I built a manor in the Middle Ages

Chapter 227 Church Armed Forces
"Damn the weather! Isn't it already Mud Moon? Why is it snowing?"

On the edge of the northern forest, by a campfire, two soldiers with frostbite on their ears, dressed in dirty linen, carrying pitchforks and long-handled sickles, were talking idly.

"Who knows? Maybe it's God's punishment."

One of the tall soldiers, while talking, took off his pants and started defecating right next to the earthenware pot where wheat paste was being cooked.

Another older-looking soldier seemed oblivious to the scene, stirring the pot on the campfire, smelling the gruel mixed with a foul odor, and muttering through his yellow teeth, "I don't know if God punished us or not, but that damned Furman definitely punished us first. Look at this gruel, it's clearer than my pee!"

"To be honest, we should be grateful to have anything to eat at all. We eat the same things in Cooper Castle, don't tell me you expect to eat a soft, mushy piece of black bread like the knights do?"

After the tall guy finished pooping, he wiped himself haphazardly, pulled up his pants, and plopped down next to the still-stinking excrement. Then he picked his nose and flicked the boogers aside.

For some reason, the valley here was so clean that he felt very uncomfortable. However, after eating, drinking, and using the facilities of dozens of people over the past few days, he finally started to feel a sense of familiarity.

"How can these be the same?" The veteran glared at him.

The veteran, who seemed to have participated in many battles, turned around and spat out a mouthful of phlegm: "We're on our way to war now!"

"God, I don't ask for bread, but at least make the porridge a little thicker! Now, the food is like water every day, and I even have to sleep in three portions. And now it's snowing!"

Since the failed siege two days ago, the experienced veteran who had also joined the attack managed to escape the battle at the city gate.

Despite having faced death many times, he still felt lingering fear when he thought of his companions with festering skin.

The six soldiers who had been doused with excrement were dead, including two knights' squires. Their bodies were stripped naked and thrown outside the tent; if it weren't for the cold weather, they would probably have already rotted.

The veteran sighed, "I wonder when this damn war will end."

Originally, whether it was suppressing bandits or quelling rebels, the campaign was always carried out after the autumn harvest when food was plentiful, and troops would withdraw before winter.

But this time it's the other way around.

"Stop talking. Who told us to be just serfs, forced to serve the lord for free for three months? Finish your porridge and get some sleep. We still need to harass those guys on the wooden fortress later."

The tall man picked up the thin porridge, so thick it reflected his image, and gulped it down. The brief warmth dispelled the chill, and he wrapped himself in his clothes to keep warm before quickly returning to his straw mat, where he used his sickle as a pillow to prepare for sleep.

Seeing this, the old soldier sighed, drank his drink dry, found a sheltered oak tree to sit down, and soon began to snore.

Waaaaah———

The veteran had barely closed his eyes when a sound like a ghostly wail suddenly exploded in his ears, startling him so much that he jumped up and cursed, "Damn it, what's that noise!"

The tall serf was also awakened in fright. Staring at the eerie and vibrating sounds coming from the pitch-black night, he couldn't help but chatter: "It's Satan! It must be Satan!"

"Listen to that sound, it's like the howl of the devil."

The veteran frowned, ignoring the tall man's ramblings. In his hazy pupils, he saw everyone in the camp waking up one after another.

……

"Shout it out loud! Yes, that's it! Whoever gets tired of shouting gets to drink the master's maple leaf wine!"

On the walls of Knightsburg, Ryan gritted his teeth and directed three soldiers to shout at the "megaphone" stuck in the crenellations.

He could vaguely see commotion breaking out in Berry's camp, and he couldn't help but grin with glee despite having dark circles under his eyes.

"Little Maiman made a good loudspeaker. Record it in the merit book so that we can reward him after the war."

Luc patted the megaphone made from a wine barrel and turned to old Eck.

"Okay sir."

Old Ek, wearing ill-fitting leather armor, nodded slightly. This true veteran mercenary was perhaps more robust in recent years due to ample food, which is why he was chosen as a soldier to guard the city walls. However, his face had become quite thin in recent days.

In order to sell more liquor, Luc made a batch of barrels, the base of which was hollowed out and turned into what was called megaphones.

