The heat of the Sicilian summer seems to have fueled a frenzy of looting among those eager to make a fortune.

Ever since the messenger left the stone house with his father's orders, Roger had seen more and more black spots gathering in the open space outside Messina during his daily inspections.

The weeds that were dying of the scorching sun were covered by haphazardly arranged tents, and the noise of horses neighing and people roaring could reach Roger's ears even through the city wall.

There were more and more banquets in the stone house, and the scale was getting bigger and bigger, ranging from roast chicken, roast duck, roast fish, roast goose, to roast suckling pig, roast goat, and finally a whole calf was grilled.

As for the people attending the banquet, whether they were titled lords or vassal knights, they were all tall, powerful, and fierce-looking. Roger felt that his home was about to become a bandit's den.

Dad always dragged him and his brother Simon out to meet guests.

Roger saw that his brother Simon was not adapting to such a change. After all, as far as he knew, his brother, who was two years older than him, had always been in poor health and would always stay in his room every day.

Moreover, these killers obviously have no experience in teasing children. They self-righteously use some methods that they think are interesting to express their closeness.

For example, they would throw Roger and Simon into the air and catch them, or they would open their mouths wide and spray poisonous gas, roaring like a black bear and pounce in front of Roger and Simon to scare them.

Simon was often frightened to the point of shrinking into the arms of the maid and crying, while those bastards who succeeded laughed and showed off their power.

But Roger didn't care about these rude bastards. He wouldn't be intimidated to such a degree that he would cry. He thought, if you have the guts to challenge Bohemond alone, let's see who can write better Latin with him.

But these bastards seemed to be addicted to the game. They let Simon go and took turns scaring Roger. Roger got tired of these guys and decided to give them some trouble.

A reckless man pounced on him again. Roger, who was well prepared, fired his bow from left to right and slapped him twice. The sound was so clear that the whole hall fell into silence.

The man was stunned for a moment, as if he didn't expect to be slapped in the face by a baby.

Roger saw his face becoming more ferocious when he was close at hand, his eyes spitting fire and filled with murderous intent.

"Ouch"

The rude man opened his mouth and roared loudly, which deafened Roger's ears. The smell of his breath made Roger sick to his stomach. Roger could even clearly see every rotten tooth in his mouth.

From the corner of his eye, Roger saw people in the hall surrounding him, but no one came to rescue him. He felt the maid holding him from behind shivering.

A lonely figure suddenly appeared in Roger's mind and he charged recklessly towards the windmill.

Endure, unbearable pain.

"Hey!" Roger yelled at the top of his lungs, almost spitting out all the air in his lungs.

Challenge, invincible opponent.

He kicked the opponent's chin suddenly, and Roger felt the pain on the soles of his feet, for the sake of glory.

He held back tears and glared at his opponent, but was surprised to see his opponent's head tilted back at an exaggerated angle and he slowly fell to the ground.

Ah, am I actually the reincarnation of Hercules?

Roger was thinking, but found that everyone in the hall was laughing, and his opponent got up from the ground unscathed, smiling like a clown.

The clown took Roger and lifted him up high, shouting: "Roger, the fearless one!"

So everyone started shouting: "Roger, Roger..."

The hall was in a commotion, and the atmosphere reached a climax instantly.

The crying Simon was taken back to the room by the maid, but Roger was left sitting on his father's lap to attend the banquet.

Some good people started making noises again, so everyone raised their glasses to the big and small Roger: "Respect the fearless!"

Dad also raised his glass in response. Just as Dad was drinking heavily, Roger suddenly became playful. He suddenly moved the King of Tota and pushed the bottom of the cup with his little hand.

Dad took a sip of wine and got it into his nose. He choked and coughed repeatedly. The wine spilled out and splashed all over Roger's face.

Roger touched it with his little hand, looked at the amber liquid, and put it into his mouth by accident.

The sweetness of honey was too sweet, and then he fell unconscious.

When Roger woke up, he felt very hungry. He thought, how many meals of milk have I missed?

After solving the problem of food and clothing, he learned from the maid's chat that he had been drunk all day.

He couldn't help but be speechless. He thought, he must never play like this again in the future, it's too dangerous.

He also directed the maids to conduct routine inspections.

When passing Simon's room, he found that he could smell the smell of medicine from a distance.

He put his ear into the room and heard his mother's voice: "Why is it still not working?"

The palace physician's voice replied: "Madam, the young master has a fever and nightmares every night. It is obvious that evil spirits have invaded his body. I have tried all the medicines. Now, the only way is to bleed."

Roger was shocked by this quack doctor, who actually wanted to bleed a two-and-a-half-year-old baby.

"I went to the church to pray, and I'll leave this place to you." Roger saw his mother covering her mouth and walking out with a sad face.

Through the open door, he saw the doctor holding out a writhing leech, and he felt a chill.

He urged the maid to leave quickly. He was so sick that he wanted to vomit. If I get sick, he thought, I must not let this quack doctor treat me.

After escaping from the stone house, Roger instructed the maid to wander around the yard. He saw many knights and attendants gathering together in twos and threes.

