Reincarnated Into The Middle Ages

Deep into the night, two men in black hid in the dark underbrush, vigilantly watching the path up the mountain.

"Caw," "Caw," "Caw."

Three shrill caws rang out. The men knew their relief was coming, but they still quietly drew their weapons in readiness.

After exchanging signals to confirm the identity of their relieving comrades, they sheathed their weapons and turned to leave.

But then, chaos erupted!

The two men, now leaving, stared in disbelief at the daggers piercing their hearts, unable to comprehend how their relieving brothers had turned into enemies.

Before they could even think to raise the alarm, their mouths were clamped shut. They struggled for a moment, but eventually, their bodies went limp.

Guard posts throughout the mountain were successively assassinated. Since the attackers were disguised as their own people, hardly any noise was made.

In the seemingly calm darkness, countless dark figures surged towards their leader's chamber like an undercurrent.

The stone door of the stone chamber opened silently.

The burly man in black walked in alone.

"'Hundred Faces,' come out. I know you've been aware for a while."

He was met only with silence.

The man seemed to grow impatient, clapping his hands. His men dragged in some women and children.

A dagger silently pressed against the man's neck, but he laughed contemptuously.

"'Hundred Faces,' you're the Old Man of the Mountain in this generation! I know that no matter the circumstances, I'd be dead if I faced you."

"But you're too soft-hearted! You care too much about your people."

"You can kill me, kill everyone here, but these women and children, like the villagers, will die just the same!"

Seemingly noticing the man's words, the men in black aimed their weapons at the women and children.

"Ibrahim, they're your people too. Why would you raise a blade against them?" the robed figure behind the dagger said softly.

"Because of your cowardice!" Ibrahim roared. "Do you forget the massacre twenty years ago?"

"I see every night how my parents were brutally killed before my eyes! How my sister was thrown down the well!"

Ibrahim's eyes blazed with fury, as if he wanted to tear his enemies limb from limb.

"And you! You should have led us to revenge! Instead, you groveled before the very people who killed our loved ones!"

"It's you who's blinded by hatred! Our people can't stand against the Crusaders. Clashing with them now would be suicide!" The robed figure couldn't help but show anger.

"Then we just sit here and let those scum slowly bleed us dry?"

After a long silence, the robed figure said quietly, "Saladin is rising in Egypt. He'll unite the believers and declare war on the Crusaders."

"Rely on that heretic?! If he wins, we'll only live in even greater humiliation!" Ibrahim ignored the dagger at his neck, turning to face the robed figure. "I'll lead our people to avenge ourselves against those scum."

"And you, this coward, surrender! Enough blood has been shed tonight. I don't think you want to see more of our people die because of your decision."

"What about my brother, Abar?"

Ibrahim laughed, loudly. "He's right here."

A man in black stepped out of the crowd, revealing a young but fanatical face.

After a long moment, the robed figure finally dropped the dagger.

"You bastard! You'll get us all killed!"

"Before that happens, I'll send those scum to hell!" Ibrahim laughed cruelly.

Three days had passed since moving into the estate, and Norn was now sitting at the main table, his face serious.

"Not good! Very not good."

Norn carefully examined the small chest in front of him, supposedly holding the Adler family's wealth.

"There's barely 400 gold nomismata in here, plus 500 silver denarii and some copper follis, and 250 of the gold nomismata is from the last business deal's profit."

Norn covered his face. He knew his uncle was poor, but he didn't expect it to be this bad.

"This amount is just enough to buy an estate!"

Norn silently calculated in his mind, "I've already spent a lot of money these past few days helping my uncle get settled and buying the estate. And with so many people and animals on the estate, daily expenses for food and drink add up quickly."

"Well, I did bring in some goods from Constantinople. Let's see how much I can make from them."

Norn, along with Anna, William, and DeMol, drove a wagon to the market.

The market was bustling. Here, you could see Venetians in green vests haggling with Arabs in white turbans, red-haired Romans scolding dark-haired Moors, and even blond Danes drinking with Berbers.

Staring at the diverse crowd, Norn was momentarily dazed, as if he had been transported back to his past life.

It wasn't until Anna tugged at his hand that Norn snapped out of it, smiling and shaking off the unrealistic thoughts.

Norn found a Roman merchant and began to sell his goods.

"Boss, look at this craftsmanship, this skill. These are sculptures from masters in Constantinople."

The boss took Norn's sample and examined it carefully. "The goods are good. I'll take them all for 10 denarii each."

"What?! Boss, do you know that Constantinople has become a hell on earth because of a riot? There won't be any merchants coming to supply you for a long time."

