When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist-Chapter 754 - 709 ry Court Barracks Vegetable Market Street (Part 1)

The carriage creaked over the thin snow on the road.

Sitting in the carriage, Horn wrapped his thick wool coat tighter, squinting at this core city of the Holy Alliance.

Although it was already morning, the winter sky remained grey, and the entire ry Court Barracks was shrouded in dimness and blur.

As the mail carriage he rode drew nearer to the ry Court Barracks city area, the yawns of the entire city could be heard more clearly.

The bubbling sound of water boiling.

The clinking sound when old windows were opened.

The scolding of mothers waking their children.

The greetings of citizens as they stepped out.

A melodious flute sound wafted from the market street.

Those who recognized this flute sound understood that the market street had opened, delayed to four in the winter compared to three in the summer.

By the time Horn reached the market street, the bell tower had just chimed six times, marking six in the morning.

So when the mail carriage arrived at the market street, one could only see carts loaded with cabbage leaves, radish leaves, and pig and sheep manure slowly leaving, unable to witness the bustling scene of loading and unloading at wholesale.

"We've reached the market street, friend!" The coachman halted the stout, short horses, tipping his hat to Horn.

Horn slapped his dozing brother-in-law, Kaler, awake and turned to ask the coachman, "I haven't been here in ages. Is the fish shop still in the old place?"

"It's changed. Walk forward 150 steps; the fish and poultry are on the river side. You'll know you've arrived when you see a red-roofed stall."

"Thank you so much." Horn, pulling his brother-in-law Kaler, jumped off the green-painted mail carriage, pulling out a purse from inside his coat, "How much should I give you?"

"It's nothing, friend." The coachman replied with a smile, waving his whip and heading toward the ry Court Barracks Post Office with a crisp crack.

"Holy Father bless you!" Horn quickly waved and offered a blessing.

Adjusting his clothes, Horn stepped on the black remaining snow streaked with ribbons, carefully discerning his direction.

The wind, tinged with the smell of fish and spices, blew against his face. Kaler tried hard to open his eyes, looking towards the market street before him.

In January 1448, the ry Court Barracks was still feeling the festive aftertaste of the New Year Festival.

Located on the east side of the ry Court Barracks, the market street was the first to become lively. At least half the population of the ry Court Barracks depended on this market street for food.

Dim lamps partially illuminated the street and the pedestrians passing through it.

Workers in blue wool, employees in grey jackets, monks in embroidered black robes, housewives with aprons tied at their waists...

No matter their social class, at this moment, they brushed shoulders on the street, holding steaming paper cups of milk, stopping at uniformly aligned stalls to select and haggle.

Their attire was clean and tidy; the ground was paved with tiles. No one was defecating indiscriminately or dumping chamber pots from above.

This sight couldn't be seen in other cities, not outside the Thousand River Valley, not even outside the Pope Special District.

The City Hall built fixed stalls, paving the pedestrian and vehicular lanes with tiles, with sewage reeking beneath the hollowed-out covers made of mortar.

Kaler, a native of Hotam County, had been to Feiliu Castle (now Xia Lvcheng) more than once.

Even Xia Lvcheng, the largest city in the Thousand River Valley, was full of excrement, pigs and sheep running rampant, street stalls everywhere, and hooligans hiding around corners, ready to extort at any moment.

Having recognized the road, Horn kicked his brother-in-law's calf: "Stay close to me, don't get lost."

"Okay." Kaler, inexplicably nervous, quickly followed behind his brother-in-law, heading deeper into the market street.

Compared to the impoverished farmer Horn was three years ago, now he had shed his coarse clothes and straw shoes for a cashmere vest and a sleeved cloak.

Not only did he have a cane with a concealed dagger at his waist, but he also had an expensive pocket watch sewn into his chest pocket.

Most importantly, compared to that little fish pond owner Horn, this Horn, under a simple facade, had gained much more cunning and shrewdness.

Beside him, the young Kaler wore a knee-length jacket with thin leather armor, a belt with iron buckles at his waist, with a light short sword and a small iron round shield in its clasp.

