Chapter 11 Gulag Monastery
"It's time for bread again, guys!"

A refugee with a dirty face was holding up a piece of black bread with mold filling in his hand to show off to his companions.

"Why is it so early today?"

"Go quickly, it will be too late if you don't go now."

A group of refugees swarmed up from their respective straw huts or trees, and like urine flowing into the low-lying areas when urinating or defecating anywhere, they ran towards the monastery in a disorderly manner.

This is the Gulag Monastery in Hedge Country. It is located on higher ground. Whenever floods come, the clergy will hide here for shelter.

Surrounding the monastery are countless gray-black mushroom-like grass nests. A wooden frame covered with thatch can be considered a small nest to shelter from the rain.

From time to time, quarrels over food, vandalism or theft broke out between the refugee sheds, but less than five steps away, soldiers wearing chain mail and red and white square smocks chatted and patrolled as if they were not seeing anything.

"…A reward for clues about secret party members, cultists, witch followers, and other devil followers. Anyone who provides information will receive 50 dinars and ten loaves of bread…"

On top of the millstone, a black-robed monk held a vertical scroll and loudly recited the reward order that no one paid attention to.

The numb refugees walked around the millstone and made their way towards the relief shed with difficulty.

They had to hurry, otherwise the food would be gone. The food Bishop Durdafo distributed every day was only enough to feed one-fifth of the people.

Behind the shed is the tall Gulag Monastery.

A thin mist blurred the outline of the monastery, washing the gaps between the square stones. The thin columns and spires of the flying corridors swayed in the mist.

Raindrops fell on the mosaic windows under the semicircular arches, leaving irregular marks.

On the second floor of the monastery, there is a scripture copying room called the "dining room", which is where Bishop Durdafer used to pray.

Compared to the corpse stench and musty smell in the rain outside, the copying room was filled with the aroma of roast chicken, mead and white bread.

Volumes of books were displayed on the bookshelves, covered with dust. The walls on both sides were dotted with unique carvings and exquisite tapestries. In order to show the glory of Myrcella, crosses made of gold, platinum and amber were naturally indispensable.

In the scriptorium, the slanted scriptorium has disappeared, and instead there is a large rectangular flat scriptorium, which shows how hard the bishop works on paperwork every day.

On both sides of the copying desk, two figures sat facing each other.

"Ah?" The witcher Gilo, whose butt had just touched the stool, stood up suddenly. "Father, are you sure that is the knight you know? A corpse that has been soaked in water for too long will swell. Could it be that you have made a mistake?"

Sitting opposite the witcher was Father Tartuffe, the priest of Hedge Village. He wore a small round hat, with a smile in his folds, and his squinted eyes made it difficult to see his expression.

He stuffed the roasted chicken leg into his mouth, slapped the table with his fat palm in dissatisfaction, and said incoherently: "It is impossible to be mistaken. Before the flood, he often came to me to discuss things. Many people here know him. I asked a prostitute he was familiar with to identify him. It is him."

"Myrcella." After taking a sip of honey wine to calm his nerves, the white-haired demon hunter drew a cross on his forehead with his fingers. "It's a pity that such a noble was killed."

"May his soul find eternal peace in the arms of the Holy Father." Tarduff coughed, "But the problem is that he did not die a natural death called by the Lord, but died an unnatural death. Have you examined his body?"

"I checked it and I think it was a mob riot because there were hundreds of wounds on his body, all from different people."

"A mob riot? Knight Barnett possesses three stages of knight breathing techniques and a set of master armor. He once fought against vampire pirates in the Sealand Islands and is very experienced. He is not a rookie knight." Darduff shook his head slowly.

The Knight's Breathing Technique has always been the secret of the aristocratic group to suppress the common people, but the level of the breathing technique is only the upper limit of combat power and does not represent the actual combat performance.

A novice knight who knows five stages of breathing techniques is likely to be killed by an experienced knight who knows three stages of breathing techniques. This has a lot to do with combat experience, weapons, armor, and skills.

"It could be a monster, it could be a robber, or there is another possibility."

Tartuffe paused for a moment, and Gillot's heart trembled.

"The secret party and the witch." Tarduff stopped stuffing food into his mouth and a look of disgust appeared on his face, as if saying this name was a defilement.

"Witch?" His expression was serious and steady, but the end of Jilo's voice was a little shrill and out of tune.

