When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#348 - Mormont's Journey (Part 1)

Entering July, the entire Qianhe Valley became sweltering, especially the Langsand County in the south.

Yet, in the outskirts of Black Pottery Town, four figures, clad in heavy, face-concealing black robes, were slowly walking on the dirt road full of wheel tracks.

"How much longer until we reach Sour Gourd Town?" a hoarse female voice came from under a black robe. "I'm going to suffocate if this continues."

"We've already been delivered to Black Pottery Town, why couldn't they just send us to Sour Gourd Town together?"

"I told you, they can only deliver as far as Black Pottery Town. After all, they're still at war."

The leading figure in the black robe turned his head. Under the hood that covered most of his face was Mormont, who had escaped from the Gale Fortress camp.

Besides him, there were his three companions.

The one who rescued them in the chaos was the black-clothed man who had told Mormont about the awakening potion in the warehouse.

Mormont knew that with the Red Copper Fortress blocking the way, he couldn't escape to Black Snake Bay, so he proactively offered to go to Jeanne d'Arc Fortress to find Pasrik.

Pasrik was said to be doing well in the Salvation Army, and the two had some friendship, considering him Mormont's half-teacher.

Going to him might give him a way to rescue his companions.

After hearing about Mormont's destination, the black-clothed man was overjoyed and immediately handed him two letters, requesting him to deliver them.

One letter was for Pasrik, and the other was for the captured Kush Knight.

If Mormont could agree to his request, the black-clothed man was willing to send some cavalry to escort them into the Salvation Army's territory.

However, no matter how resourceful the black-clothed man was, he could only send them to Black Pottery Town. He dared not go any further.

Although helpless, Mormont could only continue forward.

Along the road were stretches of woods, and behind the fences and barriers, domestic dogs were barking wildly at the little sheep that poked their heads out to graze.

In the countryside, groups of farmers lined up in long rows, bending over and moving forward step by step, harvesting rice and wheat in the fields.

On the threshing grounds between villages, farmers wielding flails were covered in sweat, threshing grain from bundles of rice stalks and wheat stalks, and loading them into cloth bags or wicker baskets.

And in the red-brick mill standing in the corner of the village, an old ox was mooing, grinding wheat into flour.

Mills, wells, and streams were all common property of the village, so in addition to jointly raising money for repairs when damaged, there was no need to draw an extra mill tax.

In fact, while Jeanne was fighting on the front lines, Horn wasn't idle.

Setting a one-year tax exemption period of "no grain tax," in addition to allowing the people to recuperate, a very important point was to abolish the old taxes and reorganize the new taxes.

For example, some tax items that needed to be abolished, such as the Death Hand Tax, where the land of a serf would automatically revert to the lord after death, and their children would have to pay a tax to the lord to continue working on the land.

What if they didn't pay?

Of course, they could, but they would only starve to death, because the "Fugitive Slave Law" stipulated that serfs could not leave the land without permission.

This kind of tax was definitely going to be abolished.

However, some new taxes also had to be gradually established, such as customs duties, commercial taxes, and stamp duties.

But at least in this one-year tax exemption period and two-year tax reduction period, for a full three years, the lives of farmers would be much better than before.

According to Horn's current plan, the main tasks from 1445 to 1449, for the four years, were to restore the economy and carry out proto-industrialization.

"Listen," the witcher Balinga Bu's white-spotted finger pointed to the nearby threshing ground.

"This is my dream of heaven, it is small and ordinary, I don't ask to become a bishop or a nobleman, I just want to live in happiness..."

"The song has changed again." Mormont looked at the bustling scene with his hand shading his eyes. Although the working scenes along the way were similar, the songs were different.

He still remembered that when he set off from Gale Fortress in a carriage, it was the season of grain harvesting.

At first, there was no singing in the wheat fields, only the cracking of the whips of the foremen and stewards, and the shouts of selling sons and daughters due to failure to pay taxes.

Mormont and the others had seen such scenes too many times. Although they were chilled, they were not surprised.

When they arrived at the so-called "rebel area," the song "No priests, no kings, open the door to welcome the archbishop, no tax when the saint comes" began to be heard by the road.

After entering Black Pottery Town, they basically entered the inland edge of the Papal State of Qianhe Valley, and the songs and customs changed once again.

The song became this "Dream of Heaven." The foremen who waved whips were gone, but the farmers seemed to be more diligent than before.

Even in the most developed southern provinces of France, they had not seen such idyllic scenery.

There were no beggars on the roadside, no hooligans in the fields, only simple farmers working diligently.

For some reason, they suddenly looked forward to Sour Gourd Town.

"Whoa!"

