A Tale of Strategies For the Throne

The messy night finally passed, and the sky was already bright.

The silence of the night is replaced by the noise of the morning. Although most men are still in a state of drunkenness and cannot get up on the bed at the moment, women and children who have not drunk already got up early, or take care of their drunk men. , Or diligently started to clean up the end of last night.

The women are busy here, and the children gather on the open ground on the other side.

The old man began to teach them, and carefully taught these young children words that he did not know much.

At this time of the day, an unspeakable solemn atmosphere will form on this flat ground.

Under such an atmosphere, even the most stubborn children will learn the precious words honestly and devotedly.

Words are valuable knowledge that only wealthy senior citizens and nobles are qualified to learn.

However, this precious text, which cannot be touched by ordinary civilians, has been passed down from generation to generation in this infamous band.

This may be the last proof that the people of Fira were descended from the glorified body of the mountain knight hundreds of years ago.

In addition, they could see no trace of being a descendant of the knight anymore.

Thrall stood high in the bandit village, looking down on the whole village.

The atmosphere in the village is very good. The woman who cleans up the banquet cleans her hands and feet while chatting and laughing with her companions. From time to time, she looks in the direction of the children in the distance.

Young children, that is their future, their hope.

Similarly, that is the future and hope of the people of Fira.

The dry wind blowing from the desert wasteland swept Thrall's cheeks and flicked his messy black hair.

Looking down at his people, the lazy face worn on his face seemed to have taken off the mask, and the young man's eyes showed a deep and heavy look.

In the legend of countless poems, the descendant of the great knight descended from generation to generation, fell into the mud, and could no longer climb up.

From the moment they were born, these young children were destined to become horse thieves who were hated and spurned by countless people.

Like them.

Moreover, not only them, but also their descendants and their children.

They have no future, and they don't see the slightest hope.

Therefore, after seeing the hopeless future of the tribe, his once ambitious father chose to drink alcohol and escape reality.

He also wanted to live like a dad like his father.

As long as you pretend that you don't care about anything and don't think about anything, you'll be a lot easier

but……

Although it is still morning, the hot sun has scorched the desert and it is starting to become hot. Tomorrow morning should be used to the dry climate and hot air of Thrall’s desert, but at this moment, Thrall has an illusion that it is difficult to breathe.

He closed his eyes and the hot sun shone on his face.

The hot wind constantly stirred his rough felt cape and brushed his black hair.

He breathed the hot air, and the heat sucked into his chest seemed to become a fire, burning his heart and burning, and making the blood in his whole body restless.

When he opened his eyes and stared at the carefree people, the hands on his side clenched into fists without knowing it, the more he gripped the tighter.

If you continue this way, one day...

"Saar."

Suddenly someone called his name behind him, waking him from contemplation.

He turned back and saw a young brown-haired young man approaching him.

Thrall frowned without trace.

Temia.

His friend, or his friend.

In Zhaizi, these people of similar age grew up together, learned together, and trained martial arts together.

Originally, Temea was one of the best friends with him, but in recent years, because of their differences of opinion, they have gradually become alienated from each other.

Thrall concealed the heavyness of his eyes, re-engaged a careless smile on his face, and stood looking at the other party as he walked over.

He smiled and gave a haha.

"A group of drunks are still lying on the ground. Your kid looks very energetic, why? Didn't he drink much last night?"

"Saar, are you going to continue this way?"

"..."

Temea stared at him, showing a somber sneer.

"In this desert, there is no horse thief who is more aggrieved than we are."

He raised his hand and pointed to the messy village below.

"Obviously we are the bandit that has occupied the desert for the longest time. It should have been the hegemon in the desert, but it was overwhelmed by those outsiders!"

"Do you know how other bandits laughed at us? They said that the Fira people are useless and that the Fira people are all waste, so poor as shit!"

He said emotionally,

"I don't know what the hell, I only ask for money and don't hurt people-those businessmen are not afraid of us, they are willing to give all their belongings to other bandits, and we can only get one from them every time. A little toll, it’s like a beggar who gave them alms!"

"This time too, obviously you can grab all the wealth of that caravan, you just let them go?"

Looking at the excited Temea, Thrall said in a deep voice: "Temea, you know, this is the tradition of our Fira people for centuries..."

