Black Iron’s Glory

Chapter 60: The Lost Claude

Claude leaned against the bed and watched the little snowdog fight with an old slipper on the floor... It had been three days since he brought the little snowdog home, and Claude found out that that day that the whitebearded Mercro manager had spoken of the many advantages of such a Lardo snowdog, but the only thing that did not mention the biggest feature of such a dog was that it would dismantle the family.

No wonder Claude thought that the three big Lardo snowdogs on the farm and the previous Erha were a little bit alike, which is actually Erha's own brother in this different world. What also left Claude speechless was that, although he was not a coward like Erha, he was also of African Brother Pingtou's descent. He didn't see anyone's temper, and he didn't see his little body plate only two and a half months old.

The old slipper on the ground belonged to his father, because the day he first arrived home, Mr. Morsan thought it was in front of him, pulling it aside with one foot. Just dialing, not kicking, but the little snowdog hated Mr. Morsan for it and ran around with his shoes as soon as he got home. Finally, the mother figured out a way to put her father's shoes on the shoe cabinet and toss his old slippers at him, which made him forget the hatred his father had thrown it aside...

The whole family could say that Mr. Morsan did not welcome so many little dots in the house, and that Albert still lived in Sir Fox's estate without coming home. And this little dot became the favorite pet of mothers, sisters and brothers, as you can see from its three names.

Mother called it Bruto, which Claude also took. Because when Claude was about to take it away, Mercro asked him, "What's this little snowdog going to name?" Claude opens his mouth, Bruto. This is the big name of the old folks from the past life, and Claude somehow named this little snowdog.

But when she came home, the little snow dog was warmly welcomed by her sister and brother, who asked her what her name was? Claude said it was called Bruto, and as a result her sister disliked the name and changed it to Snowflake, saying that its furry white snowflake was like a winter snowflake. Claude couldn't stop laughing. Which dog would call Snowflake such a bitch? But he couldn't help it if his sister wanted to. As for Chubby, he doesn't care what his dog's name is because he calls it Wow...

The door was gently pushed open, and the sister looked in through the door: “Second brother, is Snowflake here with you? ”

“Come on in, it's playing with slippers. ”

My sister pushed the door open and the little snow dog shook her tail so hard to greet her up. The little one also knew who was best for it at home, the sister had been automatically promoted to its chief spawn officer, and a little Laurie and a little snowdog were soon having fun together.

After playing for more than half an hour, a mother screamed downstairs, and her sister went to bed, so Little Laurie held the little snow dog and was ready to go downstairs. Ever since the little snowdog arrived home, my sister had Claude get her a wooden box, put some shredded cloth heads in it and put the wooden box next to her cot so the little snowdog could spend the night with her and Fatty.

Claude said, "Anna, don't ever take Brutus to bed with you again, and neither will Little Booker. In the last three days, it's bitten down two blankets, a sheet and a pillow, and then Mom won't let it stay at home, okay? ”

Little Lori nodded frighteningly: "Okay, Second Brother, I'm not going to take Little Snowflake to bed again, you tell Mom not to throw it away, okay? It's still so small..."

Claude waved helplessly, signaling her to go down. Throw it away, is it possible, even if the father is the least favorite dog owner in the family, he won't throw the little snow dog away. Three days ago at the pier, my three partners coveted this little snowdog. Bok Al said that in the county city, a Lardo little snowdog could sell three or four silver tallers. It's also worth selling a gold crown for a little snowdog as white as this fur...

Each of the four wild chickens brought to the pier that day split one with each other, and Claude finally had his favorite chicken soup, or wild chicken, at night, which tasted more delicious than those farmed chickens he usually sold at the farm.

Another rabbit was given to Uncle Pegg, and Erickson wanted everyone to have an open-air barbecue at the pier at night, but Claude refused the offer because he wanted to take the little snowdog home early.

Claude thought it was strange, and asked Boc Al why the little snow dog was so valuable, but the Mercro manager promised Claude a wild chicken in exchange for a rabbit? Bok Al smiled, and he replied that there should be a plea for your father, Mr. Morsan.

The little snow dog took home and soon became a star in the eyes of his mother and sister and brother. After Claude told his father what had happened, Mr. Morsan laughed, saying that Mercro, the manager of Bayang Ridge Farms, was planning to win a permanent stall in the open-air market in town, but his qualifications on that farm were insufficient.

The open-air market in town, Claude knew, as in the farmers' market of previous generations, was one of Mr. Morsan's achievements, which proved to be the third administrative award.

Earlier it was a vacant spot in White Deer Town, where many traders and hawkers later set up beaches for sale, which was temporary, so the order was disordered, the hygiene was poor and posed great security risks. Mr. Morsan, who was then also an administrative clerk, made a proposal to set up the open space as an open market for planning and management and to increase revenue for the town's finances by charging stall rentals.

