Warhammer: I, Bartor Farmer

Chapter 96
Two days later, just two days later, Roel didn't expect that his concussion would suddenly go away so fast. With the help of calming herbs and rest, he was almost back to normal.

But neither the adventurer nor the baron dared to allow him to perform his duties again. Even this morning, the team set off again to clear the trade roads and investigate the specific location of the greenskin tribe.

During this period of time, Roel had a vague feeling that the tribe might be related to Alimala, but the area of ​​activity of the Orc Mountain orcs spanned from Carcassonne to Pordereau, almost 4 duchies.

How could it be such a coincidence, and...too early.

In Roel's eyes, his Young Miss Eagle was not yet ready to face an orc boss, even compared to the famous Waaagh warlords in the Old Continent, she was just a shrimp.

What's more, he was idle, it was strange, the busiest person became an idler, and he felt like he had grown hair in just two days.

No firearms, no gunpowder, no cooking duties and directing Alimara's day-to-day life, and no need for camping and traveling.

During this time, he asked the steward and the servant many questions, such as whether he could be taught to read, and how long the bridge to Carcassonne had been built.

The answer he got was that only nobles could decide on literacy, and he could not make his own claims, and that bridge was probably where Bretonnia was founded.

Specifically, after the first King Gilles rested for a period of time, it has been almost a few hundred years, and he actually collapsed a few days before his arrival?

Roel clicked his lips, feeling a little tricky. Although the doctor still didn't recommend him to get out of bed, after all, Roel didn't believe in his enema therapy either.

He jumped out of bed, very light and happy, although his head was still a little groggy, but it did not hinder his mood.

Roel went out, wanting to go for a walk around the plain to have some fun, so as not to overwhelm his mind with his complicated emotions.

It was very cold in Bretonnia in January, and the vines in the cold manor were almost covered with frost. Where adventurers and knights were not around, the camps and villages seemed eerily quiet.

When he walked near the camp, his caravan came into view. There should be no one?
He, Roel approached timidly, expecting, and...

This is a complicated emotion. He really wanted to apologize to his apprentice, but he didn't feel that he was wrong, but the peasant knight as an adventurer and gambler finally stepped forward, but when he just approached the caravan, there was a sound of footsteps it rings.

"Ma'am, is that you?" Roel tried to ask, but there was no response, only pattering footsteps, he boldly looked behind the caravan, and then...

Suddenly a big tongue brushes his cheek and it's a lady, just a mule lady.

"Hey you bastard, stop licking, that's enough!"

Roel pushed it away, and he liked this one, until he suddenly saw Alimara behind the mule lady.

She didn't wear a long skirt this time, she even looked like a man, holding a long sword in her hand, she seemed to have just finished training, her brown hair was tied up, and she looked at Roel with interest.

"Master, long time no see...Should I say that?"

Roel rubbed his cheeks and was beaten helplessly. "It's been less than a week, not long..."

Alimara didn't make any trouble, just approached, gently unwrapped the bandage on Roel's head, looked at the blood-red wound, took out a new roll and replaced it.

"Next time, please take me with you."

Roel didn't resist, just licked his lips, feeling his mouth was dry and tense, and after the bandages were changed, he sat on the back seat of the caravan, looked into the distance, and muttered.

"You know, this matter is the story of me and Elena, I don't want you to take risks."

Alimala just continued to swing her sword on the spot. Her physique had been trained very well during the trip, and her skin was not particularly fair. The long sword made a sound of breaking through the air, and she also panted lightly without answering.

Roel took a breath. "Okay, I promise you, stop the cold war."

Arimara put down her sword, jumped onto the caravan nimbly, and sat next to her master. When Roel smelled the sweaty scent of a girl, she only said seriously.

"Don't do the stupid things my uncle did."

Roel raised his hand in surrender, convinced that, anyway, he was wrong.

Maybe there was a girl with her that night, and two muskets could stop the green-skinned goblin cavalry, maybe she would throw bombs more accurately to destroy their plans.

Roel sighed. "I…"

Alimara just combed her waist. "You are still a master, that's all. You went out for a few days and broke a big bag."

"Now, there are a group of greenskins, a group of undead, we have to kill them in exchange for a boat ticket to Carcassonne, aren't we?"

Roel nodded. "Yes, you are quite right."

She hugged Miss Alimara gently again. She was always sensible and unwilling to complain, but fate only let her family leave her.

Roel hugged her and whispered to her ear. "You did a great job, thank you."

"My Miss Hunter."

When this hug was over, the sluggish girl couldn't help covering her face, and sobbed with her back to Roel, but there was no cry.

After five or six minutes, she rubbed the corners of her eyes, trying to get rid of the redness.

"Master, what are we going to do next?" Her voice was still a little choked up, and Roel looked at her and was also reflecting on himself.

"Let's go to that stone bridge, to the stone bridge in Carcassonne. The bridge is hundreds of years old. It existed in the early days of the founding of the People's Republic of China, but it collapsed recently. I don't think it's right!"

(End of this chapter)