Chapter Seventy-One: Heading North

  For the barbarian tribes who participated in the looting on the frozen wasteland, this winter was extremely ominous. When the first prey appeared in people's sight, many tribes should have been starving for more than a day.

  Fortunately, there were spoils of war from the south. Ironware and such were secondary, but those cured meats and grains really delighted the elderly women and children who stayed behind in the tribe for a while.

  It was just a raid. With full bellies and high spirits, all the tribes had to migrate northward. The revenge of the Osedin Kingdom was not something that any barbarian tribe could bear. As for uniting to defend against the attack - no one wanted to take on that loss.

  When the barbarian tribes began to move northward, the army of the Osdin Kingdom also moved in the same direction. The northern army's warriors formed up and marched towards the border outpost. While the soldiers at the border outpost were making their final prayers before departure. They would serve as vanguard and scouts, pushing the front line further north, eliminating all visible barbarian villages within sight, and searching for signs of enemy troop movements.

  Moro Erliao Whistle Stop, School Field.

  "Fight for Odin, fight for Asgard, fight for freedom!" Odara shouted in the crowd, with the others, "Let traitors die, let enslavers die, let anyone who dares to invade Asgard die!"

  "Odin is above, witness your followers defend your glory! Freedom!"

  "Freedom!"

  "Everyone check your gear!" Tim Müller stepped up onto the wooden platform in the center of the scene, "Check your weapons, check your armor. Make sure you have enough food to last five days."

  "Decurion, inspect your squad of ten men and make sure they have packed two tents each."

  After about several dozen breaths, the scene calmed down again.

  "Change of guard! Depart for battle!"

  The gates on both sides opened and a hundred-man team walked in from the direction of Ousadin, while the soldiers at the sentry post went north.

  The long-awaited war of Odala has finally begun. Not just him, but all the people who have been filled in over the past two days are also eagerly awaiting it. These new decurions, even the new soldiers, without exception, are all sons of the noble families of Osedin. The replaced civilian soldiers, although resentful in their hearts, really had nothing to say. Reasons such as "only child in the family", "father and son both in the military", "brothers joining the army" and so on, sounded plausible, leaving you speechless.

  What's wrong? Wanting to die?

  They can only comfort themselves like this: This battle is bound to be fought, and one day it will be my turn.

  Audela set out when Jony and Lancelot had just left Vischir. They rode the war horses borrowed from Orvisa Castle, galloping on a slightly muddy road.

  Lancelot really wanted to get rid of Johnny. Walking with someone you dislike might be tolerable, but this disgusting guy didn't even have a reason to make himself disliked, which was nauseating. Lancelot could only roll her eyes and let out a cold hum, unable to come up with any sarcastic remarks. Now whenever she saw Johnny, she would fall into a dilemma - what exactly was it about this guy that was so disgusting? Calmly thinking about it, the guy actually wasn't that bad... This was a dangerous thought, but Lancelot couldn't shake it off her mind.

  So she became more and more anxious. Lancelot kept urging the horses on, hoping to go faster, faster, and get there sooner to relax earlier.

  Jonnie didn't know what Violent Girl was thinking, he just felt that Lancelot seemed very enthusiastic about going to the front line. To keep up with Lancelot's pace, Jonnie also urged his horse to speed up, and then speed up again. This made Jonnie, who had only learned for less than half a month, extremely miserable. Fortunately, thanks to the complete riding equipment, Jonnie was able to barely hold himself on the horseback.

  This frantic pace was not only unbearable for Johnny, but Lancelot also felt some discomfort. Although he had learned to ride horses early on, he hadn't practiced much in his daily life. Lancelot slowed down the horse's speed, from a gallop to a fast run, and finally to a slow jog.

  Jony let out a sigh.

  I thought I was going to die on the road. He thought.

  When the two walked side by side, an atmosphere called awkwardness quietly descended. Silence, terrible silence, a silence that might last six or seven days...

