I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 135: The Fantastic Journey of the Traveling Merchant Lake (Part )
What is a silver dollar?

When Lake picked up this modern industrially manufactured silver coin for the first time, he felt as if he were under a spell, and his eyes were glued to the silver dollar.

Although the value of this silver dollar was only "one dollar" in the eyes of the salesperson, which was only worth a bag of nails, it was an amazing work of art in Lake's eyes.

First of all, its material seemed extremely novel to Lake.

In Bagnia, and even in Minisia, the currency was mostly crude silver or copper coins, the surface of which was often worn and blurred.

However, this silver dollar has a smooth and delicate texture, as if it has been carefully polished countless times. Its edge is so delicately designed with even serrations.

The feel of it told Lake that it was obviously not pure silver, but it had a unique luster, like metal kissed by the sun, emitting a soft and warm glow.

To Lake, this was unimaginable, as he owned and touched currency, and the edges of copper coins, silver coins, and even gold coins used by nobles were usually rough and uneven.

Because the silver coins in good condition will be carefully cut off from the edge of the silver coins by unscrupulous merchants using scissors or other sharp tools, and then use files to smooth the edges of the coins so that they still look intact.

As a result, some silver coins that have circulated many times will be lighter, thinner and smaller than those that have just left the mint, causing serious currency depreciation.

As for the tiny serrations on the silver dollar, Lake's business acumen immediately let him know what the serrations were for.

Lake gently touched the teeth with his fingers, feeling a nearly perfect symmetry and regularity. His first thought was... such a silver dollar is worth at least five Bagnia silver coins.

In other words, a bag of nails actually costs five silver coins.

But in Lake's opinion, it's still worth it.

Lake's movements of stroking the silver dollar were so gentle and greedy that the salesperson became alert, leaned out, and snatched back his coin.

"give me back."

Lake watched reluctantly as the silver dollar was put into the salesperson's pocket and disappeared.

However, this incident also woke Lake up from his nail craze. He looked up and looked around at the other shelves in the supply and marketing cooperative and realized that there were still many good things here.

Nails were just one of them, like fine salt as white as snow, and fine cloth that cost a silver dollar a piece, and...

The myriad of goods produced by modern industry, including daily necessities, food, and clothing, dazzled the country bumpkin Lake. The prices were so low that the traveling merchant couldn't believe it... a pair of high-quality riding boots cost only five silver dollars!
If I bring this pair of boots back to the Republic, I can sell it for more than three times the price!
Soon, Lake discovered that the biggest problem he faced was that he did not have enough money.

There was no money exchange service in the supply and marketing cooperative, but the supplies brought by Lake could be recycled. So he took out the goods in the backpack and went to the small room next to it to show the mineral salt, leather, and mahogany dye he brought to another salesperson in charge of receiving the goods.

The salesperson in charge of receiving the goods was a slightly plump middle-aged man with a knowledgeable look on his face. He took the mineral salt, leather and mahogany dye handed over by Lake and checked them one by one.

He moved slowly and leisurely, as if he was already accustomed to these goods.

"The rock salt is of good quality, but we have plenty of salt here, so I can only give you half price." He twisted the rock salt with his fingers and muttered softly.

"The leather is in decent condition, but it has a few scuffs, so I'll deduct some of the price. The mahogany dye is a rare commodity, but it's a shame there's so little of it, otherwise it would fetch a good price."

Lake listened nervously, thinking quickly in his mind. He knew that these goods were in great demand in Bagnia, but they did not seem to be uncommon here.

However, he still tried to negotiate a higher price: "Sir, these goods are all of the best quality here. Can you please..."

The salesperson raised his head with a hint of disdain in his eyes.

"Young man, this is Prince Chris's territory. There are plenty of good things here. It's not your backward Bagnia. These goods are good, but there are plenty of good things here. If you're not satisfied, you can try somewhere else."

Lake gritted his teeth and finally nodded. He knew he had no choice but to accept the price.

The salesman called a clerk and asked him to move Lake's goods into the warehouse, then returned to the counter, took out a few silver dollars and some banknotes from the drawer and handed them to Lake.

"Here's your money, fifteen silver dollars and six copper dollars. If you want to buy anything, go and choose it yourself."

