Spring Twelfth Section

  He held the blade of his sword to Woodlow's neck, where a large artery was particularly vulnerable. With just a slight pull of the sharp blade, Woodlow would be splattered with blood, but this young knight-to-be did not show any fearful expression on his face, as if what was placed on his neck was not an iron sword, but only a scarf given to him by a lover.

  "This move is not bad, I've long heard that the Wendel family is a historical knightly family, and today I get to see such exquisite swordsmanship, it's truly worth dying for." Woodrow praised sincerely, while others were tense with their mouths agape. Although it was just a spar, any injury or death in a martial contest was considered legitimate. Robert's lips had already turned blue, Woodrow was the most powerful knight in his own family, if he died here, it would be a heavy blow to his family, this outcome made him regretful.

  "Your skill is quite exquisite, this dual sword technique is something I couldn't master." Yves smiled as he removed the sword from Woodrow's neck and sheathed it in his own scabbard, signaling goodwill. The surrounding people let out a sigh of relief and applauded for the courtesy between the two knights, today's duel would surely spread through word of mouth far and wide.

  "Thank you, Lord If. As the price of sparing my life, please accept this sword, crafted by skilled artisans from Milan." Woodrow held out the long sword in both hands, offering it to If as his ransom. If politely accepted the sword and then looked at Arwold. At first, Arwold didn't understand what was happening, but then If surprisingly handed the balanced long sword over to him. Although his attitude remained haughty, it was clear that he hoped Arwold would inherit the family's brave tradition.

  "I propose a toast to the brilliant joust of our two brave knights!" Hof. Hannes, the Abbot, was overjoyed, his mouth still agape as he stood up and drained his cup in one gulp, the inferior malt beer tasting like fine Burgundy wine on his palate. The crowd responded with thunderous applause, and the banquet became even more lively, while some monks gathered around Eva's ceramics, admiring them with connoisseurship, apparently experts in managing vessels within the monastery.

  "Your Eminence, this is your young nephew, my second son Arved." Lord Windel introduced as he gestured for Arved to step forward.

  "Oh?" Hof. Hannis, the abbot of the monastery, looked at Arvid in front of him with a slightly shy expression, which was in stark contrast to the rough and burly Yves, and his eyes were filled with doubt, as if asking if this was really a member of the Wind family?

  "Arvid may not have your husband's bravery, but the boy has a gift that no one else can match. Arvid, show your uncle what you can do." Sir Wendel was full of confidence in Arvid and gestured with his right hand, but Abbot Hannes seemed to not understand, so Sir Wendel looked at Arvid and said.

  Arvid looked at Hof with some tension. Abbot Hannes, the abbot of this region with a very high reputation, even without speaking, carried the dignity of a superior, Arvid had never dealt with leaders in his previous life, and now he felt more pressure, but at this moment he saw Mrs. Eva's concerned gaze, as well as Sir Wendel's expectant eyes, and even Eif, who was chatting and drinking with Woodrow, seemed to be looking over here, Arvid suddenly had an idea.

  "Respected Uncle Abbot of Saint-Fran?ois, I have a small invention that can bring convenience to your transportation." Armand, following the noble etiquette his mother, Lady Eva, had carefully taught him, bowed and placed his right hand on his heart.

  "Hmm?" Hoff. Hannes leaned back comfortably, gently swirling the wine in his glass as he regarded his young nephew with an amused gaze, knowing that the Windel family produced knights by the dozen, but an inventor was a new and exotic species.

  "Yes, venerable Abbot." Arvad slowed down, he swallowed and moistened his dry throat, then continued, "Your carriage, sir."

  "What's wrong with my carriage?" Hof. Hannis, the abbot of the monastery, felt a bit puzzled, as carriages were very common in this era and anyone with some status would own one. But to Ardo from the 21st century, their carriages were truly crude and rickety, just a wooden frame mounted on four wooden wheels that weren't even Chinese-style wheels with spokes, but rather a solid piece of wood polished into shape, which brought the greatest discomfort to passengers on the already muddy roads.

  "I can make your carriage more comfortable," Arved suggested to Hofmann.

