novelAbuy #126 - You also
#126 - You also
Chapter 126: So You Too…
"You see, this is Lower Horse Slope. It's called that because the terrain here used to be very steep, and you could easily fall if you didn't dismount."
"Ten miles ahead is Jeanne d'Arc Fortress, and beyond that is Gray Furnace Town. I need to lie low for a while."
Along the way, Harken chatted cheerfully. Gramp told Horn that he had never met a dwarf who could talk so much.
On the road surrounded by farmland and hills, a long black dragon slowly moved forward, attracting the curious gazes of many tenant farmers and laborers working in the fields.
The foremen's whips and curses followed.
The ground was covered with golden autumn leaves, swaying gently in the breeze, scattering like gold coins on the ground.
To Horn's left were still mountains, but to his right, it had already turned into a seemingly endless plain. Only in the misty distance could he see the faint shadows of green hills.
After a day of walking, at noon on November 2nd, Horn finally arrived at the designated location.
The long, dragon-like Papal State convoy was stationed by the roadside, waiting for the arrival of Duke Cush D'Artois's special envoy.
Cici, having successfully completed her liaison with the White Mountain Hermitage, had rejoined the group, while Carrie only showed her face last night, saying she had encountered some difficulties before disappearing again.
Sitting on a tree stump by the roadside, watching the frolicking villagers, Horn felt much more relaxed than before.
Those tense days were over, and a smooth road lay ahead of him.
Horn had pretty much figured it out. According to the current situation, his peaceful rise strategy was no longer viable.
As for those blue-blooded orphans, Horn had a plan. He would first send their letters and messages to their families and send them home.
As for the Church's actions and the Faceless Man's entrustment, Horn had three plans.
The first was Carrie. From all indications, she was indeed a high-ranking member of the Secret Party. The Secret Party was inherently at odds with the Church, and this evidence was a perfect weapon.
The second was Duke D'Artois. According to the intelligence gathered so far, he was at least on the side of the Thousand River Valley people.
For Duke D'Artois, who was plotting independence, this evidence was the best reason for an uprising.
After all, very few Thousand River Valley people had not experienced their children being lured away by the Green Pied Piper.
The third plan was naturally Horn himself. If the first two failed, then it would be his turn to fight the Church.
D'Artois was the short-term plan, Carrie was the medium-term plan, and when they both failed, Horn, who had fully developed, should have already picked up the Gatling gun.
Horn had asked that as long as he could confirm his identity as a witch, he would immediately receive a small town as a witch's territory.
Wouldn't that be entering Horn's familiar farming phase?
He was confident that he could become a big shot, but that would take time and development.
After all, what could his 1,200 people do?
They were called the Four Legions, but they could only fight mountain mercenary groups who were also a rabble.
Against the White Maple Mercenaries led by Hakuto, they still had no way to win.
He couldn't be like those villagers, relying solely on imagination and determination to think they were invincible.
The material basis could not be ignored.
If it weren't for clockwork technology, Horn's original path of taking the urban route and peacefully rising would have been the optimal solution.
If you can't beat them, join them.
But he had immense magic power and a clockwork gun, so starting from the Secret Party and slowly moving forward became a good path.
He had a reason to never reconcile with the Church.
In the end, he still had to have a base to develop slowly. Running around like this was not a solution.
As for those villagers, Horn was still wondering when to tell them the truth.
"You must be Lord Horn." A gentle male voice rang out, interrupting Horn's thoughts.
Hearing that the man directly called Horn by name, the surrounding guards immediately glared at him.
About three fathoms away, a man wearing a purple wide-sleeved shirt and green wool tights was politely bowing to Horn.
"Are you His Grace the Duke's special envoy?"
The man immediately turned his wrist, stroked his chest, stepped back, and bowed. "Indeed, I am Castillo of the House of Shiban. If you wish, please call me Castillo."
After confirming each other's identities, the two exchanged pleasantries and finally got down to business.
"When can I see Duke D'Artois?"
"I regret to inform you that His Grace the Duke is currently not at Jeanne d'Arc Fortress."
"Not at Jeanne d'Arc Fortress?" Horn frowned. "Then during this time…"
"Please rest assured." Castillo, wearing those eye-searingly tight pants, smiled. "I am His Grace the Duke's most trusted courtier. I know everything, and I arranged everything on your side."
"When will he be back?" Horn would not rashly hand over the evidence in his hand to others. He had to deliver it to Duke D'Artois himself.
"Our public statement is that His Grace the Duke is matchmaking." At this point, Castillo lowered his voice. "But the Duke is actually training his secret army."