  Finally, Joanie couldn't bear it anymore.

  "Hey, Lancelot." Johnny smiled at the little girl beside him, "I'm saying, you..."

  More awkward than silence is when you open your mouth but don't know what to say next.

  "...Why are you so mean to me?"

  "For no reason." Lancelot's gaze was direct and unyielding.

  "There must be a reason, right? Like what did I do to make you uncomfortable? What did I do wrong?" Johnny asked relentlessly.

  "No reason, I'm willing."

  Damn it, this little girl's temper is too bad! Joanie took a few deep breaths of the still chilly air and suppressed the anger in her heart. One corner of her mouth curled up into an arc, as if self-mocking, as if coldly smiling, then turned back to look ahead, no longer speaking.

  Silence, terrifying silence, one that may last...

  "I said," Lancelot began, "do you like Aethereia?"

  Jiang did not bat an eye, considered it revenge for the treatment he had just received: "Right."

  "Why?"

  "For no reason, I'm willing."

  The most enjoyable thing when quarreling is to use the other person's words to slap their face.

  Lancelot's face sank, clearly dissatisfied with this copy-and-paste type of counterattack. To her, it felt like she was being cut down by her own sword.

  It's silence again.

  A long time later...

  "We're here." Lancelot pointed at the city ahead, "Follow me, find an inn, have a meal, and then we'll continue on our way."

  Jony didn't bother responding either, just nodding his head to show he'd heard.

  They arrived at the inn, paid separately and ate quietly. The two continued on their journey. Half a day passed again, Lancelot spoke for the second time, still concise: "Arrived, find an inn."

  After finishing their meal and tidying up, they came to the room. With a bang, they closed the door behind them and let out a deep breath in unison.

  "My god!" Johnny cursed in a low voice, "This little girl is really too wicked, whoever marries her will definitely be unlucky for the rest of their life!"

  "That bastard." Lancelot leaned against the door frame, indignant. "He actually dared to ignore my question and answer me like that, it's so infuriating!"

  But this seems to be the only thing worth disliking. Upon careful consideration, it's still one's own fault first.

  Lancelot felt even more depressed after scolding him.

  The next morning, the two woke up one after another. When Lancelot finished dressing and walked down the stairs, Johnny had already been waiting for a while in the hotel's dining hall.

  They exchanged a glance, and Lancelot and Johnny each ordered a breakfast, ate in silence, looked at each other again to confirm that the other had finished, paid the bill, and left, mounting their horses to continue on their journey.

  This deadly silence.

  Until lunchtime that day, the increasingly awkward silence between them was finally broken. In fact, Lancelot had also had enough, but Johnny couldn't hold back any longer.

  "Lancelot?" Johnny called out tentatively.

  "Hmm?" Lancelot tilted his head slightly - a gesture that conveyed sufficient goodwill.

  "Uh, you..." Johnny got stuck again, still unable to think of a topic to start with.

  At last he thought of it. Of course, it wasn't "Why do you dislike me?" - that kind of question was doomed to lead to a crash. What he thought of was an opening line he had used so often it was worn out.

  "Lancelot, let me tell you a story?"

  Jonnie Smith, the pseudo-poet, smiled at the violent female Lancelot Ludwig with a tone of temptation, confidence and gentlemanly humility.

  "No."

  Joni felt as if a bolt of lightning had flashed across his head. Now it seemed that the six or seven days of silence were not just his own pessimistic premonition.

  Lancelot regretted saying "no" afterwards. She had only refused like a conditioned reflex - of course, she didn't know that herself. When she came to her senses, Lancelot remembered the stories Astrid told her, those wonderful stories from Johnny's mouth.

  Although Lancelot didn't like minstrels, she did enjoy listening to stories. There's no contradiction there.

  So when she turned around and saw the expression on Johnny's face gradually turn cold, Lancelot's regret deepened. To make up for her mistake, and also out of curiosity, she took the initiative to speak up.

