plumnovel #581 - No Pants
#581 - No Pants
"Take a look, have a look!"
"Handwritten copy, illustrated handwritten copy of 'The Post-Gospel,' selling cheap!"
"You're saying how much to shoe a horse? Are you sure you didn't add an extra zero?"
The clamorous sounds still rose in the hazy golden glow of Flower Hill City, as priests in black robes hurried along the streets with books tucked under their arms.
Shops on both sides of the street took down their door panels and began to carry out sewage and chamber pots to pour into the river or back alleys.
Hangover-ridden gamblers and drunks rubbed their heads as they crawled up from the streets, staggering home.
More than two weeks had passed since the end of the Thousand River Valley War, but the distant war had not affected the prosperous Frankish capital in any way, not even stirring up a few ripples.
The biggest impact was probably the increase in gamblers jumping into the river.
They had taken out all their possessions, even pawning off their wives and children, to bet on Prince Condé's victory, believing that the Thousand River Valley War was just a repeat of the Burning Winter Uprising of yesteryear.
Once the Church's Holy Knights arrived, the rebellion would instantly be reduced to dust!
What else was there to say? They directly went all-in with their entire family, believing in the Decree Legion, believing in Prince Condé, shooting all their crossbow bolts!
But unexpectedly, the ending they faced was almost complete annihilation of Prince Condé's army.
Who would have thought that those farmers, those farmers who couldn't even stand steadily, would actually overturn nine Decree Legions plus the famous Laye general Prince Condé.
Almost every morning, the corpse捞尸人 (lāo shī rén, corpse retrieval workers) downstream of the Queen's River had to drag several corpses out of the turbulent bridge-hole waters, the pockets of the corpses' vests still containing betting tickets and suicide notes.
But the corpse retrieval workers were delighted, as they charged money for retrieving corpses.
The morning light shone on the sparse hair of the corpse retrieval workers, who happily accepted dinars from the disgusted gazes of the residents near the river, and then pushed the corpses in small carts towards the city's mass graves outside the city.
After passing the New Bridge of the former King Chanos V, you could see two-story and three-story buildings with white walls and blue tiles.
The corpse retrieval workers looked up, feeling that as the price of land in Flower Hill City continued to rise, the buildings were getting taller and taller.
Especially the university students who came from all over the Empire to study, which made the house prices near the New Bridge University of Flower Hill soar.
Arriving at the small square near the university, pressing down their hat brims, the corpse retrieval workers dared not look at those proud New Bridge University students.
If there was a conflict, the judge would only handcuff them and lock them in cages to be displayed to the public, which was the truth that this group of lowly professionals, the corpse retrieval workers, had summed up.
So every time they passed through here, they would run away quickly to prevent conflicts with these college students.
"Ah!"
A pebble cut through the sky and hit a corpse retrieval worker's calf, causing him to curl up in pain.
The leading corpse retrieval worker angrily looked up, only to see several drunken, hungover college students in robes, each holding a pile of pebbles in their arms.
Although they were laughing, the malice in their eyes could not be concealed.
The next second, pebbles rained down, crackling on the corpse retrieval workers.
"Run, run! You lowly people!"
"Look, look at them, I'm laughing so hard my stomach hurts."
"Hahaha, eat my crossbow bolt!"
Bumping along pushing the cart, several corpse retrieval workers covered their heads, screaming as they lurched left and right, finally running past the small square and dodging the rain of pebbles.
They rolled up their sleeves and trouser legs, looking at the bruises and purple marks, cursing in their mouths, but still helplessly pushing the cart carrying the corpses forward.
The conflict between foreign college students and local residents was a perennial topic in Flower Hill City, even leading to a batch of college students leaving and splitting off to form the King's University of Upper River Isle.
Specially choosing to advance through the dirty alley, passing through the passage filled with garbage, excrement, urine, and mud, the Old Bridge finally appeared in front of them.
After passing the Old Bridge, it was the swamp area of the South City, a place that ordinary well-to-do citizens would not come to.
This used to be a desolate forest swamp, and during the Burning Winter Riot, it was also the camp of the peasant rebel army.
Although the knights had defeated their army, they couldn't possibly let the noble knights drill into the plague-ridden forest to encircle the remaining parts, right?
The remaining thousands of farmers had no way to return home, and no livelihood, the only thing they had was the flail and chain mail snatched in the war.
They immediately changed their profession to bandits and began to rob travelers and caravans entering Flower Hill City everywhere.
In fact, the Frankish King was fully capable of clearing them, but he took this opportunity to deliberately not encircle them, forcing the merchants to spend money to build a new bridge on the west side.
