Chapter 157: Sharpening the Swords

When Burvelf was dragged to the ice cellar in the west which he was very familiar with, the two guards he had found had already been hoisted on the flagpole under the command of the ten heads of households.

In the moonlight, Jeanne stood there, looking at Horn quietly.

Horn, smiling, strode towards her, and stopped only when they were only about a foot apart.

"Why are you late?"

There was a rare hint of grievance in Jeanna's voice.

"I was delayed on the way." Horn touched Jeanna's head. "By the way, I have to make an excuse. I don't call you sister, but because in my eyes, I don't regard you as my sister. You are my Jeanna."

Lowering her head, Jeanna didn't want Horn to see her face: "Hmm..."

Horn reached out and hugged Jeanna into his arms, kissing her on the forehead: "We'll talk about these things later. Take out your battle flag. I need you to do me a favor."

About ten minutes later, Jeanne and Sissi left the camp with two brigades of black hat soldiers and headed towards the village under the night.

…………

Near Jeanne d'Arc, there is a special type of village called a refugee village.

These villagers are not officially registered in Jeanne d'Arc, but they are registered as taxpayers.

They were tenant farmers on the estates of dukes and nobles. During the slack farming season, they still had to move out to various places to work as laborers and run small businesses.

On this night, the villagers of Blacknet unexpectedly did not sleep in their beds, but gathered in the center of the village square.

They whispered uneasily in low voices, looking at these well-armed and strong soldiers.

One of the refugee couples was standing at the front, rubbing the corners of their clothes awkwardly. They still couldn't believe what Jeanne had said before.

The Duke made their son into wine, which is ridiculous.

But Jeanne didn't care what they thought. After confirming the identities of the two people while riding on the horse, she nodded to Sissi.

"Don't you want evidence? Listen carefully."

Sissi opened the letter in her hand and read it aloud.

"Papa, mother, I am doing well in the monastery. Blind uncle asked me to tell you two things we all know to prevent you from doubting..."

"…We must cleanse our sins here before we can come to see you…"

"…Papa, I learned to write here. The blind uncle became blind due to illness. He taught us to write. Now I can understand books…"

"... Overall, it's nice here, I'll be back soon..."

When Sissi finished reading the contents of the letter, the peasant woman had already fainted on the ground, and her husband stood there in a daze.

But gradually he began to tremble all over, as if someone was grabbing his head and shaking it.

Suddenly, he jumped up on the spot, turned around, rushed to the edge of the crowd, and punched the village itinerant priest in the face, knocking him over on his back.

He rode directly on the priest's stomach, his strong arm muscles bulged, and he tightly grasped the priest's neck.

"Beasts! You damn beasts!"

The husband's eyes were red and his face looked so ferocious, as if he was possessed by the devil.

"Stop him quickly!"

"You can't hit a priest, you'll go to hell."

"Let me go, they should go to hell!"

"Don't be impulsive, this may not be true."

"Okay." Jeanna stepped forward and stopped him with a long battle flag. "You are lucky. You still have the relics."

The husband immediately let go of his hand, crawled to Jeanne, and looked at her pleadingly.

Jeanna turned her head reluctantly and took out an eye mask from her bag.

Seeing the blindfold, the husband began to tremble again. He could no longer control himself. He grabbed the blindfold, covered his face with his hands, knelt in the mud and burst into tears.

His eldest son's right eye was blinded by a bee sting. This eye patch was sewn by his wife, and he was very familiar with it.

All the villagers know about this matter.

The descriptions of physical appearance are consistent, the time periods are consistent, the letters can tell accurate stories of events, and there are even relics.

The villagers began to tremble. Over the years, more than one or two of their relatives and friends had been abducted by the Green Pied Piper.

Many villagers began to gather around Jeanne eagerly, hoping that she would take out letters related to their relatives and friends, but also afraid that she would really take them out.

Looking at the crowd that gathered around her, Jeanna took a deep breath and said loudly, "I didn't bring all these letters with me. The rest are in the refugee camp.

I am here to inform you because the Duke has actually been colluding with the church a long time ago, helping them sell blue blood wine.

You migrant hired farmers move around everywhere, and your relatives and friends are his best targets.

I know you may not believe it, but if you understand it, you can either follow me or go to our new refugee camp."

Just as the villagers were talking about it, the villager holding his son's eye patch walked up to Jeanne.

"Lady Saint, is there anything I can do?" He gritted his teeth, and his voice seemed to come not from his throat, but from the hellfire.

…………

Kovinsk refugee village.

After the visit of the man from Blacknet, the whole village was lit with torches.

