I built a manor in the Middle Ages

Chapter 163 Tax Increase
Eugene leaned against a low straw bed. A faint light shone through the small window the size of a bowl. The gray dust in the air surrounded his dirty and old linen shirt. He stretched out a hand with a somewhat dejected look and held it under the eyes of Luc who was standing in front of him.

"Thumb?"

Luc frowned, looking serious.

He thought it was his little finger that was frozen.

"No matter how bad the blizzard was, it only lasted all night. How could it freeze off in a house with a fireplace?"

"Master, Eugene has had frostbite for a long time. A while ago, his thumb got stuck on a rock while he was digging salt. Plus, the snowstorm last night blew a hole in his house. I don't know why he didn't notice that the hole was right in front of his thumb. He lost his sense of smell this morning."

"The finger is useless. It needs to be cut off as soon as possible. Go burn some ashes and charcoal."

Eugene's finger was not completely severed, but everyone knew that it could not be saved from the black and swollen appearance. Even if they did not know medicine, they understood that the end result of not cutting it off would be that it would be taken away by the devil.

Eugene knew it too, so he didn't refuse, but his expression became even more painful.

Luc also sighed. He was not sad for Eugene, but was worried about the salt factory's impending loss of an excellent worker.

"It seems Eugene can't open a salt shop anymore. If he survives, he'll need to find another job."

Luke walked out of the hut. His thumb was different from his other fingers. Without it, it would be difficult for his entire palm to hold the pickaxe. And since it was his right hand, it was like having a broken arm for mining.

Fortunately, I couldn't hold the knife anymore.

Gil quickly burned the things out, and at Luc's signal, he walked into the house, asked Pavlograd to hold Eugene down, and cut off his finger with a knife amid the other's fierce screams. Then he burned the wound with charcoal and applied wood ash externally.

"What a pity that Brother Hugo has left."

Luc looked up at the sky. With Hugo, there was no need to use chicken soup to appease everyone. A prayer would be enough.

Besides, he is an excellent doctor.

"Observe him for three days. If he's alright, send him back to the Knight's Castle."

After giving the instructions, Luc walked towards the salt refinery. Without Eugene, Gler couldn't work alone, and the salt production would definitely decrease. Fortunately, the two of them had cooperated to mine a lot of salt rocks before. He called Paul and asked about the amount of salt in stock.

"Sir, Mr. Lane takes some salt every month. There are about fifteen pounds left."

"It'll last us about a month and a half. If Geller makes some from time to time, yeah, that's enough."

After observing the salt factory, Luc rushed back without stopping to deal with the dead livestock. It was impossible for him not to feel sad when one-third of the livestock he had accumulated with great difficulty died. In fact, if these livestock were in the hands of an ordinary knight, such as the former lord of Ward Village, he would have fainted from the pain.

Luc wasn't the wealthy Duke of Burgundy, so of course he wasn't immune to such turmoil. So, while he appeared calm on the surface, his heart was actually bleeding!

But things have already happened, there is no point in being sad. What we should think about now is how to deal with the aftermath.

"It's a blessing in disguise that no one died. Livestock can be raised again if they're lost, but if a person dies, it's one less."

Luc's people were like weeds without his territory. Once one batch was cut, another would soon grow. He had to know that he was just lucky to have recruited this batch of disaster victims. Now that the baron had noticed him, and with the snow disaster, it would definitely not be easy to find another batch of young and strong disaster victims easily.

"Stew eight chickens, half for everyone, two for the cellar, and one for Ryan George and the others, and stew one and send it to the castle."

Luklisso dismounted and said to Old Eck who was coming towards him, "By the way, how is your leather skills now?"

"Master, the basic leather is fine, but I'm sure it's still not as good as yours."

"That's enough. The fur of that dead goat can't be wasted. You should work hard these days and make another sheepskin coat and wool blanket."

"The mutton is also put into the cellar after it is cut up."

"The same goes for the pig. The pig skin can be used to make the uppers of gloves and shoes. If possible, it would be best to make a leather shield and put the pork in it as well."

A cellar is a private warehouse, while a granary is a public facility.

The only good thing about the snowstorm is that it turns the cellar into a natural freezer. All the meat no longer needs to be smoked or roasted, and can be eaten anytime without rotting.