Lake took the money and gently stroked the smooth silver coins with his fingers. He felt reluctant, but he quickly adjusted his mood and began to select goods in the supply and marketing cooperative.

He selected a few bags of fine salt, two bolts of cloth, and a pair of riding boots, which together cost exactly fifteen silver dollars.

"Can I buy something else with the remaining six copper coins?"

Lake asked the salesperson, who nodded and pointed to some small items on the shelf.

"There are matches, soap, and needles and thread over there—good things too. You can take whatever you like."

The matches were from the Biqi Town Park. They were cheap, costing one copper coin for a large box, and could be used for a long time. The soap, on the other hand, was a wholesale good purchased collectively by Chris. It was more expensive, but because it was new and could be used for bathing, washing hands, and washing clothes, it was quite popular in the supply and marketing cooperative.

Then there was the needle and thread. Lake looked at the thin needle that was flashing with cold light, and suddenly felt regretful again... The money was too little. This needle was also a good thing, and it could be sold for a good price when he took it back.

After thinking about it, Lake gritted his teeth and spent all the remaining money on steel needles, which were difficult to buy in Bagnia.

He put all the things into the backpack and carried it on his back, feeling heavy. Lake knew that these goods would be able to sell for a good price after returning to the Republic.

When Lake walked out of the supply and marketing cooperative, the setting sun shone on his face, making him feel warm. Looking at the silver dollar in his hand, his heart was full of anticipation... As long as he could successfully return to his hometown, his capital could be multiplied at least five times.

However, when Lake was about to make a fortune, he did not forget what his real mission was here.

After the sun set, Lake sneaked out of the shed with his small backpack on his back. In an open space a hundred meters away from the store, he found a large rock that looked like two eggs, then stood on it and looked into the distance.

Even at night, the area below Bolas Fortress was bustling with activity. There were lights in the crowded refugee camp and on the distant hills.

Lake hid the backpack in the bushes and took out the parchment scroll and charcoal. In the moonlight, Bolas Fortress looked like a sleeping giant, but the bonfires stretching for miles outside the city walls showed unusual vitality.

The refugee settlements were so neatly arranged that the distance between each bonfire was so precise that it seemed as if they had been measured with a ruler.

Lake was more willing to believe it was a military camp than a refugee camp. Because tonight, while eating barley porridge and black bread provided by the shed, Lake took the opportunity to ask the shed owner if he could go to the refugee camp. He wanted to sell some things and hire an assistant, but the answer he got was no.

"Don't go over there. Outsiders are not allowed to approach the camp. If you go over there, you will be beaten to death by the soldiers guarding the camp. They are very fierce."

Lake gave up the idea of ​​going deep into the enemy camp to find out the truth or bribe the traitor.

He was lying on an oval stone drawing a topographic map when he suddenly heard a low roar of a monster in the distance. He looked in the direction of the sound but found nothing because the sound came from behind a mountain... What was behind the mountain? Was it a war monster?

Lake watched for a long time, but apart from being frightened by the sudden roar of the giant beast, he didn't encounter anything else.

He turned his head and looked vigilantly for a long time. After making sure that he was not discovered, he lowered his head and continued to work.

Lake quickly drew a rough outline of the refugee camp on parchment, marking the main entrances and exits, the locations of the campfires, and what looked like temporary command posts.

He also paid special attention to the flames on the top of the mountain. The flames seemed to flicker regularly, as if they were transmitting some kind of signal.

"Strange, what do those flames mean?"

Lake muttered to himself, his eyes fixed on the distant hilltop. He realized that these flames were a little unusual, too stable and too bright, not like those produced by torches.

Is it a kerosene hurricane lantern?
If so, then Prince Chris is too rich. To use so many lamps so extravagantly, how much kerosene must be consumed in one night!

At the same time, what is he trying to do by lighting so many lights in the middle of the night?
In fact, Chris didn't intend to do anything. It was just because the war was about to come, so he asked the engineering team to change the people but not the tools, and work overtime under the lights to lay the railway overnight.

The so-called roar of a giant beast just now was just a test run of a pot-camel locomotive developed by Chris using parts ordered from later generations and a team organized by a master handcraft player.

The so-called roar of the beast is the sound of it releasing steam.

