Reincarnated Into The Middle Ages

After a simple lunch, Baron Otto had a servant show Norn to his room to rest while he stayed behind to discuss matters with his knights.

Norn lay on his bed, tossing and turning, before finally deciding to take a walk. He left the main building and wandered around the estate, exploring this unfamiliar territory.

Compared to the gloomy castle, the estate was much more livable. Low, log walls protected the livestock from wild animals, while busy servants tended to crops like grapes and wheat in the fields outside the walls. Shepherds drove their flocks to graze on fresh grass, and grooms carried buckets of water to wash the horses in the stables.

"This is what countryside life is all about," Norn thought contentedly. He then returned to the main building to continue exploring. After checking out the kitchen and servants' quarters on the west side, he made his way to the study on the second floor.

The study looked quite old, with a few books on the shelves and an unsigned letter on the desk. Driven by curiosity, Norn climbed onto the desk and opened the letter.

"To His Eminence, the Archbishop of Mainz.

"I have heard that His Holiness the Pope has issued a decree calling upon the warriors of the Lord to head to the Holy Land to protect pilgrims from the persecution of infidels. A Golden Bull has been promulgated, stating that all who join the Crusade shall receive the Lord's forgiveness and absolution of sins. Though the Adler family is small, I am still willing to heed the Pope's call, join the Knights Templar, live a life of poverty, and wield the sword for the Lord. I hope the Archbishop will provide an introduction, and the Adler family will be most grateful."

"This is bad," Norn thought, feeling a headache coming on. "I barely escaped the clutches of the monastery, thinking I'd found a big, strong patron to live a noble life. But now it looks like this patron is about to leave me behind."

"I'm just a kid with a nine-year-old body. Without a strong patron, what if I run into bandits or some overbearing vassals? I'll be done for," Norn rubbed his cheeks, thinking that living on bread and dark meat soup every day was definitely not what he wanted.

Reflecting on his experiences over the past year, was he just going to be an ordinary little noble and muddle through life like this?

Remembering his small goals, Norn clenched his fists.

"Besides, this situation might not be all bad," Norn said, touching his stomach and his eyes twinkling with a different kind of light.

As night fell, Otto sat alone in the study, the dim candlelight flickering on his face.

He picked up the letter on the desk, sighed, sealed it with beeswax, and stamped it with his family crest using his signet ring.

"Poor little Norn," Baron Otto thought. Although they would only be apart for three days, he had been very concerned about his nephew. The thought of the difficulties Norn might face after he left made the baron wish he could burn the letter.

But as soon as he reached for it, the image of his wife appeared in his mind. "Beautiful and kind Eve, she shouldn't suffer such a sin. She should ascend to heaven with the guidance of angels, not sink in the judgment of the Last Day," Otto was in great agony, torn between his family duty and his beloved wife.

"Almighty Lord, what should I do?" Otto prayed silently.

"Uncle Otto, are you there?" came a childish voice from outside the door.

"Of course," Otto put away the letter.

Norn gathered his emotions, pushed the door open, and looked at Baron Otto with a pitiful expression.

"What's wrong, my little Norn?" Otto got up, lifted Norn onto a chair, and asked softly.

"Are you going to abandon me?" Norn placed his hands flat on his thighs, squeezing his right hand hard, and suddenly his eyes were filled with tears.

"How could I? Uncle is just going away for a while and will be back soon," Otto comforted him.

"Uncle, you're lying!" Norn pounded his thighs with all his might, and the tears that had been welling up in his eyes burst forth, "I saw that letter. You're going to a place very, very far away, for a time longer than Norn's age."

Baron Otto was at a loss. "It's okay. Time will pass quickly. When little Norn grows up, uncle will be back. How about I bring you a little colt as a gift then?"

"Can't you stay?"

"Can't you watch Norn grow up?"

"Norn will be bullied," Norn switched legs and continued pounding.

Otto's heart softened, and the balance in his mind slowly tilted towards his family duty, almost ready to agree, but the image of his wife appeared again.

"Norn, your cousin Kaon was called by the Lord last month," Baron Otto said sadly, "Although I cannot fathom the will of the Lord, I believe he is living happily in heaven."

"But your aunt Eve. That beautiful and kind woman," Baron Otto lowered his head, as if lost in memories. He seemed to see a beautiful young woman holding a six-year-old child's hand, smiling and waving at him as usual.

"She couldn't bear the permanent farewell to her child and chose to end her own life."

Baron Otto raised his head, the confusion in his eyes gone.

"Uncle Otto is going to the Holy Land to ask the Lord for forgiveness for her sins."

"Then take Norn with you," Norn pleaded.

"Little Norn has no parents anymore. Little Norn doesn't want to leave his family again," Norn released his grip on his thigh, threw himself into Otto's arms, and burst into tears.

Otto recalled the moments he and his brother had grown up together, looked at his brother's only descendant, and thought of his own debts to the family. He just couldn't bring himself to refuse.

"Alright..." Otto gently patted his nephew's back and sighed.