Secret army?
Horn asked in a low voice, "What is a secret army?"
"Unspeakable, unspeakable. He will definitely be back before December." Castillo revealed a mysterious smile. "Now, please take your 'people' and follow me to the camp."
The Papal State convoy moved again.
"Before entering the camp, could you do me a small favor?" Not a few steps away, Castillo said again in a low voice.
"What favor?"
"We previously received a lot of 'short-haired bandits.' They have been restless recently and may need to use your prestige…"
"I'll take a look first…"
After walking a distance, a camp surrounded by low fences appeared in front of Horn.
Stopping, Castillo introduced, "You will also be stationed near here."
Standing on tiptoe, Horn looked around.
This was a ruin, overgrown with weeds and filled with broken bricks and tiles, with only a few dilapidated houses remaining.
This should have been a town, but it was later abandoned.
His boots stepped on the muddy dirt road, following behind Castillo, and walked into the camp.
Countless shacks and tents were piled together in a mess, and men, women, and children with dirty faces walked around without a care.
Above the heads of the people on the ground, there was also a airspace exclusively for fleas.
Horn could even see with the naked eye that the fleas covered the entire camp like a large net.
Beside the grass, a dirty drunkard squatted there, openly drinking and defecating.
Not far from him, three dogs were eyeing him covetously. It was foreseeable that when the drunkard stood up, there would be a fierce battle.
Suppressing the urge to vomit, Horn and the others bypassed a few wooden barracks, jumped over trenches filled with drunkards and corpses, and finally came to a crowded place.
This yellow-green grass was filled with people of all colors. Horn roughly estimated that there were more than two thousand people within sight.
In the center of the crowd, a gray-brown wooden platform two fathoms high rose from the ground.
"What is this place for?"
"I, I, I…" With a constipated expression on his face, Castillo said 'I' for a long time. "I don't know how to explain it. Just see for yourself."
Covering his mouth and nose, he squeezed forward a distance. Horn opened his eyes in the suffocating stench and was finally able to see clearly.
The sky was high and the clouds were light. Eagles chased sparrows in the sky. In the leisurely sunlight, the four corners of the pine wood platform were lit with burning torches.
Horn could clearly see that in the center of the wooden platform was a gaunt man who was now shaking the black cloak in his hand, dancing and jumping wildly.
This is?
"Ugh, oh, oh, oh—"
The gaunt man spun and jumped, his eyes closed, and his mouth uttered sounds that no one could understand.
Throwing the black cloak in his hand away, he nearly knelt on the ground, frantically scratching his neck.
But the next second, he propped himself up on his knees and jumped up, doing a split in the air like a ballet dancer, constantly falling and jumping like a spring.
"Yi yeah, yi yeah, yi yeah—"
Making meaningless strange noises, the man raised his hands high, constantly crossing and shaking them, which was very similar to the 'flower hands' Horn had seen in his previous life.
The muscles in his cheeks twitched constantly, as if experiencing some extremely painful sound, his face was as hideous as a ghost.
So you too…
Looking at the dancing figure on the wooden platform, Horn was so embarrassed that his whole body went numb and his teeth ached.
"Hiss." He didn't even dare to look up, just muttered with his head down, "Too embarrassing."
As soon as the muttering was over, Horn heard the strange cry suddenly stop, followed by a dull "thud" sound, and the surrounding uproar rose and fell.
Looking up, he saw the jumping man lying horizontally on the ground, his face hideous. It seemed that he had fallen.
But the man who was performing the shamanistic dance was not flustered.
As if having an epileptic seizure, he spat white foam and wriggled on the ground, stubbornly wiping the blood from the tip of his nose and the tears from the corners of his eyes with dust and dog feces.
"Wow!"
As if struck by lightning, the man straightened his body with a thud, and then stood up from the ground with a thud.
The hideous face dissipated into serenity. He straightened his back, as if frozen, motionless.
The people below swallowed nervously, waiting for the final result.
At this moment, Horn's embarrassment gradually faded away, and he waited curiously, wanting to see who he was going to let descend.
This lasted for a full seven or eight seconds before he suddenly shuddered and shouted, "Drink!"
The man's legs were turned inward, his palms were pressed together at the roots, his palms facing up, making a pose commonly used by kindergarten children when taking pictures.
Slowly opening his eyes, his gaze looked straight ahead at the empty space, extremely serious and holy, as if shrouded in holy light.
"Listen, believers—"
"I am, Holy Grandson!"