The council hall's doors closed, and the core mbers of the original Pope Country stayed behind for a small eting, with Madlan leaving early to visit the seriously wounded Grampwen.
Mixing among the refugee leaders dispersing two or three at a ti, Madlan leveraged his good relationships to strengthen connections with them, exchanging greetings.
"Bishop Madlan." A balding leader elected by the other refugees stepped forward, "I have a small matter to ask you."
"I'm just about to visit my good friend Grampwen..."
"No problem, I'm heading to the wounded soldiers' camp too, let's go together."
"Alright." Madlan laughed brightly, "Let's talk as we walk."
After leaving City Hall, most of the Salvation Army, previously sleeping on the square, had woken up.
Under the organization of the Child Soldiers and old camp officers, the Salvation Army had regained so order, lining up in the sound of hymns to receive breakfast on the square.
Armand (still called Armand in informal settings) along with Boned and others were compiling the list of casualties.
According to Horn's instructions, for all deceased, regardless of whether the family wished to follow them or not, 600 dinars of condolence money were to be distributed, and their nas would be engraved later on an obelisk for commoration.
As Madlan and Boritz walked past refugees and farrs sitting on the ground, they saw hardly any joyful expressions, most showed either fear or confusion.
The duke is dead, and then what?
After the initial excitent and exhaustion, panic swept over them once more.
They killed the devil to avenge their friends, but once the duke's head fell and the knights bowed, they began to fear again.
They hated the duke, yet feared the forces behind him, and so refugees who fought bravely in the battle even began to sneak away.
Regretting killing the duke? If they said they didn't regret it, there was indeed so regret, as they angered the nobles.
But if they said they regretted it, it still wasn't right; deep down, they wished they could eat the duke's flesh and drink his blood.
With such contradictory thoughts, the entire city's Salvation Army fell into an irreconcilable confusion after killing the duke.
As the cheers of victory gradually faded, the refugees, in their monts of excitent, did not thank Horn.
Especially under the guidance of so citizens pretending to gather information, there were even rumors spreading: "Why did Horn tell us about the blue-blood orphans," "The knights never intended to massacre us, it was that blasted Saint's Grandson pulling us in."
"A bunch of ignorant people indeed." The balding refugee leader clearly didn't consider himself one of the refugees or farrs.
"Brother, I haven't asked your na yet."
"Ha, Bishop Madlan has many things on his mind." The balding refugee leader joked, "I'm Boritz, a forr notary."
"Oh? You're a notary, no wonder you speak reasonably." Madlan asked with so surprise, but considering Boritz's na, he didn't ask why he was a "forr" notary.
In the Leia Kingdom, a notary is almost equivalent to a lawyer, and many contracts often need to be signed by notaries.
"What does Mr. Boritz want to ask ?" Madlan asked again.
"Bishop Madlan, you've been to the Black Bone Swamp, right? I have a question for you." Boritz lowered his voice, "They say if we can take Autumn Dusk Island, we'll have a place to settle.
But the problem is, I hear you say there are still monsters and barbarians on that island, can we win?"
"Of course, we can win." Madlan smiled as he walked past the street stained with black blood, "Those monsters don't wear iron armor, the barbarians even less so, you've seen how our Saintess Jeanne showed her powers."
"But my heart feels empty, afraid we'll enter the swamp and have no place to stay."
"Rest assured, at that ti, His Holiness the Pope will casually grant you so title, letting you beco a noble in the Beastman Kingdom."
Boritz's eyes lit up, but he quickly suppressed it with humility: "Though it's said so, do you know how many barbarians and monsters are on the island? At least give so insider information."
"That I don't know." Madlan shook his head, glanced at the notary, and said with a smile, "But before I left, I asked Gergo, she said their Chao Character Army once deployed up to a hundred divisions!"
"A hundred divisions? Are there really that many?"
Upon hearing this astronomical number, Boritz felt a bit dizzy, unsure if Madlan was joking; even All-Peak El didn't necessarily have a hundred divisions.
"What do you an, they're the sa as us Pope Country, small units with large ranks."
Boritz quickly calculated according to the Pope Country's organization, realizing that's at least 6,000 people.
Even if assuming ten people to a soldier, the Beastman Kingdom wouldn't be small, becoming a duke might just an being a village chief or knight.
Nonetheless, it's still better than staying in Joan of Arc Castle waiting to die.
"I understand now." Boritz and Madlan reached a street corner, Boritz bowed to Madlan, "I'll be taking this route."
"The wounded soldiers' camp is this way."
"Ah, I suddenly rembered so matters, must attend to them."
"Oh—" Madlan, quite understandingly, waved his hand, "Then go ahead, goodbye."
"Goodbye."
Standing at the crossroads, watching Boritz's back, Madlan couldn't help but smile a little, "Hm."
On the other side, after rounding the street corner, Boritz looked around. Seeing no one, he quickly donned his hood, lifted his robe, and jogged around the street corner to join a few companions.
Most of them were downtrodden Ard Farrs, citizens, or small middle-class mbers, forced to beco refugees.
In last night's riot, they joined the Salvation Army only after Horn defeated the knights.
Almost none of them were native Norns, but Leia people or Falan; the so-called blue blood had no impact on them.
Throughout the battle, these people were almost invisible, only playing a supportive role during the final attack on the City Hall.
"How did it go, how did it go?" The companions impatiently asked.
"It's all stable, all stable." Boritz excitedly said, "If we go there, we might get a duke's title, but don't get too excited, it could be just a knight's territory."
"What's wrong with that?" A companion whispered, "Better than wandering, staying here, we'd truly be slaughtered by the knights."
"But in three months, we'd still have to co back, right?"
"What's there to fear?" Boritz scornfully said, "Patrick really thinks he's sothing, I'll hide in a swamp or feign illness, he can't drag away."
"Great, now everything's truly stable."
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