When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#124 - The End of a Long Road of Blood and Sweat

At the edge of Duchess Jeanne of Coussy's domain, lies a place called Boar Ridge. Beyond Boar Ridge is the Spiderweb Forest.

It's a desolate area, rarely visited, not only because the land is barren but also due to the risk of giant spider attacks.

Were it not for the nearby Mayo Mountain mine, almost no one would live in the vicinity.

Today, the dilapidated Boar Ridge trail welcomes a group of new travelers.

The azure sky draws a thin line above the valley, and beneath the milky-white clouds, several eagles circle.

Leading the way are thirty soldiers clad in black cloaks, beneath which gleam silver breastplates. Short swords at their waists clang against the armor, producing resounding sounds.

Many sport red and blue ribbons and carry patched bags at their waists, appearing like beggars who've raided an armory.

Three companies of guardsmen, bearing the papal solar banner, march at the forefront.

Behind them are citizens of the Papal States in uniform gray-white robes, the elders clutching senatorial staves, silently following the commoners.

Despite their disordered steps, their procession possesses an unexpected order and uniformity.

Beside them, wheels turn on ten large carts, each shielded on one side with oak-leather panels.

These carts and leather panels are scarred, bearing scratches, holes, and traces of corrosive liquids.

The soldiers flanking the carts carry peculiar iron-bound long staves, their purpose unknown.

Although few reside near Boar Ridge, there are still militiamen brotherhoods and hunters.

Throughout the journey, scattered militiamen and hunters can be seen peering at the Papal States' convoy from the mountain ridges.

"Finally leaving the Spiderweb Forest, the blood-soaked path is complete," Hon muttered, gazing at the increasingly open valley ahead.

Jeanne, looking at the road ahead, echoed, "Yes, finally finished."

Starting on October 2nd, Imperial Year 1444, and arriving today, October 31st, it took 29 days to traverse 450 leagues.

Twelve hundred villagers crossed the High Plateau Mountains, seized passes, built bridges, evaded encircling mercenaries, traversed the King's Road, crossed the Black Bone Swamp and the Spiderweb Forest, finally arriving here.

Ahead lies Mayo Mountain, and 45 leagues southwest of Mayo Mountain Town is Jeanneburg.

That is the final destination of this journey.

Though only 29 days, Hon felt as if a long time had passed.

He even felt a sense of detachment, especially as they emerged from the narrow, steep mountain path onto the gentle plain.

Wildflowers bloomed on both sides of the road, birds chirped softly, and there was no danger of pursuers or alarming news.

It seemed everything had changed, yet nothing had changed.

"Any new news from Cici and Carrie?" Hon asked Jeanne ahead while riding his horse.

"Not yet."

A day before crossing Boar Ridge, Hon had dispatched Cici and Carrie to notify the Johannites and the White Mountain Hermitage, respectively.

According to the returned messages and progress, Cici contacted the White Mountain Hermitage, while Carrie encountered some minor issues with identity verification.

This meant Hon and his group might need to camp outside Mayo Mountain Town for a night, waiting for the two to confirm their identities with Jeanneburg and send someone to receive them.

The nearby lord had notified the townspeople, but fearing the group, the townsfolk were unwilling to let Hon's group enter the town, forcing them to camp outside.

Preventing armed personnel from entering towns is a truth that the world's populace has learned through countless bloody lessons.

Hon raised his head, gazing at the distant town at the foot of the mountain.

The steeple of the small church stood against the sky, and miners, like ants, continuously moved along the mountain path.

They pushed wheelbarrows transporting ore, which was transformed into iron ingots by the ironworks at the foot of the mountain.

The surrounding mountains were planted with the raw materials for iron-smelting potions.

It's good to camp here for a night, Hon mused.

Otherwise, what if they were mistaken for bandits?

They could rest and resupply in Mayo Mountain Town.

Over time, Hon's supplies were almost exhausted, with only a few provisions remaining.

With November approaching, they needed to add some clothing.

If all went well, they would receive supplies here and then head to Jeanneburg to meet Duke Danet of Coussy.

In Mayo Mountain Town, they could also gather intelligence.

To be honest, Hon didn't know much about Duke Danet.

However, the refugees, including Madeline and Jeska, had a good impression of Duke Danet.

"What kind of person is this Duke Danet?" Hon muttered softly.

"Duke Danet is different from other lords," Madeline said with a smile, hearing Hon's murmur. "Because too many of his estates were seized, he had to develop workshops to maintain his income..."

Listening to Madeline's narration, Hon nodded, recalling the descriptions of Cici, Madeline, and others.

Compared to normal lords, Duke Danet's main income came from iron smelting and casting, including winemaking and various agricultural byproducts.

Since his grandfather's time, Duke Danet had invested in and built workshops and shops in various places, focusing little on real estate.

Because he had the title of Duke but little actual land.

The farmers on his land had few complaints about him because he used a subcontracting system.

He would subcontract the land to merchants, who would recruit refugees and pay them daily wages to cultivate the land.

Of course, if the laborers failed to complete the cultivation tasks, the contractors would not pay them or would halve their wages.

This led to more than 40,000 people near Jeanneburg, nearly 30,000 of whom were refugee laborers.

Due to the existence of the "Labor Law" and the "Fugitive Slave Law", the safety of laborers' wages and personal safety were not well protected.

However, Duke Danet had a strong military and a special status, and the security environment was relatively good, so Jeanneburg had few of these two safety problems.

Refugee laborers here were rarely robbed or trafficked by bandits and knight-errants, and merchants' wages were not delayed for too long.

Especially the people of Thousand River Valley, who could get a lot of preferential treatment when they went to court.

This was basically a holy land for refugees to work, the Sanhe talent market of Thousand River Valley.

But every advantage has its disadvantages. With abundant human resources, labor wages were generally low.

Duke Coussy could not resist the "Fugitive Slave Law". If the "masters" of the refugees came, he could only let the slave hunters take them away.

This had basically become a low-security area. If the refugees couldn't eat or got sick, they would go to Jeanneburg to work for a while.

He was often ridiculed by other lords as a refugee lord and rejected by aristocratic society because of this.

Duke Danet was 35 years old this year, had several illegitimate children, and had not yet married a noble wife who met his status.

You know, in this era, the dowry of a noble woman was much higher than the bride price.

However, Danet offered twice the market price for the bride price, but still no good noble woman was interested, and he even encountered several fake noble scammers.

This behavior was ridiculed by other nobles as a high-priced tender.

From these remarks, Danet could be considered a maverick among lords.

But you can know a person's face but not their heart. Hon would not blindly follow rumors and would have to investigate himself.

This group of green-skinned vermin had followed him all the way. Now that he had brought them here, Hon naturally had to arrange things for them.

"Respected... guest," an old voice sounded. Hon raised his head and saw a hunchbacked old man blocking the group's path.

"Who are you?" Das drew his short sword and blocked in front of the old man. "Step back!"

Looking at the soldiers' sophisticated equipment and fierce aura, the hunchbacked old man swallowed and put on a flattering smile.

"I am Gregory, the mayor of Mayo Town."

Hon, riding on his horse, said to Das, "Let him come over."

"I am very sorry to have frightened you."

The hunchbacked old man immediately bowed and, as he passed, inconspicuously stuffed two dinars into Das's patched bag.

"I am here to welcome you to the campsite."