togophonebook #134 - This is Qianhe Valley, you are the ones who should get out!
#134 - This is Qianhe Valley, you are the ones who should get out!
Watching Casti walk away, Horn couldn't help but find it amusing.
“Lord Horn, are you going to eat next, or…?” the guard beside him asked.
“Let’s go to the nearest tavern… just around here, don’t go to the wealthy district.”
Horn and the others passed through the houses near the river and arrived in the intricate, narrow alleys.
The bustling and lively atmosphere from before diminished significantly.
In the dark corners of the walls and under the straw mats by the roadside, withered beggars and vagrants were either lying or standing.
Upon seeing people in gorgeous clothes, they would rush up to beg for a few copper coins or a job.
And that was already considered good. In the short walk from the main road to the tavern, Horn had already witnessed two thefts and one robbery.
The vagrants and beggars swarmed up like leeches on the victims of theft or robbery, snatching their money bags.
Fortunately, Horn was accompanied by servants and four armored guards, making it clear they were not to be trifled with.
The vagrants weren't mindless either; they wouldn't dare to engage in unprofitable ventures.
“Were there this many vagrants here before?” Horn asked a guard from the new camp.
“Not really. There were some before, but not many, and they were mostly here to work as laborers, relatively well-behaved.”
Horn immediately understood.
To utilize water resources, most workshops were built along the river.
The summer's great flood destroyed a large amount of infrastructure and workshops, leading the workshops to either go bankrupt or choose to reduce costs and increase efficiency.
The original labor positions shrank dramatically, and coupled with the merchants' and nobles' speculation, preventing cheap coastal grain from entering the Thousand River Valley market, grain prices soared.
A large number of displaced people gathered here, but they couldn't find work. Those in the welfare areas couldn't even get enough to eat with their meager aid, and those who arrived late couldn't find jobs and couldn't leave.
To survive, they could only resort to petty theft everywhere.
Pushing open the door of a tavern, it was sparsely filled with laborers and low-level artisans.
Five or six out of seven or eight tables were occupied, and there wasn't a single seat at the counter, with a few people even standing to drink hurriedly.
Although they were still drinking heartily, the cold beer and cream soup by their hands had turned into bitter wine and pea soup.
The tavern's menu, besides cheese and bread, only had five dishes: baked meat rolls, vegetable stew, cream soup, pea soup, and fried eggs.
“Two plates of baked meat rolls, a pot of pea soup, four pounds of wheat bread, a serving of cabbage stew, a dish of cheese, and six glasses of cold beer.”
While waiting for the food, Horn pretended to lean back in his chair and doze off, but the customers' discussions kept seeping into his ears.
“Have you heard the news?” an artisan said mysteriously.
“What news?”
“The Empire has decided, according to ancient laws, to take the entire Thousand River Valley into its possession and then drive all the Thousand River Valley people back to their old homes.”
Despite discussing a secret, the artisan's voice was so loud that he wanted everyone in the tavern to know.
“Drive back to their old homes? You mean, you mean…” the commoner lowered his voice, “You mean, the Flesh Lord's Court?”
“In the eyes of the Empire, where else could our old homes be?”
This matter seemed absurd, but there was a precedent.
Years ago, a dozen knights from the Thousand River Valley, dissatisfied with the Imperial Court's ruling, personally led hundreds of soldiers to storm the archdiocesan cathedral to demand an explanation.
The result was that the knights were hanged by the church, and the hundreds of soldiers who followed the assault were exiled to the Flesh Lord's Court.
Over the past hundred years, the living space of the Thousand River Valley people has become smaller and smaller, closer and closer to the Mountain County, so they couldn't help but be afraid.
To make matters worse, due to the increasing number of riots, some Fran or Leia lords, in order to deter the local people, said a lot of things similar to—
“If you cause more trouble, we'll send you all to the Flesh Lord's Court!”
“If you dare to escape, the Edict Knights will kill you all!”
“This is Thousand River Valley, you're the ones who should get out!”
With the decrease in grain production after the flood, there were more and more displaced people and famine refugees.
These rumors, filled with resentment and dissatisfaction, began to ferment and spread with their migration.
Most of those living here were laborers, who were basically technical laborers without identities or household registrations, so the tavern naturally became a breeding ground for these rumors.
“This is too absurd…” the citizen at the counter asked hesitantly, “Can the church allow such a thing to happen?”
“Don't you know? All the living people in Smallpool City were killed, even the dogs and pigs were killed, and they cut earthworms vertically when they saw them.”
A laborer from out of town even confidently stated: “I was in Smallpool City at the time, I saw it with my own eyes. Did the church care? It's just changing the soup but not the medicine. The Pope is a senile old fool.”
