the half-scythe with a wooden handle into his waist.
"Don't bring that broken sickle, use this." Art said, picking up a dagger and throwing it to the old man.
“Wait, Cooper.” After saying that, Art turned around and entered the house, took off the oak single bow and bark quiver from the wall and handed them to Old Cooper.
"Sir, I don't know how to do this~" The old man was at a loss with his single bow and quiver.
At took the single bow, pulled out a light arrow from the quiver, made an action of priming the arrow, stringing the bow, aiming and releasing it, and then patted the single bow into Cooper's arms.
"Just try these moves a few times. If there is danger, just draw the bow and aim from a distance. It doesn't matter whether you can hit the target or not," Art said.
"Just for show, I can do this." Old Cooper imitated Art and did a set of moves.
Old Cooper had never ridden a horse and did not dare to gallop with a mule. It was not until the sun went up the mountain that a young man and an old man rode a horse and a mule to a dense forest not far from Wolf Valley.
The two men hid their mules and horses in a hiding place, carried bows and swords on their backs, and a large bundle of hemp ropes slung across their shoulders, and sneaked halfway up the hillside on one side of the canyon.
After observing for a long time on the mountainside and confirming that there was no abnormal movement at the mouth of the canyon, Art held the bow and arrows, bowed and moved towards the mouth of the canyon, while Old Cooper slowly followed Art more than 20 steps behind.
Going down to the valley entrance, the traces left by yesterday evening remained unchanged. After Art signaled Old Cooper to avoid several trap pits, he came to the deep pit at the front of the valley mouth. He looked over and saw two people and a horse lying upside down at the bottom of the pit. Even though the man was dead, the horse was still neighing softly.
"Cooper, you will find a hiding place in a moment, observe both sides of the valley mouth, and shoot an arrow as a warning if something happens." Art tied one end of the rope to the nearby tree trunk, held the hemp rope tightly with both hands, and after giving orders to Cooper, he began to descend along the rope to the bottom of the pit.
"There is no way, I can't pull him up, and even if I pull him up, it won't be cured." Art wiped the sweat from his face and tightened the sheath rope on the green mule's back.
"Okay, let's go." After saying that, Art got on the horse, and Old Cooper also climbed on the back of the mule...
In a slightly flat open space next to the pit, a low grave has just been piled up. Two foreign souls will wander in the canyon forever.
Back at the wooden house, it was already dark.
After simply eating the broth and wheat paste cooked by Old Cooper, Art sat on a wooden chair with a backrest, holding a piece of parchment paper in his hand, pondering each word by the firelight in the fireplace, with many thoughts... "Master, everything has been cleaned up, there are really a lot of things." Old Cooper walked into the wooden house from the yard and threw a large pile of items on the wooden table in the house.
Matt looked at the items on the table and couldn't help but feel happy.
The two dead light cavalry left behind a complete set of saddlery, two semi-circular iron nose helmets, two pieces of standard dark gray cotton-filled linen trousers, two short robes and cloaks, two sets of double-layered cowhide armor, two tanned leather belts, two pairs of cowhide boots; a leather round shield, a short spear, two pointed long swords and two wooden handle daggers , a battle axe, two horn riding bows, two sheepskin quivers containing more than thirty flat-headed light arrows and a dozen water chestnut armor-piercing heavy arrows; a wool felt blanket, a cowhide water bag, a deep-bottomed copper pot, two sets of wooden tableware, and two cotton money bags containing more than a dozen small silver and copper coins and some odds and ends. ?
The things of the Hooded Rider are even more valuable: a maroon war horse with a full set of saddles, a set of hooded gown and cloak tied with a cowhide belt, a long and short broadsword, and a fine iron dagger. More importantly, there was a purse containing three gold cakes, several marks, and a large pile of copper coins of various colors, as well as the parchment letter in Art's hand.
Att did not catch the steppenwolf, but his harvest was more than he could earn even if he hunted in the forest for ten years.
After a while, heart-rending howls came from the cabin...
After a long time, Art leaned out of the wooden house, wiping the blood on his hands with a rag as he walked.
"Sir, if that guy is really a noble as he said, we shouldn't just kill him." The old man felt that Art was not thinking well and was a little worried.
"Cub, I didn't plan to kill him originally. If he was an ordinary knight, I could give him the honor and dignity of a knight, and maybe we would get a large ransom for it. But he should not be from Lombardy, let alone be born into the Burley family." Art said coldly.
"This must be God's will, this unlucky guy." After hearing what Art said, Cooper didn't say anything more, turned around and entered the house, dragged out the body, put it on the back of a green mule and carried it to a distance for burial.
That night, Art lay on the bed in the wooden house, tossing and turning, unable to sleep all night long. From the parchment letter and the hooded knight, Art learned that there were wars and wars outside the nameless valley. Perhaps this would be his best opportunity to establish himself in this era... "Master, the wind is blowing outside~" Cooper walked in, wiping the blood on his hands.
"Yes, the wind is going to pick up soon!" A slight smile appeared on Art's face.