In the Middle Ages, people drew cards to be promoted to nobility.

It's so rich here!

At the market in Port Ella, people were dazzled by all kinds of rare birds and animals and rare treasures.

Father, compared with Damascus, which place is more prosperous?

Old Hassan once visited Damascus when he was young. At that time, he was not the chief, and Damascus was still the territory of the Turks.

He recalled and considered: Of course Damascus.

It's just that although Ella Port seems to be small in scale, it has begun to take on a prosperous atmosphere. As time goes by, it will not be much worse. No wonder several ports such as Aqaba are so crowded that no one is around.

Cinnamon, cloves, pepper, cardamom, gems, tall horses, silk fabrics from Tianzhu; Nubian slaves from Abyssinia, frankincense, myrrh; locally produced refined plate armor, fermented grape juice, white Paper and theological texts.

The Abyssinian lion, locked in a cage, ready to serve as a noble pet or a fighting beast in the arena.

A peacock from Gujarat with wings spread like a screen.

A spotted wild horse with black and white lines painted on its body.

All kinds of goods are available.

Vendors display their goods at their respective stalls, and higher-end valuables are generally sold in more private shops nearby.

On the streets, there are heavily armed patrols maintaining order.

There are three large lines of characters written in various characters on the public notice board.

The thief cuts off his hand.

The deceiver pulls out his tongue.

Those who evaded taxes would have their property confiscated and be exiled to hard labor in Sinai.

Old Hassan warned: If you see it, please mind your own hands!

In Alexandria, valuables such as spices and gems were subject to a heavy tax of one quarter.

In Port Ella, the tax official named Muller also raised this number to a quarter and called it a luxury tax.

As for the tax on basic supplies such as grain, it was reduced to 10%.

But even if it is a quarter, the spice merchant can still make a lot of money, and he will never change his career to become a grain merchant, it will just make less.

This series of heavy taxes is also the reason why the price of spices has increased dozens of times when they were delivered to the European continent.

Because every time you pass through a place, you have to collect taxes, and every time you change hands, you have to increase the price. Therefore, although the Port of Ella is very close to ports such as Aqaba Port, it can be crowded into the latter and no one is there.

In the port, countless galleys are waiting for their berths to enter the harbor.

The hired workers on the dock carry large and small packages to transport heavy goods to the warehouse.

Some city-state merchants from the Apennine Peninsula also gathered here, preparing to become second-tier dealers and transport the spices purchased here directly back to their countries through the Mediterranean route.

The goods carried by Old Hassan and his party were quickly sold at a suitable price.

The price given by the buyer was very fair and easy to talk to, and he also gave a generous amount of silver dinar coins.

Old Hassan's son and all the tribesmen were laughing from ear to ear. If they were in Yanbu City, their goods would be sold for at most a quarter of this price.

Old Hassan looked at the young people in the tribe, but there was not much joy on his face.

As it turns out, he was deceived.

Ella Port is a paradise. People who settle here can see light on their faces. Even if they are tired, they are full of energy.

It was a look full of hope for the future.

The lord here, Count Lothar, is by no means a butcher.

Old Hassan couldn't help but have the idea of ​​relocating the entire tribe when he was talking to the traveler.

Father, let's go to the tavern to have some fun.

Old Hassan looked at the crowded tavern and wanted to scold him, because he was a devout Zoroastrian, how could he touch alcohol, a tool of the devil that makes people lose their mind?

But then he remembered the imam's pious and holy face, and he couldn't help but feel a trace of resentment in his heart.

fraud!

Imams and lords are all liars. They want us to be their slaves forever, lose our freedom, lose our future, and gradually die away like zombies!

Go ahead.

It's been a hard journey, it's time for everyone to relax.

The young people in the tribe were stunned at first, not expecting that the old-fashioned chief would agree to their request, and then they cheered.

The atmosphere in the pub was lively.

Many people gathered together and played a game called Gwent enthusiastically.

Although the young men under Old Hassan couldn't quite understand it, they quickly became fascinated by it. The majestic knights painted on it made them fascinated.

The tavern door was opened.