After a loud crack of the whip, a carriage slowed down and kept pace with these people. The coachman lifted his sun hat: "You guys, are you Norsemen?"

After looking at each other with his companions, Mormont, who had traveled around, asked in a faint Norse accent, "How do you know we are Norsemen?"

"Wearing black robes in the big sun, and still foreigners, you can only be Norsemen." The coachman pulled the reins, restraining the restless horses. "Going to Sour Gourd Town?"

"Yes, what's the matter?"

"My carriage happens to be empty, I can give you a ride. It's not too much to charge you one dinar each, right?"

"I think half a dinar per person is too expensive," Mormont's companion argued. "At most, we'll just walk a few more steps."

"If you think it's expensive, I think it's expensive too." The coachman complained, "You are foreigners, you don't understand many of the rules of our Papal State of Qianhe Valley, and do you know the way?

I can introduce you to where this is nearby, and I can also send you to reliable hotels, can you do it yourselves?"

"But one dinar per person..."

"Then I'll take a step back, I'll only charge three dinars for the four of you, is that okay?"

Even though this price was a bit expensive, in order to get to Sour Gourd Town as soon as possible, Mormont honestly paid 1 dinar as a deposit and got into the car.

Only after getting into the car did Mormont and the others realize that there were actually a father and son and some goods in the back of the car.

Balinga was so angry that she turned around and prepared to settle accounts with the coachman, but Mormont stopped her and whispered, "Forget it, don't bother, we'll break his wheel after we get off the car, and that'll be the end of it."

Hearing this, Balinga reluctantly sat back down angrily.

The few people under the canopy smiled awkwardly at each other and sat shoulder to shoulder.

In the coachman's shouts, the carriage started moving with a shake, and the wheat fields on both sides ran backwards quickly.

Driving on the dirt road, the carriage bumped up and down from time to time. The atmosphere in the carriage was quiet, and the air was filled with the smell of salted fish and embarrassment.

As a result, it was the father of this father and son who spoke first: "You are wearing so thick, you must be from the North, are you planning to come to Sour Gourd Town to work?"

Mormont didn't answer. It was Talolin, who was more cheerful beside him, who took off his hood: "My companions and I know a little bit of writing and arithmetic, what about you?"

"Now there is a lot of construction going on near Jeanne d'Arc Fortress, and there is a shortage of stonemasons, and the wages are very high. My cousin is building a school in Jeanne d'Arc Fortress, and he asked me and my son to go over."

The middle-aged stonemason explained while stroking his knee, and then said: "Now Jeanne d'Arc Fortress is short of people who can read and do arithmetic, what are you going to Sour Gourd Town for?"

Balinga folded her arms: "Let's go and see first, maybe there is work we can do in Sour Gourd Town."

The four of them were all old members of the Secret Party, and they would never reveal their whereabouts to a stranger.

"That's true, I used to go to Sour Gourd Town often, it's a good place, it..."

"Sour Gourd Town is a rotten place, what's there to go to." The fifteen or sixteen-year-old stonemason's son snorted disdainfully, "I won't even go to Jeanne d'Arc Fortress, I'm going to Daze Township!"

"Shut up!" The middle-aged stonemason was obviously angry when his son interrupted him, "What qualifications do you have to go? You can't even pass the stonemason's apprentice exam, and you still want to go to Daze Township?"

"I'm going to learn from Senior Vitte how to build houses without memorizing, your things are all outdated, old man!" The little stonemason muttered in a low voice.

"Ya hey!" The middle-aged stonemason was hard-controlled for three seconds by the word old man before he reacted and picked up the leather rope in anger and hit the little stonemason. "Who taught you that? Try saying it again."

Being whipped by the leather rope, on the contrary, aroused the little stonemason's rebellious nature: "What are you barking at?"

"I ██ you ██!"

The middle-aged stonemason raised his fist and punched him. The little stonemason was not to be outdone and punched back on the spot. The old and the young fought in the carriage, filling it with dust.

Talolin tugged at Kuru, and Kuru reluctantly followed and pulled the fighting father and son apart.

The voice of the coachman in front sounded: "What are you doing? You have to pay for anything you break."

Mormont didn't want to cause trouble: "It's nothing, the road is too bumpy and people fell over."

"Sit tight, do you think this is the mortar road of Jeanne d'Arc Fortress?" The coachman retorted sarcastically, thinking they were complaining.

After pulling the father and son apart, in order to ease the atmosphere, Balinga asked the coachman: "Didn't you say you would introduce us to the rules and places? Why didn't you say anything after we got in the car?"

"Ah, what a hassle." The coachman flicked his whip and said lazily, "You have openings on both sides of the canopy, you untie the buttons of the openings, and I'll tell you when we get there."