Chapter 28 Misty Rose (Twenty-eight)
◎Celia Port◎
A team of knights in light armor galloped past on a country road, their masks covering their faces and the armor wrapping their bodies tightly reflecting the golden light of the sun. The extremely poor quality road raised a cloud of dust that covered the sky as they passed by - although it had just rained last night, this insignificant rain did not prevent the dust from penetrating every pore from rising up.
They didn't know how long they had been traveling day and night. The surface of their shiny armor was covered with a layer of dull yellow dust and mud, and even the horses under their crotch became dirty.
The journey from Florence to the port was not peaceful, but because of his
They were all wearing armor and were obviously very powerful, so there were no fools who were blind enough to bump into them. They galloped for a distance and rushed up a gentle hill. The leading knight pulled the reins and stopped his horse.
The well-proportioned and strong white horse shook its head, panted heavily, spewed white mist from its nostrils, and paced slowly on the spot.
The knights behind him quickly caught up and stopped beside him one after another.
"Captain!"
Several greetings of varying pitches rang out on the deserted hill.
The knight reached out and pushed up the mask on his armor a little, revealing a pair of clear emerald eyes. After several days of running around, these eyes were filled with deep fatigue, but still as bright and peaceful as a newborn baby.
Leshet looked into the distance. Thanks to the terrain, they could easily see the vast ocean on the horizon. Birds were circling above the sparkling sea, and their clear chirping could be heard from afar.
Sails carry ships back and forth from the port, masts stand up in another sea as majestic as a forest, the pier extends for several miles, countless densely packed crowds are shuttling back and forth, and the fishy smell of the sea water rises in the wind along with the noisy and bustling.
"It's the port!" a knight shouted joyfully.
They were ordered by the Pope to go to the port to receive ships from Assyria. It took them nine days on the road. Adhering to the Knights' precepts of being content with poverty and accepting hardships, they slept in the open air all the way. They did not stay in hotels or believers' homes. The rangers' wooden houses, caves, and abandoned houses became their only options. Of course, before leaving, they had to repair the dilapidated houses to make it convenient for later generations.
——God has given us food, clothing and shelter in difficult situations. We should aim to satisfy the most basic needs for survival and not covet warmth and delicious food. The cold tempers our will and hunger makes us sober and rational. We will move forward courageously and we will remain steadfast.
This is the commandment in the code of the Knights Templar, and they abide by the code in silence.
But even though they were as determined as they were, they couldn't help but smile with joy and relief when they saw the shadow of the port in the distance.
Leshert estimated the distance and got off his horse: "Rest for a while and set off again in the afternoon. We should be able to reach the port before evening."
The knights dismounted and led their companions to graze. Leshert took the water bag from the horse's back, unscrewed the lid and drank a few sips. Then he took out an oatmeal cake from his backpack, broke it in half, and put the larger half to the horse's mouth. The considerate white horse came over, first touching its master's head with its forehead affectionately, then took the oatmeal cake in its mouth and began to chew it with a crunching sound.
Leshert watched it chewing oatmeal biscuits, took off his helmet and put it on the ground, then sat down himself. His long golden hair, soaked with sweat, was draped messily over his shoulders, and his face, which had not been washed properly for several days, was covered with stains of a mixture of sweat and dust.
While touching the white horse's forehead, he stuffed the other half of the oatmeal cake into his mouth. The oatmeal cake was very dry and a little prickly. He was obviously accustomed to dealing with such rough food. He finished the meal in no time. After resting for a while, he stood up and took the horse to find water.
The knights all have their own horses, and they must take care of these lovely and loyal animals by themselves. Even the captain will not hand over the task of taking care of their horses to others. They do everything by themselves, like bathing the horses or something, and Leshert is no exception.
The Grand Master of the Knights Templar, who holds a glorious title and appellation, behaves no differently from an ordinary knight most of the time. He is even more humble, cautious, and gentle. The only thing that distinguishes him from ordinary people is probably his unique temperament that comes from his good upbringing and devout faith.
Of course, that face also adds a lot of points to him.
After the horses had rested, the knights remounted and galloped towards the target that was already in sight.
Celia Port is a medium-sized port in the Papal States. It belonged to a noble family more than a hundred years ago. All the family members were devout and firm believers. When the family died out, the last female heiress of the family, Lady Celia, donated all her property to the Papal States before her death, including this port. The Pope at that time thanked her for her contribution and named the port after her.
The port of Celia is not large in scale, but its geographical location is quite advantageous. Before his death, Ryan VI frantically plundered the private property of the Papal Palace and sold or donated many of the properties to others. The port was bought by Cardinal Dondol, but before he had the time to hang the family emblem on the bell tower of the port, his incompetent son returned the port of Celia to the Pope.
So after many twists and turns, the Port of Celia returned to the hands of the Pope.
