When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Mollya's policies took effect.

The tax revenue used to pay off Norn's debts was transformed into funds for war bonds for the Gravel Plains War.

Either buy them back at an 80% discount or keep them and wait for them to be repaid with interest next year.

Most people eligible for buybacks chose to buy them back.

After all, with such a crushing defeat, who knew how long it would take for Mollya to recover?

However, most of the buyback qualifications were distributed to the nobles of the Mountain Faction and the wealthy merchants and citizens who were on good terms with them.

The nobles and knights of the Plains Faction, as well as ordinary citizens or those who bought small amounts, didn't get a single one.

This, in turn, intensified the anger of ordinary people. Why could they buy back, but we could only let the bonds rot in our hands?

Thus, as Herman had predicted, larger-scale riots broke out.

… … … …

Rotting leaves made a soft, mournful sound under his boots as Matthias stepped onto the dilapidated terrace of the monastery via the centuries-old stone steps.

Moonlight pierced through the collapsed dome, illuminating the seven hundred and sixty-eight faces covered with rough sackcloth below.

Seven hundred and sixty-eight war bondholders were now caressing the iris bonds hidden in their arms, the chaotic patterns on the paper already blackened with sweat.

"They call these bonds, IOUs," the small wine merchant said, holding up the yellowed bond, which rustled in the autumn wind. "Paying debts is a matter of course. We don't even want the interest, or even half the principal.

But Mollya, that bitch, still refuses to pay. Is this still borrowing? This is robbery!"

A suppressed sob rippled through the crowd, stirring up layers of echoes in the empty monastery.

They had already been emptied of their savings by the war bonds, and now they had to sell their labor to build flood diversion canals and flood control dikes.

What kind of place was the civilian labor camp?

Calling it hell was an understatement!

Matthias pointed to the faint lights in the east: "We are being driven to death by them, but what about them? They are still enjoying beautiful banquets and nights. We, we…"

By the end, his voice even choked, and this choking sound aroused a chorus of desperate cries.

"In the King's era, although it was hard and tiring, at least people didn't lie," an old hunter wrapped in bearskin suddenly roared, slamming his fist heavily on the stone slab.

"First they want our money, and then they force us to build canals."

"Now we even have to pay taxes to them to buy a piece of land for a grave!"

"I said that woman didn't look like a good person!"

The crowd began to stir. Several young tenant farmers drew out their pitchforks, blacksmiths brandished their forging hammers, and citizens raised their thrusting swords.

Seeing the atmosphere heating up, Matthias roared with tears in his eyes: "Orenberg Town, the basement of the town hall, still has the last batch of unsubmitted silver!

Since Mollya won't give it to us, fine, then we'll take it back ourselves! That's our hard-earned money."

"Yes, take it back ourselves!"

"Hard-earned money!!!"

"Roar—"

"Let's go!"

Piles of torches lined up in a long dragon, heading towards Orenberg Town in the pre-dawn moonlight.

Along with the roar of the crowd, Matthias quietly walked down the terrace.

He bowed and rubbed his hands: "Lord Baron, how did I do?"

"Very good. When you choked up, I almost thought it was real," a voice in the shadows laughed.

"Lord Baron, couldn't you buy back your bonds either? Why would you…"

"Don't ask what you shouldn't ask," the Baron interrupted Matthias in a cold voice. "Get ready and let's go."

… … … …

"In the name of the Blue Bee!"

Young Colby opened his mouth wide and fell into a pool of blood.

The roar shook the dew off the eaves and woke the townspeople from their sleep.

They cautiously looked out of the windows, watching more than seven hundred rioters frantically smashing everything they saw.

The iron bars of the jewelry store were pulled down by a carriage, and dozens of masked men fought over a sapphire necklace in a velvet box.

The bakery smelled of burning. A rioter dragging the baker's body ate bread as he rushed out of the store.

The most elite group, led by down-and-out knights and bankrupt petty nobles, went straight for the town hall.

"Who are you people?"

The gatekeeper mustered up the courage to say these words, and a short sword pierced through his chest with a soft thud.

The old gatekeeper with gray hair lay in a pool of blood, as countless feet stepped past him.

Before long, the iron-clad oak door of the town hall collapsed with a bang under the impact of the battering ram.

Rushing into the town hall and killing the high-ranking masters made everyone feel a sense of relief.

But seeing another iron-clad oak door of the treasury, Matthias cursed angrily: "Damn it! Keep smashing!"

This time, before they could smash it a few times, the lookout on the bell tower screamed and fell down: "Don't smash it, the army, the army is coming!"

"The army?!" Matthias's high-pitched voice went out of tune. "It hasn't even been two hours!

He asked himself if this trip was quite confidential, just wanting to take the opportunity to grab some money.

Why, why did the army come so quickly?

… … … …

The sound of iron-clad sticks breaking through the air was like a swarm of bees passing through. The first wave of transport soldiers jumping off the ship's side advanced in neat steps.

Any rioters who came into contact with them almost melted to the ground like ice and snow.

These soldiers wearing leather armor specifically targeted the joints.

Broken knees, broken elbows, cracked shoulders, wails bloomed one after another with the sound of bone cracking.

"Ah, help, help—"

Just as a rioter whose ankle had been shattered was about to crawl away, he immediately received a spinning kick to the back of his head.

These "mountain people" had been practicing martial arts since they were young. It was true that they couldn't compare to the regular army in battle formations.

But when it came to small-scale brawls of dozens of people, they were too familiar with them.

Especially in the terrain of a small town, it was even more suitable for them to exert their skills.

"Wedge formation!" The squad leader tore off the obstructive ribbon. The ten people behind him suddenly gathered their formation, and the iron sticks formed a vortex of death.

Two rioters holding door panels had just rushed out when they were overturned to the ground.

The door panel was kicked away, and several feet stepped on it at the same time, with blood and broken teeth spraying out of his mouth.

"Ah ah ah—"

Behind the window, the third rioter who was cooperating rushed out.

However, his pitchfork was twisted away by the iron stick as soon as it was stabbed out. In the next second, six iron-clad sticks were swung at him at the same time.

The continuous sound of bone cracking instantly caused the rioter, whose job was a farmer, to lie down on the ground.

But a knight's sword suddenly stabbed out of the shadows. The squad leader barely dodged, but his shoulder armor was still cut in half.

"It's a thrust from the Languedoc school!" Before the deputy could finish speaking, the "rioter" wearing broken chain armor had already broken into the formation, and the sword tip continuously knocked down three people like a poisonous snake.

More down-and-out knights hidden in the crowd appeared. They specifically targeted the gaps in the transport soldiers' face armor.

At this time, the several commanders reacted, picking up their spears and bows and arrows in shock and anger.

Tremblingly climbing up the bell tower, Matthias could see the hellish street scene:

The transport soldiers' iron sticks smashed the farmer's head into his chest, and the knight's bloody thrusting sword was being pulled out from the soldier's armpit armor seam.

The apothecary's wife smashed the teeth of the robbers with a mortar pestle, but before she could be happy for a few seconds, she was shot through the neck by a stray arrow.

Adults held children and hid under the tailor shop counter, shivering as they listened to the sound of the beams breaking above their heads.

"Saints above…" The wine merchant's confused prayer was interrupted by a rumbling vibration.

That was the sound of the clock tower being hit by a spring-powered cannon, and along with the brass bell, Matthias fell from a height.

At the moment of the fall, he saw the people on the square.

Baron Raymond, the nobleman who instructed him to instigate the attack on Orenberg Town.

He was righteously directing the transport soldiers to put out the fire, and the ring on his hand representing the Blue Bee was shining red in the fire.