After Ansel left alone riding a little donkey last night, although the frequency was sporadic, the intensity of the rain gradually increased.
Bryson had to admit that Ansel's thod of using sugar-salt water actually worked. The dysentery, which even valuable herbs couldn't save, was sohow sustained using this simple sugar-salt solution.
Watching the little girl breathing rhythmically on the bed, Bryson felt a trace of admiration.
Lalor's little daughter really had a strong will, holding on forcefully. Although there wasn't any improvent, at least she wasn't getting worse.
However, in Bryson's view, with the current situation, she won't hold on for long.
With dark circles under his eyes, Bryson greeted Lalor and then put on his cloak, leaving his small courtyard.
It wasn't because he was seeking enjoynt or hoping to slack off in the village chapel, but because Old Laver had just sent a ssage saying there was sothing important to tell the villagers.
Lalor obviously couldn't leave, and Bryson feared that Henderson might be up to so trick, so he went to check it out.
As for whether it was a trap to lure him into an ambush, that wasn't within Bryson's consideration.
A joke, did you really think the Scythe Brotherhood was established for nothing?
Soon, Bryson hurried from Lalor's house to the granary at Adrian Manor.
To be precise, the mountain folks were all gathered inside the granary next to the fields.
Because the rain started in September in South Mangde County, the harvested wheat couldn't be threshed, so several large empty granaries were built in the manors specifically for threshing on rainy days.
And at this mont, nearly 500 people in the entire manor had co over half, both able-bodied adults and young n and won, creating a scene of over 300 people.
By the ti Bryson braved the rain to arrive, Henderson had already finished his opening speech, and a sticky-haired, brown-haired young man was speaking with a mournful face.
Bryson hadn't gotten close when Old Laver dragged him to the side, "How is Little Talie doing?"
"Sustaining with sugar-salt water for now, nothing serious for the mont." After speaking with Old Laver, Bryson turned his attention back to the young man in the center of the granary.
At first glance, his previously scattered gaze instantly focused.
"…Manor Head Khalid didn't commit any cri, why arrest him? Just because he said a few fair words, that wandering cultivator got angry and called the army…"
"…You have no idea, those damned black-ard soldiers kicked down doors along the road, ignoring whether our wives or children were dressed, forcibly dragging everyone out onto the street…"
"…In such cold weather, with rain pouring, many got sick…"
"…We sat bare-bottod on cold benches, burly soldiers pressing our faces onto rough tables, pressing our hands to sign contracts…"
"Many burnt the contracts that very night, and those henchn speaking for the army received a brutal beating from angered farrs, but it was no use; the henchn instead were appointed as manor heads…"
Bryson had heard Ansel grumble more than once about impeaching that incompetent person from the Child Soldiers' four-term crash course at the neighboring Cosland Manor.
He anticipated chaos on Mason Manor's side, knowing the Black Champion refugees' nature wouldn't bode well with the villagers.
But he didn't expect them to go this overboard; it completely broke the rules.
Composing himself, Bryson continued to listen.
"…Signed permanent lease rights, the manor heads and forest patrol officers of several manors were removed or fled, attacked by wolves, monsters, and bandits three or four tis."
"We sought help from the Knight, hoping he could hire a Demon Hunter or lead a team to clear out those monsters, wolves, or bandits, but Master Knight said: signed permanent lease rights, none of his business."
Hearing this, Bryson couldn't help but retort, "Don't you have wandering cultivators? Go to the wandering cultivators or the higher monastery!"
"We were desperate, so we did go!" the young man cried, "But those armies can't hire Demon Hunters, nor can they station permanently in villages; by the ti they arrive, the bandits or wolves have fled."
"Don't interrupt." Henderson shouted displeased at the crowd, unable to identify who was speaking, "Continue."
And Old Laver grabbed Bryson's clothes desperately, telling him not to show off.
The young man continued talking dejectedly about what happened, "...Those monks claid it was for our own good, but because we pleaded innocence for Manor Head Khalid detained by the roadside, they forcibly pushed aside our people…"
"…Even children and won were pushed, fell, and got hurt. When we protested for compensation and justice, they indiscriminately unleashed the Devil's Wind on us…"
"God—"
"Was it that alchemy crossbow we saw last ti?"
"What alchemy crossbow, that's the Devil's Wind!"
"How could sothing like this happen?"
The large threshing ground of the manor desk echoed with shock, almost shaking the dust and thatch from the nearby granary.
To Bryson, it was like a thunderclap in his ear, freezing him on the spot; the Salvation Army actually fired upon the mountain folks?
This was a major issue; if the mountain folks were already in rebellion, it wouldn't be so bad, but if… if it is…
Shaking his head to dispel the terrifying thought, Bryson's calves began to cramp, and the hands tucked in his sleeves slightly trembled.
"What happened after?" the mountain folks pursued further.
"At the scene, seven or eight people fell, everyone was infuriated, charging forward…"
"Did you kill those black-ard soldiers?" a mountain folk impatiently urged as the young man paused.
The young man drank so water before continuing, "How dare we, that would be a smack to Her Highness Moliat's face?
We seized their alchemy crossbows, captured them as prisoners, hanged those who tried to escape or fired, the rest locked in the dungeon of Knight Castle.
We intended to severely punish the wandering cultivators of Cosland Manor, but he fled beforehand, so we captured his assistant monk, also a villager, and hanged him in his place..."
Before the young man finished, other villagers catching wind of the situation began whispering, and sotis erupted into argunts about the Saint Father's Association.
"That's the situation," Manor Head Henderson cleared his throat, stepping forward, "The Knights in this Mason parish all responded to the uprising; all wandering cultivators and assistant monks in the parish were arrested or hanged.
Several Counts expressed sympathy and proposed a eting with the County Governor to elaborate on the stakes, while three village magistrates remained neutral and silent, and the Hemashi Local Knight Order declared non-involvent.
Everyone, including Knight Adrian, each manor's Knights jointly issued an ergency curfew, setting up checkpoints on all highways, blocking rivers and roads, and not allowing any mountain folk to leave manors freely.
An investigation will be conducted by Mire Village monastery, and until results are released, the ergency curfew will persist."
Compared to the prior commotion, after hearing Henderson's words, a dead silence enveloped the granary ground; even Bryson's gulp was distinctly audible.
Unknowingly, the eyes of the crowd all shifted from that ssage-bearing youth to a cold-sweating Bryson.
Unlike the warmth during wool payouts, now it was tentative, fearful, and enraged.
In their minds, Brother Ansel's face, sotis angelic holding wool, silver coins, and scales, sotis a sharp-smiling red-faced, black-horned demon wielding an alchemical gun.
"Brother Bryson," Henderson slowly approached Bryson's front from the crowd, asking amiably, "May I ask, does Brother Ansel know about this imnse issue? Where is he now?"
Bryson suppressed his pounding heart, replying in a wavering voice, "Brother Ansel went to the chapel to fetch dicine for Lalor's family."
"Because of a little girl with dysentery? Did Brother Ansel, a wandering cultivator, flee overnight to the parish chapel for dicine?" Henderson's tone gradually turned aggressive, "Isn't it to notify the army to suppress us?"
"No, no, that's not it!" Bryson was seized in mind, stamred uncontrollably, which, in the eyes of other mountain folks, seed guilty.
The more Bryson explained, the more fiercely the mountain folks debated, though even so inside the wool clique started voicing different opinions.
"Alright." Henderson sensed his regained control over the manor's discourse, smiling, "Since you claim Brother Ansel went fetching dicine, he must be very tired, how about you go to the village entrance to greet him?"
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