“Aren't you afraid of being arrested by Bishop Flying-Whores for saying that?”
“For what?”
“For leaking church secrets.”
“Hahahahaha——”
The tavern was immediately filled with cheerful air.
Horn never expected that he would hear the church jokes he wrote here.
But what Horn didn't expect even more was how much his church jokes contributed to the spread of these rumors.
These precious spiritual foods were the topics that the laborers repeatedly talked about after drinking and eating.
Horn thoughtfully drank his pea soup.
It seemed that even a peaceful Jeanneburg was not as calm as it appeared on the surface.
As it approached noon, more laborers poured into the tavern, more noises came together, and more tavern politicians began their speeches.
“In Kasha County, a loaf of bread costs 500,000 dinars!”
“This must be a conspiracy by the Leia people!”
“Don't you think, if it wasn't to drive us all away, why would they mobilize nine Edict Companies?”
“The Holy Grandson is the Holy Father seeing our plight and sending him down to help us, the chosen Pope.”
“The church has been catching Holy Grandsons everywhere during this time. If the Holy Grandson wasn't real, why would the church go to so much trouble?”
“The Holy Grandson isn't anything good either. Look at that group claiming to be led by the Holy Great-Grandson, they're always sneaking around.”
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“Putting that aside, what should we do?”
“Isn't Lord Juan Nuo speaking up for us? Wasn't it Lord Juan Nuo who got the dye tax canceled earlier? Don't worry, it'll be alright.”
In silence, Horn and the others finished their meal and called out to the tavern owner: “Check, please!”
“4 dinars and 10 coppers…” A bruised and swollen person walked to Horn's table, “Lord Horn?”
Horn looked up blankly, only to see Halkin with a face full of surprise.
After helping Halkin pay for his dine-and-dash meal, Horn walked out of the tavern with him.
Looking at Halkin, who had changed into a tattered robe, Horn sighed: “You kid, how did you get into this state again?”
“The pawnshops in Jeanneburg don't know good stuff.” Halkin indignantly raised a ring, “That's Count Jiba Mountain's ring, how could it be fake?”
“Count Jiba Mountain?”
“Yes, he's a big shot in the Fran capital. It is said that he inherited a large fortune and has been particularly active in the capital in the past two years. This ring is when I was his guide…”
“Alright, alright, I'm not interested in knowing this.” Horn patted his shoulder, “I bailed you out because I have something to ask you.”
“You say.”
“Aren't you familiar with Jeanneburg? See if you can find any engineers familiar with mechanical gears and the like.”
“Where can I find engineers?” Halkin was startled by Horn's words, “If you're talking about artisans familiar with mechanical gears, like locksmiths, I know a few.”
“That'll do too.”
It was better than nothing. After giving Halkin four dinars for travel expenses, Horn returned to the camp by carriage.
After all, it was almost noon.
He didn't let the carriage return directly, but asked the coachman to take a detour and pass through the so-called civilian area.
The carriage drove across the bridge over the canal and arrived at the wealthy district on the other side.
Bypassing the town hall, under the clock tower, were two rows of neat and clean houses, just as Casti said, with plane trees and white-painted houses.
Citizens walked along the streets, chatting and laughing, politely greeting each other.
Sure enough, the poor were poor in countless ways, and the rich were rich in exactly the same way.
Passing through the civilian road, they arrived at the outer satellite towns.
Horn lifted the curtain of the carriage and looked out.
Grass houses and wooden houses and farmland orchards were integrated together, and it was even hard to tell whether this was a town or a village.
The citizens or permanent residents in the entire Jeanneburg were about five to six thousand, and most of the remaining ten thousand people lived in the outer satellite towns and ruins areas.
The nearby villages were further out.
Getting out of the carriage and arriving at the camp, Armand directly greeted him from the gate: “Your Eminence, all thirty-four legion commanders of the new camps have registered.”
“Who's the one remaining?” Horn took off his hood and robe and put on a refreshing outer jacket.
“One is hanging on our wall…”
Coming from the camp gate to the small wooden house, thirty-four legion commanders were leaning against the eaves in disarray, covered in sweat.
They had been waiting for almost an hour, and they didn't dare not wait.
“Everyone's here?” Horn asked knowingly.
“Those who are alive are all here.” Thomas quickly stood up and said.
Horn clapped twice: “Elder, you have made the most correct choice! Now, I need you to reiterate, who are you? Who do you belong to?”
The legion commanders looked at each other, and under the watchful eyes of the Black Hats, they still said the sentence together.
“We are the elders of the Papal State, under the rule of the Holy Grandson Pope Horn.”
“Good.” Horn smiled, “Then, for the new camp, I want to issue the first order—the Great Purge Movement!”