The sun was about to set. Duke Amadeus's messengers squeezed through the soldiers with shovels in their hands covered in mud, and came to Baron Simon and Baron Winter who were talking and laughing. They said that the Duke invited them Go drink in his tent.
Simon knew it was just an excuse. Who but the alcoholic Baron Lemaître would really believe that this was just for drinking?
Under the guidance of the messenger, the two quickly arrived at the door of the Duke's tent.
It was not completely dark at this time, and the cook in charge of preparing dinner next to the tent had just put the skinned lamb on a skewer, and the handyman was laboriously striking flints next to the extinguished campfire. Since there are no side dishes, drinking wine would seem too bland and boring.
The Duke's guard at the entrance of the tent politely asked Simon and Winter to take off their swords and put them on the wooden weapon racks at the entrance, and then opened the tent curtain.
"Is everything going well?" Duke Amadeus held the wine glass in his right hand and relaxed on his soft armchair covered with wolf skin.
There were two silver wine glasses on the long trestle table in front of him, and two wooden chairs were neatly placed in front of the table. It seems that this has been prepared in advance.
"Yes, my lord," Simon replied shortly. He didn't know if the Duke was simply saying hello or if there was something behind his words.
A servant wearing a red and blue tight-fitting robe pulled out a chair for Simon and Winter, then brought a pot of red wine and filled the two barons' wine glasses.
Ever since he drank the improved sweet fruit wine brewed in his own territory, to be honest, Simon had no interest in the "fine red wine" in the Duke's cellar. He didn't move the glass in a hurry, but looked at the Duke.
"I noticed two of my soldiers digging traps." Amadeus' tone sounded like he was casually chatting.
"Yes, in response to the Magyar attack." Simon nodded, picked up the wine glass and took a sip. He felt that the wine was too sour. When he swallowed the wine, an indescribable bitterness drove away the sweetness and sourness and occupied his mouth.
"Can you tell me how you will use these traps?"
Simon smacked his lips, relaxed, and told Amadeus the plan he had discussed with Winter.
"If trained properly, harvesting Magyar lives is easier than cutting wheat in a wheat field." Amadeus nodded in agreement, but he suddenly changed the subject, "But..."
Simon's nerves became tense again. He really hates this feeling of being surprised. Isn't it better to just say what you have to say?
"But now, your trap has not frightened the Magyars, but has frightened our soldiers." The Duke continued.
Simon frowned, and Winter beside him was also a little surprised. As the Duke's spymaster, he didn't even know about this.
"I don't understand," Simon was a little surprised. Why his own people would be afraid of the trap he used to deal with the Magyars. This is really puzzling. "This trap was only used to deal with the Magyars. I think they There is no reason to fear."
"What if someone gave these rabble-rousers a reason?"
Simon was stunned for a moment, and Lange's hateful face appeared in his mind. He clenched his fists and quickly unclenched them - now he just guessed that this was Lange's doing, and there was no evidence. He never hoped that Langer would secretly do evil at such a critical moment of life and death.
"Is someone spreading rumors in the military camp?" Baron Winter said while suppressing his anger.
"You're right. I think you are basically supervising the soldiers digging holes by the traps during the day. The rumors in the woods will definitely not reach your ears."
Hearing this, Winter's face became even uglier. Simon didn't know what emotion he was in, maybe embarrassment? Or is it embarrassing?
Baron Winter, as the Duke's spymaster, was one day secretly tricked into spreading rumors and slandering his reputation. It would be really difficult for this matter to spread without being laughed at. Winter secretly swore in his heart that no matter who it was, he would make the damn guy behind the scenes pay the due price.
Simon's face was terrifyingly gloomy. After much deliberation, he could only think of Lang.
Ge can do such bad things: "Lang... what rumors did they spread?"
"Ha, some ridiculous tricks that only ignorant peasants would believe. But unfortunately, most of our army is composed of ignorant peasants." Duke Amadeus shook his head. At least now, Simon could tell that the Duke hadn't bought into the rumors.
Simon looked sideways at Baron Winter, who was thinking about something with his head lowered. Duke Amadeus obviously hadn't finished speaking yet. He cleared his throat and continued: "My messenger mentioned this matter to me. I asked him to identify the person who spread the rumor to him. The process went smoothly. It was unexpectedly short. Wherever there were groups of soldiers gathering to chat, there was a high probability that there would be people spreading rumors. After being identified one by one by soldiers, I finally caught a man named Hans on the spot. Haha. , it’s worth mentioning that this guy is quite mystical when telling stories.”
