British hegemon

Chapter 129 The Army Has Arrived

"Since you've made up your mind, then work hard with Tom. If you do well, I'll still knight you."

In the study of the lord's manor at Milk House Manor, Roger patted the weak boy on the shoulder and offered a few words of encouragement.

Every era has its share of eccentric and unconventional individuals, most of whom are geniuses.

This is Roger's reflection.

Sir Gildonian's weakling grandson found Roger a few days ago and made an astonishing request: to learn construction techniques from the builder Tom.

It was an unheard-of strange thing for a noble young master to become an apprentice of a craftsman, but it actually happened.

Builder Tom initially refused. He never imagined he would become the tutor of a noble young master, let alone that a knight would personally plead with him for this.

The weakling boy became fascinated with the work of a builder, and after seeing the architectural designs drawn by Master Tom on a black wooden board, he was completely captivated.

Roger was initially hesitant, but the weakling threatened to jump into the sea, forcing Sir Gildonian to reluctantly agree to this shameful act that would bring disgrace to the family.

After arriving at Milk House Manor, the weakling boy performed mediocrely, working alongside the young horse herder on Holly Island for a while, which could be considered as doing his job properly.

"Since you like drawing, you should learn more from Tom. If you learn well, you'll have a skill to rely on. Maybe you'll become the first knight in history to be proficient in architectural design, which would be an honor."

Before he could offer a few more words of encouragement, bald Neil rushed into the study. "My lord, Brodick has sent word that a ship from Islay has entered the harbor."

Upon hearing this, Roger walked to the door. "Quickly, go to the port and guide the ship to Ramlash. Our copper, iron, and warhorses have arrived."

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"What a fine horse, what a fine horse!" Olaf stroked the mane and couldn't help but exclaim.

These fjord horses are purebreds from the western mountains of Norway. They are relatively small in size but very strong, mostly dark brown and dark tan with silvery-white manes, arched necks, strong legs, and compact, muscular bodies.

The head is of medium size, with a broad and flat forehead, a straight or slightly concave face, small ears, and large eyes.

This is a relatively common horse breed in Northern Europe. Roger rode a crossbred fjord horse during the anti-bandit operation last year. I've also seen it on Islay. It may not look good, but it's definitely tough and durable.

The horses have faint branding marks on their rumps, indicating that they have been trained and have skipped the taming process.

"I don't think this horse is very good. If we're talking about good horses, we have to go for the big black mare, Master. Its build and size make it so impressive to ride. This horse looks more like a mule." Bald Neil, a typical member of the "looks-matter" club, voiced his dissent.

Marn slapped bald Neil on the head. "What do you know? Do you know how much fine feed the adult's black mare eats every day? What good is being good-looking?"

"Looking good is what makes you impressive!" Bald Neil muttered defiantly.

Roger ignored the two men, beckoned to the pockmarked stableman from the Milk House Manor, and said, "Quickly take them to the stable and feed them some black beans and wheat bran. Don't forget to add some coarse salt and eggs."

"Sir Roger, there's no need for such trouble. These fjord horses aren't that delicate," said the steward delivering the horses. "Norway is much harsher than Scotland. In the cold winters when fodder is scarce, these horses can survive on just pine needles."

"We originally bought seven horses from the Norwegians, but one of them became seriously ill during the sea voyage and was slaughtered when we transported it to Islay. The remaining six are all healthy and can be ridden in two days."

The people of Islay are very honest; they have already taken on the shipping risks for Roger.

"I'll take all six horses. My steward will pay you the balance. When you return, please give Lord Angus a gift and convey my gratitude to him."

"Bald man, take the steward and his entourage back to the manor to rest. Have the old steward take men to transport the copper and iron materials back to the manor. Also, instruct the cook to prepare a dinner banquet; I want to entertain my friends from Isle of Aylay."

Bald Neil led the steward of Islay away, and Roger watched as the fjord horses were led into the ship, finally feeling a bit more confident.

The estate already had a mixed horse, a black chestnut, and a modified fjord horse gifted by Angus. With the addition of the fjord horses that arrived on June 4th, almost every soldier under his command was equipped with a horse.