In one of the thatched houses at the entrance of the village, a farmer was hurriedly taking off his pajamas and changing into formal clothes for daytime travel.

"Do you want to go too? You are the only young and strong person in our family. Forget it." The peasant woman said while blocking the door.

"This matter, this matter cannot be let go." The farmer said with trembling body, gritting his teeth, "Duke of the Goat, that's my own sister, she's only eight years old, how dare they do this."

"Don't go. Haven't you admitted everything?" The peasant woman grabbed the farmer's arm pleadingly.

"Who admitted it? Who admitted it! Damn it, I never admitted it! I just can't do it." The farmer pried open his wife's fingers and smashed the hat in his hand to the ground. "I just can't do it! I just can't do it!"

"Your sister has been called by the Lord, and you cannot revive her even if you go."

"If I don't go, aren't you afraid that our little Miss Will will be led away by the Green Piper one day? The Duke will bring in the Royal Order Company, and they will massacre Little Pond City. By then, our little Miss Will will also turn into wine."

The peasant woman opened her mouth wide. She looked at her children who were sleeping soundly on the straw bed, and suddenly loosened her hands.

"You wait first."

She walked behind the stove and pulled out a black dagger.

"This is my father's sword." Choking with sobs, the peasant woman handed the dagger to the farmer, "Don't die. If you die, I will take them and remarry."

Wiping the tears from his face with his sleeve, he inserted the dagger into his belt, picked up the only metal pitchfork in the house, pushed open the door, and ran into the darkness.

…………

Muscheppari refugee village.

A large group of people also gathered in the center of the village. They looked at the farmer in the middle with red eyes, half believing and half doubting.

"You, are you telling the truth?" The village chief asked fearfully as he looked at the letter in his hand and listened to his narration.

"Of course, I never lied to my little Colton! My youngest and most beloved son!" Colton's teeth were gritting. "The damn Duke betrayed us. He wanted to make blue blood wine from all the children under the age of fifteen in Jeanne d'Arc."

"But, but this is too ridiculous. I can't believe it."

"Is this unbelievable?" Colton growled, "You said it was a rumor that the Duke was going to levy a war tax, but it turned out that he really did.

You said it was a rumor that food prices would skyrocket when war came, but it turned out that they really did.

You said that the death of old Dean Juanno was a rumor, but it was still true. Do you dare to say that this is a rumor? "

"It's just a letter. Anyone can forge it."

"There are relics of the Blue Blood Orphan over at the camp. There is solid evidence. If you don't believe it, go and see for yourself. The evidence won't disappear."

Colton lost his patience with the village chief and pushed him away. He shouted at the villagers who gathered around him, "If you want to see the evidence, if you want to know where the relatives and friends who were led away by the Green Pied Piper went, follow me!"

After saying that, Colton walked straight out of the village without caring about the remaining villagers.

After a moment of silence, the villagers who had gathered around suddenly walked out and chased after Colton.

"Wait for me."

Then, people returned home one after another, lit torches, chased Colton or ran towards the new refugee camp on their own.

…………

The moon was at its zenith, and when Jeanne returned from the field, a long line of torches followed her.

Thousands of young and strong farmers, both men and women, carrying pitchforks, sickles and axes, or even just a wooden stick, followed closely behind her horse.

Under the moonlight, they walked in chaos. From time to time, someone stepped on each other's feet or fell accidentally, but they didn't say a word, just got up and continued to move forward.

Most of their faces were numb, but in the moonlight, you could see tear marks at the corners of their eyes and blue veins on their hands holding the farm tools.

Step by step, on the dry mud, we walked towards the brightly lit camp.

Madeleine stood on the watchtower of the camp and looked around. Throughout the Fort Jeanne d'Arc, one after another, the refugee villages in the fields were lit up by torches.

This is only what the naked eye can see. Behind the woods and the hillsides, villagers sail along the river in small boats and spread the gradually distorted facts in Jeanne d'Arc, which has a well-developed water system.

The air smelled of pine resin and burning wood, and the chilly wind seemed to be ignited by the raging fire beneath the ground.

Torches continued to gather together to form a long dragon of torches, moving towards the destination.

Their destination, their final place, was the new refugee camp.

At the entrance of the refugee camp, a new wooden platform one foot high had been built, with an altar in the center.

Horn, dressed in a woolen robe, stood in front of the altar. He faced the altar and looked to the west.

That's the direction of Fort Jeanne d'Arc.

On the night of November 1444, 11 in the Imperial Calendar, they were only three miles away from Château Joan of Arc.

(End of this chapter)