When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#332 - Battle of Moncruz (III)

After the knights were defeated, they attempted two more night raids, but were discovered and repelled by the vigilant War Priests.

Despite it being daytime, the sky was still a gloomy white, and the wind carried a damp chill.

Wearing a greasy apron, Dekrama stood on the third level of the fortress, stirring a pot.

The murky, oily, and excessively salty meat soup was a necessity for everyone to replenish their salt and oil.

With a false smile on his face, Dekrama handed a bowl of meat soup to a sweating sapper.

"Uncle Dekrama," a young man wearing a wolfskin hat and a coarse cloth jacket greeted Dekrama, "I'm covering for my Papa."

Dekrama handed the large spoon to another foreman, wiped his hands on his apron, and sized up the familiar face he couldn't quite place: "Which family are you from?"

"Uncle Dekrama, I'm Pete from the Hocht family." The young man pulled off his fur hat and bowed respectfully to Dekrama.

Dekrama glanced at him: "Old Pete didn't come?"

"Papa fell at the gate this morning and asked me to fill in."

After confirming with the foremen nearby, Dekrama nodded in acknowledgment of the young man: "Alright, you can fill in, but the pay is only half."

"Why?" Pete was shocked.

Dekrama flicked him on the forehead: "Your Papa is an old foreman, he knows how to manage people and things, do I still need to teach you? The new master is paying you, I'm taking half as tuition, do you have a problem with that?"

Rubbing the red mark on his forehead, Pete resigned himself to his fate: "No problem."

"Don't feel like you're losing out, I'm taking your money to actually teach you." Dekrama puffed out his chest proudly, "Knowing how to deal with the master is a great skill, you'll benefit from it immensely, I'm telling you."

Little Pete pouted and lowered his head, seemingly unconvinced.

"I'm telling you not to be unconvinced." Dekrama used his greasy hand to grab Little Pete's ear, forcing him to raise his head, "Do you know how to talk to the master?"

"No, I don't."

Dekrama held up two fingers: "Remember two words, freedom and equality, just say them often. Like how the previous master liked devout believers, you just say 'Messiah-lujah' a lot."

"Understood, understood." Pete nodded repeatedly, "But what does this freedom and equality actually mean?"

"You still don't understand this?" Dekrama lowered his voice, "Equality means the masters, big and small, are equally noble, and freedom means the masters are free to order us around."

Pete's face was filled with sudden understanding: "I see, I understand."

Dekrama straightened up with satisfaction and, seeing a retired veteran walking over, immediately put on a flattering smile: "Master, here, this is your meat."

After giving the veteran a bowl of meat, he saw a local villager following behind, and Dekrama's face darkened: "Get out! Is this something you can eat?"

Dekrama said he was there to offer comfort, but the large pot of meat soup he cooked was always: meat for the retired veterans, soup for the ordinary sappers, and 'get out' for the local villagers.

It's really unbelievable, Dekrama thought absentmindedly, gripping the large spoon. In just five days, they actually built the fortress.

Yesterday's battle actually defeated the knight master, and he had already written the proclamation to restore order, but had to burn it overnight.

When he went to deliver food just now, he actually saw the master of the Moncrus family, his leg broken, ignominiously chained by the neck, locked in the old dungeon of the castle.

This news spread quickly, and when he came to deliver food in the morning, several Kushite knight servants came to inquire about the situation.

Does this mean that the Kushite knights will side with the Savior Army?

Could it be that this group of peasant rebels can really win? Then could I become a master?

Dekrama's heart was pounding violently.

"A bowl of meat soup."

Dekrama raised his head and saw a sapper in front of him.

He immediately switched from an unruly, angry expression back to a false, professional smile, and scooped up a bowl of soup: "Here, brother, yours…"

"Woooo—" The deep sound of the horn shook the entire third-level fortress.

Dekrama's hand, which was handing over the soup, stopped in place, his face instantly turning pale.

Isn't it only early morning? They had a night raid last night, can the knight masters start attacking the city so early?

What's going on lately? First the bishop fell, then the peasants became nobles, the rites are collapsing!

With a curse of the declining world in his heart, Dekrama's feet didn't stop.

He shoved the large spoon into Pete's hands, hastily leaving a sentence, "You serve," and strode away, running wildly towards the outside of the fortress.

