A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

Ede had been in a foul mood lately.

A week ago, his father had successfully brought down the most powerful earl in the England Kingdom—William FitzOsborne, the Earl of Hereford. As a result, Ede himself had been elevated from the son of a knight to the noble heir of an earl.

If all went according to plan, in twenty years, he would inherit this Earl’s Domain with the King’s blessing and become a powerful Earl of England.

But they should have gotten more.

His father was a Norman Lord, one the King distrusted. Years ago, the King had even stripped him of half his fief on some absurd pretext. Yet now, his father had single-handedly thwarted an earl’s conspiracy and protected that arrogant King’s kingdom.

In times of peace, they deserved the highest honors and rewards. At the very least, they should have received all of that detestable rebel’s property—if not all of it, then at least the majority.

In Ede’s opinion, that was far from enough.

The arrogant King also needed to apologize for his previous rash actions. He wouldn’t have to literally bow his noble head, but he should at least offer more fiefs and rewards as compensation.

And what did they get?

’Fine, his father is a Count now, a step up from the Baron he was before his fief was seized. But what about the land?’

That arrogant King was stingy and ungrateful. He fabricated the non-existent title of Count of Xialing, brazenly absorbing half of Hereford County into his own Royal Domain. His father, for all his great merit, received only half the fief.

To make matters worse, the core city of this so-called County of Xialing, Xialing City, had been granted to a Monastery under the authority of his uncle, the Bishop of Hereford.

His father couldn’t accept it, but as a nephew, Ede could forgive this part. His uncle did deserve a reward, since their success had relied on his information.

But the King should have compensated them for it. And what was the result? The arrogant King waved his hand, gave Xialing City to the Monastery, and then nonchalantly "booted" them back to Hereford.

The most shameful part was that he even sent a damned Sheriff to share his father’s judicial rights as a Lord.

Of course, what made Ede even more miserable was that he hadn’t captured Emma.

「Herefordshire, on a country road.」

Ede, riding with his household knights, was heading to a village under his father’s rule. He had heard yesterday that a serf named Gaston was leading a protest and refusing to pay taxes.

This was a temporary war tax. Prince Robert, the King’s eldest son, had already landed in England. When they left London, that arrogant King had instructed them to raise an army.

But how could his father, who had just defeated the Earl of Hereford, have enough money to maintain an army? Even if he only summoned his knights, their period of service for the year was less than two weeks away from ending. This war would definitely not be over in such a short time, which meant his father would have to pay them additional stipends.

They had been riding for a long time, and Ede was growing irritable. By the time they neared the small village, the sun was already high overhead.

The village had twenty or thirty households, surrounded by three fields of crops, which were now just harvested stubble. At the edge of one field stood three large, adjacent oak trees, with the farmhouses not far beyond.

Ede and his men drew closer, and he saw most of the villagers sitting in the shade of the trees, eating their midday meal. He spurred his horse into a trot for the last few hundred yards, his men following close behind.

They reined in their horses in front of the villagers, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The villagers scrambled to their feet, hastily swallowing their bread and squinting against the dust.

They all knew their new Lord had a bad temper. The attendants who had come to collect taxes yesterday had been quite tyrannical, tearing down the houses of several people who hadn’t paid.

He bellowed, "There are five men here who owe me tax money. Am I right?"

"Yes, my lord."

The one who answered was the village reeve, Gerbe. He was a strange-looking man, with a crooked nose and misshapen teeth.

’Ede doubted the fellow could even close his mouth properly.’

"Who owes the most?"

"It’s Gaston. But while he hasn’t paid, there’s a reason. He mainly raises cattle, and this year his calf had an accident..."

Ede cut him off and addressed the crowd. "Which one of you is Gaston?"

A tall, strong man of about forty stepped forward.

"Why haven’t you paid my tax?"

"My lord, I only have a small plot of land. My sons have gone to work in town, so I have no one to help me. I have to look after my cattle by myself, but this year my calf was—"

"Wait a minute," Ede said. "Where did your sons go?"

"To King’s Bridge, my lord. To work on the new Cathedral there. They want to get married, you know how it is with young men. My land can’t support three families."

"Your land is enough to support one family, yet you still haven’t paid the tax."

Ede made a mental note of the young men going to work on the King’s Bridge Cathedral, deciding to deal with that matter later.

"Miss Emma promised me I could pay the tax at the Midsummer Festival. It was to be two calves."

"That is a separate matter. I can consider that tax paid. But yesterday’s tax is something else." Hearing Emma’s name made Ede even more agitated.

"Spring hasn’t even arrived. It’s unreasonable to add a tax..."

"Others can pay, so why can’t you? Don’t give me excuses." Ede’s temper flared.

But Gaston didn’t seem to notice Ede’s irritation. He started going on about his cattle again, ignoring the vicious glare Ede shot him.

’Great. It was one thing for the King to ignore them, but now even the serfs were starting to show contempt.’

"Gilbert, Yulier, hold this peasant down. Don’t let him move."

Ede waved calmly to the two knights behind him.

Gaston was still jabbering on.

The two knights dismounted and walked toward him.

His story about the calf was useless. The two knights seized him by the arms.

His face went white with fear.

In the same calm voice, Ede addressed another knight, "Did you bring your Chain Armor Gloves?"

"I did, my lord."

"Put them on. Teach him a lesson. But don’t kill him; I want him to be able to talk."

"As you command, my lord."

The knight took a pair of leather gloves with metal guards from his saddlebag. Fine chain armor covered them up to the knuckles and the backs of the fingers. He calmly put them on. All the villagers stared in fear, and Gaston began to moan in terror.

The knight walked up to Gaston and punched him in the stomach. The Chain Armor Glove made the blow land with a sickeningly loud THUD.

Gaston doubled over, unable to cry out. Gilbert and Hugh pulled him upright, and the knight punched him in the face again. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth.

The crowd of onlookers flinched, but no one dared to step forward and intervene.

A woman in the crowd, likely his wife, screamed and threw herself before the knight, begging, "Stop! Spare him! Don’t kill him!"

But it was no use. Soon, the entire Chain Armor Glove was soaked in blood. Ede intended to teach them a harsh lesson.

One of the attendants standing nearby couldn’t bear to watch and looked away.

"You think they’re pitiful, don’t you? That they’re innocent, and I’m cruel?"

Ede looked at the attendant.

"I..."

"Let me tell you, they’re not the least bit deserving of pity. What do you take these villagers for? Simple, good people, starving and forced to sell themselves? What a joke! They’re the most cunning people you’ll ever meet!

Ask for taxes, they say they can’t pay. Ask for wheat, they say they have none. They pretend to be destitute and shamelessly beg their lord for charity.

But the truth? They have everything. Pry up their floorboards, and you’ll find wheat, ale, bread, all of it.

Go look in the deep mountain valleys; there are bound to be hidden wheat fields. They look honest on the surface, but they’re the biggest liars. They lie about everything.

When a battle breaks out, they go kill the wounded soldiers and loot their weapons. They are stingy, cunning, cowardly, wicked, and stupid. To think they’re pitiful... that’s hilarious!"

The attendant didn’t dare to speak, and neither did any of the villagers.

"Then who was it that made them this way?"

A young man dressed as a Monk, a few years older than him, approached from a distance.

Ede recognized him. It was Philip, his uncle’s subordinate, the Vice Abbot of King’s Bridge Monastery.

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