Old Hassan saw those armored cavalry with wings on their backs again. This time, because they were in the same tavern, and even because they were closer, he could see them more clearly.

The so-called wings turned out to be just a pair of decorations, probably made of swan or crane feathers.

The armor on their bodies was like a complete steel plate covered with a layer of blouse. It looked completely invulnerable.

Everyone was a little envious. In their tribe, even an iron pot was a rarity.

These hussars politely asked the bartender for a few glasses of wine, sat on the barrels next to the bar and chatted in low voices, drank them all, and then politely said goodbye to the bartender and left the tavern.

Someone said with emotion: The earl's hussars are the most virtuous knights I have ever seen!

What kind of knights are they?

A knight wearing a coat with a hound's coat of arms drank angrily from a glass of wine.

Compared with the barren Sinai territory, many knights who have territories there prefer to live in Port Ella.

They're just cavalry. They show off their power all day long and parade through the streets. It's extremely ridiculous.

The knight's face turned sour.

He had been dissatisfied for a long time that Lothar did not value knights like them, but chose to promote those former heretics as officials.

This is also a common problem.

As more and more knights defected to Lothar, these people were rarely entrusted with high positions.

This naturally caused dissatisfaction among some people.

It's just that Lothar doesn't care. He doesn't lack the loyalty of the knights. If he's not convinced, he can just get out. The quota for the knights of the Imperial Order is very rare nowadays.

If someone commits an offense, he will be executed or exiled in accordance with the law.

Lothar's prestige and degree of centralization in his own territory are far beyond the imagination of people outside his inner circle.

Old Hassan and the tribesmen drank wine and soon became tipsy.

At this time, he subconsciously touched his pocket, and his expression suddenly changed - his wallet was lost.

Stop drinking!

Look for the money bag. Did you leave it somewhere?

All the people who were slightly tipsy were instantly startled and broke into a cold sweat.

The bartender reminded: If you lose something, you can go find the hussars.

Oh, by the way, did you pay your taxes?

Old Hassan nodded quickly and said: Of course, you will pay it when you sell the goods at the port.

That's fine. The Hussars have the obligation to protect your personal and property safety. Go find them quickly.

Old Hassan was dubious, but with only the remaining hope, he found the hussars patrolling the streets.

Stolen?

The Hussar's face changed slightly, and he chuckled: Okay, we know this, and I will solve this case as soon as possible.

Old Hassan hesitated to speak, and then listened to the Hussar's instructions: Don't leave Ella Port during this period. The thief is probably an outsider, and he has just been to the tavern. The scope is not large. It should be It won’t be long before you get your money back.”

Okay, thank you.

Old Hassan bowed quickly.

The group of people no longer wanted to entertain themselves, so they found a hotel and crowded into a room to wait.

In the evening.

There was a knock on the door.

The hussars whom I had seen during the day came to the hotel with a young Bedouin boy who looked like he was mourning for his heir.

boom.

The heavy purse was thrown over by the Hussar: Count it, is the number correct?

Old Hassan quickly opened the money bag and counted it roughly, and found that it was exactly the same.

Yes, sir.

The wing cavalry smiled and said: As long as the number is right, you can come to the square tomorrow morning to watch the execution. This little guy committed the crime of theft and has to have one arm cut off.

Old Hassan's expression was stern, but a feeling of joy emerged in his heart.

That's the life-saving money of my whole family, you damn little brat!

Okay, we will definitely be there.

After that, he took out a handful of silver coins from his purse and planned to give it to the hussar: Thank you for your hard work, Sir Knight.

But the person who came quickly waved his hand: No, this is our duty. We don't need your thank you - you will have your hand chopped off if you accept a bribe.

Old Hassan was slightly startled.

Good night everyone.

The hussar waved his hand.

May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?

The hussar paused slightly and said, Just call me Ulm.

Thank you again, Mr. Ulm.

You're welcome.

Looking at the Hussar's retreating figure, Old Hassan hesitated for a moment, then suddenly caught up with him.

Mr. Ulm, my tribe and I want to move to Port Ella to settle...