Warlord: King of All Clans

The snow on the Wolf-Driving Plain flew from the north.

After just one night, the sky and the earth turned white.

Old Sam looked at the empty bags in the snow and couldn't help but sigh, his wrinkled face full of worry.

With the arrival of winter, the prey in the Wolf-Qulang Plain became less and less, and the survival of the tribe became more difficult.

A whole year has passed since I migrated my people from Varanger to the southern part of the Wolf-Driving Plain.

During the journey, they stopped and walked frequently, and the threats they encountered were not only the beastmen coming from the south, but also foreign tribes and bandits.

It was a great fortune for his small clan of less than a hundred people to be able to survive.

By now, there are less than fifty people left in the village. He led them to hide in this valley and make a living by hunting and gathering.

Fortunately, after settling down, he led his tribesmen to burn the wasteland and reclaim the land, planted more than ten acres of land in time, and harvested a batch of grain before winter.

There were not many northern clans that were as lucky as them. Many people who fled southward could not find a suitable place to live, or were robbed as soon as they settled down.

But Old Sam still wasn't optimistic about his future. The longer they stayed here, the more people noticed their presence.

Bandits will come to rob, nobles will come to collect taxes, and small villages without armed protection will be the focus of any powerful force.

Old Sam even saw a few kobolds lurking outside the village, as if they wanted to attack the small village.

The ogres here were very smart. Not only were they much larger and better equipped than those in other places, they were also very smart and almost ignored the traps he set.

With the villagers' fighting power, thirty of these gnolls can easily defeat them.

But these worries obviously could not be shared with the tribesmen. On the contrary, Old Sam had to constantly encourage the tribesmen and tell them that as long as they could survive this winter, everything would be fine.

Just get through this month.

Just get through this summer.

Just get through this fall.

Just get through this winter.

Old Sam kept making promises to the desperate villagers, and he persevered until today.

Old Sam was not that old, only in his early forties, but due to hard work, suffering and hidden injuries, his hair had begun to turn white, and he looked like an old man.

After returning to the village, his daughter saw her father returning empty-handed and a hint of disappointment appeared in her eyes, but she quickly adjusted her mood and greeted him with a smile.

"Dad, my fifth brother just hunted a snow rabbit and can make a big pot of stew!"

Old Sam smiled when he heard this, "Good, good, good! Your fifth brother is a good guy."

With a snow rabbit as the base, and some wheat, peas, wild vegetables, mushrooms, or even stuffing some tree bark, the tribe can have a full meal.

His little son also shouted happily: "There's meat to eat! There's meat to eat!"

But in reality, if you boil a snow rabbit for an entire afternoon and cook it into a big pot to feed fifty people, you would be lucky if you could get a clean bone.

At this time, the sound of horse hooves was heard outside the village, and a team of fully armed cavalrymen with black flags appeared at the entrance of the village.

The cavalrymen wore uniform heavy chain mail, steel helmets, and bearskin cloaks, looking extremely majestic.

Even Old Sam, who had been in the army for many years, had never seen such an elite cavalry team.

In the North, such attire is usually exclusive to knights.

During the years when he was recruited into the lord's army, he fought in many battles with his knight master, and even killed a boar warrior alone.

His knight master was dressed like this, but in order to meet the equipment requirements of the Northern Knights, he asked a local blacksmith to make a plate armor shell out of thin iron sheets for him to wear.

In order to protect old Sam's bravery, the Lord Knight gave Sam his discarded worn-out chain mail as a reward.

Unfortunately, the loyal knight was hacked to death by orcs, and the heirloom armor he had obtained was exchanged for food during the migration.

The villagers hid behind makeshift fences and in sheds, peeking out with eyes filled with fear.

For the lower-class people, they could still fight back desperately against foreign races and bandits, but they were completely unable to resist the well-armored army of the lords.

With the sickles, wooden sticks and militia short spears in their hands, they were unable to break the armored cavalry's defense. On the contrary, if they accidentally injured the enemy, it would only attract more soldiers to suppress them.

Old Sam, who had witnessed the greed and shamelessness of the nobles, had no hope in the character of the local knight, but he had no choice but to come forward.

His daughter grabbed her father's hand in fear, "Dad..."

"Don't panic. No matter what happens, stay in the house and don't show up."

Old Sam's daughter could only hug her younger brother and hide in the house and peek outside.

As Old Sam came out, several elderly villagers followed him out of the village and gathered around him.

As for the young and strong villagers, they hid themselves instead.

There were not many young and strong men in the village, and if they were taken away to serve as soldiers, the remaining elderly, the weak, women and children would not be able to survive.

When they walked out of the village, Old Sam discovered that there was a dog-headed man standing next to the leader of the cavalry and was telling him something.

Because the distance was still far, Old Sam couldn't hear clearly what the other party said, but when he saw it pointing at him from a distance at the end, he was suddenly startled.

Are the kobolds here slaves of the local lord? Are they here to cause trouble for me?

When Old Sam led his men to the cavalry team, the leading knight took off his helmet, revealing a young boy with a still young face.

But Old Sam showed no sign of abnormality, and still bowed with a flattering look on his face, "Greetings, Sir Knight!"

The young knight sat on his horse, looking down at Old Sam from above, took out a small notebook, and asked with a pen in hand, "Are you the head of this village?"

"Yes, Sir Knight."

"May I have your name?"

"My name is Sam, Sir Knight."

“How many people are there in your village?”

"Thirty, more than thirty."

The dog-headed man, who was staring at the horse's legs and preparing to take a bite, turned around and barked, "You're lying! There are a total of fifty-two bites, including five human cubs."

Old Sam panicked and knelt down on the ground. "Master Knight, it's fifty-two. I, I, can't count."

"Woof woof woof! You're still lying!"

The young knight frowned and crossed out the number thirty and replaced it with fifty-two, but he did not vent his anger on Old Sam, nor did he care about his lies. Instead, he glared at the kobold under him.

Another knight at his side lowered his lance inconspicuously, swung it in front of the kobold, and pushed him away from the leader's horse's legs.

The young cavalry leader asked Old Sam a few more questions before putting away the small notebook in his hand and said to Old Sam: "Your village meets the requirements of the local lord law and now officially becomes a vassal village of the knight's territory."

"You are now called Village No. 7 in Linhai Town. If you have any objections, you can go to the Lord's Mansion in Linhai Town to appeal for a name change."

Old Sam didn't understand what the other party said, but he nodded repeatedly, "Got it! Got it!"

Old Sam was still at a loss until the cavalry turned around and left.

There was no taxation, no conscription of men, and no rape, looting, burning, killing or robbing.

The local lord's actions were beyond the comprehension of this veteran.