The air in the north had a humid sea salt smell than the territory in the south. On a gloomy morning, a tired "coachman" was driving a horse, pulling a cart of empty wooden barrels, and accompanied by six unkempt handheld beside the car to Bruges.

Bruges is undoubtedly a prosperous and prosperous place. Lowlanders are good at doing every business well, which everyone knows.

Whether it is the Vikings who have wrecked the minds of the English, the Franks and the Rosses, or the Arab merchants from the Emir of the Middle East and North Africa, they can live in peaceful places in the two well-known trade towns, Bruges and Ghent, and talk about a good price for leather, wood carvings, raw silk, velvet, tweed, salt, dyes, spices and even slaves, and then take them to their hometown.

Since commerce is developed here, robbers who covet the property of merchants are also very rampant. Of course, Helta, who has been tortured to the point of being a coachman who works hard all day long, is lucky. When a group of robbers with unknown origin and impure motivation are planning to rob them, a security team organized by the town happened to pass by, dispelling the thieves' idea that "no matter how small a mosquito is, it is still meat."

Bruges' wealth was also reflected in its fence and soldiers' equipment—the towering stone-wood-studded town wall, and the lowland crossbowmen patrolling back and forth with crossbows on the wall.

Like other places, there were tax officials and soldiers responsible for collecting taxes in case someone smuggled goods. Heltara came with empty wooden barrels, and he just handed over two copper coins, so the tax officials let him in.

Now, Hulta's torture finally came to an end. Without hiding the disgust and disgust on his face, he threw a pack of money bags that had been prepared long ago to the leader of the Wanzizhe. The leader of the Wanzizhe opened the purse, and there was a dim silver coins in Transnier and a few somewhat incomplete copper coins lying inside.

"You stingy wild dog," the leader of the wagon seemed not satisfied with the reward they deserved. "We have helped you resolve the dangers many times. Wouldn't you reward us with kindness?"

"Bah," Hulta spat on the ground disdainfully, saying what he had been trying to say but hadn't said for the past few days, "Look at your ragged equipment and your sloppy lifestyle, to be honest, you are worth it."

"Damn the pig, a cunning snake, I'm going to tear you apart!" A irritable bearded man couldn't bear such an insult. He pulled out the short hammer on his waist and stepped forward. It seemed that he really wanted to open a scoop on Helta's head.

"Forget it," although the leader of the treacherous leader was a calm person. When he saw the guards around him gathering here, he knew that they would definitely not escape punishment when they killed people here. "Calm down, Louis."

The bearded Louis was hugged by the leader from behind, and struggled for a few times and had no use, so he had to give up. But he was still unhappy and scolded Hulta loudly: "You shameless villain, a Jewish eunuch who has been circumcised, a vampire bat who has given loan sharks, a liar who sells fake wine, and a goat fucked by Esbaiburg..."

The crowd of onlookers burst out with laughter. Seeing that the farce about to cause death was stopped in time, the approaching guard shrugged boredly and turned around and walked away. When the leader of the wits hands pulled his companions away, only Hurta, who was absent from anger and embarrassment, stood there in the scene.

However, after all, Hulta is Hulta. If it were an ordinary person, he would have wanted to dig a hole on the ground and hide in it, and he would have no shame to see people, or curse him fiercely. Hulta showed a winning smile, which made the onlookers later boo. Everyone really thought that Hulta was stingy and less salary for the wad.

"You are so bad, Isaac!"

"You are not welcome here, get out, Jewish pig!"

"Uncle, how did you take off your little yellow hat on your head that proves your lowly Jewish identity?"

"Look at the fat fat you are even stronger than a fat pig. You must have plundered a lot of money from poor people, right?"

"Things that are worse than beasts!"

Now, everyone recognized the insults of the wad, thinking that Hurta was a cunning Jewish businessman. Everyone gave him a "friendly" "welcome" one after another. After all, they believed that the Jewish people who were willing to pay for money and deduct wages were able to come out.

As for the methods of identifying Jews, there are three most common ways to identify them—either see if he is wearing a small yellow hat exclusive to the Jews, or take off his pants to see if he has ever been circumcised, or see if the person is extremely greedy.

Hurta didn't understand why he suddenly became the target of public criticism, so he could only escape from the crowd of onlookers. He secretly scolded himself for his stupidity in his heart. Before leaving, he kept reminding himself to act in a low-key manner.

Little Klein followed Hulta not far or near. He wore a loose big hood and looked no different from an ordinary passerby.

Hurta, who was driving the carriage deep into the street, seemed a little alert, and from time to time he looked around and looked around at the nearby environment. However, his alertness was limited to guarding against those few trips and coming back to cause trouble. He didn't even notice that he had been tracked all the way.

