You were made to farm, and now you're the emperor of an empire?

Chapter 133 Crossing the Mountains
This mountainous area is not steep, nor are there any towering peaks.

It wasn't exactly a dangerous place, but it was certainly a difficult trek.

But the snow on the mountains has not yet melted.

This marching route was discovered by scouts over the past few days, a mountainous area that would allow the supply train to pass.

They say that if people walk a lot, a path will appear.

It's clear that not many people travel this route; it's overgrown with bushes.

Because there is a better and faster road to Kandel.

Roman wanted to stab him in the back and cut off the fat before Count Condé felt any pain.

Instead of walking over there openly and punching Count Kant.

first day.

Despite everyone's best efforts, they only managed to advance about twenty kilometers.

As the snow melted, the mountain roads became muddy and the steep slopes difficult to traverse. Sometimes, laborers and soldiers had to push or pull the supply wagons, otherwise, they couldn't make it uphill by pulling horses alone.

As evening approached, the servants set up camp, allowing the soldiers to conserve their energy.

There were no additional supplies; they brought enough for seven days' worth of logistics at once.

Not much, about 20,000 jin, mostly dried meat and meat pies.

Sige Town and Kangde Territory are not far apart, only a few dozen miles apart as the crow flies. So, it's more like a long journey than a military expedition. There's no need to carry too much baggage, as it would only slow down the march.

the next day.

The marching speed dropped significantly, and they only advanced a little over ten kilometers.

The servants and soldiers had to wade through the snow and mud, carrying their weapons as they advanced, in order to lighten the burden on the supply wagons, otherwise they wouldn't be able to climb up.

Roman himself and his horse also began to move forward with their loads.

As a qualified knight-errant, he possessed excellent physical strength and could travel even while carrying a hundred pounds of weight.

In the evening, he checked on the physical condition of each soldier.

All the soldiers confidently declared that they were already accustomed to this level of marching.

The servants, on the other hand, had blisters on their feet.

Roman ignored it.

These military laborers were temporarily conscripted; they'll only have to endure the hardship for a few days.

Patience is a virtue.

Day three.

The convoy stretched for hundreds of meters, crossing the bridge and the stream that was more than half a meter deep.

Things weren't going well today; two supply trucks slipped on the snow and were damaged.

They had to transfer the supplies from the upper level to the draft horses, servants, and soldiers.

But today's march went very well. The soldiers were encouraged by Roman's words of comfort last night and advanced twenty kilometers.

Their physical abilities were slowly declining, and Roman knew this too.

The march was extremely strenuous, and sleeping in the freezing cold meant no proper rest. Fatigue would accumulate, and the person would only get more and more tired.

It's still within the range of tolerability.

Fourth day.

They advanced nearly twenty kilometers.

In the afternoon, Roman told everyone to take a break early.

Their isolated force advanced rapidly and encamped behind a hillside, remaining undetected by anyone.

Any closer and it won't work.

A few miles away is a baronial estate, where a sturdy stone castle sits halfway up a hill, offering a wide view.

Without cover, they are easily exposed.

Roman didn't even have anyone light a fire to cook; he just ate some jerky and bread.

Dota led 30 scouts to form a surveillance network ahead.

On the fifth day, after resting last night.

Everyone has recovered to about 70-80% of their original condition.

They woke up before dawn and began to eat breakfast in silence, while the servants packed up the supplies and tents.

Around five in the morning.

Roman ordered an attack.

……

Baron Haas's city walls were guarded by three men, one of whom was Locke.

The Earl of Conde granted Baron Haas his fief here and built the castle to guard the rear of Conde territory, so that it would not be attacked one day.

This strategic vision is undoubtedly far-sighted.

For decades, the castle never served its purpose.

It's very difficult to poke someone's butt.

Because in this remote place, there were no enemies to be found at all. As a result, the guards were merely symbolic, with no real sense of vigilance.

But recently, Baron Haas has been frequently summoned by Earl Condé, who invites him to the Earl's castle to discuss important matters.

This is related to that poor mountain valley in the lower reaches of the Bro River.

I heard that salt has been produced there. Kandel has also benefited from this.

The castle chefs have also become more generous with the amount of salt they use, so over the past six months, Locke's palate has become more tolerant of salt.

How wonderful it would be to have an endless supply of salt!
Locke wasn't the only one who thought this way; many people in the castle thought the same.

Locke served for less than six months.