Then it became the largest open-air market in Bai Lu Town, the largest farmers' market and grocery market, and the annual rent is also a huge income for the town's finances. When Mr. Morsan became chief of town administration, the open-air market was expanded to include a breakdown of market stalls into two categories, permanent and temporary. Long-term leases last from one to three years, with a temporary period of one month, one week and a day or two.

Claude stopped asking, obviously the Mercro administrator couldn't make it to Mr. Morsan's line, so he threw a valuable little snowdog at him to ask for directions. Whether Claude trades a wild chicken for a rabbit or not, Mercro's manager sends him a little snowdog for nothing. Of course, trading it for prey is just nominally nice, and there's a big difference in value between the two.

Claude didn't care what stall Mercro was planning, and now that his father knew about it, Mr. Morsan would naturally pull a hand in the Baiyang Ridge farm if he had the heart, and Mercro would have to have another thank you. If Mr. Morsan doesn't help, it's normal. Anyway, this little snowdog was traded for prey by Claude. The value difference is too great. It's also voluntary for Mercro. Claude didn't force him to return it. Don't ask him to return it...

The one-month equestrian training course in the school is over, and the afternoon course is back the way it was, and it is no longer as free to choose and go home as it was in equestrian training. There will be only one Sunday off a week from now on, and you'll have to consider where to go.

That little fishing boat by Ericsson is finished, and then it's painted and dried, and it's about a dozen days away from going into the water. Then every Sunday you can catch a boat to Lake Beringa to fish. Ericsson says there are many water birds in the reed bush by the lake, like water ducks and baiyu, which is a good target for hunting...

Perhaps it was the last time we ventured out to Bailu and came back to hunt rabbits and wild chickens that Claude found himself unsuitable for that peaceful and peaceful life. Since his father had told him about his future, Claude had rather looked forward to his journey to the Nubian mainland in two years' time, whether to join the army or not, but had at least satisfied his desire to grow insights and explore the new world.

It will take at least two more years to arrange a trip to the Nubian mainland after graduation next year. Claude sighed, picking up the fishbone dagger on the table and playing with it.

This fishbone dagger, and the wooden plaque that looks like a long-lived lock, and the pen holder that the big fish jumped out of the water, were the three suspicious magical objects Claude found last time from that store in Waqouri, which cost him a silver tower. But in the meantime, Claude tried everything he could to figure out whether these three things were magical objects or not. Even Claude doubted whether he was blind at the time, and misread these three things to glow...

Alexander vowed Dandan that the wooden plaque was actually the door plaque that the hotel or the ocean passenger ships had affixed to the rooms and cabin doors. Claude washed the plaque and thought it was the kind of plaque, but then he didn't feel right, because the plaque would have a digital mark on it, like room number or a cabin.

But Claude's careful examination of the door plate revealed that it was not a wood-like brand, but a wood-like material, a bit like the plastic jade on a stall in a previous life. It looked hard and thin, but had that jade texture. And the front of the door plate seemed to be polished and smooth, but the back was engraved with a six-star pattern.

Claude's best bet and certainty that the same thing as the door tag was a magical object, but he almost ran out of his mental power and didn't notice anything unusual or unusual about the brand, which made him sad, and it seemed that strong mental strength did not make it possible to determine whether it was a magical object or not.

And the big fish jumped out of the surface shape of the pen holder, and Claude looked over and over and over, like the door sign, and didn't come to any conclusions, and he couldn't figure out, if this big fish pen holder was a magic object, what would it really do?

As for the fishbone dagger, Claude tried almost every method, and eventually wanted to throw it in the stove and see what would happen. He also went to the Hans Arms Store in town to look at the fine iron dagger sold there, and went home and carefully checked it, he could only admit that it was an ordinary fine iron dagger, and that this fishbone dagger was no better than the quality of the fine iron daggers sold by the Arms Store...

Not sharp, no iron chopping effect, no poison hidden on the blade, Claude also broke one leg of the rabbit with this fishbone dagger to see blood, and most of the day the rabbit still lived well. I don't have any more agility in my hand, Claude can't feel anything. If the fishbone dagger had not been carefully weighed with mental force and found a light of black light on it, Claude really wanted to throw the dagger into Big Hammer Mike's iron refinery and save himself such a bad time.

Everything that could be removed and checked, like that dagger, Claude would remove all the fish bones on the handle shake and lay the eggs and find nothing.

Claude also tried the blood drip approach, cutting a mouth on his hand and squeezing a few drops of blood onto these three things, nothing happened, but the wound hurt a little. That's how I understand it. This is a magical world, not a fairy tale...

Sighed, threw the fishbone dagger back into the drawer, stunned for half a day, not sleepy at all.

Claude sees the two dictionary diaries in the drawer that are as thick as they are. Think about it. Pick up the diary marked with one on it, turn on the oil lamp on the table, and prepare to be a biography novel of a character. Perhaps he will fall asleep soon...