The cold north wind carries snowflakes and dances gracefully among the black forests, farmlands, and villages and castles.
The earth seemed to be covered with a soft layer of high-quality wool from Flanders. It was very touching, but also very cold. The poor serfs on this barren land felt this deeply.
Today is Sunday. On this cold and windy morning, farmers who don’t have to work are hiding in their homes, burning the firewood they collected before winter with their woodcutting certificates, and huddled around the fire in the center of the house with their families to keep warm. .
A muddy road extended from the black forest in the distance to this small plain full of farmland and fences, and branched out into a T-junction in the center of the plain, leading directly to a village at the foot of a small hill not far away.
Next to the T-junction, there is a quaint road sign surrounded by withered ivy, with "Fort Isum" written in Latin on it.
On the small hill behind the village, there is a wooden lord tower surrounded by sharpened wood.
Although in the eyes of the descendants of these lords a hundred years later, this wooden castle was simple, ugly and vulnerable, it was the place where the nobles felt most secure in this era of constant fighting.
Because the weather was very cold, the farmers in the village did not go to the small church in the village to dance happily around the bonfire last night as usual. The road in the center of the village was covered with a layer of ankle-thick snow, with only the footprints of the night watchman last night on it.
"What the hell, why is it me every time."
Next to the gate of the wooden castle, a soldier whose ears were red from the cold muttered and complained in a low voice. He used his left hand, which was almost numb from the cold, to pull down the scarf covering his nose, mouth and neck, revealing a pair of crooked and broken yellow teeth. He started breathing heavily, trying to get some warmth.
His bumpy helmet with an obvious dent in the brim and dirty old cotton-filled uniform revealed a layer of new white snow on the shoulders.
Perhaps he couldn't bear it anymore. The young soldier with a yellow and slender beard blinked his green eyes, cautiously looked around, and even quietly poked half of his head out to take a look inside the fort gate.
After confirming that no one would come, he immediately placed the spear in his right hand against the wooden fort wall, stamped his feet, patted the snow falling on his body, and breathed hard into his hands that he kept rubbing.
"drive!"
Suddenly, the dull sound of horse hooves and conversations came from the small plain not far away. This coward trembled with fright. He immediately picked up the ice-biting spear beside the wall again and stood beside the castle gate again. He stood up and stared motionlessly at the white snow in front of the lonely village.
He was extremely frightened. He recalled the painful past when he made mistakes and was beaten with a whip by a private soldier. He prayed that the guests who came for a while would not notice the footprints he had just stamped to keep warm on the wall. Or speak ill of oneself in front of the soldiers.
"Doo-doo-doo."
A fast horse walked through the soft snow at a brisk pace and broke through the snow curtain, passing through the quiet village and arriving at the castle gate. There was an attendant with brown hair and beard mixed with white snowflakes, wearing a beautiful red cloak. Stopping the horse, he raised his head and said loudly to the guard soldier who had some evasive eyes: "The distinguished Earl of Loon is here!"
It turned out that this young soldier was just a thief with a guilty conscience, and no one was bored enough to pay attention to the footprints around his feet to infer whether he was lazy.
"Lo, Count Loon..." The young soldier recovered from the joy of escaping, and then trotted into the castle gate with light steps, looking for the caller in the castle.
After a while, several cavalrymen and a dozen private soldiers walked into the village. They were like stars surrounding the moon, surrounding a tall, fat man riding a brightly-colored horse. I guess he was Count Loon.
Count Loon has long, neatly combed yellow hair - but that doesn't mean it doesn't stink and have fleas. He has blue eyes, but his drooped eyelids always make people feel like he is squinting.
His nose is very wide, and the tip of his nose is like a garlic clove. Under his everted nose was a thick beard, still stained with the wine he had not wiped off last night. His broad double chin was shiny with oil and food residue, and trembled with the horse's steps.
Like many of his contemporaries, his face was pockmarked and his skin was as rough as sandpaper.
