Reincarnated Into The Middle Ages

Norn gaped at the shadow that appeared before him.

"Are you the leader of the Hashashin, the Old Man of the Mountain?"

"Yes."

"Your nickname is Hassan-i Sabbah, the Man of a Hundred Faces?"

The shadow nodded.

"Then is this appearance a disguise?"

"No."

"The Old Man of the Mountain, Man of a Hundred Faces, those aren't exactly normal names for a person," Norn said curiously. "What's your real name?"

"After becoming the Old Man of the Mountain, one's previous name is abandoned," the shadow paused, then said indifferently, "If my master wishes, you may call me Sasan."

"Uh, could you come closer? The candlelight is too dim to see clearly."

The shadow rose and took two steps forward, then knelt again.

Norn looked at the girl in front of him, dressed in a black veil, with healthy wheat-colored skin, long black hair, and a face partially covered by a mysterious black veil, revealing only a pair of dark, star-like eyes. But...

"The legendary Hashashin assassin, the Old Man of the Mountain," Norn said, covering his forehead with his hand, "is actually a 16-year-old girl!"

"Age is of no importance. As long as my master can provide shelter for my people, we will become the deadliest daggers in your hands!" Sasan's tone was unquestionable.

"I don't want a 16-year-old girl running around killing people for me," Norn said, feeling a headache coming on.

"Is my master doubting my abilities?" The girl's voice seemed to carry a hint of anger.

"No, no, no, it's just against my principles," Norn said, looking at the girl who appeared to be only 16 years old. In his past life, girls this age were carefree and enjoying school. He never expected that now there would be a girl killing for the survival of her people.

"Although according to our local rituals, I should bestow upon you a sword and a shield, but we don't have the conditions for that now, so let's skip that step," Norn jumped out of bed and stood in front of Sasan. "Anyway, I accept your loyalty."

Upon hearing this, Sasan first bowed her head, then lifted the veil, revealing a perfectly shaped face with a pair of sharp eyebrows, long eyelashes serving cold eyes, a small nose, and thin lips. It was hard for Norn to say whether she looked charming or fierce.

"The true face of the Old Man of the Mountain is only known to the master she serves," Sasan said, then put the veil back on.

"Although I don't understand my master's principles, we are still your servants in the dark," Sasan bowed and stepped back into the darkness.

"The night is deep, we won't disturb my master anymore."

Norn looked into the darkness beyond the candlelight, feeling a mix of emotions, as if everything was in a dream.

After pinching himself hard to make sure it wasn't a dream, Norn finally confirmed to himself, "I guess I've picked up an assassin."

"Ah," Norn yawned, his nerves finally relaxed, and he muttered to himself, "Forget it, if it's not trouble, it's not. If it is, it'll come tomorrow." He turned over and fell back asleep.

The next morning, Norn, who had gone to bed late the night before, was still groggy when he was woken up by a commotion. He looked at the girl named Adile with lifeless eyes, watching her holding a towel and basin, and letting her tend to him for a while.

Suddenly, Norn seemed to realize something and jumped out of bed, looking at Adile suspiciously.

Adile, still holding the towel, was at a loss because of Norn's sudden action.

Norn circled around Adile a few times, muttering to himself, "No way." "I must be imagining things."

Finally, Norn made up his mind, walked up to Adile, and started rubbing her face vigorously, pinching it into all sorts of shapes.

After a while, Adile, who was pinched in pain, pushed Norn away, sat on the ground, and looked like she was about to cry.

"Ah, I said I didn't mean it, do you believe me?" Norn felt embarrassed about his mistake and kept comforting her, then remembered that she didn't understand his words.

"Bang" Norn's room was pushed open again. Adile, clumsily holding the basin and towel, saw the back of Norn and another girl.

Norn looked at the door, then at the "Adile" at his feet, and finally exploded in anger: "Sasan!!"

The "Adile" in front of him was no longer the silly country girl. With a slight curl of her lips, she returned to her cold voice: "Master, you already guessed it, why wouldn't you confirm it?"

Angry, Norn lunged forward to pinch Sasan's face, but she easily dodged. Sasan laughed lightly and slipped out from beside Adile like the wind.

Adile, looking at Norn sulking on the spot, seemed still a bit confused. It took a while before she helped Norn wash up at his gesture.

After the morning drama, Norn decided to take a tour of his estate.

The women he had bought had already been assigned positions by DeMol. Except for a few who were taking care of the children and cooking, the rest had come to Norn's windmill workshop to learn how to use these "magical" tools.