"So, who is this guy named Hans?" Winter asked before Simon. The two of them looked directly into the Duke's eyes, waiting for him to reveal the final answer.
"My people entertained Hans. He was a tough guy and insisted that he was just a wandering swordsman passing through. So, I think I can hand him over to you, especially Winter. I believe you have plenty of ways to get him. Recall who you really are." Amadeus smiled a little cruelly, he knew nothing about the art of torture, and he was tired of the same perfunctory excuses from Hans's mouth.
"We will," Simon drank the wine in one gulp. "There is no need to show any mercy to such scum who are possessed by the devil and betray the kingdom and God in an attempt to destroy the soldiers' faith."
"Then, I guess that's all." The Duke stood up and gestured to the bald servant standing by, who nodded knowingly and walked out quickly.
Simon wondered, could this be a new trick played by the Duke to drive a wedge between himself and Lange? But he soon denied this - there was no need for the Duke to risk his reputation by adding more fuel to the already burning flame.
If such rumors were directed and acted by oneself, there would be too many flaws. Unless they were fools, no one would be stupid enough to do such a thing. If nothing else happens, there is no need to guess, this must be Lange...
When Simon and Winter walked out of the Duke's camp to retrieve their swords from the weapons rack at the door, a guard wearing chainmail and a robe with the Duke's family seal escorted a ragged "swordsman" "He walked over, followed by the bald servant who was in the tent just now.
Presumably the prisoner in custody was Hans the rumor monger.
"Leave it to me, friend. Within an hour, I guarantee that he will even ask when he lost his first time." Winter looked away from the rumor monger, Hans, and then patted Simon on the shoulder. .
Simon is assured of Winter's interrogation ability.
"I believe you, I'll go with you."
"Let's go." Winter nodded, beckoned his attendants to transfer Hans to custody, and then walked with Simon towards the station of his army.
…………………………
At this time, under the moonlight, in a small riverside camp far away from the garrison woods, a group of people dressed in rags like wanderers gathered around a fire to cook food and talk to each other.
"How did you do today?" A man wearing a ragged leather hat touched his greasy hair and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"I told others about it naturally and casually while drinking and chatting." A middle-aged man with ugly pockmarks and fat on his face grinned, under the light of the fire. , that smile is simply scarier than the devil crying.
"Are you sure you didn't scare anyone when you were chatting, Ugly-faced Pochi?" the man wiping sweat joked.
"The wine is addictive and the story is fascinating. Who will pay attention to my ugly face?" Pochi's self-deprecation caused everyone around the fire to burst into laughter.
Suddenly, there was a "crunching" sound of stepping on leaves and dead branches from the nearby trees. The "Wanderer" by the fire cautiously held his breath and touched the weapon at his waist.
Two tall, strong men wearing only plain linen shirts pushed back the leaves of the bushes. The scabbards worn between their belts have a fine texture on the surface and appear to be tanned with calfskin. The hilts exposed on the scabbards are so smooth that flies would probably slip on them. This is enough to show that the identity of the two is not simple.
Behind the two people was a tall, thin man. He was wearing a wide leather hood and a gray burlap cloak, covering himself tightly. However, an attentive "wanderer" noticed through the darkness the black linen tights on his legs and the valuable deerskin boots, which revealed the aristocratic status of the visitor.
"The master is here." The bald man who opened the way whispered. After the words fell, the "Wanderers" who had been tense put their hands down from the handles of their weapons, breathed a sigh of relief, and continued to do their own things.
"Is everything going well?" This question was asked by the bald man on behalf of the master behind him.
"Everything is going well, except Hans hasn't come back yet." When the tall, ugly-faced Pochi replied, his tone was as light as a docile sheep. The contrast was really huge. It seems that he is still very afraid of that noble master.
"I saw him being taken away by the Duke of Cologne's guards in the afternoon," another wanderer added in a low voice.
"What a waste, a useless loser. He could mess up such a trivial thing, but he was actually taken away." The nobleman behind the strong man stepped forward, said coldly and ruthlessly, and spat on the ground, "No matter what Use any method to kill him. I will never let anyone get evidence against me."
The "Wanderers" swallowed. The consequences of mission failure were as tragic as Hans. Although Hans was probably still alive, he was basically no different from a dead person. However, fortunately, their remuneration is very generous. The salary after completing this work can keep them happy for several months.
"As you wish, my lord."
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