The Undying Death Knight failed to achieve the ending of the Heroic Spirit

She couldn't remember exactly how long she had been wandering.

"Yo."

Suddenly, there was a voice in front of me. The robotic arm stopped and adjusted the angle of her body so that she could have a better look at the not-so-tall figure.

The voice coming from the other end of the fog was full of ridicule: "Someone once told me that if you keep a straight face, your luck will get worse."

She didn't want to keep a straight face, but she no longer had the energy to make other expressions.

"What are you doing here? You will lose your life if you stay here."

"I'm……"

She was stunned, unable to answer this question.

"Forget it, want to go out?"

Of course she meant it. She was worried that her movements were not obvious, so she nodded vigorously.

"I happen to be on the way too. But I have to get something."

She touched her pockets, and of course she was penniless.

However, she seemed to have thought of something, and vaguely, she remembered her name.

--da Vinci.

She seemed to be looking for companions.

"However, you seem to be penniless - it doesn't matter. After you go out, you can work to support me."

What I originally wanted to write was, Dahunqi, please join me, but it was too explosive, so I changed it to "Work to support me."

451. Chapter 430 Londinian

451.

"Phew, come to life."

In the tavern, a petite girl carrying a red backpack stuffed a few bites of food into her mouth, which was about the size of bread. The reason why she couldn't be completely sure was that although it had the appearance of bread, its inner texture was like chewing a bunch of foam.

If it weren't for the severe lack of magic power, Da Vinci would not eat these anyway.

"Can you get me a glass of fruit wine?"

She asked tentatively with eager eyes the diners next to her who were also frowning and chewing bread. It was the benefactor who picked her up from the Cornish coast to this pub. He roughly looks like he is about sixty years old, with gray hair but full of energy. His strong body leaves no doubt that he can live for more than ten years. It can be seen that he is a late hero who has been through many wars.

And consistent with the tough guy image he showed, after hearing Da Vinci's request, he waved to the owner of the tavern without even hesitating.

"Mike, let's have a glass of fruit wine and another cup of fruit tea."

"Um, Ezequiel, can you pay off the debt you owe these days first?" The short, fat goblin known as Mike showed a distressed expression.

"Don't worry, didn't I get a beautiful waiter for you? She will pay off the debt on my behalf."

——Ezequiel?

Da Vinci looked thoughtfully. She did not feel the aura of the spirit base on the other party. Moreover, according to Chaldea's record of the [Saber Ezequiel] spirit base, he was thirty-two years old. He died in the war when he was young, and there are no anecdotes or legends about him surviving to old age.

"that……"

When Da Vinci was about to say that she was an adult, she saw that the old man had unceremoniously pushed the fruit wine in front of her, while she was sipping the fruit tea by herself.

"Drinking at night is not good for your health. I'm not as good as you young people."

Da Vinci smiled awkwardly: "Thank you."

"No need to thank you, you're the one paying the bill anyway." He replied rather casually.

Da Vinci grimaced, remembering that she had promised in a daze that she would work to support this old man. In fact, she didn't mind experiencing the feeling of working part-time to complete her vacant experience, but the urgent delay now was to find other lost companions.

Da Vinci took a sip of the fruit wine in an attempt to suppress the frothy bread taste in his mouth with the mellowness of the fruit, but the bad taste that came back from his tongue reminded Da Vinci of the sphinx's saliva diluted five times.

——No wonder there was no one else in the store except them, even though it was prime time.

"It's just, Ezequiel..."

Da Vinci heard the goblin named Mike speaking at this moment. Looking for her voice, she saw the other person refilling Ezequiel's cup of fruit tea out of thin air with a wipe of his hands.

The result was achieved by skipping the process, and the food was copied using magic power.

Before she could think about it, what Mike said caught her attention.

"What you told me about what you saw in Camelot in the past few days sounds true. Did you really see those Elf Knights being defeated with your own eyes?"

