Chapter 2322 - 1641: Europe on the Tip of the Tongue_2

Priest Adin looked at the wheat and imagined a manor with windmill grinding stones in his mind. Without a windmill or grinding stones, how can it be called a manor? Hmm, the design of the windmill isn't difficult for him, but obtaining various wood and iron fittings might be challenging. Given the current state of primitive production on Cuba Island... Perhaps the main area of the Kingdom of the Lake to the west, the wealthy "civilized" place where the Devil's Apostle resides, could provide what's needed?

At this moment, Priest Adin still harbored distant fantasies about the productivity of the Mexican Plateau. This was the result of the Tomate Chief Priest and the Cat Owl Chief Priest intentionally not telling him. As he looked around the wheat fields, he also saw barley and clover fields. These were specifically planted for rearing horses, sown quite casually, just tossed wherever there was open ground. Even when weeds competed with them, barley and clover didn't lose out like the fragile wheat!

"The barley and clover fields, this lush expanse, suggests that the number of horses the Castilians originally brought to the island was not small! Alas! The warriors of the Kingdom were too ruthless, they initially went on a rampage and killed all those horses, leaving only these five alive..."

Priest Adin muttered as if considering those slaughtered warhorses as part of the island's wealth. Kepili grinned without answering. If it were him, he'd also have killed the horses at first sight, sending them to the grassland barbarians! Such four-legged riding beasts were too dangerous, even the warriors of the Kingdom were startled by them!

"May the Chief Divine bless me! Let me see what vegetables they have brought that can make it to the dining table, to eat something good..."

"Hmm, looking across the field, the green arrows are onions (cebolla), lined up in two rows! This versatile thing can be added to any dish. Beneath the soil, it's white, quietly swelling as it grows, easy to plant and hardy to maintain!"

"Hm! Are those pointed seedlings garlic (ajo) below? The Demon bears witness! This is a Priest and a ship doctor's favorite! Besides flavoring food, its main use is as a talisman against the Plague. Indeed, the Castilians would certainly plant this, likely even planted personally by the Priest, thereby making the holy power strongest! When harvested, the Priests will hang garlic bunches in the kitchen, granary, and infirmary, and the sailors string them into exorcism necklaces and ornaments... Of course, compared to the great magical power of Huitzilopo, these little trinkets are nothing! Maybe we can get some to cure Samurai with Pox?"

Gazing at the garlic that wards off evil and Plague, Priest Adin glanced at Warrior Captain Kepili, his mind swirling with ideas. But soon, he spotted truly "delicious" vegetables, also the most commonly consumed dishes in Shenluo from Europe.

"Almighty... oh! Chief Divine! It's turnips and green peas! Look at these white-purple turnip tubers, growing so fat in the damp soil! Those black pigs, smelling them, must be crazed with craving! I've eaten these since childhood... Hmm! The green peas have white flowers, climbing all over the trellises, with many pods already formed. Yet no one has harvested them, so the pods have shriveled and split, letting the peas fall. Green peas are tasty too, especially when stewed alongside pork!"

As Priest Adin spoke, he was already thinking about that gamy, robust black pork. At this time in Europe, pigs were not castrated, and in the always heavy-flavored Shenluo, many loved that pungent scent that reached the soul, melded with the aromatic lard! This was the miracle bestowed by the Almighty and the most distinguishing taste between Star Moon Heresy, Jewish Heresy, and Catholic Beliefs. As for the unsophisticated Castilians, their culinary taste was actually similar to Shenluo's states, also favoring this robust dish.

"Oh! And carrots! The orange-red roots, short and stout! This one's easy to plant and hardy as well and pairs well in pork stews! Best if I can find some spices too, let me look... ah! There they are!"

Priest Adin looked around left and right for a while before suddenly widening his eyes in delight and ran to a corner. There, a small enclosure significantly marked good stuff planted there, yes, good stuff used as spices in Europe.

"Dill (eneldo), parsley (perejil)! These are perfect condiments for soups, pickling meat, or herbal concoctions! Just as we have Priests aboard this time; otherwise, ordinary strong men might not know how to plant these 'spices'..."

Priest Adin muttered as if not entirely returning to reason from last night's frenzy. Perhaps, after conducting the "bloody ceremony of the Demon" in his heart, past rationalities faded with blood and belief, gradually transforming into "Demon followers" in his heart, no longer concealing various passionate desires. A personal benchmark for faith could mysteriously prompt genuine change in oneself.

Thereafter, driven by such peculiar force, Priest Adin finally saw a crop with the most religious significance in the Catholic World. Both belief in the Almighty and belief in the Demon, both Jewish culture, and Catholic culture cannot be separated from this most symbolic "Blood of the Divine Son," the grape!

Undoubtedly, these were grape cuttings carefully brought and grafted by Castilian colonizers from the La Mancha vineyards. Placed on the farm's rear, more arid, wind-protected hills, Castilian monks and farmers had propped them up using wooden stakes and hemp ropes. They once hoped that two to three years later, they could press the island's first barrel of blood-colored sacramental wine. Subsequently, a wine-sharing mass would mark the spread of the Lord's gospel in East India!

However, all these hopes, all these ambitious religious desires died along with the Kingdom's assault and invasion, with the fallen veterans and colonist strong men, vanishing into ashes on this Great Island. Only a few grapevines remained, lonely yet tenaciously clinging to the gravel slope, growing sparse leaves. Affected by the island's humid air, many grapes had already perished. Even these few survivors' leaves grew and decayed in the moist, hot air. Without careful care, they wouldn't last long before disappearing for good.

"Oh no! The grapes! These grapes must be carefully tended to, a specialist grape grower is needed to plant them! This tropical island's climate is both hot and wet; planting grapes is a considerable challenge! Let me think, seems there's no one among the mercenaries who can grow grapes... hmm? Columbus's brother-in-law, didn't he run a vineyard before?"

Gently caressing the grape leaves with a pang of heartache, Priest Adin quickly thought of someone who could grow grapes. He glanced again at Kepili, still pondering in his heart.

"It's best to bring that fellow here! To plant grapes right on this Brave Island... No, that guy seems to be managing Cuba's saltpeter fields, and likely can't leave easily. Then we'll have to send the grapes over to him for cultivation! Definitely an opportunity for him. Growing excellent grapes and producing wine, that's truly a wonderful thing!"

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the palm trees, the roaring sea breeze swept over the bountiful North Port of San Juan Island. As final tallies of all the loot were completed, busy figures finally reappeared amidst these fields and "pastures." The mercenaries were the busy core, while Priest Adin was the rightful overseer. As for the remaining 130 Kingdom's Warriors and grassland barbarians, they made use of the time to enjoy good food and drink, nurturing their bodies in preparation for the final test of survival and death.

And ten days later, the mercenaries were still the busy core, and Priest Adin remained the rightful overseer. As for the remaining 130 Kingdom's Warriors and grassland barbarians, they continued indulging in good food and drink, nurturing their bodies for that final test of survival and death. The wind blew over the bountiful North Port of San Juan Island

The Castilians turned the soil with oxbone hoes, coarse fingers dropping wheat seeds one by one into shallow furrows