Amidst the towering hills, the riverbank trickled through, dampening the grassy roadside.
The original dirt road had been mostly destroyed by the flood, and with every step, the mud sank to the ankles.
Yet even so, countless straw sandals or bare feet stepped into the mud, pushing carts stuck in the mire forward.
Beside them, armored soldiers and night guards, dressed in chainmail, were lazily strolling while joking about which girl in the village was the most charming yesterday.
The man leading this group was none other than Militia Captain Quincy from High Castle City.
Quincy’s face was covered with red blotches, and his swollen eyes made it seem like they might pop out at any mont.
At this mont, he sat on a carriage, humming a tune and counting the silver coins in his pocket.
It was already September 25th, and he should have reached the Gulag Monastery by now, but he had only covered two-thirds of the distance.
After all, there wasn’t much profit to be had in this mission to eliminate the rebels.
A bunch of poor country bumpkins crowned a Pope among themselves, what could they possibly have?
When Quincy first heard about this group of rebels, he almost laughed for five minutes straight.
A Pope, a Pope Country, even a Cardinal, why not just throw in a few decrees?
And maybe so titled knights, form a few legions, wouldn’t that be complete?
No farce he had seen at the circus was as amusing as this.
But from Quincy’s perspective, no matter how daring these rebels were, they were unlikely to harm Priest Durdafer.
After all, he was a priest, protected by the unwritten rules.
With Durdafer around, it would be harder for Quincy to skim off the supplies from the monastery’s warehouse.
When rescuing Durdafer, he’d have to visit the warehouse first, as for locks, that wasn’t a concern.
Quincy was, after all, born a thief!
By stealing from the nobility, backstabbing peers, and returning the stolen goods to gain noble recomndations, he had bribed his way to the position of militia captain using hidden wealth.
After thorough market research, he found that the quickest professions for stealing were priests and nobles, followed by junior officials and city councilors.
For Quincy, the flood was a perfect opportunity, as all the tax checkpoints had been washed away.
He decisively mortgaged his position as a militia captain to obtain these ten large carts and accompanying horses.
Of course, he still lacked goods, but he had no money to procure them.
Fortunately, he had connections, so he found a guild responsible from the igedi Comrce Association.
He provided the transport, escort, and channel, while the Muse Comrce Association provided the goods.
If no risks were encountered, the profits would be split fifty-fifty, but if risks arose, it would be sixty-forty.
The standard for losses due to risks was based on the night guards and armored soldiers’ casualties.
For the refugees and public register farrs pushing carts, Quincy could wave a hand and gather a bunch.
Now, these ten large carts were filled with grain, salt, iron ingots, and dicinal herbs. After the flood, the Thousand River Valley, the main grain supplier for Black Snake Bay, was sure to reduce or fail entirely in its crop yield.
Thus, the black market prices for grain and salt were sure to soar, while roads were blocked, and grain couldn’t be transported in, with grain rchant nobles hoarding supplies.
Throughout the Thousand River Valley, in the hills, waterways, and jungles, there were rebellious hungry peasants and bandits.
The flood also destroyed the connections of the secret faction and local forces, with the Demon Hunter Corps seizing the opportunity to eliminate the secret faction and disobedient black markets.
Knights needed weapons to fend off starving bandits, demon hunters needed weapons to pursue the secret faction, and the secret faction needed weapons to resist demon hunters.
Whether repairing or crafting weapons, iron was necessary.
Similarly, dicinal herbs could also fetch a good price.
Not to ntion, along the way, he had already earned a full 20 gold pounds from knights and ard farrs without backgrounds.
Chaos is a ladder.
Quincy dared not even imagine how much this shipnt could sell for, he even wished for so clueless bandits to attack him.
As long as one or two night guards and armored soldiers were injured, he could take sixty percent of the revenue from this trip.
Unfortunately, with Banifus’s banner in hand, no starving bandits dared to cause trouble.
How to let his people get injured reasonably was Quincy’s problem along the way.
Earlier, he had asked a confidant to pretend to be a bandit for a test, but it was hatefully seen through by Brother Boned in one glance.
If it hadn’t been for him providing a way out, he might have had a fallout with that little girl from the igedi.
Now, that little girl sent people over to inspect intentionally or unintentionally, leaving no room for maneuver.
Thinking of this, Quincy’s gaze angrily focused on the man and woman seated in the cart in front to the left.
Sitting in the rocking carriage, the young girl wore a simple, snug riding outfit wrapped around her wrists and ankles, yet it still revealed its uncomplicated yet intricate lines.
"Brother Boned." The girl with wavy hair used a small indigo feather fan to cover her mouth and nose, "Look, our militia captain is staring at us again."
"Pay it no mind, Miss Qianqian, just a rat in the gutter." Boned snorted coldly, "Playing such lowly tricks."
"You’re so manly." Qianqian’s eyes almost sparkled with little stars.
She reached out to hold onto the edge of the carriage, seemingly accidentally, placing her hand on Boned’s hand before quickly pulling it back.
Then she used the feather fan to cover more of her face, as if her cheeks were already flushed with embarrassnt.
In any case, Boned’s face was already red.
But the expression on his blushing face was even more solemn.
He said righteously, "I’ve urged him several tis to advance quickly and eliminate those vile secret factions, yet he still dawdles. If it were up to , we’d have arrived at Gulag Monastery three days ago."
"You’re different from him, after all, coming from the proper Feiliu Castle Monastery, strictly observing the rules, with refined taste, smart and disciplined..."
"You praise too much, compared to Lady Catherine of the igedi Comrce Association, my wisdom is but a speck of dust."
"Hahaha, you sure know how to speak, but compared to my lady, I can only be considered dust, we’re a perfect match that way."
Boned’s grin nearly reached his ears: "Is that, so?"
"Yes." Qianqian giggled, her leg inadvertently brushing against Boned’s foot, "I haven’t known you for long, yet it feels like I’ve known you forever, you’re the first man to give this feeling."
"I feel the sa way about you."
"Ah." Qianqian suddenly sighed deeply, "If only you weren’t a monk."
"Fate is unpredictable; if I’d t you sooner, perhaps I wouldn’t have beco a monk." Boned’s mood imdiately sank with hers.
He was a Falan, born into a knight family; being the third son and performing excellently at church school, he was sent to study at Feiliu Castle Monastery.
From childhood to now, he’d only ever t nuns who strictly adhered to the rules, or fellow monks that shared the sa or even the sa bed.
Maybe Banifus had seen plenty and beca fond of more reserved nuns, but Boned didn’t like them at all.
This was the first ti in his life he t soone so charming and understanding.
Thinking of parting with her, having known each other for only four or five days, he felt so sad he could cry.
"Ah, Brother Boned, the thought of soon parting ways with you truly pains my heart.
Boned felt both sweetness and sorrow in his heart, could it be she felt the sa.
"If only I were a secret faction mber, then I could take you away, fly far away, to a place no one could find us..."
Boned straightened and leaned a little closer: "Miss Qianqian, don’t tease ."
"Just suppose, just suppose, I were indeed a secret faction mber, what would you do to ?"
"... Out of my devotion to Miseria, I shouldn’t let you go, but from my heart, I’d want you to live. If such a day ca, I’d let you go and then atone and pray for you."
"Oh, really?" Qianqian covered half her face with the feather fan, chuckling, "You’re truly a good person."
User Comments
0 comments from readers