As for the foremen, after reacting, they also followed Dekrama and ran outside.

Only Pete stood there dumbly, not knowing what had happened.

The foremen all understood that the knight masters were attacking the city!

Staying in the fortress might lead to being accidentally injured.

Even if they weren't accidentally injured, if they broke through the city and saw themselves with this group of rebels, they would be finished.

The War Priests ran back and forth in neat rows in front of the mortar walls, and one holy gun after another protruded from the firing holes again.

Heads flowed like water, and everywhere was the sound of metal rubbing and colliding. Although the battle hadn't started yet, Dekrama could already smell the stinking smell of blood.

Pushing aside the sappers and villagers blocking his way, dodging the War Priests running forward, Dekrama gasped for breath, running against the flow of people towards the bottom.

Along the edge of the hill, he darted to the first level in a puff of smoke.

After this run, Dekrama's armpits and chest were soaked, and he looked around as he ran, and only relaxed a little when he saw that the smoke and dust in the southeast hadn't approached yet.

Looking up ahead, several low walls were arranged in staggered rows, and the sharp spikes inserted diagonally in the gaps still had dark red blood on them.

Those gaps were the way Dekrama came from, the closest way to his village and the small forest.

Although the knight masters hadn't approached yet, Dekrama didn't dare to neglect it and strode towards the gap.

"What are you doing?" Two spears crossed, blocking his way, and several War Priests stared at him with unkind expressions.

Dekrama straightened his legs and braked urgently, and the other foremen behind him stopped.

He rubbed his hands and stepped forward, bowing and scraping: "You two, I'm here to deliver meat soup, I'm done, I should go."

The two spearmen looked at each other, and one of the veterans said with a straight face: "The horn has sounded, the road is blocked, if you didn't get out before, you're not allowed to leave now."

Squeezing out a smile, Dekrama handed out two dinars: "You two, please do me a favor and let me out, okay?"

"No…"

"Please help me." Dekrama took out two more dinars.

"What are you doing? No one is allowed to go out, we are setting up chevaux de frise and sharpened wooden stakes outside!" A captain patrolled here and sternly rebuked Dekrama.

Seeing the captain coming, Dekrama resigned himself to his fate and took out a solakin coin (each worth 10-12 dinars): "Master, please let me out, no one will know."

The captain was almost amused: "Bribing me? Are you testing us War Priests with this? Which War Priest can't withstand such a test?"

"No, Master Priest, I don't mean that…"

"You disgust me." The captain waved his arm, and the two spearmen stepped forward, grabbed Dekrama's arms, and dragged him backwards.

"Freedom and equality, I have freedom and equality!" Dekrama shouted desperately, kicking his legs helplessly on the ground.

"Idiot." The captain snorted.

From a religious point of view, he couldn't allow himself to do such a thing.

From a revenue point of view, if he won the battle, he could get 2 or 3 pounds or even more in loot, and if he got a note from the military judge for this matter, it would be a huge loss.

Being thrown horizontally by the two War Priests to the side of the hill, Dekrama's body landed heavily, stirring up a cloud of dust, and he groaned in pain, clutching his lower back.

Seeing Dekrama taking the lead for them, the foremen naturally didn't dare to offend him, and could only surround Dekrama, asking his opinion in a low voice.

"Brother Dekrama, what do we do now?"

"Damn goat, just a broken captain, and he still…" Dekrama sat up, supporting himself on the hill with a grimace, "Let's go up to the third-level castle, it's safer."

"Brother Dekrama, it won't work." One of the foremen said with a worried face, "The passage is blocked by spearmen, we can't go up."

"What?!" Dekrama stretched out his arms, "Help, help me up, I'm going to report to Commander Jurdan."

The foremen looked at each other and said with difficulty: "Commander Jurdan gave the order."

"Ah?!" After being stunned, Dekrama actually became aggrieved and distraught, "How could this be?"

One of the old foremen said helplessly: "Aren't the new and old masters the same? The knight masters don't care about our life or death, will the War Priest masters care?

Let's find a place to hide as soon as possible, and think of a way to sneak to the second level."

"Yes, yes, let's hide quickly." Seeing that his life was in danger, the previous complaints and incredulity disappeared.

While constantly praying in his heart that this battle would end quickly, Dekrama walked towards the gathering place of the villagers.