Mount Etna is leisurely blowing out smoke rings, watching the battles between the tropical air masses in summer and the temperate air masses in winter, like a woodcutter watching a chess game, not caring about the passage of time.

Once again, the spring breeze drives away the winter rain, and the warm sunshine fills Sicily.

Amidst the sound of horse hoofbeats, an adult maroon horse, carrying a boy who looked about ten years old but was obviously taller than his peers, was galloping on the rust-colored red soil road, with two people behind him.

The warrior on horseback is getting further and further away.

One of the warriors shouted: "Roger, be careful."

But Roger turned a deaf ear and just galloped away.

At this moment, he was feeling the resistance of the wind, like a fish moving against a stream. His hair was tied slightly behind his head, and his eyes were hurt by the wind, but he felt extremely happy in his heart.

He felt like he was flying, like an eagle soaring through the sky.

His body rises and falls, the rhythm matching the pace of his horse so perfectly that even the best waltzers would marvel at their tacit understanding.

There were raised rocks, fallen branches, small ponds of unknown depth, and caves dug by unknown animals on the road. Nothing could slow down this pair.

Sometimes they leaped over, sometimes detoured, and did not slow down when passing the forks.

Roger sometimes forgets that he is riding a horse. He can even close his eyes.

But once he has an idea, he will unconsciously and quickly convey it to "Gift" through the natural reaction of his body, and the latter will execute it immediately without any deliberate action. The two seem to be connected.

Unknowingly, the city wall of Messina, which was just like a black line in the distance, was now lying in front of us.

Roger did not go straight into the city gate. He and "Gift" turned a corner and stopped on a nearby empty slope.

He looked towards the way he had come. The baron and the ranger had disappeared without a trace.

So he dismounted his horse to rest and put out his little ears as a warning.

Roger picked up the kettle and drank some water. The kettle was filled with cold boiled water.

Angelica's death from typhoid fever after drinking contaminated raw water stimulated him, and he now hates raw water.

Then Roger was bored, so he drew his sword and admired it.

His sword is a typical Norman sword, slender and light, with a longitudinal groove that can both bleed and strengthen. The beautiful fork and cross-shaped guard make the entire sword shape like a cross, and the sword body is like a mirror.

Generally flat and smooth.

Roger looked at the blade of the sword and sighed. He thought, what a pity that it was made of fine wootz steel.

He remembered that after the Baron's market opened a few years ago, many businessmen came. One of them took out a piece of wootz steel, which had been shipped from Damascus to Greece and then across the sea. The price was extremely expensive.

The baron, who had been to the Holy Land and knew about this kind of steel, had some money in his pocket and bought it on the spot, saying that he wanted to give Roger a Damascus sword.

Roger remembered how excited he was at that time, and never thought about why no one bought such good steel along the way.

When the blacksmith repeatedly forged the sword according to the method of Norman swords, everyone was dumbfounded. There was no moiré pattern. The sword was only slightly better than ordinary swords, but it was not as sharp as the legendary Damascus sword.

The baron scratched his head for a long time, and finally admitted that he had been taken advantage of.

Roger continued to look at his sword. The crosspiece, handle and hammer of the sword were all inlaid with amber. A mosquito from an unknown age was sealed in the amber.

When there were merchants in the market selling amber mined in the Sicilian mountains, Roger didn't want the more beautiful ones and looked for the ones with mosquitoes, which surprised Mather who was accompanying him.

At that time, Roger thought, maybe there is dinosaur blood in mosquitoes. The sword inlaid with amber would be a veritable dragon blood sword. Unfortunately, he could not explain this fascinating idea to others.

So the baron and the others all had their imaginations running wild. Some said mosquitoes were bloodthirsty, and doing so would make the sword bloodthirsty and cause more damage. Some said mosquitoes were good at concealing themselves. Doing so would make the sword swing silently, which would facilitate sneak attacks.

.

Finally, the baron decided: "This sword is called 'Mosquito Bite'."

What a stupid name. The good "dragon blood sword" became "mosquito bite". Roger was so angry that he drew his sword and slashed with him on the spot. Then he had to admit it because he couldn't beat him.

The sound of "dede" horse hoofs came to his little ears, and Roger put the "mosquito bite" into the sheath.

He saw the baron and the ranger riding their newly purchased horses.

The baron now has more money and is no longer satisfied with just one war horse. He is also generous to his brothers. Both of them are good horses, but they have not been trained well.

The three of them went into the city together.

As soon as they passed the gate of Messina, a foul smell hit Roger's nose.

Roger now attaches great importance to hygiene issues and hates littering. But no matter how careful he is, feces still stick to the soles of his feet.

He hated it, wishing that Mount Etla would unleash its might and collapse the entire place.

The ranger had to pick three pea flowers from the ubiquitous flower sellers, which at least would trick his nose.

The three of them walked through the winding maze-like streets and finally said goodbye at the gate of the castle.

Roger tried to stay again: "Rollo, have you really decided? I want you to stay and help me."

"Roger, everyone has their own way to go. My way is in Jerusalem and it has not been finished yet. This time, I will not escape again."

The Baron smiled at Roger: "I can make this decision thanks to you."

"Because I helped you make money?"

"Haha, this is one of the reasons. What's more important is that you, the 'fearless person', taught me what it means not to admit defeat. In fact, you are braver than me. You did what you said, dared to face... face..."

The baron began to scratch his head, and Roger had no choice but to continue: "Facing the bleak life and facing the dripping blood."

"Yes, look at the dripping blood," the Baron restrained his smile, "There is blood on my road. I have killed many people, both on the battlefield and off the battlefield...

It was a little girl, in Jerusalem, in their mosque, she looked at me, with big innocent eyes, and I killed her...

She didn't resist, she just looked at me. Suddenly I couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't even hold the sword at that time...

I left there, and even now, I can't forget those eyes.

I am a deserter, but I decided not to run away anymore, I want to go back!"

The baron took a deep breath: "Go back and finish my journey."

So they said goodbye again, and Roger watched the baron and the ranger drift away.

Roger waved his hands and shouted: "Write me a letter when you get to the Holy Land!"

The baron waved his hand to express his understanding.

Roger shouted again: "Find another wife!"

The baron laughed "haha" and had no objection.
Chapter completed!