  "You go ahead and talk, I don't even know if I want to listen."

  Joni's hanging heart gradually put down. Although it was him talking and her listening, in any case, this was better than the whole journey being silent. One person walking silently may not be a big deal, but two people walking shoulder to shoulder in silence made the feeling of loneliness double.

  He cleared his throat and began to speak in a smooth and articulate manner.

  A long, long time ago, in a far-off place to the west, much farther than the Roman Empire. To cater to the violent girl's taste, Joanie chose a very famous female warrior from a certain plane - Joan of Arc, the peasant girl who led the resistance against England.

  Of course, Joan's actual exploits were unknown to him, but he could invent. The Maid's story couldn't be retold as it was, the ending of this patriotic girl wasn't very good. Johnny didn't know if Lancelot would accept such a realistic and regrettable ending, he didn't want to take risks.

  Thus Joan of Arc in the mouth of Zhōu Ní, became a brave, clever, punishing evil, resisting foreign enemies, ultimately stepping onto the pinnacle of the times, receiving recognition from the church as a perfect woman.

  Judging from Lancelot's expression, this adaptation is a success.

  Lancelot felt extremely delighted when he heard the whole story. But this delight based on empathy soon turned into deeper trouble. A brilliant story, martial arts not inferior to his own, diligent and studious, kind-hearted and patient Odin believer... Lancelot thought that he should not only not dislike him, but also like him.

  She even thought of lifelong issues. A man who can stay with Sir Brunei for so long without running away... what a good temper?

  A man who can hone his martial skills with himself, a man who strives for self-improvement...

  She still doesn't know about Johnny's plans for the future, otherwise that final comment would have been quite different.

  To put it delicately, Lancelot grew up. To put it crudely, Lancelot f***ed up.

  But Lancelot refused to acknowledge this, which was the source of all negative emotions.

  The two of them continued heading north, but the atmosphere was slightly more relaxed than before.

  It's just a slight smile. There wasn't much of a smile on Lancelot's face.

  The hundred-strong squad from the Moroer Garrison had been on the move for three days. In these three days, they maintained a high morale and it was getting higher and higher. The resentment towards the barbarians also deepened, all the warriors were holding back their anger, the whole team was extremely quiet, and when marching, there was only the crunching sound of trampling snow and the clanging sound of weapons hitting armor.

  Not one enemy was left, not a single one.

  Tim Müller had been on duty at the outpost for many years, and he knew that there should be a barbarian tribe about two days' journey away, and that tribe was not weak. But when he arrived with his troops at the location in his memory, it had already been evacuated. The barbarians left in a hurry, leaving only wooden walls standing on the spot.

  In the cold wind, under the wooden wall, a sense of being fooled floated up in the soldiers' hearts.

  "This bunch of cowards." They all discussed.

  The cold wind was no longer as biting as it had been a few days ago. A group of people relied on their bows and crossbows to hunt for food, and the logistics were still keeping up. However, the departure of this tribe brought a bad premonition to the military officers. They felt that they would not be able to find the barbarians this time.

  "The tribe we just saw, is one of the stronger ones around here." Tim said to his decurion, "If even they know to run, then this area should be evacuated already."

  Audra and the dozen or so squad leaders nodded in agreement. It was a disheartening fact. They had trudged through the snow for three days, finding nothing. The Osadin people were itching for battle, their hearts heavy with frustration.

  "Odara, take your squad of ten and get the message across," Tim commanded. "Let those officials at HQ worry about it."

  Audrey responded listlessly and got up to walk towards her own team.

  "Gentlemen," Tim said to the remaining decurions, "let's move on."

  －－－－－

  Not all tribes that participated in the raids migrated north, at least the elite of the Ussuri Cossacks remained in place. They even moved south.

  "Azughal is watching you, warriors," the shaman in charge of this army said seriously. "Do not disappoint the great god."

  "Ah-woo!" A loud howl. (Not in the mood today...)