Warhammer: I, Bartor Farmer

Chapter 123 Ranger smoke bomb, the first cannon fire

After a little surprise, Roel got the letter, and he quickly produced the dwarven smoke bomb marked on it, and marveled at how "small" or coincidental it is in the hugeness of the Middle Ages?
Works well, has a strong knockback, and the explosion is powerful enough to knock adults over and creates a lot of smoke.

When the last material was put into the black powder, Roel was still thinking about whether he had been pranked, ten grams of macaque beard...

But after a precise ratio of 10 grams of animal hair fell into it, the system made a sound.

[Unlock technology, ranger smoke bomb. 】

[It saves the Eye of the Mountains, you get an active skill that allows the iron bomb to switch between smoke and fragments. 】

When the system approved and sent the bonus, Roel's heart settled down. Of course, he also saw what was written in the letter that dwarf technology is not allowed to be spread outside.

But he still found Alimara and Elena, and gave each of them a smoke bomb. He only said that there were too many enemies to use, and it was specially made.

He also specially told Elemara about the effect of the bomb, because Elena might hate dwarf technology.

After giving instructions, Roel found the wolf that had been following Alimara.

"It, I mean Wumeng, is it really okay for it to follow you?"

Alimara was not sure, she just bent down and touched its head, and Wumeng also accepted it. Roel tried to touch it, but only saw grinning.

The wounds of the war are still on it, and Roel has also seen this situation among the adventurers, although they still want to fight and express that they can return to the battlefield.

Like this wolf, the idea of ​​revenge, or a distaste for greenskins?Probably have.

"I'm going to the training ground. Today's mortar training is about to start."

"Watch your... pet?"

Alimara retorted. "It's not a pet."

Roel waved his hand. He was still busy. Some time ago, he was in charge of splitting the relationship between the greenskins and the bones, so that the mortar, which took countless lives, was only placed on the training ground for survival. Adventurers watch.

But most of the people looked at it in fear, erected various signs on it casually, warning them, and left it as if they were dealing with a demon.

No one will be curious, and no one will want to try to operate it. After all, adventurers and farmers are also one of the experiencers of the power of black powder. this filthy thing.

But they don't know, the reality is that they got this thing...

There may be a little bit of guilt, but it is far worse than completing Musilon's work. Unknowingly, Roel has also continued to bear the poor fate of the knight.

The order of the Warhammer world can continue for thousands of years because farmers to nobles are all performing their duties, even if your goal is death.

Weak people and strong people are all working hard to survive civilization, tragic and magnificent, when the death of friends and old lords fades in the heart because of time, the goal of Roel's efforts may have been the same as that of the dead baron.

Strange to say so broadly, but he's working for all the living humans of Bretonnia.

The motives of human beings are complicated. Roel recalled the warnings given to him by the Necromancer, the language of his death, recalled the horror of the wind of death, and then took apart those warning signs.

In the end, the job of firing the cannon was given to the baron's remaining knight squires, running three doors, two people, loading, and firing.

Amidst the thunder and dust rolling, the village is not big, and this kind of movement quickly attracted others.

When the adventurer's disgust and fear came to mind again, some curled up on the ground, and some stepped forward under pressure, accusing Roel of not using gunpowder.

The guy who was too aggressive was even going to hit someone, but Roel stopped him by himself.

He cleared his throat, stood on the high platform of the training ground with real emotion, and shouted. "Enough! I understand your fear and your pain, but if we can't fight an eye for an eye, how can we defeat the enemy?"

"Our scouts have found out that the shells, gunpowder, and mortars were transported by the vampire count in the castle in fear of us. They handed everything over to the greenskins and murdered our baron."

"Brothers, don't you understand? They have no honor, no feelings as human beings."

"They murdered your relatives and friends, injured my disciples, and killed the baron. They will gradually expand in the future, leave the castle, and kill ordinary people here."

"Peasant or noble, adventurer or knight, we should unite and use thunder, not fear it."

"Come, come, stand beside the mortar and feel its power. Its heat is roaring for the lady at this moment!"

The words kept echoing in the village. Peasants or knights, noble or ordinary, gathered in the training ground. They looked at the mortars with complicated emotions, but the people of Bretonnia did not rely on evasion to survive.

But they still looked at each other in blank dismay, and it was still too far from fear to acceptance.

Fortunately, when a shepherd in the crowd stood up and lit the match with his hand, and the projectile hit the distance, everything was solved.

The shepherd couldn't help but knelt on the ground and trembled.

Then shout in front of the crowd. "He's right! He's right!"

The peasants cheered, the knights marveled, the adventurers began to accept, and more people approached to feel the smell of the black powder. After the first round of training was over, the ice of fear melted, the flames of hatred burned, and the mortars shot Also very good, as long as you clean out the feces of the fart in it, it can be shot very well.

When the training was over, everyone was still talking about it, some were talking about how painful the green skin would be, and some were shouting to make the vampire look good.

Only Roel walked to the corner, took out a few decrees with a blank face, and handed them to the shepherd who was the first to fire, and the shepherd just bowed lightly.

"My lord, I will leave. I must keep my mouth shut. Thank you for your employment."

Roel just watched him leave with a blank face. He was just an idler in the city, but he did a good job, and when he walked into the path, the elf's sharp blade fell from the tree, pierced his neck, and brought the The decree of blood returns.

Roel wiped off the blood on it, and smiled at Ms. Elena.

"Today is a good day too, isn't it?"

"That's right, short-lived ghost."

The ruler will always have the way of the ruler, and the strong will definitely have absolute control over the weak. In the middle ages where the four gods roar, becoming Lawn or Karl is not something that weak people can do...

This is also the biggest lesson the baron gave Mr. Roel.

(End of this chapter)