That night, the outpost troops that eliminated the rebels stationed themselves directly in the villages where the rebels had once been entrenched.
Angus walked into the stone house in the village with a tired look, came to a broken table in the house, took a glass of water and drank it, and said: "Sir, the sentry posts around the village have been arranged, and the village has also sent a combat team to patrol on duty."
Art was sitting in front of the fireplace in the house roasting a squab, and the house was filled with the aroma of burning.
"Sergeant, thank you for your hard work." Art took the wooden stick back and checked whether the squab was cooked by the firelight of the fireplace. He then pulled off half of the roasted pigeon with its legs and handed it to Angus. "There is ground salt in the paper bag on the table. Sprinkle some on it and it will taste better."
Angus was not polite to Art either. He had been running around and fighting all day today. The few pieces of rye bread he had swallowed in a hurry had already been consumed in his stomach. Now he was still polite. He took the roasted pigeon handed over by Art, casually picked up a pinch of salt and sprinkled it, and swallowed the roasted pigeon with the bones and meat into his stomach in a few mouthfuls.
Angus used his fingers to pick off a piece of minced meat embedded in the gap between his teeth, put it into his mouth, chewed it, and said, "It smells so delicious! Sir, give me another piece." As he said this, he was about to tear off another piece of the roasted pigeon left in Art's hand.
Matt hurriedly took back the roasted pigeon and protected it behind him, "I've been roasting it for a long time before it was ready. It's better for you. I want to eat it all in one bite. Next time, I'll let you eat enough." After saying that, Art turned around and bit into the roasted pigeon, pulling off a big bite and chewing it into his mouth.
Angus pursed his lips and sucked his greasy fingers again. "When you return to the valley after this campaign, you have to prepare five roasted pigeons and ten honey-slathered bread for me, plus a whole barrel of wine."
At swallowed the roasted pigeon in several mouthfuls, drank another glass of water, cleared his throat, and replied: "No problem, when we return to the valley, I will ask Lottie to make you honey bread, and then I will roast pigeon meat for you myself."
Just joking. After a few sounds, Art regained some seriousness and asked: "Sergeant Major, have you collected all the property that was recovered from the hunt?"
Angus also withdrew his smile and replied: "All the money has been collected, and the few remaining rebels who knew about it were all killed by us."
“I didn’t expect that this group of rebels would hide so much money, a full sixty thousand pfennigs. There must be some that we haven’t recovered. Where did these bastards get so much money?” When Angus thought of the big bag of gold cakes and silver coins found after chasing the rebels, he couldn’t restrain his excitement.
"Not surprising, this group of rebels is controlled by the Lombards. The Lombards have been killing and plundering in Provence for two years, and they have gathered countless bloody gold cakes and silver coins in their hands. This group of people who follow the Lombards do all kinds of evil. The wild dogs must have made a lot of money."
"Don't mention this matter to others for the time being. If the powerful officers of the Eastern Legion find out, we will definitely have to cut off a large piece of meat and share it with them." Art ordered.
Angus nodded, "Okay, I know, except for the Sentinels and Odo, no one else knows, and I also issued a gag order for the Sentinels."
Angus thought of the two local lords who were under house arrest for disobeying military orders this afternoon, and asked: "Sir, what about the two knights of Provence? Do you want to share some of the war gains with them?"
"What else can we do? They have sent troops and efforts anyway. If these two knights could be dealt with with just one order, these two guys would have been sent to the war zone by the palace to deal with the Lombards." Art knew that it was impossible to really do anything to these two local knights, so he just "placed" the two of them alone in a room and provided them with food and drinks in the name of disobeying military orders.
"Then, should we give them some money to spend on it?" Angus asked.
At thought for a while, he replied: "I won't give them a single copper coin."
"Let's do this. Give them two thousand pounds of grain as military expenses. Tell them that because they refused to execute the military order and pursue the remaining enemy, the remaining enemy fled with a large amount of property and baggage. Now only five thousand pounds of grain have been collected. Give them Two thousand pounds is enough for them. "
"Well~ In addition, except for a few big leaders of the captured rebels, the rest will be left to them. Whether they are sent to the Provence court for rewards or sold as slaves, they can still make a lot of money. Their little fighting power is only worth so much. You do these things."
"Dozens of prisoners of war? It's too cheap for them, why don't you keep them yourself?" Angus was puzzled by Art's move to give away all the prisoners of war. In the past, every time he fought, Art would select a group of prisoners to keep or use as labor slaves, but this time Art had no intention of keeping any prisoners.
Matt replied seriously: "Sergeant major, this group of rebels surrendered to the enemy and oppressed their own people when the foreign enemy invaded. They have long lost their loyalty and faith. I don't want people who are accustomed to being traitors to exist in my territory."
Angus nodded with understanding, "Okay, I understand what you mean, I will deal with the two Lord Knights now."
