Augustus Under the Horseshoe

Seeing that ferocious mammoth finally surrendered in front of Alaric, the surrounding Visigoths thunderous with applause and savage and primitive howls to celebrate the final victory of the Supreme King. Several barbarians dressed as nobles, Cheering and calling a group of slaves, they began to build a suitable saddle for this northern behemoth.

In the midst of this hustle and bustle, suddenly, a Visigoth with the appearance of a messenger hurriedly leaped off the stands of the arena and roared in panic, but the thin voice was drowned in the waves of joy.

Alaric frowned, raised his left hand to the sky and shook it hard. The noisy ocean around him suddenly became silent, and the air was so quiet that he could hear his own breathing. The barbarians looked at their king in awe, wondering what happened.

"Now, let's talk about it."

"To... Supreme King, something big happened!"

The messenger was crying, like a poor mouse playing around surrounded by more than a dozen cats.

"Last night, the tribe, which had not been moving, suddenly launched a trouble. An elite tribe army, in just five hours, forcibly crossed the Danube and occupied Selman!

All the soldiers garrisoned died in battle. They are now starting to erect pontoon bridges on the Danube. Countless troops are camping on the east bank and waiting to cross the river! The white camp, densely lined with the soft river bank, extends to the end of the field of vision!

Ah, yes, this is the war book of the tribal chief. It says that the Romans promised our home to the tribe! If we don’t leave, he will lead the army and the Supreme King’s Association to hunt in Pannonia..."

"Fart! The Roman promised Pannonia to him? This is no longer Roman territory! Adolf! Theodoric! Come with me!"

Alaric let out a sky-shaking roar, and angrily walked to the stands, grabbed a few of his confidantes, and sent them directly to the governor's mansion to study the situation.

"Selman, Selman. Hell, these nomads will really find a place to cross the river. There should be a small number of elites who come here. The situation has not collapsed. If we can retake the city and destroy the pontoon before the pontoon is erected, still have a chance!"

The Supreme King pondered on a rough map.

"All the cities and fortresses near Selman, how many troops can there be together? How many people does Soppany have now?"

"We have 30,000 soldiers, distributed in various nearby strongholds. The soldiers of other clans are messy, and the statistics are not clear. They are about twice as many as ours. Soppany is stationed with one of our most elite troops. There are six thousand infantrymen and four thousand cavalrymen."

Artof frowned and said. He is eighth similar to Alaric, and is also his biological brother. In the Visigothic kingdom, there are almost under one person and over ten thousand people.

"The Supreme King, the latest information. The materials they used to build the pontoon were small boats—most of which were made by Goths. The style is too obvious."

Theodoric said somewhat cautiously. He is a rookie excavated by Alaric among the race. Although young, he is extremely brave.

"Ostergoths? Are those guys joining the tribe now?"

The Supreme King spurned.

"A group of shameful pagans actually abandoned the gods that our ancestors have believed in for generations and turned to kneel and pray to the weak gods of the Romans! They are no longer my brothers! Give my order and release all the ravens! All the soldiers! Order them to gather at Selman as quickly as possible. I will take the cavalry and destroy the bridge first!"

"Yes!"

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When the Visigoths were about to move, Painhes was not idle, and his spies finally found a 70-year-old white-haired old man in the Eastern Gothic kingdom. He is like a living history, recording the migration history of the entire Gothic race from the north.

The most precious thing is that when he was on Gotland, this old man lived in the same settlement as Alaric.

The other leaders of the tribe believed that the Visigothic Supreme King was just another leader of the barbarian tribe, a warlord with rich combat experience, and nothing compared to the tribe.

Although he had fought with the Eastern Roman Empire for many years and achieved a series of beautiful achievements, he was later beaten by the battle commander of the Western Roman Empire, Stirico, and defeated in all battles. Forced to become one of the subjects of the Western Empire.

However, the Pale Warlock didn't think so. Alaric may have not done any earth-shattering things in this world, and now he is just a little famous.

However, in his original world, the supreme king of Visigoths, with his army of destruction, captured the city of the seven hills that would never fall: Rome! Break the myth of the invincible eternal city, and take away the treasures of the entire city!

Such dangerous people must raise a twelve-point mental response.

"Alaric? He is now the leader of the Visigoths."

The old Gothic said tremblingly, like a tree bark, covered with wrinkles, and on the face of the ravine, there was a touch of nostalgia for the past years.

"He has half the blood of a frost giant, and his life span is far longer than that of ordinary humans. When I was born, he was already the leader of the settlement, the strongest. About how his parents, a human and a frost giant, were born There are many legends about him."

The old man took a sip of water to moisturize his throat.

"The most outrageous theory is that his father went out hunting white bears one day, but suddenly it rained heavily, so he found a deep and narrow cave with a lot of white withered grass on the top of the cave for shelter from the rain.

He was really bored inside, so he took off his pants and did some handicrafts, so the half-human half-giant Alaric was born ten months later. "

"In appearance and physique, he is almost exactly the same as his mother. He is so powerful that he was soon deceived by the false gods we once believed in wrongly by Odin. He became his The priest, even because of his desire for power, became a dossier who pursued and explored endless magic arts. He simplified all the magic arts he found into a rune, engraved on his ice blue skin Above-it's hell, we don't need this kind of ancient characters long ago, but they are still struggling in the primitive and savage quagmire."

The old man bowed slightly.

"Later, it was time for the Great Migration. Along the way, we met nomads, barbarians, and the Roman army. He and the priests of many gods, druids, paladins, rangers, and even magical poets, I have dealt with the gods of the dragon. Today, I am afraid that the giant's body has been engraved with all the magic arts in the world."

"In other words, the other party's magical skills and magic are so exaggerated, maybe even his generals can't understand all of his methods, right?"

Painhurs frowned.

"Yes."

The old man nodded slightly.

"Therefore, the warchief, if you want to fight with him, you must be very careful. However, since he was a child, he has been used to using various buffs to strengthen his physical strength and engage in a hearty and **** melee fight with the enemy."

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