"Huh, tradition? Can tradition give us gold coins? Can we feed and drink? Can we live a life of what we want?"

Temea directly interrupted Thrall.

"You, too, the old guys, holding this old-fashioned tradition deadly, shouting every day about the great blood of our ancestors-enough! Wake up! Even if our so-called ancestors were noble kings hundreds of years ago, We are **** horse thieves now!"

"Why don't you understand? We are a group of horse thieves, we should do what horse thieves should do, instead of relying on other people's charity to spend a little bit of life as we do now."

"Because you have to stick to this tradition, Feira talents have fallen to the point where everyone now looks down upon them."

The anger turned in the young man's eyes.

He had been fed up with such a tight day, obviously a fierce horse thief, but his life was extremely difficult or even poor, and it was a far cry from the happy days of other bandits who arbitrarily took possession of property.

"You should rob, you should kill, let everyone tremble as soon as they hear the name of Fira."

He said coldly, "What is the name of the ancestor, what is Fischer, those things are **** for us horse thieves--"

Before the last sentence of Temea was finished, Thrall had punched him heavily in the face, shut him up, and stumbled back two steps.

"Temya, you can call me waste, saying that I have no ability to take everyone away, but you cannot insult your ancestors."

Thrall stared at his former friend, showing his fierce glance.

"For another time, I will call the tribes directly to execute you."

Termia, with a bruise on her cheek, turned her head and stared at Thrall for a long time, spitting at the side.

He said nothing and turned away.

Thrall looked at the leaving young man with an apparently unwilling back, silent.

It may be only Termia that speaks this kind of thought straightforwardly, but I am afraid that there are many people who think so faintly in my heart although I have not said it.

Only the older generations are still clinging to ancient traditions, and many young people in the family cannot understand it.

Thrall is not ignorant, he is also a member of the young people, even, he had the same idea a few years ago.

Until his father was injured, he took over the important task of the Fira from his father.

Matured under the important task, he finally understood the conviction the name represented.

Even that belief has become so heavy now.

He knew that the so-called ancestor’s name and the glory hundreds of years ago were too far away from them. The name of Fei Qier, like his blood, became a little blurred and weak as time went by. .

Then, one day, it will disappear completely.

Perhaps in the near future, the Fira people will forget the name forever, forget their blood, and become a thorough, true horse thief.

...Can you just watch this go on?

The hot wind whizzed past his ears, Thrall turned his head, looked at the camp below, and looked at his people.

His face was trance, and his eyes showed deep confusion.

He is the leader of the Fira.

He determines the future of the people.

And where should he take his people?

There were footsteps coming from the side, Thrall turned and glanced.

The beautiful face of the teenager who disturbed his restlessness in one sentence didn't know when he came here.

Obviously, the quarrel between him and Tamia was just a joke.

If it was changed to normal, Thrall said that he would have to mock the other party, but now he is not in this mood.

auzw.com He turned back and squatted slowly on the hill.

He squatted with his legs spread out like this, pulling up a spiky weed under his foot and holding the grass root with his mouth open.

The mouth shook, and the grass in his mouth shook.

He squatted wild grass on the top of the hill looking down at the camp below, and then looked far into the distance, looking at the endless desert.

Gravel, cracked soil, dead wood, rugged rocks.

This is an ugly and hopeless land.

However, this is also their hometown.

"Those old guys said that Thrall Desert was not like this ghost."

"When King Minar gave this land to his ancestors, it was a fertile land, with grassland everywhere, woods, and many rivers."

"At that time, our ancestor Fei Qier was here, on this piece of land at my feet, to build his own town."

Thrall whispered.

He seemed to be talking to himself, but also to the teenager standing behind him.

Perhaps it was too heavy for too long, and I couldn't help but want to say it.

"The old guys said, but I don't know when the river here has slowly dried up, the grass and woods have withered, the fields have cracked, the soil has turned into sand, and no more food can grow."

"No one knows the reason. Everyone says that it is God's punishment."

"God makes this land barren, so that we can get nothing from it."

Crouching on the ground, he grabbed a handful of sand and watched it fall from his fingers, and the young leader looked at the dry desert and clenched his hands.

"No one wants to be a horse thief when they are born, and no one wants to. Especially we still—"

The words are here for a break, half broken.