To enhance the amplification effect, Luc soaked his own sheepskin coat, tore it into pieces, wrapped it around the bottom edge of the barrel, secured it with fish glue, tied it tightly with hemp rope, and then smoked and dried it to make the wood crisper.

Hearing the howl that echoed hundreds of meters away, Luke stretched his aching arm; the heavy chainmail felt like it had grown onto his body all this time.

“My lord, you have completely thwarted Berry’s tactics. Now that it’s snowing, even God is protecting us. I think Berry will never be able to take our castle.” “However…”

Seeing Ryan's worried profile, Luke continued, "But are you worried that even if he retreats, he'll come back after spring planting?"

“That’s not it.” Ryan shook his head. “If we can defeat him once, we can defeat him a second time. I’m just worried about Madam. Sir, are you sure that Brother Hugo will help us?”

"Most likely," Luc nodded, his tone ambiguous, "as long as the church still needs money."

Hugo and Luc had a good relationship, but it would be wishful thinking to assume that Hugo would help you unconditionally based on that alone.

He was ultimately a member of the church.

"The salt smuggled from Macon County has brought considerable profits to the Cluny Church, but unfortunately, there are many salt smugglers, but the pie is only so big."

“Sir, you mean…” Ryan’s eyes widened; the clever man had already guessed what it meant.

“That’s right. I said in the letter that I have a way to make his salt route more competitive. If he can persuade Count Macon, I am willing to contribute my technology as equity, and I will only take one-fifth of the profits.”

"One-fifth?" Ryan grinned. "Sir, that's your family's secret technique. Isn't the profit margin a bit too low?"

"As long as it gains support, a one-fifth share is already quite substantial, and besides..."

During the construction of the church in Luc, old Eck and Gil also oversaw the construction of the brine pools in the salt mountains. With experience in irrigation canals, they dug a deep pit to the west, centered around the saltworks, and then drained the water through ditches. The salt rocks mined by Greuer and others would be thrown into the pit to be soaked by rainwater.

"Besides, have you forgotten? We have two kinds of salt."

With the brine and charcoal adsorption method, Luke's salt was divided into coarse salt and fine salt. Of course, fine salt was only relative and far from meeting the standards of later generations.

"However, even coarse salt is much finer than ordinary salt grains. Cooperating with Cluny may not be a bad thing. With our current strength, we cannot expand the salt route. This is a good opportunity to gain his support on the one hand, and to consolidate the salt route on the other. We only need to master more advanced salt refining methods and then focus on the high-end market in the future."

Ryan didn't quite understand what the high-end market was, but he had never seen Luke make a mistake in all this time, especially during this siege. The procedures that he had found troublesome when building the wooden fortress were all put to good use now. He already admired Luke, so he was even more convinced that Luke was the shield of God.

Hey! So what if you have a hundred soldiers? You're still blocked outside Knight's Castle!

Seeing Ryan's smile out of the corner of his eye, Luke's worry only deepened.

The support from Hugo was not only due to the Salt Road, but also to the Watermill Project.

He will collaborate with the church to promote the watermill, with the profits split 50/50.

And there is one of the most important ones.

"To become one of the church's armed forces"

Luke's thoughts drifted, "I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing."

"Don't underestimate them. I have a feeling that Berry's siege was unsuccessful, and he might take a desperate gamble next time!"

Grasping his sword, Luke spoke, offering his instructions.

"It's the master!"

Seemingly confirming Luc's words, after three more days of harassment, both sides finally tacitly ceased their exhaustion tactics. Three more days passed peacefully until one morning, when Berry, in a frenzy, prepared a fire attack.

This time, however, the fire prevention measures that Luke had prepared in advance came in handy again, and with the buckets of water that had been prepared beforehand, the fire was extinguished one by one.

The unrest at Camp Berry is becoming increasingly frequent.

Luke also dealt with two troublemakers inside Knightsburg.

After a siege lasting half a month, Berry suddenly summoned his knights and issued an order to withdraw his troops.

"That damned Luke is not only as ruthless as a wolf, but also as cunning as a fox. It seems we're not going to take this wooden fortress."

Berry's face was grim as he said, word by word, "But even if we can't take it down, we must destroy it. We absolutely cannot let it be driven into Fort Cooper like a nail!"

"Charman, get the men ready with firewood. Since we can't burn down the fort, burn their fields and mill! I refuse to believe that this bastard put fireproofing on them!"

(End of this chapter)