When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 1204 Flags Under the Setting Sun
While the Holy Alliance is still praising its purchasing power, things are different here in Windmill Land.

Although both tests are of purchasing power, the situations are quite different.

"What do you mean by this?" Mattis slammed his hand on the counter. "You dare to accept a dinar for four pounds of bread?"

Mattis's hand was so strong that when he slammed it on the countertop, it shook so hard that a layer of dust settled on the beams.

Inside the tiny bakery, only a shop assistant, his face hidden behind a handkerchief, could only force a smile and say, "No, sir..."

"Don't call me sir! I'm asking you why!"

"That's the price. You'll find the same price wherever you ask."

"I'm asking you why it's this price?!"

When the shop assistant saw that Mattis wouldn't listen to reason, he simply plopped down on the ground and said, "If we don't sell it this way, how will we make any money?"

Mattis grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up: "One dinar can buy at least eight pounds of rye bread, and you only have four pounds? Are you kidding me?"

"Sir, that's not true at all." The shop assistant was utterly exasperated. "Look around, who would dare transport grain into the city now? Aren't they afraid of contracting the plague?"

"Can't we just use a ship to transport the goods over the sea?"

"The crew members are also afraid of getting infected, and even more afraid of spreading the plague to other places. Besides, what about sea monsters?"

After the shop assistant finished speaking, both Lemington and Mattis fell silent.

"Even this little bit of food I have was secretly transported from the naval warehouse. If I don't sell it at a higher price, I simply won't have the money to buy the next batch, understand?"

Seemingly sensing that the two had lost their momentum, the shop assistant immediately perked up.

“You little…” Mattis rolled up his sleeves, but was stopped by Lemingston.

"Let's go."

Pushing open the bakery door, I stepped outside and felt the warm summer sea breeze caressing the street.

Despite the hot sea breeze, Lemington felt no sense of comfort.

Under the blazing sun, he could barely see anything from the dark house to the outside.

But when I finally saw him clearly, I felt a little dazed.

The shop sign swayed, withered grass lay low, and half a wall was connected to the other half, still bearing scorch marks from the fire.

The solitary wooden frame of the house stands precariously in the air, surrounded by butterflies and bees.

Although this was not the most bustling street, you could still see people walking around, horse-drawn carriages coming and going, and farmers driving livestock.

One of the restaurants, the Red House Restaurant, is a favorite among the nearby dockworkers.

Even if it meant taking a detour, they would come to eat the pies at the Red House restaurant, and Lemington loved them too.

But now?

Stopping in front of a pile of ruins, Lemington turned to the side, the wind blowing through the wild grass tugging at the corner of his mouth and twitching the muscles in his face.

The red house collapsed, crushed by a marble pillar thrown by a sea monster, and none of the seven members of the shop's family survived.

From this day forward, the Red House Pie recipe will be lost forever, and you will never be able to eat it again.

The consequences of the sea monster attacks go far beyond these, or rather, the disasters brought by the sea monsters go far beyond these.

That sea monster attack actually caused significant damage to the port of Dam City.

Compared to residential areas, the damage was actually quite small.

The real cause of this situation was the refugees and deserters who took advantage of the chaos to plunder the city!

The sea monster destroyed not only the French navy, but also the security forces of the dam city.

Previously, fearing that the windmill people would not obey, the Franco people abolished the night watchman post in Dam City and placed the army in charge of maintaining order.

As the sea monster attacked, the army went out of control, and large numbers of refugees began to enter the city to loot.

It started on the periphery, but then it went deeper and deeper, eventually leading to fights and killings with local residents.

Fortunately, the French navy arrived shortly afterward and launched a major naval battle against the Zealand Islands from the base of Dam City.

Although Lemingston considered the Frans an enemy, at that time he wholeheartedly prayed for the Frans' victory.

For this purpose, he even joined the city hall for the first time to help the Franco people control the militia and local security.

Unfortunately, the French lost the naval battle in the Zealand Islands.

They slunk away, not even returning to the port of Dam City, and took with them a large number of the navy that had been stationed there.

It should be noted that Windmill Land was known throughout the empire for its wealth.

With the withdrawal of Leia and Fran, Windmill Land has become a highly sought-after prize.

Heroes, bandits, and knights from all corners of the world came to join in the grand event.

From cities to the countryside, from streets to fields, people can be seen fighting everywhere.

