Warhammer: I, Bartor Farmer

Chapter 37 The Last Order

Roel was enduring a headache and counting his weapons, why did he drink so much?
He complained in his heart about his recklessness and stupidity, but when the atmosphere came, even smart people would become fools, let alone this Bretonnia.

At this moment, the village is full of wine bottles, and the smell of alcohol fills the air and everyone. This is the hometown of alcoholics, Boldero.

But compared to this, what gave Roel a headache was his own bomb. There were still 57 rounds of lead bullets, so it was not a big problem, and there were still two pots of gunpowder, which was enough for shooting.

But the last attack left him with only two bombs.

Saltpeter, charcoal, sulphur, the troika that drives Roel is about to stop, this is not possible, he rides on the mule, and tells Alymara not to make his own lunch, and then he will go to Boulder Ro.

And I haven't seen my own parents for a long time, so I have to take a look.

When the autumn wind on the path sprayed on Roel's face, a lot of alcohol was gone, and the mule was pattering on the road, stepping on mud or other things.

He was wearing a sackcloth, a hood, a pitchfork and a cloth-covered rifle on his back. At some point, people on the side of the road would take off their hats and bow to him when they saw him.

When he came all the way to Bordereau, a large number of peasants followed him like a pilgrim.

They all came here voluntarily. The news of Roel's defeat of the Beastmen and the news of leading away the Chaos Egg spread throughout Bordeaux. Everyone felt that the young man in front of him was extremely honorable.

Even the guards who usually don't give good looks to outsiders will let Roel enter the city directly now, and the consul of the patrol team on the street will respectfully call him Mr. Roel.

And Roel is not a really noble person, he just wants to know now, is there a discount on the things he buys?

Roel got rid of most of the farmers through a small alley, then dismounted from his mule to hide among the crowd, and approached the blacksmith shop.

He is not familiar with Bordello's alley, but today it really opened his eyes. The houses in the alley are dilapidated and old, because they are like facade houses, and no one will take care of them. What are they doing? Both.

Gambling, teaching people to steal, and selling hallucinogens (poisonous mushrooms), the few black industries in Bordeaux are all gathered in this narrow place that can only be entered by dismounting. It seems that it is because even the consuls are also nobles. They must ride horses.

Bretonnia's special aristocratic sentiments have led to a rather blatant criminal industry here, but for the nobles, is it important to maintain order where the horseshoe can step?
When Roel finally crossed several fireworks and willow alleys and came to the blacksmith shop, the usual bustle was changed here, and there was no sound of blacksmithing or noisy guests.

He looked around uncomfortably, and shouted several times. "Uncle Blacksmith, Uncle Blacksmith!"

Only then did the old man come out of the house holding on to his goggles. "What! I'm out of business!"

Roel was a little puzzled. "The Holy Grail Festival is coming in a week, and you actually went out of business?"

"It's the beginning of next month!"

This is equivalent to closing the door on the best day. Many people will come to order weapons during the Holy Grail Festival. Even if they don't work, they have to find someone to record the blacksmithing needs.

The old blacksmith rubbed his distilled nose and cursed like an old goblin. "My unworthy descendants don't see him willing to forge iron. I'm seventy this year. In the future, this shop will be turned into a tavern. I've thought about it for a long time."

Roel sighed a little, finally found a good blacksmith shop...

He wanted to switch to other shops, but suddenly noticed that the blacksmith said he wanted to open a shop.

"Oh, then do you have special dishes? Just baked snails at Manyue Tavern, roasted garlic at Hall Tavern, and dead fish stuck on steaks at Nobody Eats Tavern."

The old man shook his head. "No, no, it's still under development!"

Roel immediately grasped the point, walked into the old man's house, and then frowned...

The old man was startled by his sudden entry, and said quickly. "Don't, don't, it's messy inside!"

Facts have proved that there is indeed a mess, the leftovers of modeling and hammers, pliers, oil stains, and a bed of explosive bedding are all over the floor.

Mr. Blacksmith blushed badly and cursed. "What the hell are you trying to do?!"

Roel endured his nausea, took out the pots and pans, and the ingredients in his hands, and then he used his expertise to stew randomly.

The point is not to stew randomly, but that Bretonnia's deodorization technology is still at a very primitive level of throwing spices into the pot.

Although Bretonnia's high-end cuisine is also very delicious, it is still based on pickling and grilling. How to ensure that the cost of spices does not explode and there is no peculiar smell is very difficult in Bretonnia.

But Roel was different, he quickly showed the blacksmith a wave of cutting-edge cooking technology called Aurora.

Boiled water.

That’s right, this very basic operation is rare in Bretonnia. Even if there is a similar one, boil the spices into the meat and then roast it. Cut the meat into small pieces and boil the blood. It seems stupid based on the Bretonnian cuisine. .

Because the fuel is very expensive, increasing the cooking time means increasing the cooking cost, and the rough treatment will definitely not have a good effect, making the Bretonnians more fond of spices, pickling, and beating, which takes a long time and wastes manpower.

And Roel actually took out the sour fruit on the side of the road, something that is not available in the halls in Bretonnia, and sprinkled it on the meat to "remove the fishy smell".

The old blacksmith watched him cook, and his blood pressure was high...

But before he had any seizures, a piece of freshly cooked meat was sprinkled with salt and handed over. The old blacksmith picked it up dubiously, chewed it...

Then his eyes lit up.

"Quick...continue cooking..." His mouth was still chewing, and Roel understood it, and immediately added seasonings, thickeners such as bread crumbs, and a bowl of thick soup was ready.

The old blacksmith couldn't close his mouth from ear to ear, and then immediately shouted to Roel. "teach me!"

Roel was happy in his heart. Not only did he have a meal for nothing, but he also owed a favor.

He said. "Give me the shell I had before, and the materials, 15 pieces, and 200 lead bullets, and I will teach you how to do it after delivery."

(End of this chapter)