On his head was a leather cap that had been polished brightly with rabbit oil by an attendant not long ago, and a beautiful peaked Norman helmet with a visor.
He had a thick yellow woolen cloak draped over his shoulders to keep out the cold, and he wore a heavy armor and a chainmail suit that had also been cared for to shine. On his hands he wore a pair of comfortable and well-fitting oversized deerskin gloves, and on his feet he wore a pair of warm pointed-toed aristocratic short boots lined with high-quality rabbit fur.
"I, my lord, my lord, please allow me to take your horse to the stable."
In front of the fort in the castle, a teenage stableboy with a runny nose was wearing only a thin linen robe and a patched linen hood. He was shivering with cold. He raised his head and looked at Luo tremblingly. Count Weng said.
"Um."
Count Loon blew out a large cloud of white steam from his nose to signify his agreement. The stableboy stretched out his trembling hands covered with frostbite, took the equally cold reins, knelt down on one knee and pressed the horse's head, making the horse lean down to make it easier for the count to dismount.
"Good day, my lord, your most loyal vassal Kunir sends you the highest respect. It is a pleasure to meet you, thank God for bringing you here, your arrival has made this ordinary land The basil is shining brightly!"
The impassioned tone came together with the steady footsteps of a middle-aged man with a big waist and a round waist.
The man who called himself Kunir waved his hand behind him, and the attendants and maids following him stopped. He quickly stepped forward, knelt down on one knee in front of Count Loon, and kissed the gemstone on his finger. Quit.
"I'm glad to see you too, Kunir, get up." Count Luo Weng narrowed his eyes slightly and raised the corners of his mouth, seeming to enjoy this feeling.
It snowed in the winter, and the poop and urine that could be seen everywhere on the grounds of the castle were frozen under the snow, and the smell became much weaker. But the lord's tower with its bonfire and warmth was different.
The soldier guarding the tower door by Baron Quinil had just opened the door when an extremely indescribable mixed odor came over. This made Count Loon, who was breathing the cool fresh air all the way, frowned, with no expression on his face. He showed a concealed look of disgust.
"Tch, what's your expression? It's not like I've never been to your lord's tower before. The smell is several times richer than mine!" Baron Quinnier thought quietly to himself, but his face was filled with emotion. He smiled awkwardly.
There are two worlds inside and outside the tower. Just in the Lord's Hall of the Tower of Nuoda, the temperature is already relatively high, and you won't feel cold even if you only wear a thin linen clothes.
The large rectangular floor-mounted fire pit in the center of the hall exudes a warm and comfortable temperature. Some of the soldiers standing guard in the corner seemed to be taking a nap against the wall. No wonder the young soldier guarding the outer gate of the castle was complaining like an old woman in the market.
"Quenir, you should know why I came here this time, right?" Count Luo Wen said, walking to the long wooden table in front of the fire pit, and tied the cloak that was stained with melted snow water. He untied it, handed it to his attendant, and sat down on the animal-skin-upholstered armchair where Kunir himself usually sat.
"Of course, my lord," Baron Quenir sat silently on the chair next to Count Lowen, cleared his throat and said, "I sent a few clever guys pretending to be beggars and pilgrims to the other side of the river. The Baronies of Dorsten and Duis infiltrated and collected intelligence. However, I discovered many interesting things from the intelligence sent back by the spies."
"Oh? What's interesting?" Count Luo Weng leaned on the back of his chair with interest. Baron Quinnier did not speak in a hurry. Instead, he waved to the attendant who was standing by the wall and asked him to put the previously prepared venison skewers on the grill and carry it to the middle of the fire pit for roasting.
"That's right, my lord, you should have heard of Verde Village, right?" Baron Quinnier looked at the back of the attendant who went to get the roasted venison, and said slowly to Earl Loon.
"Yes, the village in the Barony of Dorsten on the other side of the river was established by a group of refugees from our principality after they escaped." Count Lowen looked at the whole package that was carried by two attendants and had been baked to a golden and attractive color in advance. A deer leg touched his belly and answered absentmindedly.