"I escaped from Camelot City, how could I lie to you." He drank fruit tea with a calm expression: "It is said that even the strongest knight, Sir Lancelot, was arranged by His Majesty Morgan to participate in the war. "

"You also said you weren't bragging. If you want to enter Camelot City but you need a letter of recommendation, low-level fairies like us can't enter."

Hearing this, Da Vinci blinked in confusion.

She didn't understand how the two names came together, but...

Morgan, Lancelot, Ezequiel. These three are all household names in Britain. In this Lost Belt of Britain where there is no human history, one may be just a coincidence, but appearing at the same time definitely has profound meaning. Moreover... the time here is nearly 1,600 years different from the time of King Arthur!

'Maybe we can get some information from this old man. '

Thinking of this, Da Vinci temporarily gave up the idea of ​​​​escape that night.

She subconsciously took another sip of fruit wine and almost choked.

——Is the Fairy Country a food desert?

But at this moment, just as she was listening, Ezequiel suddenly turned around and gave her a meaningful look.

Mike happened to turn around and place the cleaned cups on the elevated stand.

In this gap, Da Vinci clearly saw Ezequiel's lips saying silently:

——I will tell you everything. We have the same enemy.

……

At the same time, Londinion.

Arturia was staring blankly at the golden-colored barbecue in her hands that exuded an alluring aroma.

She didn't move her mouth, not because the food was difficult to swallow. The Round Table Army is mostly a resistance army formed by oppressed humans. Unlike goblins, food is necessary for humans.

"Sir, Son of Prophecy, isn't it to your liking?"

A gentle male voice sounded, and the black-haired knight Percival came to Artoria's side. The fairy Menechelle, who was holding a bone, immediately gave up sucking the bone marrow and stared at Percival.

Percival showed a gentle smile to the dragon lady, but the elf Menechel ignored him and continued to stare at him. Fortunately, Percival stood two steps away from Artoria. He did not sit down but bowed his waist in an overly humble posture.

"You don't have to be so polite, Mr. Percival, just call me by my name." Artoria shook her head: "It's just that the people here are a little too enthusiastic, and I'm not used to it."

In fact, Artoria had already felt this excessive enthusiasm ever since she entered Londinion and was revealed by Percival. Unlike the past fairies who had strong utilitarianism and purpose when they heard about the Son of Prophecy, it was pure and flawless admiration. This kind of enthusiasm made Artoria overwhelmed.

"As long as it's not unpalatable." Percival smiled apologetically: "This is already the best food we can provide."

The number of men, women, and children in the Round Table Army is not small, but the labor force is not abundant. It is not easy to eat barbecue every day. Hunting is not organized every day, and not every hunt will yield results.

"No, no, actually I don't value food that much."

This was not a lie. During her first trip with Menechelle, she ate the meat happily even though it was a little burnt.

"I am also worried that I have neglected you because of my poor etiquette. I am not afraid of your laughter. Although I am praised as a pure white knight outside, in fact, I have not learned the etiquette of knights. I am just a knight with mud legs."

The suddenly rustic topic made Artoria feel more at ease.

"Then why did Mr. Percival go to the forest in the eastern plains?" Arturia asked.

Percival said before that he was close to the camp, but in fact the distance between the two sides was not that close. They walked in the dark for nearly half an hour before arriving at the abandoned city of Londinion.

"A few days ago, not because of the attack in Camelot City, some of the humans who were originally transported to the Queen's Army escaped."

"We are not far from Camelot. I think those people may have escaped to us. Further ahead is the territory of Oxford. Woodworth will definitely not let them go, so I think I Something can be done.”

Arturia remained silent, admiring Percival's kindness.

But if he keeps holding on to this idea, the world will hurt him.

"But it seems like I got nothing."

"You can't say that. In fact, they have been found." Percival scratched his face: "But when I found them, they had already entered Sheffield's territory."

If you just enter, that's fine. The territorial awareness of goblins is not that strong. It's just unfortunate that there are goblins from Sheffield accompanying those humans.

"I have tried to negotiate, because Lord Boggart is also dissatisfied with Morgan and may not be able to cooperate, but the goblin of Sheffield said that this was under the order of Lord Boggart to choose a suitable human as his wife, but Boggart The special wife will not end well."