Compared to the other guards, he was relatively inexperienced.

He was promoted by Baron Haas through his cousin, a maid in the castle.

All you have to do every day is sit idly on the city wall and you can get a good living. For most people, this is a dream job.

He thus learned some inside information from his cousin.

For example, at the beginning of spring, the count would organize all the conscripted soldiers and conduct a day of training every three days to strengthen their combat effectiveness and prepare for war.

His cousin will have him join in.

Locke didn't want to go to the battlefield, but his cousin persuaded him.

That remote mountain village had very few people, with only a few dozen guards. They even had to buy slaves to mine the salt. It was not difficult to attack.

If he takes a fancy to a peasant girl from a poor mountain village, he can snatch her away and make her his wife.

If he doesn't like any of them, he can ask a merchant to buy him a beautiful female slave.

After all, that area is a salt-producing region.

A hard, heavy copper coin, gleaming with metallic luster, can only buy one pound of salt.

As long as he works there, he'll handle a lot of salt, and he's bound to make a fortune.

Locke felt a restlessness in his heart.

He was in his early twenties and still fantasized about women. He had many brothers and his father didn't have the money to help him get married.

Starting a family means needing a sturdy wooden house with a thick thatched roof, dozens of acres of land to feed the whole family, furniture, food, firewood, and even winter clothes.

His cousin was quite capable; she slept with Baron Haas and got him a job as a castle guard. He could earn several copper coins a year just by sitting there doing nothing. If he worked there for three or four years, he would have enough to start a family.

He secretly harbored feelings for a girl named Laura from the village.

She is beautiful and hardworking, and is the most outstanding girl in Doug Village.

He liked the girl, but her father, old Richard, was a stubborn old man who, like a bee protecting its honey, drove away any potential suitors.

He would have to work in the baron's castle for three or four years before he was eligible to start a family, but Laura was already of marriageable age.

I heard that she is preparing to sign a marriage contract with a steward next spring, witnessed by a priest.

The old bee initially disagreed—because the steward who wanted to marry Laura was no benevolent man. His ex-wife had been driven to spend the night in the sheepfold by him and froze to death one winter, her body covered in bruises that were a gruesome sight.

But later, the steward brought up old grievances, claiming that old Richard had damaged a plow during spring planting many years ago, and demanded that he immediately pay five silver coins—the price of an ox—or he would give Laura to him in marriage.

In the priest's judgment, Laura's father was hung up in the cold wind and whipped until his head bled.

The old man was only put down after Laura changed her mind and agreed to marry the steward...

……

Winter hangs heavy in the cold castle, the mountain winds lingering, howling mournfully.

Locke wrapped the wool blanket tightly and laid it on top of thick straw and wheat stalks.

In his sleep, he fantasized about conquering Sgard and gaining Baron Hass's favor, making a fortune, helping old Richard pay back the five silver coins, winning Laura's admiration, and seizing four or five beautiful peasant girls to be his wives and have children.

He was not awakened until his companion shook him awake, anxiously calling his name.

Locke, still half-asleep, stood up from the haystack and saw his companion's face filled with fear, anxiously pointing out of the castle.

Snapped!
A hand reached out from below, its five fingers gripping the battlement tightly.

Locke was jolted awake, completely waking up from his sleepiness!

That was a city wall over five meters high, almost six meters high!

Where did the hand come from outside the city wall?
A mountain spirit? Or a monster?
The demonic legends I had heard since childhood created a storm in my mind.

After the owner of the hand nimbly climbed up the castle wall, Locke realized that it was just a cold-faced boy.

One of his companions immediately realized that they were invaders. He picked up his weapon and assumed a defensive stance, but his hands trembled and he dared not attack.

Behind that boy, one figure after another swiftly and decisively climbed the city wall.

The other companion, terrified, turned and fled, whether out of fear or to report to Baron Haas, quickly disappearing without a trace.

Locke stood up, staring blankly at the group of uninvited guests, as if he hadn't yet woken from a beautiful dream.

Until the boy charged at him with the speed of a cheetah, his hands gripping two short swords tightly.

In an instant, the three passed each other, and two sprays of blood rose into the air.

Locke felt a chill on his neck.

He touched it and found a sticky, warm liquid gushing out. When he realized it was his own blood, he lost his ability to think due to lack of oxygen, and all his consciousness seemed to sink into the beautiful dream he had just been in, a dream from which he had never woken up.

(End of this chapter)