Unbeknownst to him, upon hearing Uncle Otto's agreement, a sly smile like that of a weasel who had stolen a chicken appeared on Norn's lips, only to disappear immediately...

When Otto announced that he would take Norn on the pilgrimage, his knights expressed varying degrees of concern. Although Baron Otto overruled their objections, the knights still kept their worries to themselves.

"Just consider it as this uncle of mine indulging his nephew's caprice," Baron Otto made the final decision. After arranging for a knight to take care of the defense and instructing the steward to look after the estate, he set off for the Holy Land with William, Padrick, and Demor, his three closest knights, along with five soldiers, making a total of ten people.

For five days after setting off, the group traveled through desolate wilderness, occasionally hearing the howls of wolves. Despite the limited living conditions, everyone tried their best to take care of Norn. However, every mealtime, when Norn looked at the dark, hard bread and a bowl of strangely smelling "mixed-up stew," he still felt helpless inside.

Watching Padrick return from hunting with a wild boar, Norn's eyes spun around as he took out his small iron pot and placed it on the campfire to heat up.

Taking advantage of everyone's inattention, Norn cut off the fattest piece of meat from the wild boar and threw it into his specially made iron pot. The hot iron pot immediately sizzled as it fried the pork. Norn then added some onions and sage, and the air was instantly filled with a delicious aroma.

The fragrance, like the devil's whisper, captivated the soul of everyone in the caravan. Whether it was William boasting, Padrick maintaining his weapon, or Demor checking the supplies, all eyes were on Norn busying himself in front of the iron pot.

After frying until both sides were golden brown, Norn took out the pork, cut it into small pieces, and put it back into the pot. He then added dried mushrooms, carrots, and other ingredients to stew.

Ignoring the extra glances from around, Norn ladled a bowl of thick soup from the nearby offal soup and poured it into the pot, then covered it and waited.

The increasingly rich aroma, like the fruit of desire tempting everyone to sin, also seemed like a heavenly hymn guiding everyone towards a path of happiness.

"Gulp," someone started it, and the sound of swallowing saliva echoed around.

"Little Norn," William came over with a thick face, "Uncle William is the best to you, right? Let me taste it for you." As he spoke, he reached out to lift the lid of the pot.

"It's not ready yet," Norn slapped away William's "sinful" big hand, "Line up."

"What line..." William glanced to the side and saw that everyone had lined up neatly. Demor, who was first in line, even handed over a bowl with a silly smile, signaling William to go to the back of the line.

William was stunned, took the bowl reluctantly, and walked to the end of the line, "Just because I said he was playing house, I'm his favorite Uncle William."

Norn ignored William's muttering, lifted the lid, and the fragrance immediately filled the air. Everyone greedily inhaled the aroma and glared at the small pot, even Baron Otto, who was pretending to rest in the distance, could hardly hold back.

Norn calmly ladled up a bit of soup, drank it under everyone's gaze, then took a bit of slightly yellowish salt from another pocket with his left hand, stirred it in, and first served himself and Uncle Otto two portions, before tapping the iron pot with the ladle.

"Dinner's ready!"

After a round of ravenous eating, everyone except William, who was still trying to lick the last bit of soup clean, lay on the side contentedly, thanking God's grace and the baron for bringing little Norn along.

"Where did you learn all this?" Baron Otto asked the question everyone was curious about. At this moment, everyone looked at Norn with concern. William even stopped licking his plate and chimed in, "Yeah, little Norn, where did you learn this?"

"From the abbot's collection," Norn replied.

"The abbot's collection has cookbooks?!" everyone exclaimed in surprise.

"How could there be cookbooks? Books are valuable things; they can't possibly record such things."

"But I saw in a book about plants that some plants have their own unique aromas that can replace spices to a certain extent."

Mentioning spices, Norn thought of his final destination, "Maybe I can get closer to my homeland from my past life there."

Norn paused, recalling a poem he had seen from the abbot.

"Soldiers, follow me into battle! March towards the distant East, where the floors are paved with silver, the domes are made of gold, rivers of honey and milk intertwine, spices are within reach, and silk is easily obtained."

Norn raised his tone, "If you follow me to conquer the East, I promise. Spices from the East will be as cheap as weeds, silk as smooth as a maiden's skin will replace the poor man's linen, and the world will live in eternal prosperity. Poets will forever sing our praises, the glory of conquest belongs to the gods, and to you and me!"

As he finished the last word, Norn noticed everyone had a puzzled look on their faces.

"Don't tell me you don't understand Latin?"

"Men, having strong bodies and brave souls is enough. Latin and all that is just the church's way to deceive children," William laughed it off. Everyone agreed, even the handsome Padrick nodded in approval this time.

Norn looked at everyone speechlessly and explained the meaning of the poem to them.

"Is the description of the East in that poem true?" handsome Padrick asked. "Of course it's true," Norn said proudly, "But it's a place even further east than the Holy City. Beyond Parthia, through the vast Persian Empire, you'll reach the East where silk and spices are everywhere."