"Yes, in our original knowledge, it was very poor and often plundered by the Normans. But my spies told me that now God appears there, there is a great harvest of food, the granaries are full, and new buildings are built. They built a wooden fort. And most importantly, they wiped out the group of Normans who had come to plunder every year in the past few years, and obtained a large amount of loot and mail armor."
"What!?" Count Luo Weng, who was not paying attention to Kunir, his eyes widened and his breathing became rapid. "Are you sure your spies didn't lie? You know, people who deceive me often end up very miserable!"
"There is no lie, my lord." Kunir sat up straight, patted his chest, and looked firmly at Count Luo Wen's suspicious and scrutinizing eyes.
Since the Barony of Dorsten and the Barony of Isum in the Earl of Lowen are separated by a wide Rhine River, travel between the two banks can only be done through the ferry in the town of Dusseldorf, Berg County, far to the south, or through Fishing boats of nearby fishermen who make a living by fishing.
Therefore, the exchanges between the Barony of Isum in Kunir and the Barony of Dorsten are basically negligible.
In addition, the entire Earl of Loon's territory is not on a busy trade road. Although there were caravans passing by, there were not many, and most of them came from the west. Their destination was Flanders in the north of the Earl of Loon, and most of them brought news from the Kingdom of West Francia.
Therefore, when the news that the Verde Village crushed the Norman pirates followed the caravan from the Principality of Friesland, it passed through the Verde Village and followed the trade routes to Cologne, Frankfurt, Mainz, and finally Dresden. , Count Luo Weng, who was across the river from them, only belatedly caught a little bit of the news.
The fact that the village of Verde resisted the attacks and plunders of the Norman pirates before winter did not mean that the Earl of Loon also resisted.
Some time ago, a powerful group of Norman pirates landed on the land of Count Lowen from the Rhine River. In accordance with the practice of previous years, he sent someone to pull an ox cart to deliver three large boxes of Denier silver coin tribute to the Norman pirates' temporary camp by the river, in exchange for the barbarians' promise not to invade.
Although the Norman pirates were brutal and greedy, they were surprisingly trustworthy.
In less than a day, they dismantled the camp and sailed along the Rhine River to the Wadden Sea with Count Lowen's tribute. From then on, until winter, the territory of Count Lowen was not attacked by other Norman pirates. of invasion.
Count Luo Wen lost a lot of money and some prestige, and now he felt a little stretched.
His warlike nobles were ready to take action, and the peace-loving nobles also initiated an aggressive war at this time. After all, the wool comes from the sheep, and the tribute is shared among all the nobles.
So, they looked at Earl Berg, who was almost as powerful as them on the other side of the river.
"Well, I really didn't expect that this Verde village would be so wealthy now. Maybe we can start here." Count Luo Weng watched as Quenier's attendant placed a plate of sliced roast venison on his In front of him, while talking, he couldn't wait to pick up a piece with his hands, took a big bite and chewed it, and the greasy juice splashed wantonly on the mottled wooden table.
"In addition, my Lord, after learning the news, I sent another spy who is familiar with our Principality of Upper Lorraine and found the lord family that ruled the villagers of Folde Village twenty years ago. Surprisingly, they still The contracts between most of the peasants, serfs, craftsmen and their families have been preserved. I paid a small price to buy these documents from them that are of no use to them now." Baron Quinnier smiled sinisterly and proudly. He raised his hand to a maid behind the table, who laboriously spread a pile of yellowed parchment on the long wooden table and flattened it.
"Aha, Kunir, my most loyal, proud, and most proud vassal, you have really done a great service. Let's start with the village of Verde to explore their attitudes and see how they behave. How many kilograms and taels does it have?" Count Luo Weng laughed and patted Baron Quinnier's shoulder with his oily big hands. The latter could only helplessly look at the extra pounds on his clean clothes. An unexpected and unsightly stain.
The jackals in the darkness opened their greedy green eyes. No one knew when they would suddenly burst out and hurt someone.