Several nearby knights were chatting: "The Poor Crusaders were annihilated in Nicaea by the iron cavalry of the Seljuk Turks. Hey, look who this is?"

They saw Roger and greeted him happily: "Good morning, Roger the Alcoholic."

Roger was stunned for a moment.

What? Where's the fearless one? How did such a cool nickname turn into an alcoholic?

He was extremely annoyed and ignored these joking knights.

At this time, a reflection swept across his face, catching his attention.

He turned around and saw a white-haired knight in a nearby corner with his sword drawn.

The sword is about 1 meter long, of which about 10 centimeters is the hilt, which is about 5 centimeters wide. Below the hilt is a thicker disc-shaped hammer. The crossbar in front of the hilt is ten centimeters from the sword body and hilt.

The shape of the sword is about 8 cm wide at the hilt, gradually narrowing to the top, and finally forming a sharp sword tip.

The whole sword was slender and thin, reflecting bright light in the sun. There was a shallow blood groove in the center of the sword, which made Roger, who was fascinated by the sight, realize that this was not a decoration, but a murderous weapon.

The white-haired knight explained to a 15- or 6-year-old young attendant in front of him: "When you hold a sword, your right hand should be held on the hilt near the guard. Your left hand can be held at the back of the hilt, or you can directly grasp the handle.

The head, but remember not to hold it tightly. When chopping, let the handle rotate freely, so that the blow will be more powerful. If you hold on to the handle, the strength and smoothness of the chop will be affected..."

"Hahaha, what a bunch of bullshit," a sturdy knight looked at the white-haired knight and his attendants provocatively, "Boy, don't listen to this old fool's nonsense. All woodcutters know that only those who hold the

The tighter it is, the harder it will hit."

"So you learned your swordsmanship from the woodcutter?" the white-haired knight said sarcastically without showing any signs of weakness.

Roger saw the conflict and got excited. He motioned the maid to come closer, and people from around him also came closer, forming a loose circle around the two knights.

"Contest!" Someone with good intentions shouted.

So the sturdy knight took out his sword from his thin wooden scabbard covered with silk. The sword had a wider blade, and the distance between the two blades was the same width from top to bottom. The sword's blade was smooth, and it was obvious at a glance that it was good for cutting.

Everyone retreated slightly to make room, and the two knights stood facing each other.

Roger noticed that the strong man had his left foot in front and his right foot behind. He held the hilt of the sword tightly against his right cheek with both hands. The tip of the sword pointed directly above his head and slightly backward. His muscles were tense, like a tiger descending from the mountain. His fierce gaze was intense.

Look your opponent in the eye.

The old man's feet were shoulder-width apart. Then he took a step forward with his right foot, pointing his toes forward, and rotated his left foot outward forty-five degrees. His feet formed a T-shape to maintain balance. At the same time, his knees were slightly bent and his upper body was upright.

, the body relaxes.

The old man placed the hilt of the sword below the waist on the left side, with the sword pointed upwards and the tip of the sword pointed directly at the opponent's face. He looked at the opponent's shoulder, as calm as a virgin.

"Ha", the middle-aged man shouted loudly, took a step forward with his right foot and approached his opponent, using his hands to slash down with great force, trying to split his opponent in two.

Roger gave him a thumbs up in his heart: What a move to "split Huashan with force".

At the same time, the old man also moved. He took a step forward with his left foot and got close to his opponent. He held the handle of the sword tightly with his right hand and held the handle with his left hand. He raised his hands and thrust the sword out diagonally. There was a "clang" sound as the two swords intersected at the hilt of the sword.

department.

Roger thought, it can't be done, it can't be stopped.

Sure enough, as he expected, the old man's sword was so strong that it knocked his head off. The tip of the sword turned diagonally to the lower left, and the blade of the sword was close to the outside of his left shoulder.

Roger noticed that the old man's hands were raised above his head. He turned his right wrist and still held it tightly. His left hand left the raised handle, turned his thumb, and held it on the back of the hilt.

The sword of the prime man could not hold back its momentum, like a wheel rubbing against a railroad track. The sword of the old man was guided to slide towards the ground, pulling out a stream of sparks.

A man in his prime is like a woodcutter chopping wood, or a farmer digging a hole in the ground with his sword.

The old man twisted his waist, moved his right foot forward in a half circle, and in the blink of an eye he was facing a mature man.

He turned his hands, the iron sword drew a circle, and rested steadily on the strong man's shoulders.

So the strong man abandoned his sword and admitted defeat.

Everyone cheered happily and shouted hello one after another.

The young attendant excitedly ran forward to pick up the sword and handed it to the old man as a seizure. The old man refused to take it and signaled that it should be returned to the young man.

The young knight was a bachelor, so he took the sword, took out a money bag from his arms, and threw the whole thing to the young man without counting it.

The young man took the money bag and looked at the old man. The old man smiled and nodded to indicate that he would accept it. Then the man saluted, turned around and left, and the spectators gradually dispersed.

When Roger saw that the white-haired knight was training his valet again, he ordered the maid to continue wandering around.
To be continued...