British hegemon

Chapter 39 I'm not going.

Looking around carefully, there were indeed many traces of man-made ditches and ponds on the gentle beach, but most of them were erased by the undulating seawater.

Next to the salt-making workshop was a pit, which was probably used to store the brine that had been dried.

The sun was at its strongest at this time, and Roger didn't want to be exposed to the sun. He pointed to the low, enclosed stone house and said, "Ponytail, go and break the lock on the stone house. Lock those three prisoners in there in a bit."

The woman with the ponytail pulled out an axe from her waist and was about to smash the lock.

"Young master, don't smash it! That lock can't be locked at all. I'll go get it down." The young stable boy quickly came up to stop him.

Roger nodded. "Ponytail, go to the ship and have Baldy and the others take the prisoners down. Also, take down all the oil lamps, blankets, and other things from the ship."

"Young horseman, go and tidy up that thatched hut again later. We'll all stay there tonight." Roger took a liking to the outermost thatched hut, which offered a 360-degree panoramic view of the sea. Inside, there was only a long table made of wooden planks and a bench made of a few wooden stakes.

The two responded and went about their business. Roger walked to the most spacious thatched shed in the middle and curiously looked around at the salt-making workshop.

Several simple earthen stoves were arranged in the long thatched shed. The iron pots had been removed, and the edges of the stoves and the ground around them were covered with a layer of brownish-yellow salt stains. Even the straw mats were covered with salt crystals.

In his past life, many coastal fishermen liked to use traditional methods to boil salt and preserve their catch, so Roger had seen those small salt-boiling workshops in the small fishing villages along the coast when he was a child.

The process wasn't complicated; those workshops also had processes for refining coarse salt, which Roger knew a little about.

However, Roger had no intention of launching any major initiatives like a salt industry revolution at this time. He chose this isolated island simply to find a quiet place to stand for the time being.

Now that he suddenly has money and a ship, he is already planning how to gather a group of unburdened warriors to sail south with him and return to that distant land.

However, given the current state of navigation technology, it seemed impossible to send Roger back to that distant East.

Moreover, "It's probably the 14th century now, almost two hundred years since the Northern Song Dynasty fell, and the Southern Song Dynasty seems to be..."

Roger slammed his fist into a wooden pillar of the thatched hut. "Damn it! We're doomed. Now it's Mongol rule. If we go back, we'll be fourth-class citizens. Uh, I guess I should be considered a Semu person?"

Although being transported to Scotland, such a poor and backward place, was a complete disaster from the start.

But this chaotic world is also quite suitable for a desperate person like myself.

Well, he's only been here a short time, but with his reckless attitude, he's managed to buy himself some chance to survive.

If all else fails, why not go back to our old ways of smuggling? A living person can't be killed by holding their pee, can they?

"It's fine here. I can marry a big-breasted, brainless idiot and live a carefree life as a rich man," Roger thought to himself, a rare smile appearing on his face.

…………

Day two.

In the clean and tidy living room on the first floor of the Milk House Manor, Roger, leaning back in a recliner, held a delicious "Jingzhen" beer in his right hand, comfortably dispelling the summer heat.

Louis, a boy of only fourteen, sat on a low stool next to the chair. He was the most honest and dutiful son of Knight Colin, but he was also very intelligent and good at learning. He was now studying Latin and theology at Brodick Church.

Roger had a very good impression of his adopted younger brother. Last month, when he was seriously injured and bedridden, besides his adoptive mother, it was this younger brother who would occasionally come up to the attic to visit him.

"...Those are all lowly people, how can you hang out with them all day long? Your father and uncle are coming back soon, and you've caused such a big mess this time, who knows what kind of severe punishment you'll receive. You should stay in the manor obediently."

"I heard you've also captured a few pirates and are holding them on Holly Island. Hurry up and send them to Brodick Castle. Those pirates are no good; what if they hurt you again?"

"God, my son, please give me some peace of mind. Your brother is about to officially become a knight and marry..."

After downing a beer, Roger seemed to block out all the endless nagging from his adoptive mother. He picked up the earthenware jar that had been chilling in the well water all morning, filled his glass, and quietly handed it to Louis beside him.

Louis took the beer, swallowed hard, but his eyes darted toward the woman across from him.

"Roger, are you even listening to me?" The stepmother's tone was already tinged with anger.

Roger urged the boy next to him to down the entire glass of beer, then, with a smirk, asked his adoptive mother, "What did you just say?"

The stepmother looked displeased. "I said that after your brother gets married, I'll find you a noblewoman to marry right away. With a woman keeping an eye on you, you won't be able to misbehave all the time."

Roger had many women in his past life, but he never thought about getting married. Naturally, he didn't want to be tied down in this life either. He waved his hand and said, "There are plenty of women out there. I don't need them."

Roger finished speaking and was about to leave. His main purpose in returning this time was to bring the captured weapons and armor from the ship back to the manor for the blacksmith and tailor to try to repair, and also to check on Black Dog's injuries.

That thug was quite resilient, and his vital signs had basically stabilized.

The stepmother stopped her, "You just got back, what are you up to now?"

"I'm going to the kitchen. The bread the fat cook brought over yesterday was delicious, and the guys all said it was really good. I'll take some more to Holly Island."

The stepmother was furious. "You still want to go to that deserted island and mingle with those lowly people?"

Roger was also somewhat displeased upon hearing this, and replied, "Mother, it is only because you regard me as the second son of a nobleman that I am regarded as such. In the eyes of outsiders, my reputation is perhaps not even as good as that of those commoners."

"If it weren't for the help of those lowly people, your son would have been torn to pieces by the pirates long ago."

After saying that, Roger bypassed his adoptive mother and went straight to the kitchen in the backyard, completely ignoring the crying and wailing in the living room.

He went into the kitchen, instructed the plump cook to prepare a large bag of fermented bread and a basket of fruits, vegetables and cheese, then called the young stableman Igor and asked him to go back to the attic bedroom to fetch a blanket and a few pieces of underwear. He then led the young stableman out of the manor with the large and small bags of things.

"Roger, please don't cause any more trouble, your father and the others will be back soon..." came the sobbing cries of the adoptive mother from the mansion.

"It's best not to come back," Roger muttered to himself, quickening his pace as he headed towards the eastern coast of the manor.

There was a small rowboat rented from Ramlash village moored there.

Young Master Roger is now a wealthy man and is quite generous, so the fishermen are happy to rent out their idle fishing boats to him.

............