"By the way, there's some pig pancreas left over. We don't have enough soap."

Luc was almost thorough, and all the livestock were left without leaving anything behind. Even the bones were ordered to be boiled into soup and then ground into fertilizer.
Old Eike wrote down everything, then said, "Master, Ryan and the others have brought back the food."

"Oh?" Luc looked up. "How much did you lose?" "I just checked, and there's probably still about 240 pounds left."

Luc pursed his lips, having lost over a hundred pounds.

"Also, sir, Miller seems to have a fever."

……

After the snowstorm, the Knight's Castle suffered heavy losses.

But there is no such thing as the most unlucky in the world, only worse unlucky. Baron Berry kicked over the stool in front of him and shouted at the butler and his attendants: "You are such a bunch of stupid pigs! You can't even keep a group of prisoners who don't even have sticks, and you actually let them escape!!"

"Dear sir, who could have imagined that there would be a snowstorm on the way?"

"Shut up! Don't I know there's a blizzard?"

Bailey angrily walked to the main seat, gripping the armrest, his expression as furious as a wolf's. "What a coincidence! The snowstorm only blocked the escort team's eyes, while those damn prisoners who couldn't even get enough food were able to escape, right?"

"Do you think I look like a donkey with ears?!"

Butler Keller and his attendant Freeman lowered their heads together, not daring to breathe.

The baron had intended to sell the soldiers he captured on the battlefield to the mines in Upper Lorraine for a considerable income, but who knew that all of them disappeared without a trace after a snowstorm.

The war horses were lost, and a heavy snow caused a lot of spring wheat in the territory to freeze to death, and even seven or eight serfs died.

Berry didn't care about the serfs. What he cared about was his own property, whether it was food or captives. Those were all hard-earned money, and now they were slipping away from his hands?
After venting his anger, Bailey gradually regained his composure. His deep blue eyes rolled around in his sockets. After a moment, he turned around and said, "I heard there's been a lot of robbers lately?"

"Sir, there were indeed many bandits, but that was a thing of the past."

Upon hearing this, Freeman quickly stepped forward, bowed slightly, and reported his victory to Berry. "Ever since your horse was lost, I've been leading my men to fight the roving bandits. Coupled with this snowstorm, I assure you that there will be no more bandits of more than five around!"

The Baron is very angry, and we must not bring bad luck to him at this time.

Besides, what he said was true.

The inexplicable death of the two spies made Freeman very angry, and he took advantage of Berry's orders to kill many refugees - of course, their belongings naturally went into his pocket.

"No, the bandits must have an army of more than ten people!"

"grown ups."

Berry raised his hand to interrupt Freeman. As his doubtful gaze gradually turned to surprise, he spoke word for word, "Not only are they numerous, but they also found some good weapons in Upper Lorraine and Provence."

"Because of the blizzard, they were short of food, so they had to attack villages everywhere and rob food and livestock. Hey, what a damned bunch of guys."

"Although I am willing to fight, I lack military resources."

"so."

"So, we should ask the people and the merchant caravans to provide more food to you~"

"And the knights should also provide a tax to suppress bandits."

Bailey looked at the butler and attendants who agreed with him and smiled with satisfaction: "You are right, this is God's will."

Outside Cooper Castle, in an area of ​​simple, dark and dilapidated straw huts, the serfs who were clearing the snow had no idea that the people in the castle had quickly issued a new round of tax increases. However, even if they knew, they could do nothing about it.

Too many farmers who had no warm clothes froze to death on the snowy night and had to be buried as soon as possible.

In the crowd, a snotty-nosed boy was carrying a bowl of oatmeal porridge and hurriedly running towards a low shack. The shack was very shabby, and even in the desolate serfdom area, it was terribly simple.

The surrounding serfs had different expressions when they saw the young man. Some sighed and made the sign of the cross on their chests, some snorted in disdain, and some showed envy.

The young man had no time to deal with them. He strode into the shack, carrying a thin soup that was supposed to be wheat porridge but actually contained no grains of food. It was so thin that you could see a person's silhouette in it. He squatted down and whispered to a skinny figure lying on the ground:
"Dad, it's time to eat."

(End of this chapter)