Chapter 17: Necrospeech Black Star
The Morning Star rose, dispelling the darkness.
Corleon opened the church doors.
Warm sunlight stread in, soothing the refugees' fears.
Outside the church, it looked as if a storm had passed—fences destroyed, saffron flowers flattened, and the wooden church doors covered in dense claw marks.
"Bede, could you help with sothing?" Corleon turned to Bede and said, "Cook a pot of porridge; everyone must be hungry after the night."
His voice was calm, yet it had a comforting effect on the refugees.
Moreover, the ntion of food clearly stirred their hunger.
Bede struggled briefly but managed to stand up.
"Alright, priest," he said.
Nodding, Corleon went to arrange the overturned stove.
Bede's prompt response did not surprise him.
Over the night, eight new threads had appeared on the light orb, with Bede's being the most distinct.
If one were to classify the believers, others might be shallow believers seeking solace amid panic, while Bede was a true believer who genuinely believed in the Lord's existence.
Therefore, Bede had no hesitation in responding to Corleon's words.
Smoke from cooking gradually rose, and the refugees hiding inside the church slowly erged.
After consuming the hot porridge, the refugees beca more active, but Corleon noticed a few people quietly leaving after finishing their al.
Perhaps they had been frightened the previous night and wanted to try entering the town.
Solid stone walls and fully ard guards provided a greater sense of security than a small church.
Corleon did not stop them.
After instructing Bede to organize the refugees to collect so wood to repair the fence, Corleon took his oak shield and spear and headed to the nearby cetery.
Each grave was a pit, clearly indicating that the corpses had crawled out and fled during the night.
Upon closer inspection, he could see so tiny black granules in the pits.
However, under the sunlight, these granules were slowly dissipating.
He took out a cloth and wrapped a few granules along with so soil.
Perhaps these granules were the reason for the corpses' disappearance.
He took the package and headed to York Town.
At the East Gate, a tent had also been set up; yesterday, the official at the West Gate had brought servants to register the incoming refugees, and above the tent, a flag was hoisted.
It was a knight's flag, indicating that a knight was present here.
Corleon found a guard, whispered a few words, and handed over the package of collected granules.
Although priests held so status, it was limited, comparable to the town's guards during peaceti, so Corleon did not intend to et the official.
He had little regard for these lord's servants with a protagonist's ntality.
However, the official recognized him.
"Oh, it's the kind-hearted Priest Corleon." The official approached with open arms, speaking exaggeratedly, and a few people in the queue who had tried to sneak in instinctively looked over, then lowered their heads to hide themselves.
They were the ones who had quietly left the church after drinking the porridge in the morning, attempting to sneak into the town.
"Official," Corleon greeted the official with a slight bow, not looking at them.
The official bypassed the guard, approached, and said,
"There was a riot outside the city yesterday, confird to be the work of necromancers; they awakened the corpses. Those dead bodies, those beasts—heaven knows how they killed those wild beasts—but it seems our hunters will have a tough ti this year."
"How was the church last night? The cetery there is where notable people are buried."
"The church was also attacked yesterday, but fortunately, it was sturdy and withstood the assault," Corleon replied. "However, the corpses buried in the cetery all crawled out."
"But I found so strange black granules in the grave pits. I believe this might be related to the corpse uprising, so I collected so today and brought them here, hoping it might help in locating those necromancers."
"Black granules? They should be Necrospeech Black Star, sothing only high-level necromancers can create. The lord's court mage has already found so," the official said without even looking at the cloth package.
"Necrospeech Black Star?"
"Oh, I forgot Priest Corleon doesn't have access to the lord's library," the official said, displaying his superiority.
"It's an advanced necromantic tool that allows necromancers to control corpses."
"Moreover, Necrospeech Black Star can make resurrected corpses stronger and carry pollution, enabling them to curse the living and drive the dead."
"However, Necrospeech Black Star has a fatal weakness; once the Morning Star rises, it will gradually be purified."
"Just like..." he said, asking the guard for the package and unwrapping it.
"Look, there's only soil left inside." He rubbed the soil in the cloth package; the black granules had already disappeared.
"But Priest Corleon is lucky; the necromancers' target was those villages to the east, so they probably just passed by the church."
"Were there more villages attacked?" Corleon caught the key point in his words.
"No, no, not attacked, but destroyed," the official corrected Corleon's statent.
"Look at these refugees who escaped; in one night, four villages were destroyed. The lord is very angry."
The official sighed, not out of anger for the deceased, but lanting the loss of property.
"There are only twenty-three villages in York Town; those necromancers are provoking the Noble House of the Twin Lions, declaring war on us."
"Is war imminent?" Corleon asked.
"Of course, we must let these necromancers know the price of offending the Noble House of the Twin Lions."
"Randall can't wait; he hasn't had the chance to torture necromancers yet."
Randall was the lord's warden, known for his extrely cruel torture thods; his reputation was such that rely ntioning his na before criminals would scare them into wetting their pants.
"What about these refugees?" Corleon glanced at the refugees queuing for registration.
"Of course, they will be allowed into the town and granted the lord's protection," the official said. "But they also need to bring value to the lord."
In other words, those without value would not be allowed into the town.
Corleon watched as one of the people who had sought refuge in the church last night and tried to sneak into the town this morning was dragged away by the guards.
No one paid attention to his cries and pleas; the refugees in the queue all prayed they could blend in.
"But yesterday, I saw Priest Corleon sheltering so refugees."
"The Lord loves all people and teaches us to protect the weak," Corleon raised his hand and held the cross at his collar.
"Oh, does the church now worship the Lord? Previously, under Old Henry, it seed they worshipped a stone," the official said, his tone indifferent.
"So, Priest Corleon, are you planning to enter the town for refuge?" he asked.
Corleon was considered one of the valuable individuals.
"No, the refugees in the church still need the Lord's protection; I won't abandon them," Corleon refused.
"Oh, truly worthy of being the kind-hearted Priest Corleon," the official raised his voice and said exaggeratedly.
"Since Priest Corleon wants to protect the weak, then I'll send these refugees to the church."
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