When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#615 - Conquer the Holy See City, and let the Holy Grandson become the Pope

Ancel's assertion was not without reason. Besides the issues with the wool, the most noticeable thing was that the Savior Army soldiers, who patrolled every six days, had quite a few bruises on their bodies.

They looked like they had been hit by stones, and when Ancel asked about it, they were always evasive.

Ancel roughly guessed that although the confrontation between the two sides wasn't out in the open, there were probably constant small actions happening in secret.

As for the reason, besides the recklessness of a few monks in the neighboring small parish, it was probably that the superiors in the monastery were getting anxious.

After all, the mountains would be snowbound by mid-November. If they weren't finished before the mountains closed, the entire winter's efforts to convert the Hundred Households District would be completely stalled.

Although Horn had instructed them to "rather be slow than chaotic," those eager monks still couldn't tolerate the slow progress in South Mound County.

And the Mason Parish was probably a pilot project for them to implement aggressive strategies.

Regardless of how worried Ancel was about the situation in the neighboring parish, the two were separated by a parish after all.

In a mountainous county like South Mound County, two parishes were very far apart, especially with high mountains in between. If they really wanted to affect this side, they would have to wait a while longer.

Compared to Mason Parish, with the Scythe Brotherhood exceeding 30 households, a huge problem was placed before Ancel.

That was, the number of people had increased, but the wool wasn't enough.

In fact, Ancel's authority only allowed him to apply for 4 dan of wool, which was about 448 pounds, to be distributed to these 30 households, with each household consuming a minimum of 2 pounds and a maximum of 3 pounds per day.

So, this wool would only be enough for them to use for about 18 days. Even if he added another dan, it would only become 21 days.

Although the dinars earned in 21 days a week were enough, this was only under the condition of 30 households. If he wanted to include the entire Adrian Manor, the Scythe Brotherhood would need at least 60 households.

It wasn't that Horn didn't want to buy wool, or didn't have money, or that the mountainous county didn't have transportation capacity—with the northern Ibe River navigable, it wouldn't even take three barges to transport 1,500 dan of wool over.

The problem was how to transport the spun yarn to Jeanne d'Arc Castle.

The real problem with transportation capacity was on the Gravel Plains side. Due to the local nobles blocking passes and roads, the transportation costs for shepherds had increased.

About 1,500 dan per month was already the limit for current smugglers.

This smuggling trade was very profitable, and a large number of hyena-like Norn smugglers came smelling the scent, but it would take time to smooth things over.

With distant water unable to quench the immediate thirst, Ancel found that he had to make a difficult decision that could easily erode previous trust—lengthening the payment time.

That was, changing from 3 pounds per household every 3 days to 3 pounds per household every 6 days. Although the monthly salary was less, at least there were still 10 dinars.

To this end, Ancel convened another meeting in the small church to announce this decision to the people present.

"That doesn't make sense," a mountain man slapped his thigh. "We didn't provoke these Gravel Plains sheep-lovers, but they've repeatedly climbed on our heads."

Unlike the previous sparse gathering of a dozen people, the church was now full of fifty or so adults and children.

These mountain people wore animal skin vests, coarse linen short clothes, and prickly beards stuck to their chins like needles.

"Friar Ancel, the one who built the dam and flooded us was from the Gravel Plains, right?"

Friar Ancel quickly corrected: "It was the former Pope and the Gravel Plains nobles. The shepherds of the Gravel Plains built the dam."

"Then the Pope isn't a good bird either," a mountain man glared, clutching his chest, feeling his heart twitch.

This was not a small amount of money. They had finally started living a good life, and now it was going to be cut in half. Who could stand this gap?

The mountain people didn't blame the new villagers for the reduction in wool income, but instead blamed the Gravel Plains people.

After all, everyone in this manor was related. If you made money and prevented your fellow villagers from making money, it was obviously easy to be ridiculed.

After listening to the mountain man's words, Ancel still had to continue to correct: "The Pope who built the dam was in the Holy See. Our Thousand River Valley has its own Pope. These wools were bought by His Holiness the Pope."

"So, it still has to be our own people," an old mountain man in his forties took a sip of his homemade pine nut wine, his face red, "Look, the Pope from another place built a dam and flooded us, and our own Pope bought us wool to make money."

"Yes, ah."

"When will we drive down the Pope of the Holy See and let His Holiness Horn be the Great Pope, and Her Highness Melia be the Second Pope."

"Friar Ancel, can you give, give His Holiness the Holy Grandson a letter and ask him to teach the Gravel Plains people a lesson and tell them to open the road blockade."

"Yes, yes," several mountain people echoed. "As long as His Holiness gives an order, we'll bring our own weapons and bows and arrows, no pay, just room and board."

For these mountain people, they didn't care what you said about the important geographical location of the Gravel Plains, or about the previous armed invasion of the Gravel Plains nobles.

After all, it was so far away, it was something for the big shots.

But as Ancel brought wool, the situation changed. In the mountain people's direct experience, the Gravel Plains people were preventing them from making money.

It didn't matter how many people died in the flood, anyway, it wouldn't flood them, but because of these damned Gravel Plains nobles, they really lost 10 dinars.

With the mountain people's violent nature, who could fight like dogs for a small stream or a wild honeycomb, it was too common to take up weapons and violently fight for their own interests.

What's more, this was a source of income of 10 dinars per month, which was enough for the mountain people to kill.

"Don't worry, everyone, I've applied for an extra dan of wool. Although it can't solve all the problems, it will at least guarantee that the existing people will still have an income of 1.5 dinars for 3 days in the next week," Ancel pressed his hands down, signaling them to be quiet.

Knowing how many dinars a dan of wool could be exchanged for, these mountain people knew how precious this thing was.

In their view of scarce resources, wanting to increase a full dan of wool must have gone through a fierce struggle.

After all, everyone wanted wool, so why give it to you?

"Wouldn't this be too difficult for you?" a mountain man asked with concern.

"Or else we'll take down the neighboring manor and rob their wool..."

"No," Ancel shouted subconsciously, quickly stopping him.

But after shouting, he regretted it a little. After all, these mountain people were violent. If he offended them, it would be another trouble if they made a fuss.

But to Ancel's surprise, these rough mountain people didn't get angry after being stopped, but instead muttered with some grievance: "If it's not okay, then it's not okay, why shout so loudly..."

After this period of getting along, including the Scythe Brotherhood and the wool incident, the mountain people had gradually begun to accept this monk from out of town.

Although in terms of authority, he was not as good as the manor head Henderson, compared to before, they had regarded Ancel, and even the Langsand County Church behind Ancel, as half of their "own people."

People's hearts are made of flesh. Ancel had been busy for them for so long and had suffered so many days of grievance, they had all seen it.

"You all know the situation, so I won't say much more," Ancel held the podium, "Since we already have 30 households, let's formally establish our small brotherhood. What do you say we should call it?

Lalor, from you... Hey, where's Lalor?"

"I didn't see him come," a mountain man replied.

Ancel frowned. As the first to join the Scythe Brotherhood, this Lalor had always been active. Today, on this important occasion, he was actually missing?

Temporarily putting aside his doubts, Ancel asked the remaining people: "Then what do you say is a good name?"

"Empire Invincible Holy Wool Brotherhood!"

"Ancel Brotherhood!"

"Fight to the Holy See and Overthrow the Dog Pope Brotherhood!"

"Brother Brotherhood!"