Chapter 19 This is my dream of heaven
The golden light illuminated Horn's face.

The light came from holding up a golden thread.

The rabbit fur thread that was originally hanging limply in Jeanna's hand suddenly stood up straight as if it had taken a blue pill when it was electrocuted.

As if offering a treasure, Jeanna stretched out her thumb and index finger and gently flicked the wool.

"Ding!"

The sound of metal colliding is crisp and pleasant.

Horn reached out to touch the rabbit fur, but was afraid of getting electrocuted.

"When I shocked the rabbit earlier, I discovered that their fur would glow golden when it came into contact with my electricity, and it was as hard as steel."

Jeanna dispersed the lightning and put the wool aside:
"I'm going to make a flag. When it's powered on, it can be a spear when it's wrapped up, a sword when it's unfolded, and a battle axe when it's folded. This way, there will be no problem with using the weapon."

Although Jeanne looked indifferent, her left foot was rubbing on the ground repeatedly like a puppy wagging its tail.

With his other hand, he kept rubbing the corner of his linen shirt behind his back, and his face was almost written with "Come and praise me."

Although she usually looks righteous and heroic, Jeanna is only a sixteen-year-old girl after all. In Horn's previous life, she would have just entered high school.

Horn hesitantly reached out his hand and gently stroked Jeanna's head: "Have you decided what pattern you want to sew?"

"I haven't thought about it yet." Jeanna's face turned slightly red and she shook her head.

"Then go ask the villagers and let everyone decide to spin together. Otherwise, it will be too slow for you to spin alone. It's just right..." Horn stopped talking suddenly here.

He remembered that ever since Jeanna was possessed by the "witch" last time, his relationship with the villagers had almost reached freezing point, and they hardly spoke to each other.

Even if you have to talk to them, the shorter the better.

Correspondingly, Jeanne became more and more dependent on Horn, and she would follow him wherever he went.

Basically, she went from one extreme to another. No wonder people say that "witch" has a paranoid personality.

How to get rid of her in the future will be a big problem.

"Okay." Jeanne didn't show much emotion. She turned around and continued to spin rabbit wool with a spindle.

"If you don't want to go, I can go and tell them."

"No, I have to face them eventually. This is my hometown after all, and I am a saint after all." Jeanna's smile gradually faded. "But I am completely different now than I was before. The so-called knight... is just a story after all."

........................

Two days passed quickly. Although it was still cloudy, the rain had stopped.

Jeshka, wearing a newly woven straw hat, walked slowly along the path in the woods.

He carried a wicker basket filled with cut and peeled potato roots.

Compared with other skinny refugees, Jeshka is much stronger.

He had thick and square arms, a fat waist and abdomen, and was about four feet six inches (1.75 meters) tall, which was considered very tall among the common people in that era.

Standing among the villagers and refugees, most of whom are only about 1.6 meters tall, Jeshka seems to stand out from the crowd.

Jeanne, who is only 1.7 meters tall at the age of 16, is a typical example of genetic mutation.

Eat less but grow taller, I don’t know where the nutrition comes from.

Although Horn was considered tall, he was still an inch shorter than Jeanne.

However, Jeshka's size has nothing to do with his frequent visits to the lord's estate to buy things for free, but is due to family reasons.

He was born into a knight family in the Kingdom of Norn. He was the fifth son. After he became an adult, he was driven out by his father and sent to the empire to be a talent.

As the Kingdom of Norn is a major exporter of mercenary labor, Jeshka is naturally path-dependent and becomes a glorious mercenary.

He fought in many battles and worked for a full ten years.

Until five years ago, Duke Papani of Kinmen and Lord Gis of Bacon both claimed the throne of Lord Codburgh.

During the War of Succession, Djeshka fought as a mercenary for Duke Papani of the Golden Gates.

Due to some minor incidents during the battle, he killed three illegitimate sons of the Archbishop of High Castle in one fell swoop.

Since the Archbishop of the High Castle had only these three illegitimate sons, the bishop was a little angry and ordered that the mercenary group that Jessica belonged to be executed or exiled.

Among these three hundred people, only Jeshka himself escaped, but he still had to live as a refugee, living in constant fear.

Stepping on the soft humus that had been deposited for thousands of years, Jeshka held on to a black branch sticking out from the side and stepped over a fallen giant tree.

A drop of rain fell on Jeshka's ear. He looked up at the sky, but could only see countless dead branches that looked like wizard fingers.

They overlap, twist and stretch, almost covering all the sky.

Only rain can slide down the crocodile-like bark like tears.

Jeshka continued to walk forward in silence. Somehow, he suddenly thought of the "holy grandson master".

He thought this "holy grandson" would be his lifeline.

You know, in the Holy See City on the Golden Horn, among the College of Cardinals, the one who is currently vying for the position of Pope with the most influence is the "reincarnation of an angel" recognized by the Church.