Norn paused, then continued, "And we risked our lives to get this batch of goods. On the escape route, when we were most desperate and helpless, only these masterpieces, with their towering presence, silently inspired us. They were our spiritual mentors, and now we have to sell them."

Anna, listening to Norn's pitch, shyly looked away.

The boss narrowed his eyes, putting down the sculpture. "So?"

"We need more money! 20 silver denarii each!"

After further bargaining, Norn still managed to sell all the "spiritual mentors" for 18 silver denarii each.

"Hahaha!" Norn held the money he had just received. "I didn't expect the riot in Constantinople to actually increase the price of these goods! Made a profit!"

Norn noticed Anna's sudden downcast expression and realized he had said the wrong thing.

"Anna, I didn't mean it! I... I just..." Norn suddenly felt at a loss. "How about I sing you a song, um... or I can make you something nice."

Seeing Norn's silly expression, Anna "giggled."

"Ah, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up," Norn awkwardly scratched his head.

"Um, it's okay," Anna glanced at Norn and then lowered her head, unconsciously thinking of the little boy who had stood in front of her, feeling a bit warm in the face.

Norn continued to wander the market, searching for business opportunities.

Looking at the big-turbaned spice seller, Norn sighed, "Spices are profitable, but the channels are controlled by the Venetians and Genoese. If I try to get involved, I'll probably be left with nothing."

Then he looked at the bustling herb merchant and scratched his head. "Herbs... I don't know anything about them. How would I know what sells well and what doesn't?"

Norn looked around. The next best-sellers were fruits, but fruits don't keep well.

So, the only business left was this. Norn looked at a yellow, fluffy sheep by his feet and smiled.

In the sheep's eyes, this two-legged creature suddenly smiled at it in a terrifying way, making its heart race frantically. After a while, it couldn't stand the strange gaze and "baa" ran away.

Norn looked at the running sheep in confusion. "This sheep knows I'm going to shear its wool?"

No more daydreaming, Norn began to plan his business strategy. "If I want to get into the wool business, the first thing is simple."

"Uncle Everard!" Norn, once again with an innocent smile, found Knight Everard, who happened to be in the tavern.

"My dear nephew, what trouble have you run into now?" Everard looked at Norn eagerly, as if looking at a big wallet.

"Your wallet fell at my place last time," Norn said, looking around to make sure no one was around, and handed over a bulging wallet.

Everard, however, first took a sip of wine, smiling playfully.

"You old fox," Norn thought bitterly, but still smiled innocently and said, "Uncle Everard, as a paragon among knights and a staunch defender of the Lord, you must have good relations with many people, right?"

"I didn't expect even you, Norn, to know about this!" Everard laughed loudly.

"Well, Uncle, do you know any blacksmiths, carpenters, or builders from the Order? I want to build a few windmills," Norn immediately put on a tearful expression. "Now that Uncle is gone, I want to eat some bread from my hometown, but there's not even a mill."

"You little fox!" Everard judged in his heart, but on the surface, he made a concerned face. "Poor little Norn, leave this to Uncle. I'll find you the best craftsmen."

"Really? Then I'll leave it to you, Uncle!" Norn immediately wiped away his tears, like a child whose wish had been granted.

The two were evenly matched. After some more small talk, they parted ways.

The next morning, there was a crowd at the estate's gate before Norn even woke up.

"That old fox is pretty efficient when it comes to getting things done for money," Norn thought.

Norn gathered everyone and laid out his plans: to build five large windmills on the south side of the estate, and then build several large houses right next to the windmills.

Afterward, Norn called over the blacksmith and carpenter and drew out his windmill design. The structure was narrow at the top and wide at the bottom. The roof wasn't fixed to the walls but was supported on a rotating "cover" mounted on a pulley system. One side of the roof extended a wooden axle with four windmill blades, each about 30 feet long. The other end of the axle was fitted with a gear train and drive shaft. When the wind turned the axle, it could drive mechanical motion through the gears and shaft. There was also a long wooden pole on the other side of the roof, almost reaching the ground, to adjust the windmill's direction and control its speed at any time.

When Norn revealed his "ingenious idea," a middle-aged blacksmith couldn't help but exclaim.

"Sir, we've built many windmills before, but the desert winds are unpredictable, and the windmills often break due to high speeds. But with your design, the windmills can work more stably."

"I've got even better ones up my sleeve!" Norn thought to himself, and then arranged for the craftsmen to get to work.

At that moment, Anna walked over and asked curiously, "Norn, what's a windmill?"

"A windmill," Norn sighed, "maybe it's just a little bit of my nostalgia."