But because the handover was short, Raphael had no intention of claiming ownership for the time being. All affairs of the port were carried out according to the original model. He just lowered some taxes to try to promote the circulation rate of ships and goods in the port and add a little income to the poor treasury of the Papal Palace.
Another benefit was that the ships from Assyria finally had a suitable place to dock.
Like any other port, the dock here is dirty, messy and smelly. The seafood caught by the fishing boats is piled directly in the market opened at the dock. The rotten raw fish emits a foul odor, and the salty and fishy smell of sea water is mixed with all kinds of unbearable smells, which makes people wish they could send people away from this world immediately.
Relying on the cargo and passenger flow at the dock, a small town was formed nearby, with merchants and sailors shuttling back and forth. Taverns, inns, unions, and wineries were scattered in the narrow streets, and it seemed as if you could touch the shops across the street with just a raise of your hand. Drunk sailors sang loudly in broad daylight, frantically looking for fun. The tavern proprietress stood at the door soliciting customers, and Leshert received countless winks along the way.
Most of the proprietresses of these cheap taverns and hotels also worked as prostitutes, providing services for the sailors. Leshert's rich and clear green eyes swept over these smiling women, and he drew a half circle of thorns on his chest to symbolize God: "May God bless you."
The knights finally chose a rather secluded and shabby inn. This inn was located in a corner where almost no one would come. The owner was an elderly couple. There were only four rooms in the whole inn. Seven knights could sleep in two rooms, which was just enough for the whole place, and Leshert could also have a room to himself.
Leshert led the horse to an even simpler and more dilapidated stable, and asked the shopkeeper to go to the market to buy some horse fodder for them. Then he returned to his own room, took out a palm-sized cowhide cover book from his bosom, turned to a new page, dipped the feather pen in ink, and concisely wrote today's diary on the paper.
This habit was formed in his childhood. He was born into a family with strict rules. The family that once dominated the Syracuse Peninsula was in the end of its prosperity and decline. However, family members were still proud of the noble blood flowing in their veins and their family tree. The family even had a secretary who specially recorded the deeds of family members. But after the decline of the family, they could only do this job themselves.
The first word that Leyhurst learned to write was his last name, and then his first name. His father gave him a cowhide diary with a gold-plated family emblem as a gift, and asked his mother to check his diary regularly. If she found that he had missed a day, she would whip his calves with thin vines - the pain was intense enough without leaving inappropriate scars.
After he resolutely broke with his family, he left the diary with the gold-plated badge on the table in his study, but he still did not change the habit he had developed over the years. At least he found that writing a diary helped him organize his memories and sort out his recent to-do items.
He changed to a notebook that was easy to carry and still wrote in it regularly, but his writing became much simpler and he no longer used the noble and gorgeous "aristocratic style". Rather than a diary, it was perhaps more like a notebook, mixed with a few feelings and thoughts.
"In 1079... we arrived at the port of Celia, waiting for the arrival of the Assyrian ship and looking for suitable sailors. According to the Pope's order, we need to escort the ship to the Duke of Calais' territory. Calais will receive the remaining supplies and exchange them for an equal amount of weapons... I have some concerns about this. Florence is not suitable to intervene in the conflict between Calais and Assyria, but the Pope may have his own considerations... May God protect his beloved son."
He wrote these words on the notebook, closed it carefully, and looked outside through the not-so-flat window. His vision was a vast expanse of azure blue and the vastness of the world, but the deep green eyes of the leader of the Knights Templar did not show the joy of the beautiful scenery.
On the second day after their departure, the Pope's messenger caught up with them and handed them a new order from the Pope. They were asked to meet the Assyrian ship at the port of Celia and recruit enough sailors - Assyria would evacuate all sailors after the ship arrived, and present the ship and all the things on it to Sistine I, indicating that he would not spy on the whereabouts of the goods. The Pope asked them to change their destination with the ship and go to the territory of the Duke of Calais to hand over the goods to them. The Duke of Calais would give them an equal amount of finished weapons. Their ultimate mission was to return to Florence with these weapons and, of course, the two most important steam-powered cores. ♀
He didn't quite understand what was going on and why His Holiness the Pope suddenly reached a cooperation with the Duke of Calais, but it was not a good idea for the weak Florence to rashly wander between Assyria, Roman and Calais.
Unlike hundreds of years ago, Florence has lost its most powerful protector. The Knights Templar, which could shock the world, has now declined. Florence does not have a strong military force. Sistine I seems to want to rebuild an armed force to defend Florence, but this is absolutely impossible compared to powerful imperial armies like Calais and Roman.
unless……
Fine rain was drifting in from outside the window. Leshert reached out to close the window, and long water marks soon appeared on the dirty glass.
Unless... the Knights Templar who once dominated Syracuse return to the world again.