Having said this, Percival smiled bitterly. Although Boggart would not suppress the development of the Round Table Army, he had an attitude of inclusion and hoped that Percival would be loyal to Sheffield. But these things do not need to be related to Artoria. explain.

"That's it." Arturia nodded and pondered.

She had heard the gossip about Lord Boggart. He was not a womanizer, and he had sought several human wives just to show his "humanity." However, without exception, these human wives did not die well.

"However, I won't give up." Percival cheered up again: "I will go again tomorrow."

Arturia's eyes lit up, and she ate the barbecue in three or two bites: "I can also help with this matter."

She can completely imitate the savior Ash and promote cooperation between the two parties to jointly fight against the enemy.

I originally planned to finish writing this volume before February, but the result was much unexpected. It already has 80,000 words, which is almost three-quarters of the text volume of other volumes. But here the plot has just gotten on track. Let me think about how to streamline it

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 452: Learning etiquette from the model knight Menechelle

452.

After passing through the thick forest, the towering ancient trees on both sides receded, and the sun shone in the suddenly clear front. On the endless eastern plain, an isolated city stood alone, and that was Sheffield.

Like Londinium, Sheffield was a capital built on ruins.

Unexpectedly, after hearing Percival's intention, Boggart easily agreed to receive the group.

"What a surprise."

"This should be because I often visit Sheffield." Percival, who was walking at the front with Arturia, was quite embarrassed. Every move he made revealed his youthful shyness and trustworthiness. Maturity are two completely opposite temperaments.

"Too much humility is poison to a knight," Artoria said.

Menechelle would never show such humility. A true knight should be as fearless as he is.

"Yes, I will write it down." Percival nodded seriously. He had never met a knight, so he could only improve his knightly etiquette from the few words Arturia revealed.

On the back side, behind the two masters and apprentices in front is another team of masters and apprentices who are learning etiquette.

"Just like this, you should walk half a step away from your master...that is, Lady Artoria." Gareth appeared to guide: "And when you encounter danger, you should immediately block Lady Artoria. Behind you."

The elf Menechelle nodded. All this knowledge existed in the spirit base he devoured, but there was no other knowledge besides that. She suspected that the original body had not received etiquette training at all.

"Then what should I do after seeing that Bagster?"

"It's a Boggart. Remember, for fairies, calling someone by the wrong name is a contemptible provocation."

Gareth repeatedly warned Artoria that she originally wanted the elf Menechelle to stay in Londinion, but she had no choice but to bring her with her after being rejected. If she still made mistakes in important talks, even if Artoria Lady Leah will definitely be punished for her magnanimity.

"Those big shots usually don't pay attention to followers like us. All in all, if I really ask you, I just need to tell you your name."

Fairy Menechelle nodded. She already understood. In this way, she could directly enter the social etiquette formula that Arturia taught her.

"What are you talking about?"

At this time, Arturia also turned back. She was not worried about these two not-so-smart fairies getting together. I deliberately turned back to say a few words to them.

"Lady Artoria, I'm teaching her how to deal with Lord Boggart later."

"You two don't talk until then, just leave it to me..." At this point, Arturia interrupted her words as if she suddenly lost consciousness.

Unknowingly, it was her turn to say these words.

From then on, there was no more dialogue on the way to the Lord's Hall. Under the escort of guards, they successfully arrived at an empty hall.

On both sides of the main hall, the walls made of brightly colored materials make the interior brighter than the outside. In the middle is a throne made of gold. A white-faced lion-headed goblin is condescendingly watching the people who are being guided forward. .

He casually moved his eyes away from the other people one by one, and finally landed on Percival who was at the head of the queue.

"Percival, I have said that those humans are the property of Sheffield. Rather than go to your side and die, it is better to stay here and survive."

Following his words, the fairies around him immediately burst into hearty laughter. Apart from them, there are other Sheffield goblins in the hall.

But Percival was obviously used to this level of mental attack.