Who says knights can't backstab

Chapter 360 The Barbarian Beowulf

The shaking of the chains in the dungeon had lasted for more than half an hour. The barbarian leader in front of him was exhausted, but he still let out bursts of roaring sounds from his throat, struggling to shake the chains, jingling and clanging. ring.

And Cyril seemed to have expected his gesture, even though in the past half an hour all the words of the barbarian were only the vulgar curses of the Northlanders, so filthy that Cyril, who had traveled to the mainland, could not understand him. No matter what dialect he was speaking, he also sat peacefully on the chair, his legs crossed, his legs curled up, his legs crossed, and then into a straight sitting posture.

And now he called Elena, bent over to treat the wound on the blond girl's leg.The latter pulled up his trouser legs shyly, revealing his streamlined muscles, but soft and slack legs at this moment. Cyril let Cyril mutter for a long time, and then sprayed a sip of wine on the long and narrow wound on his calf. She immediately clenched her teeth, her small face was pale, and she couldn't say a word.

Elena defeated three barbarian warriors in the previous battle, which was far beyond Cyril's imagination, but she also suffered a lot of injuries, the only scratch was this one, and most of her body was bruises from dodging, rolling and falling. green.

"Okay, the wind of recovery—" Cyril put his hands on the girl's calves, and with the light touch of his five fingers, the blue life energy blew in the cell, killing Elena, Shere and the leader of the barbarians in the Northland. shrouded in.

This blue color came and went quickly, when Elena looked at her calf again, her skin had healed as before.And Xie Er, who was behind, lightened all over, but rolled his eyes, and looked at Cyril with distaste: It would be better to cast the spell directly, but he wanted to touch the girl's calf for a while, so he was spraying some wine.

That is to say, the little girl looked honest, but if it were her, she would have swung her sword up long ago.

But the tired barbarian leader over there widened his eyes, watched the wound on his chest gradually heal, opened his mouth, and uttered a common language that was not pronounced standard, but enough for Cyril to understand:
"You even cured me?"

"Of course, if I let you die here, I will be very troublesome."

Cyril leaned back in his chair and looked at the barbarian leader leisurely: "Can we talk? Your name, who sent you here?"

"Is this how the people of La Rochelle talk to people?" The barbarian leader sneered, but then the boy in front of him patted the chair and made a dissatisfied voice: "Make it clear, you are now a prisoner of war, war! Prisoner!"

Undoubtedly, these two words were extremely lethal to the barbarian, so he immediately shut his mouth and remained silent again.

But Cyril stared at him, opened his mouth slightly, and made the barbarian leader's eyes widen again with a single word:
"Palannia."

"You, how do you know!" He struggled with the iron chain, and the clanging noise resounded through the cage again.

"The northerners were defeated by the Palanians, and a large number of northerners became slaves of the Palanians. I guess the Vader family sent you here?"

The barbarian leader was discouraged again, this time he nodded honestly: "Bastin Vader."

"What did he ask you to do? Find out information for them? Or find someone?"

"He asked us to harass Amasir, inquire about news, and find someone else." The barbarian leader's eyes widened, and he felt more and more that the young man in front of him was a real "prophet", otherwise How could he know so many things—

"But what did you do?"

"We...we passed through the Black Forest, lost a lot of people, and then planned to grab a city, as the starting point for the revival of the Northlanders, and this is your place." The tone of the barbarian leader unconsciously carried some respect.

"Hehe." However, Cyril sneered, "Let me ask you, who beat you Northlanders?"

"Palanians." The barbarian gritted his teeth.

"Have we La Rochelle touched you Northlanders?"

The barbarian shook his head: "No."

"Then why don't you fucking beat the Palanian people, come and beat us La Rochelle people, are you barbarians in the north all cowards?!" Cyril yelled angrily, spraying all the saliva on the barbarians On the face of the leader: "A group of bastards from the Northland, let Palannia not fight to kill the innocents of my Amasir! Is this the dignity of you Northlanders!"

The leader of the barbarians blushed for a moment, but at this moment he couldn't say a word——

Because that's what it is.

The Vader family also gave his tribe the freedom to pass through the Black Forest, implying that there is a rich land beyond the Black Forest, and he was indeed moved——

As a Northlander, he bowed his head to his sworn enemy, the Palanians.

He gritted his teeth tightly and squeezed out a few words: "Because we... have no strength, I am indeed ashamed of the dignity of the people of the Northland... Those soldiers who died are also because I have no chance to meet the God of War Isis ..."

It is said that the barbarian's strength comes from its ancestor, the god of war Isis, who was the most valiant warrior in the first century when the gods left.

Isis, on the other hand, is still the common belief of all barbarians. The difference is that depending on the environment in which the barbarians live, they may believe in more gods—such as Eskil, the god of ice, and Venomir, the god of winter.

He lowered his head, if the previous battle hadn't made him succumb, but at this moment the young man's few words completely tore down the defense line in his heart.

Suddenly there was a strong wind passing by his side, and then he loosened his wrist and turned his head sideways, only to see that the bracelets and anklets tied to him were all loosened, and the young man in front of him was hanging down his sword and walking up to him. in front of.

Cyril raised the long sword lightly, patted the barbarian's cheek with the side of the sword, and said in a low voice: "If you are really that weak, I suggest you hide on the top of the Maitland Mountains, where there will be no one in your life Come to trouble you."

Seeing that the leader of the barbarians seemed to have lost all his strength, he fell to his knees with a plop, slowly put the long sword back into its sheath, and asked, "Prisoner, tell me your name."

The leader of the barbarians raised his head stiffly, his eyes were already dull, he stared blankly at Cyril, and murmured a name:
"Beowulf."

"Very well, Beowulf, from today onwards you and the rest of your men are my slaves, you go and tell your men." Cyril raised his voice, it is not difficult to deal with the barbarians of the North, as long as they put down It is not difficult to make them obedient to their "stubbornness".

This is true both in combat and in recruitment.

But just as he turned around, he suddenly frowned——

Wait a minute, what did the savage say his name was?
Beowulf?

What is the name of the future king of the barbarian kingdom?

(End of this chapter)