When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist-Chapter 648 - 608: All-in is a kind of wisdom, lend me another spinning car!

"Knock, knock!"

In the cold night, a continuous and muffled knocking sound rang out, and the young girl who was fiddling with the spinning wheel inside the house raised her head. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

The spinning wheel that had been turning instantly stopped, a thin and strong wool thread hanging on it.

Putting down the wooden emblem of the Scythe Brotherhood, Lalor sprang up and suspiciously looked towards the door.

Who would be knocking at the door this late? Could it be that something happened to a member of the Scythe Brotherhood?

The Scythe Brotherhood, the mutual aid organization Ansel established tonight.

Since they were an organization formed for the harvest, they received majority recognition through a vote.

"Papa?"

Lalor gently patted his daughter's head reassuringly: "Stay in the house, keep spinning, don't come out."

The frail girl nodded: "Okay."

Putting on a cloak, Lalor opened the door and walked into the small courtyard, and as soon as he opened the timber door, he smelled a waft of alcohol.

Lalor's eyes wandered for a moment, but he soon came back to reality: "Cousin Laver?"

The one entering was not a member of the Scythe Brotherhood but Lalor's neighbor and cousin, Old Laver, who also had a son, Little Laver.

The Imperial People name similarly, with the same names passed down even among kings, often reaching the ninth or even more generations.

Old Laver, with a reddened nose, chuckled: "Went to choose the wolf hunting team at Henderson's estate today, why didn't you come?

Henderson was generous today, treating each of us to two mugs of beer and some pine nut wine."

"I went to the church, after all, I'm poor at archery, not much chance." Lalor smiled bitterly as he pulled his cousin to sit in the courtyard, "Did you make it?"

"Of course, not just me, my son, Little Laver, who just came of age this year, made it too." Old Laver proudly patted his chest.

"Don't worry, if something happens while you two are gone, sister-in-law can come find me," Lalor congratulated with an ongoing smile.

After all, among these mountain folks, there's a bit of a rough nature; what if someone drinks too much and harasses his wife while Old Laver is away?

Or if a hungry wolf sneaks into the village in the fall and snaps away Old Laver's newborn child.

Old Laver naturally hugged Lalor with a laugh: "Come over and have a drink when I get back."

Seemingly recalling something, Lalor tentatively asked: "Have you heard about Brother Ansel's wool processing business?"

"Nonsense!" Old Laver sat heavily on the stool and burped as he was in full swing of conversation, "Oh, they give you wool, you spin it into yarn, and they pay to buy it, is there such a good deal?"

"But I've already taken the wool, Rasha is already spinning."

Old Laver was stunned for two or three seconds before widening his eyes, he stepped forward and grabbed the back of Lalor's neck: "You're serious? I thought you'd take the free wool and come back?"

Lalor was initially a bit flustered, but then resolved: "I trust Brother Ansel."

"That Scythe Brotherhood, you joined?"

"Yes."

"Signed and fingerprinted?"

"Yes."

"Took the wool home?"

"Three pounds of wool."

"Have you been possessed by a devil? How long have you known that Ansel?" Old Laver tried to persuade earnestly.

Lalor still shook his head: "Brother Ansel is a good person."

Although Old Laver might not believe it, Lalor thought this monk was different from the previous priests.

Though he was a high and mighty monk, he never spoke with his eyes upturned.

Rather than the lofty term "believer," he preferred to use "coreligionist."

Moreover, the raw materials are provided by Ansel, and he helps with purchasing and selling, just a few days of labor in exchange.

Besides, Lalor has an inexplicable certainty, thinking maybe this time it could work.

Besides, he's already at rock bottom, there's only one way to go—up.

He's gambling it all, going all in.

At worst, he'll marry off his daughter to Little Laver and go down the mountain as a mercenary with his bow.

As Lalor's cousin, Old Laver continued to advise, he couldn't just watch his cousin fall into the abyss.

He saw clearly that the Scythe Brotherhood was a Hundred Households District, so-called enrolling in the club, was simply a population survey.

The Knight already couldn't manage matters; estate affairs were discussed by the Armed Farmers and Public Register Farmers themselves.

Once perpetual tenancy is implemented, isn't that finding oneself a master?

Even before perpetual tenancy, they're already conducting a population survey, that's the most fatal thing.

That Henderson estate said, once your name is registered, good, then the church will come for the Head Tax, it's not worth it.

He just didn't know what kind of spell that monk cast on his cousin, that he defended him so.

"What's so good about it?" Old Laver was so anxious that he sobered up, "That Ansel is clearly a learned man, the more they read, the more treacherous they are."

Bombarded by Old Laver's advice, Lalor was helpless: "Cousin, listen to me..."

"No, you listen to me first." Old Laver grabbed his sleeve, "You think you'll get money for the wool? Don't those smart people have enough tricks to bleed us dry?

When you submit the yarn, he'll pick on this and that, and in the end, it won't even cover the cost."

"There's no cost..."

"Don't you still have eating expenses? Why not go gather more firewood on the wasteland or repair your house?" Old Laver disdainfully evaluated.

"Our Scythe Brotherhood members will help each other fix it." Lalor quickly explained.

"That's not the point, you've confused me." Old Laver heavily pounded his alcohol-addled head, "Smart ones don't do losing trades, you're joining the brotherhood for a bit of money—it's not even money, a chance to earn money.

In the end, they will get back double through the Head Tax..."

This time, Lalor directly interrupted Old Laver: "Cousin, don't say more, I've made up my mind."

"What have you decided? Alas, you..." Seeing the resolute look in Lalor's eyes, Old Laver couldn't help but shake his head, "It's hard to persuade a ghost seeking death with good words."

If not for leaving tomorrow to hunt wolves, he might have spoken with his cousin all night, hoping to pull his name out of the Scythe Brotherhood before things settled.

"Alas, just wait, tomorrow your sister-in-law will come to talk to you." Old Laver sighed and turned to leave.

But Lalor stopped him.

"What's the matter?" Red-nosed, Old Laver burped and asked, turning around.

Lalor pulled out a jar from the cabinet and dug out half a piece of salt.

Packaged in a palm-sized small hemp bag, he handed it to Old Laver: "Since you're not doing this work, the spinning wheel is idle, so why not lend it to me for a few days?"

Old Laver blinked: "Why do you need another spinning wheel if you only have one daughter spinning?"

Lalor embarrassedly lowered his head: "Their mother passed away too early, I learned a little to make clothes for them."

Old Laver looked at Lalor with a peculiar expression, in the mountain folks' world, men weaving was something only sissies and cowards did.

Couldn't imagine that this cousin actually learned to weave?

But that wasn't his concern now; he continued advising.

"Take this salt back; it's worth at least a quarter Dinar."

"Cousin, this salt is my reward for helping him push his cart, it doesn't pain me to give it away." Lalor insisted, "Just lend it to me for ten days."

Lalor forcibly stuffed the sack of salt into Old Laver's hand.

Old Laver let out a long sigh, wanting to say something, but then closed his mouth, weighing the salt in his hand: "Alright, alright, I'll have my son bring the spinning wheel over later.

You wait, three days later when I return from hunting wolves, then we'll talk, and you'll see how wise my words are."