Warhammer: I, Bartor Farmer

Chapter 99 Orc Attack Plan
Although the concussion was mostly recovered, Roel was still confused when he saw the familiar and disgusting fragments. He covered his head and frightened the two farmers next to him.

It was Alimara who helped him up and asked. "Master, what happened to this fragment?"

Roel shook his head, rarely gaining clarity. "It's nothing, I saw something from my old friend."

"Two decrees, I bought."

Neither the farmer nor the child believed their ears, but they didn't dare to ask. They couldn't help kneeling on the ground until Roel took out the silver coin with the Duke's head on it.

Thanks, a lot of boring thanks, made up of the simplest service, this is the only attitude farmers have towards a powerful force, surrender.

It's not their fault, at least now they can change into new clothes, or eat meat for dinner, or don't need to freeze when there are no branches.

When the two walked out of the room, Roel held the dark shard, and he didn't pronounce the name until he was far away from the village. "Necromancer, Pete Fonti, master of the hidden guard."

Alimala is very clear about this past, and her little face is wrinkled. "Master, is he here too?"

Roel licked his lips. "I don't know, I'm not sure, if he's stalking me or if he's planning something else."

"But it's clear to me that the only way to deal with him is to shoot him in the head with a gun."

"Go back, this time I will ride a horse."

Ali Mara asked. "Stop looking for traces?"

Roel just held up the piece of metal and looked at its dark and terrifying light in the sun. "His words will leave no trace."

"I was able to get this by accident. Don't you think that the nobles in Brionne are all fools?"

"Even if they don't use this bridge, they will definitely collect a lot of business tax by relying on it, and they will come to check if it falls down."

"Believe me, when interests are involved, the intelligence of the Bretonnian nobles can improve without limit."

That being the reality, it was a crime that presumably no one would have known clearly had no children discovered the fragments.

But the motive is not clear. Is he afraid that Roel will go to Carcassonne, or do he want to settle his grievances here?
In the end, his thoughts fell on cleaning up the orcs. The green skins were definitely the biggest uncertain factor, and judging from the time, in four or five days, the cannon would go ashore, and things had to be done one by one.

Roel cleared his messy thoughts, and they returned to the castle.

Although a day was wasted looking for clues, the castle camp was ablaze with smoke when he returned.

It was the sweetness of potatoes and the smell of beef, mixed with the cumin that Bretonnians like to use, and swept away their bad mood.

Roel bid farewell to his disciples first, then went into the camp, and asked the adventurers who were having a meal about the day.

It soon became clear to Roel that, for example, the cleanup was going well, and most of the threats would be gone in two days.

But for them, it's just that the lord couldn't understand those monsters, so he paid them to clean them up.

Bretonnian adventurers have a talent, that is, they are heartless and heartless. A few days ago, they almost died because of the green skins, but today they started discussing how to defeat them.

And Roel quickly went to Baron Nock, he didn't intend to tell the group of adventurers the information, although they trusted him.

As the commander, Nock basically ate alone at the table with his students. He bit the steak as if the knives and forks were fake.

Seeing Roel, he cursed enthusiastically and viciously. "Hey, lie down for three days, can you still move today?"

Pass me another bottle of fine wine, Polderott...

Roel smiled, opened the bottle cap, and the smell of wine even penetrated the smell of steak, dancing slowly in the camp. "The wine is good and the food is not bad."

He poured Sir a bowl, like it wasn't a gold piece of goodness, but just plain cheap brandy.

Jazz also drank it all in one gulp, while Roel drank it straight from the top of the bottle. The strong smell and alcohol paralyzed his mind, and he spit out a mouthful of white mist from his nose.

"Sir, I have good news and bad news, which would you like to hear?"

Jazz combed his back, his armor creaking. "That's bad, adventurers always encounter bad things."

Roel said it right away. "During this time, it may be time to carry out the collection of orcs."

Jazz nodded. "Almost, it should be this time, the mortar is already close to Bordereau."

"At present, we still know too little about the orc boss."

Roel took another sip of the fine wine and spoke with stamina.

"Compared to this, let me tell you the good news."

"I have 13 firearms, including my apprentice and mine, a total of 15. We will kill all the green skins during this time!"

(End of this chapter)