Warhammer: I, Bartor Farmer

Chapter 51
Roel was too tired, fighting, emotional, or something else, when he smashed the lord's head, his head was almost empty.

He was carried like a rotten fish and thrown into Bordereau's prison to be hanged.

The prison was dark, damp, full of wailing and pain, pitiful sighs constantly.

"Ahhh!" They were stimulated by the light of the torches and made pitiful voices.

But after the guards who held Roel left, the wailing in the prison stopped for a moment.

At this moment, he is not the only one in his prison, there is also a guy who just howled a lot, and now he is yawning with a steel wire in his mouth like a normal person.

He was a bit slovenly, with messy clothes and stubble.

He might feel uncomfortable here, so he waved to a fat man in the prison opposite. Roel didn't know why there was a guy of this size in the prison, and the fat man also understood when he saw his inmate's gesture.

He took a bottle of wine from the straw bed beneath him and handed it to the guard. "This place is really not for people, sir, can you go outside and have a rest?"

The guard understood, took the bottle and left, never to return, at least until the bottle was finished.

Then the guy with the wire in his mouth began to pick the lock with ease, hooked it with the wire in his mouth, clicked it after a while, and opened the door...

He began to open the doors to the prisoners one by one, sitting on the prison guard's table, or slumped on the bed in the lounge, and brought out food, tobacco, alcohol, or most other things you could think of.

Roel looked at the group of guys as if he had seen a ghost, and his roommate came back and said to him. "I don't know what happened to you, but it must be great to be here, okay, let's have fun now!"

He took out a piece of bread, even white bread, freshly toasted and heated on the stove of the detention house.

"It's a crime on the Holy Grail Festival, it's so pitiful, what will you do?"

"I am a master lockpicker, he is..." The man pointed to the fat man.

"He's a member of the Rooster and Teapot Merchants Club, and the one next to him is a rapist, and the one next to him is some Norscan tribal champion, so he says."

Roel was speechless for a while, he thought he was going to die, was being abused or something else, but it turned out that everyone here was talented.

He is now sitting with the master thief, tasting brandy, which made his uncomfortable body a little better, and then Roel told them about his experience...

After a while, everyone in the prison cast all kinds of glances at him, and then there was food, a large amount of food was pushed from the table, which was also a way for them to express their relationship.

"Brother, don't be afraid, they execute very slowly, I have been executed for three years." The "Nosca Champion" said so.

The master thief was amazed by Roel's experience. "I stole dwarven locks in Palaon, that's why I don't go out, but you're a legend compared to you, brother, I'm worthless."

The chubby businessman, who had been working on paperwork, looked up after the story ended, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"The teapots will help you. What do you like to eat?"

Roel was frightened by their enthusiasm, even though he had the effect of Peasant Knight...

However, Roel felt that they should not treat him well because of their skills. Facts have proved that the nobles are not even as good as the people in the dungeon.

Roel rubbed the tip of his nose, took the food, and started to eat it. Although the taste was not good, the food still filled his stomach.

When they are full of wine and food, everyone starts to have fun. For various reasons, they have obtained wealth that ordinary people can't get in their lifetime before they come in, and now they are here to retire.

In other words, they were so idle, maybe they didn't care whether Roel's story was true or not, as long as it was interesting.

With gunpowder production technology, Roel can easily replace a few bosses with hands-on teaching, such as how to sneak, how to assassinate, and how to pick locks.

Even hand-to-hand combat or swindling, while Roel chose lockpicking, grappling training, because he was going to escape!
But in fact, the prison was built in the city center of Bordereau, and if Roel wanted to go out, he only needed to talk to his roommate.

But under the persuasion of everyone, Roel chose to study here for a while. His close combat ability is too poor, and he doesn't know too much about the world.

Roel's schedule suddenly became full. He learned to pick locks in the morning, chatted with the businessman about the situation in Bretonnia in the afternoon, and learned systematic combat skills with the Norsca champion in the evening.

The nobles who caught him in were having a headache on how to divide the old lord's territory, and had no time to care about Roel.

And Roel is not an ordinary farmer, although he is still a farmer, but...he has a lot of foreign aid.

On the second day, the day of the Feast of the Holy Grail, a bard was robbed by two beautiful ladies who did not ask for money or sex, one of whom was a fairy.

They only asked the bard to write a poem about the experience of a person he knew in the fastest time, and then performed it at the Holy Grail Festival today.

For this strange request, under the invitation of the dagger and the bomb, the bard wrote the finished product as fast as he could in his life, and then took the poem into the busy streets at the Holy Grail Festival, and read aloud. head.

The Song of the Peasant Knight

[The suffocating cold wind is blowing from the direction of the North Sea, and the Norse war roars, when the abundance of autumn is broken.

Whoever makes his musket bears the responsibility of being a knight.

When darkness falls at last, when the branches are broken, the time of light and labor is past.

On the way to the west, the hunter will find in that far away place, a continent where the dead can rest in peace.

Beautiful iris, the white buds all over the garden set off his bravery, in the iris, I saw him bathed in the golden sunshine,
The flowers are smooth, the leaves are clear, and the voice is soft and clear.

But the roar of the Thundergun is everything to him!
The iris is dead, everything is dry and dusty.

The morality of the lady is shattered, and the voice withers like a flower.

Oh Poldereau, oh Grimes!
The enemy is attacking Tiris Vergeirand!Whether it is surrounded by unbreakable rocks or not!
Even if Tiris Vigeirand is an impregnable wall, easy to defend and difficult to attack, it is hard to resist evil!

They rushed, they bumped, and they finally used conspiracy to destroy the solid wall of friendship and open its ladder.

But as long as the evil fires don't die, the Peasant Knights will keep going!

The drums are thundering, the earth is howling, vowing not to break the evil spirits and never return, go forward, go forward!

Although the end is in sight!

The end is at hand, the end of Bordereau is at hand!

Where are the Lord and Sir now?
Why don't you know how to deal with yourself?

The time when the lost courage will reappear is coming, and the team in gray will also come from the night. 】

　The large paragraph below is written by me in 10 minutes, don’t read it carefully, it’s not good-looking.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)