Although the ry Court Barracks is the Holy Father's primary place, with good security, the road to the ry Court Barracks, the Glorious Road (Long Road of Blood and Sweat), is not so peaceful.

If robbed by some masked bandit, unless you're a high-ranking monk or officer, there's really not much that can be done to capture them.

This time, Grosien came to the ry Court Barracks to discuss business, so he simply brought along his brother-in-law, who used to be an Armored Soldier, for protection.

Strolling on Caishi Street, having been here several times, Grosien felt quite at ease, while Kaler was dazzled and overwhelmed.

Caishi Street is actually two streets, with three rows of stalls plus a row of shops.

The stalls have wooden frames inserted into stone pillars, covered with oilcloth tiles and thatch.

Vendors stand under the rain-snow-shielding eaves, using mops to poke at the oilcloth's edges, causing snow to cascade down with a crash.

A few children then came forward with brooms, sweeping the fallen snow to the side to pile it up, lest they get fined by the Night Watcher, or cause a customer to slip.

Looking to the left, there's a row of stalls by the river, directly behind which is a small cargo dock.

Cabbages, radishes, and cheeses from South Mangde County can flow downstream through the newly constructed canal directly into the ry Court Barracks and Joan of Arc Castle.

The few stalls by the river at the street entrance sell onions, peas, purple eggs, celery, and other vegetable seasonings.

Further ahead are the staple food stalls selling linseed oil, bean oil, wheat flour, and potato root flour.

In the middle are vendors selling cheese, butter, honey, and sugar, and further ahead you can see peat, pickles, nuts, and preserved fruits.

Kaler gazed to the right, seeing a row of two to three-story stone and brick buildings.

But regardless of their height, they all have uniform storey heights and cornice lines.

The buildings, painted white or off-white, have roofs embedded with red tiles or copper.

Rows of wide-open doors have new or second-hand clothes hanging on both sides, as well as shops selling scissors, hammers, sewing needles, or even furniture and spices.

Employees under the first-floor stairs are still sweeping snow, and from the second-floor windows made of glued broken glass, you could hear the boss and his lady fighting.

After the unification of the entire Thousand River Valley, the Pope's Palace began to burn glass with peat on riverbanks with silica sand, like in Jinhe Town.

Although they couldn't produce transparent flat glass like in White Sandlands, they could make loads of uneven colored glass in one firing.

After all, sand and peat were cheap, and there wasn't a demand for transparency, just the ability to let light through.

Currently in the ry Court Barracks, driven by Horn, most houses have been fitted with grid windows and colored glass.

Due to poor technology, the colored glass couldn't be made very large, only palm-sized, and then mounted into grid windows.

However, the shop doors facing the street, especially those of food stores, were furnished with expensive, larger-framed transparent glass.

In the hazy fog, through the glass and under orange lights, you could see customers dining amidst the rolling steam.

Holding a bowl of red and steaming purple egg noodle sauce, diners mixed black pepper sauce into minced meat, merging with the brown oily gravy.

Almost pouring it in, the sticky mess was gulped down, snapping their fingers to summon a cup of blue pulp coffee.

Wiping up the remaining oily soup with bread, the last bite of bread went into their stomach as the coffee just arrived, and they downed it in one go.

After a hearty slurp, sweating profusely and tearing a bit, customers stood up, grabbed their hats and gloves, and waved: "See you."

After greeting several familiar neighbors nearby, they hurriedly headed to the dock to catch a boat downriver towards the factory.

Through the glass, Kaler could see the enticing aroma of the fragrant bread and oily meat soup seemingly visible to the naked eye.

His stomach immediately rumbled loudly.

"Brother-in-law, we've been in the carriage for three hours, how about we eat first?" Kaler couldn't help but point to a tavern restaurant by the street.

Grosien, however, shook his head immediately: "Those brick and tile house restaurants get taxed, prices are much higher than the stalls, even though we have money now, we can't spend recklessly.

They charge you three dinars for a random bowl of soup, if you're not pained, I am.

Walk a few more steps, I'll take you to eat cheaper stall food, tastier and more affordable than those restaurants."