But this is absolutely impossible. The moment Calais and Roman rebuild the Knights Templar in Florence, they will cut off the lifeline of the Holy City.
The kings could intrigue among themselves, but they could never accept a powerful and armed pope who was above them.
Raphael didn't know that the leader of his knights had thought so far ahead. He was still patiently waiting for news from Celia Port.
François has been particularly well-behaved recently. Since the day the Pope left his official residence, he has submitted several requests to meet the Pope, and was finally approved on the last occasion.
The meeting was arranged in a small reception room, and the only participants were the Duke of Calais and Sistine I. The topic, of course, revolved around compensation - what else was there besides that? Raphael suddenly discovered that he had a destination for the shipload of ore he had obtained from Assyria. Florence did not have a suitable smelter, but the wealthy François of Calais must have one.
This request was nothing to the Duke of Calais. He readily agreed to this additional condition and "promised" to provide weapons and armor to the Pope's Guard and the Florence Police, as well as a batch of no less than 500 strong horses, and to hand over the spies that Calais had planted in the Papal Palace.
The last item was just the most insignificant additional item. Every noble had his own little thoughts, and bishops and cardinals also had their own ideas. Behind them were more or less the names of different countries or families. Raphael knew this very well. He raised this point just to hint François that Calais should be more restrained in the Papal Palace. Those bishops or cardinals who had enjoyed happiness in his official residence should also be prepared to be ignored by the Pope for some time afterwards.
François successfully accepted his hint, and it is conceivable that for some time afterwards, Calais would no longer make trouble on any issue in the Papal Palace.
Rafael expressed great satisfaction with the results of the negotiations.
He brought a lot of weapons, armor and horses to Florence.
But the truth is, Florence at least has some defensive capabilities, and does not have to patrol or fight with those outdated and even rotten spears.
Less than two days after the negotiation ended, François began to prepare to return to Calais. Upon learning the news, Raphael sneered and handed the invitation to the farewell party to Julius.
The Secretary General opened the invitation and took a look at it, then shook his head in an ambiguous tone: "I thought he would wait a few more days. The letter from Calais is already on the way. It seems that his plans in Florence have been disrupted."
It is conceivable that François could smoothly control the huge empire of Calais not only because Emperor Calais was still young - to say young, he was actually already eighteen years old, about the same age as Raphael. François was by no means a simple arrogant fool. He stayed in Florence for so long, communicating privately with the nobles and bishops of the Papal States, and it was obvious that he had some plans.
Whatever he wanted to do, at least he hadn't succeeded so far.
Raphael looked at him: "What did you do?"
Julius closed the invitation, placed it on the table, and replied casually, "I asked the Portia Bank to slightly slow down the speed of transferring funds to the Calais Royal Bank. The powerless little emperor can only rely on his uncle for most of his expenses... I think that no matter how rich he is, the Duke's current financial reserves should be at the bottom."
Having no money is a huge problem.
Julius was indeed earnestly helping Raphael to find a way to drive the annoying François out of Florence.
It was a foregone conclusion that François would leave Florence in disgrace, and they soon put the Duke behind their minds and instead talked about another group of big troublemakers still stationed in Florence.
"Do the lords have no problem with not being able to leave Florence?"
Raphael asked softly.
Julius tricked the lords into coming to Florence in the name of the Birthday of Grace, but he and Raphael had reached a consensus that if nothing unexpected happened, these lords would never be able to leave Florence in their lifetime.
House arrest.
It was an ancient but very useful method. The families of the lords who had lost their family leaders would inevitably fall into chaos for a period of time, which would make it easier for Raphael and Julius to defeat them separately.
Unless the lords immediately start a rebellion and attack Florence...
But as long as they still have brains, they would not dare to do such a horrible thing as attacking the holy city.
There are many people outside who are eyeing their land, and as long as the Pope issues an excommunication order against them, everyone will have a legitimate reason to seize their wealth.
Raphael was not afraid of their rebellion. This was a great opportunity to issue an excommunication order. Ordinary crimes would not allow him to punish them in one go.
However, he needs to take a little risk...Okay, maybe it's a bit of a risk, but how can there be gambling without risking chips?
What's more, Portia would stand by him as Florence's staunch ally on this issue.
"Obviously they are very dissatisfied. Their contacts and gatherings have become more and more frequent recently," said Julius.
"Really?" Raphael smiled without any emotion. "Then they have to be prepared. Days like this will last a long time."
He picked up the invitation on the table and casually threw it into the burning fireplace. The gold-embossed words quickly carbonized into curly black lines.
The author has something to say:
Da da da, the leader of the knights who has been offline for a long time is online!
The time jumping method is about to start, the basic preparations have been completed, Rafa is about to ride the wind and waves and defend his throne in the storm!
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