Chapter 88 The pursuers are coming
Thousand River Valley, South Mound County, on the edge of the high terrace mountains.

Next to the gravel road that snakes along, there is a small church with white walls and black roof.

There are only three houses in the church, which are surrounded by sparse green trees.

The small hill where the church is located is about ten feet higher than the road.

Regardless of the risk of dirtying his monk's robe, the white-haired Argan stood on the hillside and looked into the distance.

In the V-shaped angle between the green hills on both sides, there is a huge snow-capped mountain, looking over here from afar and facing Argon.

Just when Argon was about to faint from waiting, the sound of hurried horse hooves finally rang out.

He quickly leaned on his crutches and looked down the hillside.

On the serpentine gravel road, only three people could walk side by side, but four people squeezed in.

The long queue was crowded together, like a full snake crawling in a twisted manner.

Even though they were crowded together, they were still clearly separated.

Most of those on the left were wearing long-tailed helmets, uniform robes with flowery patterns, and cowhide short boots.

The one on the right features a casual, greasy sword, a split-end spear, and someone with a baby skull hanging from his waist.

The two groups were crowded and pushing each other. If they were not careful, someone would roll down the hillside, but they still gritted their teeth and rushed forward.

Amid the sound of horse hooves, a man rushed from one side of the long line. Before he arrived, a hoarse and unpleasant laugh came first.

"Old Argon, long time no see, hahaha."

After getting off the horse, before he could get close, a man with a mustache and wearing a round-brimmed helmet came up to him with a laugh.

"Oh, ho, ho," Argon immediately laughed as well, his snow-white beard trembling, "It's been a long time since I last saw you, Cléante."

After hugging the mustached man with a smile, he turned around and saw a young man with a bulbous nose dressed as a knight trotting towards him on a horse.

"You must be Mr. Bellard. You look exactly like the portrait. You are such a handsome man."

After the man got off the horse, Argon released his arms from around Cléante, turned around, held Berard's hand, and shook it vigorously twice.

"Old Brother Argon, I am so lucky to meet you."

"Ha ha ha ha."

Argon didn't notice the forced smile on Cléante's face behind him.

Likewise, he did not notice that when Berarde saw Cléonte, he showed undisguised disgust.

"You two came together?"

"Yes." Bellard said with a polite smile on his face.

"Okay, okay." Argon laughed. "This time, the pursuit of the group of short-haired people will be completed by the two of you working together. It's great that you two have met in advance."

"Yeah, yeah, hahahaha." Cleonte forced himself to raise the corners of his mouth and laughed in agreement.

Bellard even snorted unabashedly: "I have seen Mr. Cléante's great abilities along the way."

"How dare I? I would be surprised if Lord Berard is a knight at such a young age. If you don't believe me, ask him."

Argon asked in surprise, "Mr. Berard, are you a knight?"

Bellard's face flushed. After a long pause, he squeezed out a word from between his teeth: "No."

"Oh, I was mistaken. He looks so impressive. I thought he was a knight. Haha." Cleonte immediately laughed out loud.

Argon also laughed.

No matter what these two people thought, Argan was very satisfied looking at the combination in front of him.

Bellard was sent by Prince Condé. In peacetime, the Imperial Company only retains the Imperial Knights and the Square Banner Knights.

Only before going out on an expedition would they temporarily sign contracts with several nearby mercenary groups to recruit infantry and recruit squire knights locally.

For example, Bellard was a close confidant of a company captain. 600 infantrymen were selected to lead the pursuit of Horn.

As for Cléante, he was the representative of Bishop Barnifoss, a well-known local mercenary agent.

He was not like Bellard's infantry, most of whom were professional soldiers. His men were basically recruited from the five mountainous counties of the Thousand River Valley.

Many times, they recruited idlers and rogues from the countryside, even bandits, robbers and beggars.

Poor mountains and bad waters produce unruly people. Without training, these mountain people are brave and fierce, and their fighting ability is at least higher than that of ordinary farmers.

In Argan's opinion, this is the perfect combination: a local veteran and a newcomer from outside the area. One is familiar with the environment, one is powerful, one is experienced, and one is brave and daring.

perfect.