The characteristics of the pot camel machine are obvious. It has a simple structure, low casting difficulty, and strong fuel adaptability. It can use a variety of fuels such as coal, firewood, and heavy oil.

The defects are also obvious, that is, the horsepower is small, it is difficult to exceed 100 horsepower, the ignition preparation time is long, the thermal efficiency is low, and the device is bulky.

However, the pot-carrying machine is just right for Chris now. The light rails he made cannot bear too much load. The weight that such a light locomotive can tow is just within the upper limit of the weight that the light rails can bear, and there is no way to overload it.

As for the refugee camp being like a military camp, there is no misunderstanding. Chris did build the refugee camp in the same way as a military camp.

And among the refugees still in the camp, except for women, the elderly, children, and men who have joined the engineering teams and worked in the park's workshops, all the remaining young and middle-aged people are now receiving military training.

The Republic's army is coming, and Chris, who is in urgent need of soldiers, is ready to train all male refugees of appropriate age into militia and then hand them over to suitable players to lead.

There is no way. Soldiers can go to the battlefield after a simple month of training, but it is not so easy to become grassroots officers.

Almost all the non-commissioned officers promoted from the militia under Chris were taken away by Isaac to fill his First Infantry Regiment, leaving no extra grassroots officers to form a new army.

Establishing a non-commissioned officer school is one solution, but that is a matter for the future, and distant water cannot quench a nearby fire.

The current Bolas Fortress is a combination of a military camp and a construction site. If Lake can break through the patrol's blockade and get closer to the hill over there, he can also see a number of military workshops where people are forging iron and casting weapons and equipment all night long.

Early the next morning, Lake was awakened by the noise outside. When he and other traveling merchants who were also unable to sleep left the shed out of curiosity, they saw teams of soldiers in black uniforms jogging in neat rows on the roadside outside.

The sound of horns in the morning mist startled a flock of birds. Lake hid in the traveling merchants' group and saw the strangest drill in his life... The soldiers of the three centuries marched in exactly the same pace, and the rhythm of their boot heels hitting the ground was like the second hand of a giant clock.

What they carried on their shoulders were not swords, but heavy firearms with numbers engraved on them, one and a half meters long. The barrels glowed blue in the morning light. Judging from their firing speed, they were all equipped with flintlock rifles, not matchlock guns!
"Ah, are these the prince's elite troops?"

"They are militiamen. A month ago, they were refugees without food or water."

The proprietress at the door of the shed scooped oat porridge and casually explained to the shocked Lake.

"His Royal Highness the Prince said that a war was about to begin, so he gathered all the men among the refugees, gave them weapons, and began training..."

Lake scoffed at this explanation.

Damn refugees, bullshit militia.

Although the uniforms of these black soldiers are simple, they are clean and neat, and are obviously carefully designed and made. The flintlock rifles on their shoulders are the kind of flintlock rifles that even the current major powers have not yet widely equipped.

How could militiamen use flintlock rifles?

It would be good to have a spear and a matchlock gun.

It was obvious that the shed owner was lying. These soldiers must be Prince Chris's elite troops. Their faces were rosy and their muscles were clearly defined under their clothes. It was obvious that they had meat to eat every day.

These soldiers have firm eyes and steady steps. There are not only young soldiers in the team, but also some older men. It is obviously a mixed team of new recruits and veterans, and their combat effectiveness must be strong.

The boss lady said they were militia?
Lake didn't believe it, and the other traveling merchants also looked skeptical.

Especially in the later period, when more black-clad soldiers came running in neat steps with flintlock rifles on their shoulders, Lake became even more convinced of his judgment.

This is bad. Prince Chris is too powerful. Can the Republic’s Third Corps take this place down?
Lake fell into deep doubt.

　PS: Today I calculated the performance of this book and found that apart from full attendance, it can earn about a thousand yuan a month just through subscriptions.

　　The results are basically a flop, but I don't want to give up on it, so I will continue to update it. However, I may need to start a second new book, or open two books at the same time, otherwise my monthly income will be too miserable.

　　Due to some personal reasons, I currently rely on writing books to earn a living. I will wait and see the royalties next month. If the performance of the book is as I expected, I will have a hard time making a living.

　　I may not be suitable to write about the Fourth Disaster now. Maybe I will return to the city in the new book.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)