Chapter 382 Who Else Could It Be Besides Them?

The red sun gradually disappeared at the end of the sky. The captured mercenaries staggered forward in the afterglow of the sunset, forming a long line, their figures were embarrassed, and they staggered forward.

The Black Iron Alliance lost.

This mighty war, which had been prepared for months and assembled most of the Black Iron forces, was lost very cleanly.

No one could understand the current situation.

Jorah couldn't accept the facts either!

Because the fact was that Roman kicked with a left kick and a right whip kick, and the army of hundreds of thousands of people was immediately defeated.

He was a mercenary and was no stranger to war, but he had fought for half his life and had never seen such a situation.

The King of the Valley personally led the army to the battle, sweeping the strongest army in the middle. The eldest son of the angry tide was like a toddler in front of the King of the Valley. He lost unclearly, and before he could react, he was dispersed by the defeated army.

Jorah didn't know the specific process.

They were advancing at full speed, racing against time, trying to capture the City of Plenty before the Blasphemer returned to the capital.

Even if they encountered resistance and obstacles in the process, it was expected. Senior mercenaries are best at burning, killing and looting, and a little resistance will only make them more excited.

However, the resistance of the City of Plenty is completely different from that of other towns.

After the main force of the mercenaries was blocked, they fell into a difficult situation.

The combat quality of the Valley Army gave all the mercenaries a great shock.

Really risking their lives? How much money can you get for fighting a battle?

He had never seen an army where the commander died, and the rest of the soldiers not only did not collapse, but continued to fight under the leadership of the middle-level generals.

The morale was so high that it was unreasonable and desperate!

But they were few in number after all.

This was a tower-pushing game. As long as the flag of the City of Plenty was replaced, the mercenaries would win...

If the Blasphemer's return to the city was not so fast.

The central army was worse than 50,000 pigs!

As soon as the blasphemer defeated Makor, he turned around and rushed back - the young ruler was really like a hurricane.

When East and him saw the dozen white knights galloping from afar, they knew that everything was over.

The master of the islands did not surrender immediately, and was beheaded by the White Steel Princess. When he, the wildcat Jorah, saw that there was no hope of breaking through, he dismounted on the spot and raised his hands to the white knights.

The mercenary was very good at judging the situation. With his armor and equipment, he had no chance of winning against the white knights.

Defeat does not mean death, but only becoming a prisoner of war and a slave... He had heard about the blasphemer killing prisoners of war. The Lord of the Valley was cruel by nature and could coldly kill all those who did not obey.

But he was a sixth-level knight and a valuable fighting force.

He had no faith, but it did not prevent him from swearing to the gods that he could get rid of the current situation as long as there was a good opportunity.

At this moment, the sun had just set, and the night had not yet fallen. There were farmlands in the distance.

Spring has passed, and the wheat seedlings are lush and green, with clear strips and ridges, and a sense of regular beauty, which is more lush and dense than all the farmlands he has seen.

The mercenaries were originally going to trample on this land, bringing fire, blades, and killing here.

But when they really came to this land, they only brought heavy shackles and ankle chains, and were driven to stay in this open space and wait anxiously for Lord Roman's decision.

This situation made him feel extremely bad, second only to the Scarlet Witch he faced at the beginning.

At this time, Jorah vaguely heard the sound of commotion.

He looked over quietly and saw a black-haired girl standing there with a little donkey, talking to the soldiers guarding the prisoners of war.

...

Gweil asked, "Isn't Roman here?"

The guard replied, "Lord Gweil, His Highness left. He has a lot of things to deal with."

"Is he okay? I'm a little worried about him."

"His Highness is safe. It's getting dark. Please go back to the castle. Your safety is equally important."

Gweil sighed softly. She came here to bless the cotton fields in the City of Plenty.

Although the war was won, it did not stop, so production could not stop either.

This is a protracted war.

After blessing, she came to the prisoner concentration area, hoping to see the scene of Roman escorting the prisoners back in triumph, but unfortunately she was a step late.

Gweil's eyes swept across the prisoners on the open space. There were probably more than seventy or eighty of them.

But as time went by, the number of prisoners continued to increase.

Not far away, another team returned.

The guard asked routinely: "Who are you?"

"We are from the militia." The visitor raised the crossbow in his hand, "We encountered these beasts while patrolling. We shot five and half of them to death. Now there are seven alive. Now we send them to you."

"Have you tied them up?"

"Tied them tightly!"

"Okay, leave them here, you continue to patrol. It's dark, take a few more torches. Some scums don't know the current situation yet. If they sneak in, they will definitely cause damage. The safety of this area depends on you."

The militia captain patted his chest and said: "You are fighting for your lives on the front line, leave this matter to us!"

They came and went.

The area of ​​Fengrao City is very large, the fields are vast, the settlements are scattered, the mercenaries wander in the wilderness, and it is very likely that small-scale attacks on settlements will be launched. The militia is the last line of defense of Fengrao City.

The night is getting deeper and deeper, and the guard who was talking to Gweil suddenly shouted: "Don't move!"

Gweil turned her head and saw many prisoners lying or sitting in the open space. One person who stood up stood out from the crowd.

The man was thin, had a long face, messy hair, a slightly hunched back, and green eyes flashing in the night, like an old and cunning wild cat.

Jorah said: "I just came to talk to this distinguished lady...Okay, I'll listen to you. I won't go over."

"Of course you can't come over! You son of a bitch! I have to beat you back!" The guard strode over and beat him on the head.

"Sir, don't be like this, I have money, there is money in my shoes..." Qiao La curled up on the ground, he pretended to be weak, looking non-threatening, "You take it quietly, no one will know."

"Bah! Who wants your stinky money!" said the guard, and then turned to the girl and said: "Sir Gweil, stay away from them, these people are notorious mercenaries!"

Gweil was surprised and said: "Are they mercenaries?"

"Who else can it be besides them?" The guard said disgustedly, "Your Highness said that they don't produce, they only know how to kill, and they live better than farmers who grow crops!"

The latter complained: "We are Get paid to do things."

"You are taking advantage of the situation to do evil!"

Gweil asked curiously: "Why do you want to be mercenaries?"

"We can't survive without this, my lady, go ask the executioner, are they born to like to execute others? I can only say that it is my duty. Mercenaries are neither good nor evil. You pay us to do good things, and we can do good things, but for thousands of years, no one has ever paid others to do good things. Those big men hired us to fight, but the decision-making power was never in the hands of mercenaries. This is the way of the world, and now, the decision-making power is in the hands of you and Lord Roman." Jorah pleaded in a low voice.

The old wild cat was disheveled, lying on the ground struggling, bleeding, and quite pitiful.