In this way, the old bridge area, where the old forces and old nobles were intertwined, began to be abandoned little by little, and the new bridge area, which was built from scratch, became the treasure ball in the hands of the Frankish King, and a group of surrendered new nobles were born.
As for the area near the Old Bridge, it became a gathering place for hooligans, bandits, laborers, beggars, and secret parties.
Unlike the city, here were gray and yellow low thatched huts and sheds everywhere.
On the edge of church and mansion ruins, you could always see wandering prostitutes.
Residents with crooked mouths and slanted teeth wore straw hats and planted forbidden herbs in the backyard with fences, and even occasionally secret party wizards would raise piranhas in the pond.
At least five hundred alchemists and wizards lived in the Old Bridge area, and holding a black market could sometimes attract two or three thousand people, but the witch hunters always turned a blind eye.
However, compared to the prosperity and tranquility of the North City, the corpse retrieval workers who had passed the bridgehead of the Old Bridge breathed a sigh of relief.
The South City and the North City were different. In the South City, if you abide by the rules, you wouldn't encounter any difficulties.
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And in the North City, making things difficult for these lowly people like them was an unspoken rule.
"Boss Moluoka."
With the wheels rolling over the bridge deck, the leading corpse retrieval worker took off his hat and bowed to several strong men by the bridge, "I've paid this month's bridge toll."
"I know you, go ahead."
The bearded man was chatting with his friend, just casually waving his hand.
Most of these strong men were descendants of the uprising farmers. Due to poverty, they mostly wore only a robe down to their calves, without pants inside, so they were also contemptuously called "Pantless Men."
The Pantless Men were laborers when busy, and bandits when idle.
They mainly engaged in extorting merchants, collecting protection fees, and smuggling. Because the cost of encircling them was far greater than the benefits, the magistrates would not take action unless it was too excessive.
Receiving the response, several corpse retrieval workers pushed the cart forward, but before they had taken two steps, they were stopped again by the strong man named Moluoka.
"Stop, I heard that one of you is from Thousand River Valley? Who is it?"
Several corpse retrieval workers looked at each other and pushed out an honest young man, who staggered forward, standing in front of the strong man two sizes bigger than him, as docile as a little rabbit.
"What's your name?"
"Kuwaske, my name is Kuwaske, Boss Moluoka."
The young man took off his hat and pressed it to his chest, not knowing what this black boss had called him for.
"Very good, Kuwaske, I remember you. Do you have any relatives in Thousand River Valley?"
Although strange, Kuwaske bowed his back and cautiously replied, "Yes, I have a great uncle, but his family has several children and not enough to eat, so I escaped."
"Have you heard of a name called Horn? Huh? Horn Galar, have you heard of it?"
Kuwaske was even more confused: "No, I do know several mountain people named Galar. This is a common surname among mountain people. I am from Kasha County and don't know them very well."
"Okay."
Moluoka patted Kuwaske's shoulder heavily with his big hand, "Go back, someone will come to you tonight."
The young man walked away quickly, uneasy, while Moluoka said to his brother next to him: "At night, gather all the refugees from Thousand River Valley, and you lead the team to Thousand River Valley to see if what that grandson said is true. If it is true, buy a house or shop."
"Are you saying that Lord Prime Minister will attack us?"
The man with the goatee was suddenly shocked.
"The Old Bridge area is a good place, and the old nobles have moved away. Now the population of Flower Hill City is increasing and land prices are getting more and more expensive. Do you think Lorenzo will ignore our territory?"
Moluoka touched the pocket on his chest, "Make plans early."
The long-bearded man frowned: "But can they withstand the attack of the Laye Kingdom?"
"It's better than staying on the Old Bridge, right? Anyway, let's make more backup plans. It's not certain that we'll go to Thousand River Valley. In Thousand River Valley, at least we don't have to hide our identities. If we are caught with a handle elsewhere, it will be over."
Watching his brother's departing back, Moluoka looked back at this low, smoky settlement and couldn't help but sigh.
Taking out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, looking at the 'Thousand River Valley Declaration' on the paper, Moluoka couldn't help but read in a low voice: "...The children of nobles and the children of commoners sing together... Hehe..."
Shaking his head, Moluoka didn't know whether to believe it or not. He put the paper back into his arms, staring at the golden sun rising above the tall towers of the Summer Palace.
"A country established by farmers..."
Seeming to recall the nagging that his father and ancestors never forgot in their later years, the black boss's eyes showed hope and trepidation for the first time: "Thousand River Valley..."