There were even frequent reports of small towns being looted by mercenaries they had hired.

The people of Windmill Land, accustomed to peace and used to holding money bags and quill pens, felt utterly unfamiliar holding a sword.

Wherever the bandit army went, it was like a locust swarm passing through.

Amidst this bustling scene, it was actually the Black Legion, led by Giyle and Todd (see Chapter 958), that made a name for themselves. They not only suppressed bandits but also recruited men and established mutual aid organizations in various places.

With the Windmill Grounds Brotherhood network that Armand had established a few years earlier, their expansion was extremely rapid.

Centered on Branding City, it is said that the number of Christian protectors and professional soldiers from various places is close to tens of thousands.

The entire Windmill Land, which is also the Black Legion's territory, has the best security.

The petty thief entered, but was dealt with by the militia.

A large number of bandit knights and brigands have arrived, and the militia can summon the Black Legion to carry out a crackdown on those who have been expelled from the household register.

If it weren't for the political differences between him and Gilles, Lemingston would have joined the Black Legion long ago.

But before he could finish his mental preparation and set off, a terrible disaster befell the people of Windmill Land.

Due to the large number of corpses in the fight against bandits and robbers, and the dysfunction of the church system, the situation became unmanageable.

This led to a major plague that even the capital city of Blessed Patriarch could not contain, and it broke out completely in the coastal areas of Windmill Land.

Now, they've been hit with everything: plague, bandits, vampires.

In rural areas, the situation was better because people were relatively far apart; once a village was wiped out, the plague would naturally stop.

In the highly urbanized Fengchedi area, the densely packed population has caused the plague to continue from winter to the present day.

The harvest was already problematic last year due to the harassment of bandits and refugees.

When the plague broke out, planting in the spring became even more difficult.

Many peasants, including those with official titles and even armed ones, had no choice but to flee and join the ranks of the bandits.

In this situation, who could transport grain to the city? Who would dare to transport grain to the city?

What angered and disheartened Lemingston the most were the El people and speculators in the city.

They are still hoarding food to profit!

The remaining navy in Franco, whether intentional or unintentional, stabilized grain prices in Windmill Country to some extent.

Lemingston knew that many citizens still had large quantities of unsold grain in their warehouses.

But they would rather let it rot in the warehouse than give it to the common people.

The reason, of course, is the fear of losing money.

Their losses weren't negative income, but rather they earned less.

They sell off a large amount of grain whenever the price rises, and then lock the warehouse up again.

They might even sell to other regions where prices are higher to obtain greater profits.

They made so much money, they were practically rolling in it, but now everyone in Windmill Village is going to die.

Do they even have any fellow countrymen or compatriots left in their eyes?
"Sigh—" Reaching out to touch the last remaining red door frame, Lemington led Mattis forward.

"Let's go buy some sweet potato starch. Right now, the only ones willing to come and deliver grain are the Holy Alliance's relief ships."

"it is good."

They brought over a donkey, and Mattis helped Lemingston onto it, and they headed towards the river crossing.

When we arrived at the ferry terminal, we could already see countless citizens waiting.

Most of them covered their mouths and noses with handkerchiefs, and bloodstains could be seen on many of their handkerchiefs.

A small number of doctors wearing crow masks carried herb boxes and moved among the crowd, while monks were sprinkling holy water.

The Church and the Church of Jesus Christ were once the greatest enemies, but now they no longer have the energy to quarrel.

They simply waited quietly for the ship to arrive.

It's four o'clock in the afternoon, but they all have to grab a good spot first.

Waiting, continuing to wait, a long wait.

Even after the river water turned from emerald green to golden red, the once crowded riverbed remained deserted.

Citizens slumped on the grass in the street, blankly hugging their knees, gazing at the quiet river.

Even Lemington has become numb and indifferent in its numbing wait.

"The ship, the ship is here."

Someone shouted, and Lemingston immediately looked toward the river.

But he looked around for a long time and did not see a ship.

Is this another citizen hallucinating?
He smiled bitterly, slowly turned his head, and a shadow fell across his face.

The shadow of the enormous warship blocked out the sun; it was sailing in from the sea.

Lemingston's hands trembled as he slowly raised his head and saw a man in a hooded robe on the aft deck of the ship's side, despite the sweltering heat.

Above the hooded robed man's head, as the sun set, gradually became clearer, was the royal court's red Holy Grail banner.

(End of this chapter)