  "What would you do?" This made Hoffmann Hannes somewhat curious, as a noble-born person, although he couldn't advocate for hedonism due to his status, who would intentionally seek suffering? In this era that hadn't yet undergone the later religious reforms, the indulgence of religious figures even surpassed that of secular nobles.

  "It's this thing, I just need to add this little something to your carriage." Arrod pulled out a small spring from his own bosom, the material of which was an iron wire he had picked up in the family armory, possibly a fallen part of some armor or weapon. He had originally intended to use it on another weapon, such as a repeating crossbow, but now he was diverting it for this purpose.

  "What's the use of this?" Hof. Hannes took the small spring made by Arwed in his hand, pinched it with his thumb and index finger, and when he released it, the ordinary iron wire would rebound. What could be the use of such a thing?

  "If many of these springs were installed under the seats of a carriage, it would reduce the shock felt by people inside, and those sitting inside would not feel the pain of the journey." Arvad explained to Hoffmannis.

  "Sit on this?" Hoff. Hannes looked at the small spring in his hand, he didn't understand how he could sit on it? But the faint pain in his buttocks made him think that if it really worked, he wouldn't have to complain about the journey anymore.

  "Hoff. Hannes, uncle, if you permit me, I can install this comfortable little gadget on your carriage." Arwed bowed to Hoff. Hannes once more and suggested.

  "Alright, my ingenious nephew, I agree to your proposal for modifying my carriage." Whatever the case may be, Hof. Hannes would not sweep aside Sir Wendel's face, even if it was an outlandish idea, but since it was a suggestion from a scion of the Wendel family, agreeing to it was harmless.

  "Thank you, sir." Arwade was delighted that his suggestion had been accepted by a big shot. He understood that his task was now complete and retreated into the crowd at the banquet.

  When the banquet ended, it was already dawn. In the hall, except for a few drunkards who were unconscious, others had been arranged in their rooms. Of course, that was for guests with relatively noble status. Ordinary guests and servants would be arranged in stables or thatched cottages where servants lived.

  The next morning, Arwed brought some springs made of iron wire provided by Abbot Hannes and his servants to dismantle the seats on the carriage, then fixed these springs one by one with iron nails under the bottom panel, covered the top panel for people to sit on, and nailed wooden boards around. Arwed looked at his work and still felt not very satisfied, if thick woolen cloth was installed on this hard board, it would be more comfortable, but this should be enough for these medieval nobles to enjoy.

  "My goodness, this is great!" Hoffmannis sat in the carriage, rattling along a country path, the springs reducing the shock of the horse's hooves to a minimum. It was like sitting on a rack before, which was also why Hoffmannis didn't like to go far from home. But now it was pure pleasure, and he couldn't help but exclaim with joy as he returned to the manor house, his face beaming with delight.

  "Are you quite satisfied?" Sir Wendel asked with some concern, but seeing the Abbot's smile, he put his mind at ease.

  "Satisfied?" Hof. Hannes, the abbot of the monastery, looked at the gentleman strangely and then suddenly hugged his dear one tightly and said loudly, "The word 'satisfied' can't describe my mood at this moment, your son is simply a master-level figure."

  "Is it? Your satisfaction is our greatest expectation," said Sir Wendel modestly.

  The Wendel family's reception by Abbot Hannes was fitting, as the abbot had made preparations for a blessing for the departing nobles and soldiers. Some precious ritual vessels were even prepared by the abbot himself. As the men of the Wendel family and the summoned soldiers knelt before the altar, expensive frankincense burned in censers that swung back and forth, while solemn monks surrounded them, chanting softly. Abbot Hannes, dressed in ceremonial attire, sprinkled holy water over the crowd. The peasants were deeply moved by this scene, convinced that they had received a blessing from God, and even if they died on the battlefield, their souls would ascend to heaven, forever enjoying heavenly bliss. This was also the effect that Sir Wendel had striven for with all his might, and a satisfied smile spread across his face.

  "Hmm~~~." But, at this seemingly perfect moment, a man's mouth corner revealed disgust and hatred, his gaze venomously staring at Hof on the altar. Hannes, the abbot of the monastery, had his hands in his sleeves trembling slightly.