He had already prepared the saddle and gear, and originally planned to hire a horse trainer to train the horse, but now that step can be skipped.

"Maen Olaf, come with me to the barracks. We'll discuss the upcoming cavalry training..."

As the weather warms up, the Milk House Farm enters a busy season, and people are busier than in previous years.

Roger was very busy. He traveled daily between Brodick, Milk House Estate, and Holly Island, and at night he would light candles to discuss the next day's training and operations with his sergeants and stewards.

While the Milk House estate was bustling with activity, Glasgow, the commercial town on the banks of the River Clyde, was also teeming with life.

At that time, Glasgow was less than one-twentieth the size it would become in later years, but as a sparsely populated kingdom of Scotland, the city still ranked highly within the entire kingdom.

The town's name comes from Celtic and means "green clearing." Indeed, the town is surrounded by flat, fertile farmland.

Legend has it that the Romans once established an outpost in this region and built the Andonian Wall to defend against barbarians from the north. Seven hundred years ago, the Christian St. Mughal founded a church here, which gradually developed into the Glasgow Cathedral we know today.

This town became the largest town on the west coast of Scotland two hundred years ago.

After nearly two hundred years of development, this place has become the industrial, commercial, economic and cultural center of western China.

This was a paradise that bald Neil longed for. At this moment, he was strolling through the crossroads of Glasgow's port town, surrounded by bustling crowds. He stepped into the soft, muddy ground, mixed with excrement and urine, and breathed in the fishy, ​​foul-smelling air with his eyes closed. He patted the jingling money pouch at his waist and couldn't help but sigh, "This is what paradise tastes like."

A boy bumping into him pulled bald Neil back to reality. He opened his eyes, grabbed the boy, shoved him to the ground, and yelled, "Blind bastard, can't you watch where you're going? You've dirtied my clothes, can you afford to pay for it?"

The boy, lying in the mud, stared blankly at the man in front of him, dressed in black with a short sword at his waist, his eyes filled with terror.

"What are you looking at? Get lost!"

The boy, as if saved, scrambled out of the mud and ran away as fast as he could, his back hunched.

He watched the boy run away, cursing, and as soon as he turned around, a horse-like face loomed over him, startling bald Neil so much that he stumbled.

"You bastard, are you trying to scare me to death?"

The horse-faced youth gave an awkward smile. "Brother Neil, what are you looking at?"

"Look at you~" Bald Neil paused, his face hardening. "How dare you call me 'Brother Neil'?"

The horse-faced youth then remembered and immediately changed his tune, "Yes, yes, Mr. Neil, what are you looking at?"

"What do you think I should look at, you bastard?" Bald Neil said, his mood suddenly interrupted, his face full of displeasure.

The horse-faced youth didn't care at all, and with a smile, he handed an apple to bald Neil. "Mr. Neil, I bought this especially for you. Please enjoy."

"Ptooey, ptooey, where did you steal this rotten apple from?"

"I paid for this."

"Get lost, I'd be a pig to believe you."

The horse-faced man gave an awkward smile, which was taken as tacit agreement.

Bald Neil smacked the horse's head several times with an apple, shouting, "What did I say? What did I say? We're here in Glasgow to do trade. I'm a respectable man now. Can't you do something decent, you bastard?!"

Horse Face took several blows, but dared not retaliate at all.

Bald Neil threw down the sour apple he was holding. "Did you find the brother I asked you to contact?"

"Hey, don't you trust me? Everyone in Glasgow knows me. Everything's arranged. Tonight, I've invited everyone with any influence to the brothels outside the harbor."

"Yes, all of them must come. Kader gave me two shillings, and I have to spend them all. Let's see who dares to look down on Lord Neil in the future." Bald Neil smiled smugly and patted the money pouch at his waist.

I took a picture; it was empty.

I took another picture, but it was still empty.

His smile slowly froze, and he slowly looked down at the spot where he had tied his money pouch.

"Where's my purse?! Oh my god!"

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