The Last Frontier of Fire and Sword

　　 "My lord, do you know a Duke of Dominica?" Franco asked casually on the way to the courtyard.

"The Duke of Dominica?" Feodor chanted the name again, and then realized that there was no impression of the name in his mind. He turned his head and said to Franco: "I don't know. But there are many unknowns in the Republic, with more famous names. The real duke and earl, maybe the one you are talking about is one of them."

　　 "If there is such a good cavalry team, if there is this Duke of Dominica, he will definitely not be an unknown generation in the Republic." Franco thought.

　　 "What's the matter?" Feodor asked, seeing Franco's thoughtful expression.

　　 "Oh, nothing. On my way back, I met a man who claimed to be a servant of the Duke of Dominica. According to him, he came to Smolensk to do business." Franco did not tell the truth, but panicked. He knew that his chief was indecisive, and if he were to know that such a group of unknown armed forces appeared in the territory, he still didn't know what it would be frightened.

"That's probably a guy who wants to come to me to find a part-time official. By then, I will arrange a position for the duke in the city hall. Anyway, there are enough dukes and earls there." Feodor didn't think much. Hearing this, Franco replied casually.

　　 In a blink of an eye, the two of them have reached the door of the courtyard.

　　 At this time, Cheerchen, Pidro and others also dressed up.

　　 Tetsuchen put on a black noble chief attire studded with metal strips. The long hem covered his knees, a pair of yellow deerskin boots, and a slender sword hung from his waist. It was so heroic.

　　Pidro wore a Spanish dress with a bright yellow base and red leather straps. He wore a certain wide-brimmed hat with the brim overwhelming his eyebrows. The half-sword was hung from the waist down. Unlike Cheechen, he didn't wear long boots, but instead wore a pair of white stockings with black shoes.

　　 Fidel, Cadiz and others are Spanish infantry uniforms, wearing ship-shaped helmets. It's just that everyone has different weapons in their hands, such as halberds, cavalry knives, pistols, and so on.

"well."

　　 Feodor looks at people and only looks at two points: one is appearance; the other is martial arts. Undoubtedly, the dresses of Pidro and others were in line with Feodor's appetite.

　　 Seeing the praise from future employers, Pietro winked at Franco to show his gratitude. On the way back to the city, Franco reminded them to dress well.

　　 Franco didn't have any expressions, he just followed Feodor loyally.

　　 "What's your name?" Feodor asked, standing in front of Carlos.

　　 "Kadris, I am a knight." Carlos spoke, as short as ever.

　　 "Can you let me see what you are capable of?" Feodor began to test his mind.

　　 Kardex took out a handkerchief from his arms, raised his hand, and the handkerchief flew. Then, Cadiz quickly drew the cavalry knife and waved it. The blade passed the wind-drifting handkerchief and split it in two.

　　 This hand was stunned. It should be noted that the weight of the handkerchief is so light, if the average person swings the knife like this, most of the handkerchief is brought to the ground. But Cadiz was able to use the power of cutting while slashing, which is not something ordinary people can do. Definitely years of hard work.

　　 "You must be famous in the Republic." Feodor exclaimed. He has decided to keep the knight no matter how high the price is.

　　 Then, he walked in front of the second Spanish mercenary. Compared with Carlos, this one seems a bit ordinary. Although he was wearing the uniform of a pikeman, even though the armor was wiped off, it was still possible to see that it had been patched. And his head is even more short under the print of a three-meter long halberd. This was invisible when Feodor was far away just now, and it was especially obvious when he stood close.

　　 Feodor suddenly lost interest in questioning. Planning to go to the next one.

　　 Seeing Feodor's demeanor, Pidro implied "Oops." As a mercenary, he has no chance of going solo in a foreign country, and only a newspaper group can make it famous. These individuals are all boosts for their own promotion and fortune. Missing any one is a great loss to myself.

　　 "My benefactor." As soon as he thought of this, Pidro took a step forward and shouted.

　　 "Huh?" Fyodor was a little surprised to see someone standing up before he got there. And what does he call himself? Benefactor? This is a name that can only be obtained by giving others great favors, but this person doesn't even know him.

　　 "My lord, this is..." Seeing that Pidro was so reckless, Franco hurried to Feodor's ear and said something nice to Pidro.

　　 After a while, Feodor's complexion softened.

　　 "Mr. Pidro, I have listened to my head of your deeds, thank you for everything you have done for Zamosya." Feodor said to Pidro. Obviously, Franco talked to Feodor about Pidro and others' elimination of the robbers around Zamosye.

　　 "It is my greatest honor to serve you," Pidro replied.

　　 "Then do you have something to tell me?"

　　 "Yes, my benefactor and protector." Pidro added another name to Feodor without authorization.

　　 "This Spanish classmate and I came to Smolensk together. We are a team proficient in special skills. UU reading www.uukanshu.com is indispensable."

　　 "Special skills?" Feodor looked at Pidro in incredible, then looked at the others. At this time, he discovered that there was still a half-year-old child (Chechen) in the team. Moreover, these personal weapons were varied, but they were all within the scope of his cognition, and he didn't see anything special.

　　 "Yes, my lord," Piedro said firmly.

　　 "Then what will you guys do? So many people together."

　　 "My lord, we will operate the cannon." Pidro said astonishingly.

　　 In this era, operating artillery is a technical task. Instead of putting a round cannonball into the barrel as most people think, and then lighting the twister, it's all done-although most people operate artillery like this. But if you want to hit far and aim accurately, you must have a wealth of knowledge.

"Do you really know how to operate artillery? I'm not talking about six-pound or eight-pound guns, but very big guns." Feodor was interested, and he happened to have a huge, twenty-four-pound gun in hand. But there are not enough people to operate it.

　　 "Yes. We will operate no matter what the gun." Pidro was confident, and he pushed Cheorchen out.

　　 "This is my nephew. He used to be a gunner under General Wichensburg." Pidro began to brag about not drafting.

　　 "Didn't you just arrive in Poland?" Feodor discovered a loophole in Pied's words.

　　 "Yes, we landed in Riga. Then we worked in the army of General Wichensburg for a while. But we heard that there are more generous lords in Smolensk." Pidro continued to flicker.

　　 "Well, I want to try your technology. If it is as good as what you said, I won't treat you badly." Feodor decided to let them prove themselves with their strength.