Alas, what a pity, Jeshka shook his head. Once the flood recedes, the identity of the Holy Grandson might not be useful anymore.

It was impossible for the church to identify Horn.

The villagers in the remote village may not be aware of this, but the knowledgeable Jessica knows that since Pope Joan, witches have been a taboo for the church.

As for other "auspicious signs", as long as they were done with good luck and operated well, and became established facts, the church would accept them even if they were "angels reincarnated". But for witches, they would never tolerate them.

Jeshka jumped over a ditch lightly with steady steps and a deep look in his one eye.

Walking out of the bush path, you will see a stream in the forest.

Dozens of baskets woven with rattan and tree bark were soaked in the stream, and a dozen young men were busy around a few clay pots.

They used a torn linen gauze to scoop the steaming potato roots from the pot and put them into the cold water nearby.

The blue water in the pot poured into the stream.

"What's going on?" Jeshka put the wicker basket on the ground, walked to the pottery jar and looked inside.

"This is the last batch of potato roots from a day ago. Once this pot is cooked, leave two people to guard it, and we can go back."

Jeshka nodded and sat down on the bluestone at the side.

He picked up a processed potato root from the sackcloth beside him and broke off a piece, but Jessica didn't dare to eat it.

He had personally seen people die in agony from eating these harmful crops.

For the wandering refugees, not eating potato roots is a rule that is deeply engraved in their minds.

Is what Horn said true?

Now that he already knew that Horn's "holy grandson" was fake, Jeshka couldn't help but be more suspicious.

He even suspected that Horn was going to poison them all to make it easier for him to escape.

However, with the presence of the "holy lady" who bore a grudge against the villagers, it seemed unnecessary for the holy grandson to go through so much trouble.

After thinking about it, Jessica still couldn't figure out Horn's idea. What exactly was this bizarre idea for?
For thousands of years, no one has figured out how to eat potato roots. How could you, a fake saint, know it?
Even if potato roots are really edible, who would be willing to test them for poison?

"Boss Deshka..."

A young man carrying a basket full of potato roots walked up to Jeshka. As soon as he opened his mouth, he was hit on the head by his companion.

"I've told you so many times, you have to weigh ten households when you're working."

Jieshka waved his hand: "This won't happen again. Let's go."

But suddenly, the young man's expression changed. He pointed at the potato root that Jeshka had broken open and said, "Head of the Tenth Household, you didn't eat this, did you?"

"How is that possible? I just broke it open to see if there was any residual toxin inside." Jeshka didn't care much and just answered casually.

He carried a wicker basket full of potato roots, walked to the front, and led the young and strong men back, but suddenly, he noticed something was wrong.

Turning his head to look at his former refugee companions, although they were still talking and laughing, Jeshka clearly felt something was wrong.

Their first reaction after realizing that he might have eaten the potato roots was not to worry that he was poisoned, but to fear that he had eaten the food that was supposed to have gone into the holy treasury?

Forcing himself to suppress the confusion and fear in his heart, Jessica said nothing more and walked slowly forward with his fellow ten households behind him.

The road in the forest was long and cold. Jeshka lowered his head and continued to think about a way out.

Maybe they felt it was too quiet, and out of the blue, someone started singing.

"Eighty acres of good farmland, and a gentle and kind in-law. My child will grow up smoothly, build a house when he grows up, and grow his own food. The more I work, the more I will gain..."

This was a little song Horn had taught a few days ago. With its simple tune and catchy lyrics, it quickly became a favorite of the villagers of Moulin Rouge.

Horn gathered all the children together, and formed a choir led by his orphan guards, and they sang this song every day.

No matter whether they were refugees, public farmers, or even armed farmers, there was no one who could not sing.

Although he still felt that the future was uncertain, Jeshka couldn't help humming along as he listened to the little tune.

"Oh oh oh--"

After walking out of the forest, before getting close to the camp, Jeshka heard waves of cheers.

It was not until I got closer that I realized it was a public book farmer.

His face was ruddy, and there were still some potato root crumbs on the beard at the corners of his mouth.

He held the potato roots high in his hand, his face full of pride.

On the potato root, you can clearly see the traces of biting and several clear lines of teeth marks.

Can potato roots really be eaten?

His pupils constricted, and Jeshka once again felt a sense of unreality.

Over the years, many people have tried to find ways to eat potato roots without success.

Even the church says that this is a crop from hell, which can never be eaten, and is used by the devil to seize the land's fertility.

Many times, his fellow refugees had starved to death in front of potato roots, but now, Jeshka suddenly felt that his own experience and dissuasion were so ridiculous.

Could it be that he is really a saint?

Behind Jeshka, there was also celebratory laughter, and the sweet aroma of potato root rice had already wafted into their noses.

Looking at Horn standing on the snake head stone with a smile on his face, Jeshka seemed to really see a golden light above his head.

　ps: Guess which two movies Father Byrne and Vampire Rabbit are paying tribute to respectively?

　　Hint: Made by the same team.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)