Thrall exhaled. He said, "But, guarding this land where nothing grows and nothing, we want to live, and we have no choice but to be a horse thief."

The young leader's voice sounded deep like he was seeping deep from his chest.

It seems that only in the words spoken calmly, there is deep pain and helplessness.

"In the beginning..."

The teenager who had been listening quietly to the side finally spoke.

He asked: "Now that you know that this land has become barren, why didn't your ancestors take everyone out of here?"

Thrall smiled bitterly, opened his fingers, and dropped the sand in his hand.

"Actually, I don't quite understand it, but the old guys said, because this is the homeland, the homeland, the place where our ancestors survived for generations, and the place where the bones of the ancestors were buried."

He smiled bitterly and said, "Even if you die, you will die here."

Thrall squatted on the ground with a wild grass in his mouth.

He gazed at the desert with no end in sight.

Ugly, ugly, barren land with nothing.

However, it is his homeland, where their family lives from generation to generation.

The hanging eyes dropped, and Thrall had made a decision.

"The thing you said last night..."

He says,

"Sorry, I won't do it."

Not to mention how long it will take, or how much the risk will be. Even if it succeeds in the end, this young man has no words and gives them a place to rest, which is useless.

His people will not leave here.

The people of Fira will not abandon this land.

Even if it is no more useless land, as long as you stand on this land and still look at this land, the Fira people's heart will be settled.

This is the land of their ancestors, and even without the name of their ancestors, they will stick to the last one here.

…………

"Yes."

After giving an answer, for a moment, Thrall heard the voice of the boy coming from his side.

The teenager stepped forward and stood beside him, looking down at the camp below like him.

"When your predecessors become horse thieves, you will never have any retreat."

"Abandon Fei Qier's name and call himself Ferra."

As the boy said, he kneeled and squatted down.

His eyes and Thrall turned to look at him.

"You have been horse thieves for nearly a hundred years, and now all Aaron Landis know that the Fira in the desert of Saar are gangsters and horse thieves." The boy said, "This infamous title will follow you and follow you. This is what your clan has for life and for generations to come."

If the gangrene of the bone is attached, it can't be scraped.

The teenager said that his tone was very plain, but he was very cruel.

"Feiqier's descendants, Fira, and generations will be the horse thieves scolded by thousands of people."

Thrall's breath was sharp, and a burst of anger burned fiercely in his heart.

Every sentence of the young man was like a knife, and every time he pierced the most painful place, bloody.

He wanted to roar, he wanted to tell the teenager to shut up.

But after all he didn't speak.

Because what the teenager said is naked|naked reality.

He heard the boy watching him and asked him, "Saar, are you willing?"

...

Be willing?

Of course not reconciled!

He was not willing to let the people of Fira sink like this forever.

He was not reconciled to his clan and his sons and daughters who could only struggle in the mud.

He is not reconciled to the name of his ancestor ‘Fischer’

From a long time ago, he wanted to do something... Anyway, he wanted to do something.

Even if you hit your head and break the blood, it is much better than suffocating and decaying silently.

But reality told him that he could do nothing.

The people of Fira have been praying, praying to the gods of Aaron Landis, begging.

They have prayed to the gods for hundreds of years, but they have never received any response or mercy from the gods.

…………

The teenager half squatting before him stood up again.

"Sal, let's make an appointment."

The teenager stood, looking down at the young horse thief leader who was still squatting on the ground.

He reached out to Thrall.

The wind blowing from the desert screamed, blowing the teenager's long hair up.

"I agreed with you."

The teenager with his hand smiled at Thrall in the wind.

"When you let Thrall's land return to peace."

"I will let Thrall land rediscover the prosperity of your ancestors hundreds of years ago."

The blazing sun shone from the sky, illuminating the desert land to the extreme.

Perhaps it was because of looking up with your head up, or perhaps because of the backlight, the teenager's smile was so bright that Thrall felt inexplicable.

"When you present this land for me."

"I will let you find the glory of the name Fei Qier by yourself."

…………

Silent for a while.

I don't know how long it has passed.

Thrall's hand stretched out slowly, with a bit of hesitation and struggling, but after all, he still firmly grasped the hand that the teenager extended to him.