"Get out of the way, coachman."

A few Vikings wearing Norman helmets and curly golden hair came towards them. They were wearing leather armor covered with battle marks and carrying axes with dry blood. They raised their heads one by one, staring at Helta with fierce eyes, almost scaring the latter's soul out of their bodies.

"Okay, OK."

Hurta didn't dare to care about the Vikings calling the driver. He turned the car to the edge of the road with a panic on his face, for fear that he would hit the other party and anger him.

"Hahahahaha, the timid southerner!" The vikings made an ugly laugh in their hoarse voice. Hulta lowered his head tremblingly. Even if he gave him ten courage, he would not dare to provoke these pagan pirates who killed people without blinking.

Although the Vikings encountered huge setbacks in England decades ago, it is undeniable that the Vikings are still powerful warriors and fierce pirates as fierce as tigers. They used their battles again and again to leave a large number of horror stories among the Germans and the Franks, so that everyone still has fear and fear of them now.

Hulta parked the carriage in the yard of a tavern. He threw a copper coin to Ma Tong, told him to watch out for his car, and then pushed open the door of the tavern. Little Klein stopped for a while, lowered his hood, and walked in.

The air in the tavern was extremely turbid, and all kinds of unpleasant smells made the narrow space seem to be a fermentation room. But the atmosphere was very strong. The drinkers here seemed to be caring, and the bards played a cheerful tune, and everyone danced around a huge log pillar, which was a lively scene.

"I want to get five barrels of good ale and some other jewelry. Of course, there are some things that are inconvenient to say here..." Hulta lay on the counter, and the owner of the tavern handed him a cool beer to quench his thirst. At this moment, he was drinking with a glass of wine, but he didn't notice the little Klein who came in behind the door.

"The ale is still the same, of course it's okay. I can find people interested in them for you. As for things, is this important?" The tavern owner shaved his head, and his beard under his breath looked like a brown broom. He calmly responded to Helta's words while rubbing the shiny glass of color.

"It's very important. Maybe I have to meet the adults in person." Hurta's expression was serious and didn't look like he was pretending.

Little Klein sat down aside, looking like he was enjoying the Rutch tune and the lively atmosphere. In fact, his ears were standing up and eavesdropping on Helta's conversation.

The tavern owner continued to wipe the cup and was silent for a while, as if he was thinking about something.

"Sir, I'm in Kortrick now. If you have to meet him, you can set out tomorrow. But I want to warn you that if you disturb him for something boring, he won't be polite to you!"

"In contrast," Hurta stretched out his index finger and waved his left and right, "He might also reward me!"

"Ha, is that?" the tavern owner chuckled, "then you have to drink more tonight."

"Ahh, I'm afraid that drinking too much will delay things..."

Klein Jr. heard what he wanted. This further confirmed the collusion between Hulta and Baron Kortrick, and the tavern owner may be an eyeliner or contact person arranged by Baron Kortrick Luke in Bruges.

To avoid alarming the enemy, Klein walked out of the tavern quietly. Now he had to find a way to pass the message and prepare Simon on the way back to Hulta.

……………………………

"Shameless!" Simon read a letter that wrote the words as small as an ant, and couldn't help but slap the table and stood up. "Lange actually wanted to take all the credit for the extermination of the Magyar pagans this time!"

"What?"

Ludwig looked shocked. He really didn't expect that Lange would dare to go to Bishop Cologne to take credit with two Magyar prisoners of war.

Just this morning, the wheat tavern in Kootha Village provided stir-fry and fine wine to the drinkers as usual. When a customer paid and left, he also mixed a small letter into coins.

"To Lord Simon."

The mysterious man left such a sentence and quickly left without looking back.

The owner of the tavern didn't take it seriously. He thought this guy was a newcomer who worked for Ludwig, so he had never seen him before. He also lamented that the new informant is so amateur and the way of delivering messages is so simple and crude.

When Ludwig received the letter, he immediately realized that this was definitely not the news from his informant in Tonysburg, so there was only one source of the news - Sir Julian.

So he hurriedly rode onto the horse with the letter and came to Simon's castle.

"We have to find a way to send the letter written by Father James to Cologne first, so that Lange can become a complete clown in front of the bishop!" Simon paced back and forth in the hall of the castle and said to himself.

"According to Sir Julian, Lange's messenger should have set out today. If we want to be faster than them, there is only one shortcut." The clever Ludwig came up with a good idea.

“What shortcut?”

"Take the water route directly, but you have to go upstream. This is the nearest route."

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Chapter completed!