"Watch closely, just lower this lever, and this transmission gear will engage with the windmill's drive gear," Norn carefully demonstrated to the women.

Despite the language barrier, they managed to understand Norn's meaning through gestures and guesses. Those who had worked in textiles before quickly got the hang of it.

The wind-powered wooden hammers happily pounded the wool. The originally yellow and clumpy wool became fluffy and soft in the lye water. After drying, it was sent into the creaky rollers to be compacted into large rolls.

The rolls, like quilts, were handed to the diligent women. They held a spool of yarn in one hand and constantly spun the flywheel with the other, turning the loose roving into fine woolen yarn.

The yarn, wound into small spools, was sent to the dye house. This room was guarded by DeMol and specially assigned soldiers. The dye was always mixed by DeMol himself before the women were allowed to work. After dyeing and drying, the yarn was stored in a special warehouse.

Norn looked at his production line and the hardworking women with satisfaction. These simple laborers, stimulated by Norn's good food, showed strong enthusiasm for production.

But looking at the bustling workshop, Norn worriedly considered that with the increasing population of the estate, the supporting facilities would also need to be improved.

The estate had 8 wells and over 20 rooms that could well meet the needs of life and production. Food was not a problem for the wealthy Norn. However, with only 7 adult males, including William, the security force was stretched thin.

Norn thought to himself, "Although having Sasan around makes it unlikely to encounter assassins, a gang of bandits could still cause significant losses. I need to recruit some 'security guards'."

"We're short on people. Let's check out the tavern," Norn said, following William's suggestion.

Norn and Patrick arrived in front of a tavern on the east side of the Holy City. The tavern didn't look much different from the surrounding earth-colored buildings, but it was very large and occasionally burst with noise from inside.

Norn hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open, only to almost be overwhelmed by the smell inside: the stench of dozens of men who hadn't bathed in a month, mixed with the smell of food scraps and fermenting alcohol, was like a moldy, green sock stuffed into one's mouth.

Norn quickly covered his nose and looked inside: a worn wooden bar where a boss in a leather apron was constantly wiping wooden cups. In front of the bar were more than ten wooden tables, with some ragged mercenaries talking and laughing wildly.

Occasionally, a scream would erupt. A buxom waitress glared at a mercenary who was making inappropriate advances, then fled amidst the mercenaries' teasing.

Norn felt that these mercenaries were no different from hooligans and began to doubt the necessity of this trip.

"Welcome to Old Bal's Tavern!" The bar owner, seeing Norn's fine clothes, warmly greeted him.

"I'm looking to hire some people," Norn said, somewhat disgusted by the mercenaries. "Any reliable ones?"

"Of course!" The owner grinned, revealing a set of yellow teeth.

"Look over there!" The owner pointed with his withered right hand.

Following the owner's gesture, Norn saw three Turcoman nomads in blue cotton robes drinking silently.

"The Turcoman nomads have lived on horseback since childhood. They are the best hunting dogs for you when you go on a hunt, whether you're hunting lions or something else."

"I also have Genoese crossbowmen here. Don't be fooled by their ragged appearance; they love their weapons more than their wives."

A group of Apennine men in tattered armor were playing a game of stabbing their fingers with knives. The knife shadows flew, but none of them hurt their fingers. Although their crossbows couldn't be seen, their nimble hands still amazed Norn.

"Of course, if you're looking for the fiercest warriors, there are the northerners. The captain claims to be from the Varangian Guard and has even fought for Emperor Manuel."

A group of people were gathered around a table, where two blond giants were arm wrestling. Both were flushed and veins bulged on their thick arms. Finally, one side managed to overpower the other. The loser hung his head in defeat, while the winner raised his cup and drank heartily.

"What about those guys?" Norn pointed to a group of people in the corner.

"They're just a bunch of pilgrims from the southern part of the Holy Roman Empire. They can't fight," the owner said with disdain.

Ignoring the owner's contempt, Norn carefully observed the group.

Their equipment was even shabby compared to the mercenaries. Most of them wore linen shirts, and only a few had helmets or armor.

Norn walked straight over. The group saw Norn and quickly got up to offer their seats.

"Sir, are you looking for help? We have 20 men here. We only need 5 copper pennies a day each."

Afraid that Norn would refuse, the captain quickly added, "Sir, we can do anything, whether it's fighting, taking care of horses, or setting up camp."

"I can give you each 12 copper pennies a day," Norn said with a smile. "As long as you follow my orders!"