Outsiders' specific understanding of Westminster often begins with a request. At that time, they will realize that this is not a town-sized fortress, but a town fortified into a fortress.
This building complex that occupies the entire top of the hill not only accommodates residential areas, storage, stables, and training grounds for long-term garrison personnel, but also a small but exquisite chapel, a brewing area, and supporting wine cellars.
, livestock breeding shed, and a small vegetable and fruit planting area, mainly lettuce. It is not difficult to see the attitude of staying there until the end of time.
While the ignorant besiegers were eating high-altitude objects on the long hillside where round stones could run for a few minutes, the castle owner would taste fresh and plump vegetables and meat on the high-rise terrace of the inner castle, with cold beer or cold beer freshly drawn from the deep cellar.
Wine overlooking their show.
Of course, there will be no shortage of various workshops that deal with wood and stone engineering, ironware making and repair, as well as luxury craftsmen who meet high-end needs. They have been involved in the construction since their fathers and even ancestors, and have inherited the service to this building, here
Most of the objects you see, big or small, were made by them.
But today, the craftsmen were put forward to some special requirements that they had never heard of before.
"No, no, no, I don't think the quill is good. It can't even pierce the skin, and it will break easily." With a little force, the quill in his hand was broken into corners, and the demanding outsider threw it in.
The stove next to it "needs a hollow tube that is at least as thin as this one, but has much better hardness and toughness. It is best to be made of metal and can be connected to the gas cylinder."
The people present looked at the jeweler, whose skillful hand could put gems the size of wheat grains into earrings. They also had difficulties. "I have never seen anything like this, but I have seen bird bone hairpins before. They are indeed hard and strong."
thin."
"If you insist on making metal, then I can try it, but there is no guarantee that it will work." He added with a grimace. Unlike most of his peers, this profession only needs to follow the handed down craftsmanship, and also has to face the endless strange things from the nobles.
Demand, the request made by this young nobleman can be regarded as the most outrageous among all kinds of whims.
The medieval high-quality Party A held his chin and said nothing, seemingly not satisfied. Today he has accepted too many compromises. The inflatable device may have to be an enema type, and the hose is only made of leather sewn and glued, and the length is
It's still short, and with the addition of a bird bone breast piercing needle, it looks like a shaman in a primitive tribe is about to dance.
He fell into self-doubt, whether his request was indeed inappropriate and the equipment should be adjusted based on objective conditions.
"Is Professor Craft here?" The sound of hurried armor walking interrupted the conversation in the workshop.
Kraft walked out of the crowd and looked towards the door, and unexpectedly saw a man who should have left the castle three days ago, "Martin? Didn't you go to the port?"
"It's urgent. Is it convenient now?" Martin wiped the sweat from his face and took off his helmet. His soaked hair was sticky and compacted, almost like freshly fished seaweed, which can produce salt grains.
"Of course, you can do it at any time." It's hard to imagine what it would be like to run to Westminster in all this equipment under the sun. Kraft believed that no one would be willing to go through such trouble. Martin should have brought him some ideas.
Need the answer.
Out of respect for the people who are running around outside, he can give up thinking about the shaman style of painting first and say, "That's it, try both. I'll be back tomorrow. If you have any questions beforehand, you can pass them on to me."
Attendants Kupu and Yin Feng, please stay here for me for a while. If you need anything, you can tell them. You don’t have to wait for me for dinner."
Kraft quickly left the workshop and followed Martin towards an unimpressive road, the sound of people leaving them far away.
"You asked when that sect emerged?"
Martin took off the water bag from his waistband, poured the last sip into his mouth, and licked his dry lips. Obviously this was not enough to replenish the lost water, but he had no intention of spending more time on it, "As soon as possible
Four months ago, it was the church that handled the first case. The reason was that the guy tried to defraud money from believers, but ended up being targeted for charging too much."
"Then I discovered more and more." Kraft continued, "I remember you said that some people have believed in them for several years. They can obviously continue to live in peace and harmony, so why have they become active recently?"
"Although it makes no sense, and there is only some overlap in time, I always feel..."
"You think they are tampering with things that shouldn't be touched." A statement with a positive tone.
This surprised Kraft. After all, he only caught uncertain thoughts in trivial fragments without any intermediate evidence. Why would Martin think about it with him?
He looked at Martin again and found that the knight had put on that stuffy helmet again at some point. The hot weather could not prevent him from using this action to gain some subconscious comfort, "What happened?"
"Do you remember Diego? He was the steward at the banquet." At this time, Martin mentioned something that seemed to be irrelevant. "We had some friendship before. When we first arrived at the port, we originally wanted to find him, but I heard that
He went outside the city to chase some criminals involved in the disappearance."
This indeed left an impression. At that time, it was obvious that he was familiar with Martin, "Yes, I remember. The slightly chubby knight."
"At first we thought he was going to catch some unrelated thief to make up the numbers." A certain emotion was like plaque attached to the tone, giving the narrative a complex color. It was probably regret, depression, and something that shook his spirit.
, "Maybe he thinks so himself. Twenty people are just outside the city, so what's the problem?"
He seemed to be restoring Diego's thoughts, but also seemed to be in disbelief.
"Then?" Kraft felt something was wrong.
"Diego, the knight of the Duke of Westminster." He paused and continued to walk forward, leaving something invisible behind him, "and my friend, return to the arms of the Father in a way that is consistent with his status.
, proven loyalty and bravery.”
Kraft was speechless for a moment, making sure that he understood the meaning correctly. Someone he had only met once was confirmed to be dead within a few days, and was told to him by another person he didn't know very well. He lacked realism. He only blurted out one sentence: "
May God bless him.”
Then he quickly linked up and looked at Martin in surprise.
"That pagan?!"
He had seen the equipment of the guards. A knight under the duke, with about twenty people and followers, was actually planted not far outside the city. His guess was probably correct, and he could do such a thing.
It's hard not to associate all the bad things with paganism.
But the most important thing now is that with Diego's death, he also cut off the clues that he accidentally stumbled upon here. The pagan man probably packed up and ran away.
"Is it too late to continue the search? Or can we find something else?" Kraft asked without hope.
During the conversation, they had walked to a remote courtyard, which seemed to be a training ground, but the dummy wooden piles had been moved to the side. The Duke's soldiers were guarding several long wooden crates, which were just big enough for an adult to lie in.
.
Kraft realized what these were and shut up quietly. He still didn't understand what kind of help Martin needed from him, and if this was used as a coffin for a knight or a retinue, it would be a bit crude and inconsistent with a normal death in battle.
However, this was someone else’s internal matter and he didn’t intend to comment on it.
"This is where we need your help. Have you ever seen anything like this?" Martin pulled out a dagger from his waist, inserted it into the gap, and pried open one of the boxes.
Somewhat surprised, Kraft stepped forward and leaned over to look inside the box. It was not the body of the fat steward he had imagined, but an ugly face.
In the white ring on the chest of the robe, there was a sword wound that penetrated through the heart, and there were thread-like objects in the wound that filled the air.