Chapter 109 (1/2)

Miller felt like a dream these days. First, he struggled to make a living and joined the militia. Later, when transporting materials to the city, he was inexplicably pulled to guard the city gate.

The sharpest weapon used to be Miller with scissors. Now he is a member of the city guard with a long gun and a sword at his waist.

Wearing Sherlock's standard armor, Miller stroked the sword around his waist and walked at the west end of Otis City, shouting and scolding at the militia who came and went to transport goods.

Yes, Miller is on the rise. A few days ago, he didn't know who the dead man's armor was, but in Charlotte, the soldiers with armor were at least the level of team leader. There were dead people at the head of the city all the time. Who can remember if there was Miller before.

The squadron leader of the three arrow stacks on the north side of the west gate patted Miller on the shoulder just now. The area guarded by Miller and other Sherlock soldiers was fiercely resisted in the last faustan attack. The faustan soldiers under the city were beaten back without even approaching the city wall.

Finally, when the squadron leader came to inspect, he found that Miller in armor was the man with the highest rank in this place.

"Do a good job! I'll give you a holiday tonight!" Miller's immediate boss said with appreciation,

"Yes!" Miller said firmly, pretending to be dedicated to his country. This made his squadron leader happy. After a burst of hearty laughter, the squadron leader inspected other places.

When he came to the corner, the squadron smiled at him with a puzzled expression on his face. "Why don't I remember that I have this man under my hand? Is he new?" The squadron leader shook his head and added that there were too many people in their squadron these two days, that is, there were several small captains. He couldn't remember everyone's name, let alone his face. It can only be judged by armor and military uniform.

After Miller watched the squadron captain leave, his body finally let out.

What kind of team leader is he? He's a pig with a green onion in his nose. He can't even do standard chopping and straight stabbing. Miller's battle these days is to hide his head under the arrow stack, or poke his long gun under the city wall, and I don't know whether he stabbed some unlucky foster soldier.

This is Miller's own view. Other soldiers are different. Standing at the head of the city and fighting with the foster soldiers lying on the ladder, Miller is famous among the Charlotte soldiers. Most of the soldiers in this area were forced to defend the city like Miller, and many were not as bold as Miller.

As for hiding in the arrow stack... Miller's skin is at least the level of the team leader. Normally, the team leader should command the battle in the arrow stack?

This is the view of many soldiers. This strange view has made Miller a great name among these soldiers these days? At least Miller doesn't have to worry now. Someone will stab him.

After nearly a week of fighting and a pure royal accent, no soldier will doubt the authenticity of Miller's position.

Whistling, Miller walked to the inner side of the wall with a sawdust in his mouth. In the evening, it's time for dinner.

The food this week is the most luxurious food Miller has ever eaten in his life. Wheat cake tube enough, he this small captain also has a bowl of delicious broth.

Miller returned home two days ago. His wife was surprised at his change. This greatly satisfied Miller's vanity.

Watching his two children devour the food he brought back, Miller couldn't help feeling thousands of emotions. Just a week ago, the three of them needed relief food to survive.

"Ford, wrap me two pieces of meat!" Miller shouted at a cook who distributed food to the soldiers.

"OK!" Ford replied.

As a team leader, Miller didn't want a bowl of broth for every meal. Instead, he asked the logistics personnel to replace him with meat. His two children were growing up. The little guy was so big that he had not eaten meat several times. What does Miller need to do for his two children as a father.

Ford wrapped up two pieces of meat that were not the size of a palm, and gave them to me together with two wheat cakes.

Miller gathered the meat, grabbed the wheat cake in one hand and went up to the city again.

The squadron leader gave him a holiday in the evening. Now, although it is close to the evening, he still needs to stick to his post.

Lying beside the lookout in the arrow stack, Miller stared at the movement of the forstans in the distance and dealt with the food in his hand. Two wheat cakes are just right for his weak physique.

Inexplicably, Miller, who has become the team leader, is not idle all day. Miller, who has been a tavern waiter in Otis city for more than 20 years, has a good eye. He could quickly detect the attack of foster soldiers in the distance.

This ability enabled him to avoid wave after wave of threats in the battle these days.

"Boss! What's the matter?" Asked Miller, a tall man with a round face.

This guy is a soldier under Miller and a recruit who has been pulled to the city these two days. He speaks a very serious northern dialect. Sometimes others can't understand what this big guy says every day.

Only in a crowded tavern can Miller, who has been around for so many years, roughly hear what the big man said. This is why the big man has the best relationship with Miller these days.

"Nothing! Orn." Miller shouted back. The big man named ORN didn't know if the altitude was too high and his ears were leeward. He always needed a loud voice from others to hear.