In the village where the outpost was stationed, Ron and Treddock were bending over to polish the nicked weapons in their hands by a bonfire at the door of a dilapidated large wooden house.
Treddock tried the edge of the dagger and swung it a few times, and the wound on his shoulder was pulled painfully, “Hi~ What a fucking unlucky person.”
When Ron saw some blood leaking from the strap on Terry’s shoulder, Ron quickly put down his broadsword and planned to re-bandage it.
After the pain, Tredok regained his indifferent expression and said, "Okay, Brother Ron, the scab will be scabbed in a while, no need to bandage it."
Ron tightened the bandage for Tridok, "It's always right to be careful. Doctor Thomas once said that too much blood loss will take away our souls, so it is important to stop bleeding on the battlefield."
"How is it possible? If blood can take away the soul, wouldn't those doctors who often bleed patients and treat them become gods of death!" Tredok disagreed with Ron's words.
"Doctor Thomas feels that those doctors who frequently operate and bleed are the gods of death. Have you ever seen how many seriously ill patients survived after being bled by doctors?" Ron replied.
Humbling about it, Tredok realized that not many people relied on bloodletting to cure injuries and illnesses. Most of the time, the patient's condition worsened after being bled, or even died. "That's because the patient's condition is too serious," said Tredok himself, who was somewhat unconfident.
"Okay, let's not talk about this troublesome matter." Tredok glanced at the eight or nine horse-drawn oxen and donkey carts of different sizes and shapes in the open space in front of the wooden house, and asked: "We still have to transport the captured grain back to the legion ourselves? How much time will it take~"
"Who said I need this? Have our troops been transported? Our southern caravan has just been repaired in Kitzby recently, and the master has sent people to dispatch the caravan. "
"Sir Art has a caravan in Provence?" Tridok knew that Art had a caravan for the southern goods trade in the north, but he did not expect that there was also one in Provence.
"Well, yes. The southern caravan was just established, and its size is similar to that of the northern caravan. They both belong to the master's Continental Trading Company."
"Continental Trading Company? Is it a guild?" Tredok was even more surprised.
Ron actually didn’t know much about what this Continental Trading Company did. Anyway, he only knew that his master relied on this Continental Trading Company to make money and support his troops. "This Continental Trading Company is not a guild, it is ~ it is that, the general name of all the goods collection and sales channels, shops, caravans and trade routes under the master's name. Well, that's what it means." Ron just relayed what others told him to Terrydock.
"By the way, this Continental Trading Company also invested money from the army. Many officers and soldiers in the army handed over their accumulated military salary to the Continental Trading Company. According to what the manager of the trading company Salt said, the military salary invested in the Continental Trading Company They will become hens that lay eggs. At the end of each year, the European Commercial Bank will distribute the interest and profit based on the amount of money they invested. The legion provides all food, clothing and housing, and everyone’s military salary has no place to spend, so many people pay their military salary to the commercial bank.” Ron added.
"Idle military pay is invested in commercial companies to make money?" Tredok was increasingly confused.
"Well, that's what it means. The master said that instead of letting everyone's military pay stay moldy in the money bag, it is better to let everyone's big silver coins follow the trading company to produce small silver coins. When you return to the valley from this expedition, you can also hand over the military pay and war rewards to the trading company."
"Then did you give your money to the trading company?" Tredok asked.
"Not yet. My family built a new house in the valley this year. My parents and I have spent our military salary on the house and have no spare money. However, after returning from the south this time, I will take out the accumulated military salary and military rewards and invest them in the trading company."
"Aren't you afraid that the trading company will eat up your money or lose money in business?"
"Uh~ So some soldiers with families and timid soldiers dare not invest money in trading companies. But all the officers have invested money. Now our caravan occupies the southern goods trading market and business roads, it will definitely not lose money. Besides, you have promised not to let everyone suffer, so we have nothing to worry about..." There were endless wonderful stories to tell, and Ron was happy to listen to Tredok's battle stories. It was late at night as they chatted. Tuba, who was responsible for the sentry in the first half of the night, came to the two of them with a yawn. He squatted down and put his hands on the fire for a while, and said, "Ron, it's time for your squadron to send someone to guard the sentry. There is nothing unusual in the first half of the night. It's just that you have cold hands and feet standing outside. You can't light a fire while on duty. You'd better ask your brothers to put on their cloaks."
Ron handed the half-eaten piece of toasted rye bread to Tuba, stood up, patted the dust on his butt, and replied: "Okay, I will take the brothers to the defense immediately. Brother Tuba, you can sit here to keep warm." After that, Tuba made room for him.
Tuba stuffed a small half of the rye bread into his mouth and said vaguely: "Okay~, I won't delay any more, and I have to arrange for the brothers to eat something and sleep for repairs. I'll leave the sentry to you."
"Put it down, brother Tuba." After Ron said that, he picked up the broadsword and tied it to his waist and walked towards the bonfire in the open space where the soldiers of his squadron were repairing~