"This is just a possibility. I didn't say it must be." Not noticing Gilo's abnormality, Darduff spread his hands and said, "I don't believe this is just a mob uprising. It could be that the secret party and the witch are causing trouble."

"why?"

"Oh, Gilo, my old friend, you should know that there is a dangerous witch imprisoned in our dungeon. She is not alone. She has been able to hide her identity in Upper River County for five years. I don't believe she has no accomplices."

Standing up, the flame of the silver candlestick swayed in the wind. Tarduff walked to Gilo's side and raised his index finger and waved it heavily: "Barnett's death must have been done by the witch! It must be a conspiracy of the secret party!"

Jilo squeezed his legs together, trying hard not to pee.

"So, Gillo Don Camado, in the name of Mircella, I entrust you with this sacred and dangerous mission to find out the cause of Barnett's death. I have blocked the news to prevent anyone from tipping them off. When the rain stops for a while, you can take a boat over there and find out the situation there. I will assign a group of people to you." Gillo could no longer speak. His voice was stuck in his throat. He could only nod numbly.

"Well! Then I'll leave this matter to you."

Darduff looked at the cold-blooded demon hunter in front of him, who showed no emotion and had two scars running across his right eye, and felt very satisfied.

Among most of the gambler, drunkard and demon hunters he had met, this Jilo was the most reliable.

If Durdafer can get a promotion this time, it might be a good idea for the two of them to continue working together.

He turned around and took out a bottle of expensive wine produced by Chak Abbey from the cabinet behind him, and then took two bone china wine cups and poured a glass for himself and Gillo respectively.

"Okay, stop looking so sad and have a drink. You have made two consecutive contributions, which is enough for you to be promoted to Wolfburg." Darduf raised his glass towards Gilo, "When you come back, I will write a promotion report for you. Toast!"

"Toast!" Gilo drank the cup without tasting it.

With a faint smell of urine, Jilo left.

After Gilo left, a hook-nosed monk immediately came in.

He looked back at Gillot who was leaving, and at Durdafo who was frowning, and asked in a low voice: "Master, that Barnett is just a country knight, is it necessary to pay so much attention to him?"

"What do you know? Get out!"

With an empty stomach, Durdafu walked back and forth in the copy room twice and finally made a decision.

"Floods, famine, and the witch secret party, these are indeed troubled times."

Glancing at the red circle on the wall calendar, Tartuffe donned an elaborate cloak embroidered with geometric triangles and vines.

Walking out of the door of the scriptorium, calling two armed monks and two guards, Tartuffe opened the small door behind the corridor, raised a torch, walked through the damp mossy stairs, and entered the dark dungeon.

The light from the torches made the dungeon slightly warmer.

A few mosquitoes and flies were flying in the air. Behind the sturdy iron railings, a slender and tall figure huddled in the corner.

"Witch!" A guard knocked on the iron railing.

The figure did not respond.

Through the gap between the iron bars, Darduff smiled gently: "Witch, I'm asking you for the last time, where did that thing go? As long as you tell me, although I can't let you go, I can let you live comfortably in prison for the rest of your life."

no respond.

"This is the last chance I'm giving you. Don't be ungrateful."

The witch with her back to them continued to ignore them.

"Is she still alive?" Tartuffe asked the guard beside him.

The guard took down the whip hanging on the wall, held the whip in his hand and reached through the gap in the iron bars, then swung it fiercely across the bars with miraculous skill.

"Snapped--"

After the explosive sound of flesh being whipped, the body instantly straightened up, covering the part that was whipped and letting out a painful cry of "Mmm" suppressed in the throat.

"You son of a witch!" The guard was about to ask for credit when he was kicked on the waist by an armed monk. "Didn't you see the priest was here? What if this blow caused blood and flesh to be infected by the priest?"

The guard smiled awkwardly and threw the whip into the holy water bucket beside him.

"Still refusing to cooperate?" Darduff continued to speak to the witch with a smile, but still received no response.

"Okay." After a long silence, Tartuffe completely lost his patience. His narrow eyes cast a resentful light: "Keep a close watch on her during this period. Once the rain stops, give her ten times the amount of holy water and turn her into a fool. Humph, what a waste!"

He knocked on the railing again, and there was a viciousness on Darduff's face that was not usually seen.

"I've given you a chance, witch. You better think about it again. I won't come down to see you again until the rain stops."

The torches and footsteps gradually faded away, until at this moment, a pair of red eyes slowly opened in the dark corner of the dungeon.

(End of this chapter)