Augustus Under the Horseshoe

"What supplies do those bear goblins in the far north lack? What do they like? You goblin vendors, who are not far away to start trading in such a cold ghost place, must know them well? Tell me all."

Painhurs forcibly suppressed his inner joy, and stared at the soldier and Erdao dealer from the merchant clan. He originally planned to bring a tens of thousands of people to fight directly over, grab the formula of the bear goblin vodka, and improve his burning can.

However, combined with the information given by the gang of hawkers under Gary Vickers, the position of that group of guys is too far away. To convert a little, it is probably between Moscow and St. Petersburg today. Although the tribe has begun to take shape now, it has launched an expedition towards that desolate and cold ghost place?

Napoleon felt very embarrassed.

"Warchief, these bear goblins are gathered together in a family unit and by blood. There are about a dozen fat-bodied bear goblins and hundreds of goblin slaves in a community. The place where they live is too much. It’s cold, so the fat and meat of the local beasts are particularly plump, and the fur is also a top-quality product."

The goblin dealer of the merchant clan lowered his little head humbly, and talked to the warchief about his distant relatives in the north.

"They do everything to survive, farming, grazing, animal husbandry, fishing and hunting. These bear goblins have almost learned all the skills to get food. But there are no sweets in that place. Grapes, honey, melons and fruits, nothing."

The merchant goblin showed a sly smile.

"Warchief, don't you know what they looked like when they ate honey for the first time, hey! One by one, their eyes were rounded, and they desperately sucked their dirty paws with honey, wishing to chew their own bear paws and swallow them together. Belly! The honey, grapes, and other sweets in our wagon were sold ten times the normal price!"

"Very well, there are still a lot of grapes from the Diodosian Vineyards. Among the Eleven Taxes paid by the Ostrogoths, there are also beekeepers' honey. I will give you as much as you want for these sweets! But, your business The team, have to go to the homes of those bear goblins, and be sure to exchange the recipe for this wine."

"Your will."

The goblin vendor lowered his little head, and his green forehead almost touched the white wool carpet in Painhurs's house.

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After dealing with the goblin affairs, the eleven taxes paid by the various clans and kingdoms of the tribe were also sent to the royal court of the centaur from all over Gredinian. The Ostrogoth kingdom of Asana paid a large amount of cultivated wheat, fish and aquatic products of the Black Sea, as well as cash crops such as honey, olives, and grapes.

The business travel clan of Galliwix presented a cart full of currency: two energetic huskies, while sticking their tongues, while pulling a cart from Ireland to Shofang, gold and silver minted by various civilizations and races Copper coins, and fifty strings of goblin slaves as taxes: on each string, there are ten gloomy goblins tied to each string, which adds up to five hundred.

As for Yrel’s Sartre, those half-human half-goats were the last members to join the tribe. They were not firmly established in Gredingenian, and even the ranch was rewarded by horses and horses. In the end, if Painhurs hadn't lent them tens of thousands Cows and sheep, these guys, it is estimated that even life is somewhat difficult.

As a result, the Sartre sent the soldiers of the ethnic group as tithes to Diodosiya, a total of 800 Sartre archers with their own weapons and horses, and two hundred were equipped with short bows, feather arrows, and leather armors. In addition to the spear, the bard who also carried the flute, joined the army of men and horses, and directly obeyed the command of the warchief.

The evil flame clan of the beast Onardo gave a lot of fat and strong cows and sheep, and sixteen green pete-specific Skogs, those with two legs and their mouths almost as huge as their bodies. The fleshy bumps, roaring together in a mess, strangely, their body colors are actually different, orange, yellow, green, blue, blue, purple, black, white, a total of eight colors, each color The Skugger has two ends.

"These sixteen Skugs are gifts from the Chief Chief to the Chief Chief."

Seeing the puzzled eyes of the crowd, the green-skinned boy who gave the gift opened his mouth and said with a grin.

"These little guys are called Pigment Skog. They can spit out the same color liquid as their own skin. They are extremely good dyes. At present, our clan has cultivated nine colors of pigment Skog. Give you two ends, a male and a female! As for the red color... we have to use it to paint mounts, weapons, armor, and paint war patterns on the skin. We don't have enough of it, so we won't give it away. "

"Spit paint?"

Although I've heard of this amazing Skog variety before, the warchief has never seen it with his own eyes. Seeing Painhurs' curious eyes, the green-skinned kid covered in red war patterns immediately pulled out a dark paint Sgugger, and slapped it as hard as a goat's milk--the poor little one. The thing immediately grew its mouth, spitting out a large pool of thick black liquid.

"and many more!"

Painhurs’ attention was instantly attracted by the large puddle of thick dark brown liquid. The Pale Warlock sniffed, this thing exuded a very familiar smell: what kind of black dye is this? Obviously it is oil! The recipe for the Motolov cocktail is almost ready!

Wait, these green skins use petroleum as black dye? No, this Skug can spit out oil?

"How much of this black paint Skug in your clan? I want it all! I'll take out an equivalent war horse or a young ewe in exchange."

"Uh... no problem."

Although I don't know why the white horse in front of me is so hungry for black paint, the sale seems to be a profitable deal, and the orc boy who came to pay the tax agreed with it happily.

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After finishing dealing with the tribe’s big and small affairs, Painhurs breathed a long sigh of relief. These days, endless wars have erupted one after another. Asana of the Eastern Goths, Holy Huo Ka’an, God’s Choice Descendants, Green Dragon Motarian, King of Kings of Sassanid Persia... He has almost no chance to breathe, especially the civil war with the descendants of God’s choice, which has severely consumed the power of the people and horses, thousands of people Compatriots fell forever in the sea of ​​grass.

Now, I must rest for a while, wait for Gredinian this fertile soil to double his cattle and sheep, wait for the empty granary to fill up with grain, wait for the slaves to dig out more iron ore in the Kerch Mountains, etc. Craftsmen create more sharp arrows, and wait for the newborn ponies to grow into adult horses three years later and become brave and combative soldiers before starting a new round of expansion.

For three years, Painhurs secretly set a time period for the tribe to cultivate and rejuvenate. The extreme confrontation between the Eastern Roman Empire and Sassanid Persia caused both parties to hurt their vitality, and the possibility of finding their own trouble was infinitely close to zero. Compared with the tribe, the other forces are not worth mentioning. Now, I just need to wait patiently.

PS: Thank you all for your blessings and waiting. This time I made a circle from the gate of **** and almost couldn't return. Although I am weak now, my spirit is basically back to normal, and I can still code words when lying on the bed. Resume update! In the new month, I beg your readers for a monthly pass~ Your support is the greatest encouragement to the author~