"Seeing you two getting along so well, I feel relieved. Come on, come inside."

Pulling the two people into this beautiful little church, Argan held their shoulders and asked them to sit down side by side.

There were seven or eight dishes on the table, all served with silver tableware and warm and exquisite Western-style (Flesh and Blood Royal Court style) porcelain plates.

"Mr. Argan, are there any instructions from Prince Condé?"

"Oh, you're asking about this. Let me look for it. You guys take a seat first. The shadowless man from the church has checked it out before...hiss, let me take a look..."

After arranging for the two to sit down, Argan turned his back and flipped through the bookshelf: "...Hey, where's my map?"

I turned the bookshelf from top to bottom until it was covered in dust and almost fell into the wine, but I still couldn't find it.

Berard finally couldn't help but remind him: "Father Argan, is that the one in your hand?"

"Oh, oh, oh." Argan looked at his hand and laughed at himself, "So it's here. I'm old and useless. I will soon return to heaven and enter the arms of my Lord."

"No way." After throwing a fried chickpea into his mouth, Cleonte crossed his legs. "You can live longer than me."

"Hahahaha, that won't do. It's time for me to return to the Lord's arms. Come on, let's look at the map first."

Spreading the map next to the cream soup, Cléante and Bellard looked at it at the same time.

"Well, according to the Shadowless Man's reconnaissance, Shorthair's current route is most likely to come down from Mount Ir, with a small chance of going through the Rosewood Pass."

Argon sat down tremblingly.

"The church said that Bishop Condé, no, Prince Condé, told you two to guard different locations..."

"Then I'll go to Ilshan and guard it..."

"It's too dangerous. Let me go. It's better for our Mr. Knight not to get too tired."

"Mr. Argan, I have to tell you that this pursuit of the short-haired thieves is very important to me, but I sincerely believe that Mr. Cléante's soldiers cannot meet the requirements."

"Haha, I can't meet your request? What is the Gaotai Mountains? Let me tell you, if I let you in, you will never find the short-haired thief in your life."

"Ha, if we can't find it, you may never find it in your lifetime."

"Oh? Why? You plains soldiers, are you able to walk on mountain roads better than us mountain people?"

"Okay, okay, I know you all want to contribute your strength to suppress the secret party." Argan said cheerfully, "But this kind of thing is easy to discuss. It's all for the cause of our Lord. Let's eat first."

"Come and drink to our friendship!"

After all, Argon was the commander-in-chief in this operation. Cléonte and Bellarde could only glare at each other with resentment and bite the steak and buttered bread on the plate viciously.

The butter on the table was gradually consumed, and even the last bit of juice on the plate was eaten by Argon using bread to dip it in.

He shook the bottle and found that the wine was almost gone, most of it went into Argon's stomach.

He burped and stood up unsteadily: "Okay, excuse me, I need to take a nap. I'm old now, and half a bottle of wine is not enough, burp~"

"But, sir, it's still unclear who is guarding which one?"

"Oh, oh, yeah, that's right. How about this, you who, you, you are Cleonte?"

"Sir, I am Bellard..."

"Berrard, you, you brought 600 soldiers, right?" With a burgundy face, Argon patted Berard's shoulder hard.

"Yes, they are all good guys, unlike some people." Bellard immediately raised his chin confidently.

Argon nodded. "Well, you send 300 men to Mount Il and 300 to the Roseval Pass. Cléonte, you too. Okay, it's decided."

Bellarde and Cléante were both horrified.

Cléonte even ignored etiquette and stepped forward to grab Argan's sleeve: "Sir, in this case, who will be in charge of the command?"

"Joint command, both of you, are, hiccup, commander, okay, there's no need to keep me, I'm leaving."

With the help of two servants, Argon stumbled to the second floor to take a nap.

As for Bellarde and Cléante, they stood there for a while, looked at each other, snorted coldly, and turned and left at the same time.

But this cottage only had one door after all. The two met at the door again, snorted coldly at the same time, walked out of the door side by side, and walked in different directions.

(End of this chapter)