Chapter 435: Rapid City People's Congress (Part 4) (k)

"Some people have been saying recently that we are going to execute Catherine, the former governor of Rapid City." Horn said word by word, "This is a complete rumor!"

The people in the audience were obviously relieved. After all, if Catherine was killed by them, even if she was a witch, the people of Rapid City would lose some of their rights to be respected when they went out.

In this era where reputation is a guarantee, if the reputation of people in Rapid City is ruined, it means that business will be affected to some extent.

“But it does reflect some of the public opinion.”

Horn left the podium and walked to the front of the platform, looking at the believers in front of him: "So as to whether to expel or retain the former ruling Catherine, I have decided to let the Holy Father decide."

The so-called Judgment of the Holy Father is the same as the terminology used for electing the Pope: "Although we are elected, this reflects the will of the Holy Father."

The Pope of the Holy See can use it, so why can't Horn use the same method?
"We in the Salvation Army have always believed in restoring the Holy Way and respecting the people and rejecting dissidents." Horn leaned his elbows on both sides of the podium. "So, according to the ancient believers' assembly, each person will put a grain of wheat into the basket representing those to be expelled and those to be kept, and see the Holy Father's verdict."

In early believers' assemblies, the early Messianic Church often used this method to reach internal consensus in the church.

Because wheat grains were too small and the error was large, Horn changed them to relatively larger beans for easier weighing and calculation.

This method is quite new to these ordinary civilians.

"Where are my beans? No, where are my beans?"

"You should have said it earlier. I've eaten all the beans."

"No, man, there's a layer of paint on the beans. Aren't you afraid of being poisoned?"

"This isn't fair, people who pay more taxes should get more beans!"

"Buying beans, one dinar per bean, buying, buying... Hey, what are you doing? Ah, stop fighting, stop fighting."

Watch as the black-clad soldiers knock down and drag out those who were buying beans or trying to carry beans from the store themselves.

The city councillors had no choice but to climb down from the wooden platform and go everywhere to maintain order, telling them that the Salvation Army only recognized beans dyed with red paint and not to try to cheat again.

Under the leadership of prestigious village elders such as black-clad soldiers and congressmen, the citizens finally began to drop red-painted beans into baskets in an orderly manner.

There were two wicker baskets next to each bonfire. Under the guidance of the parliamentarians and black-clad soldiers, they lined up and threw beans into the baskets one by one.

This voting method was naturally quite crude; some beans rolled out of the basket, while others were covered with dust and saliva.

But as long as there are enough voters, this error will not have much impact on the final result.

Looking at the voters who were voting in a mess, and then looking at Catherine who was wearing a hood and holding an umbrella on a hot day, Sissi couldn't help but walk to Armand's side:

"Can this really clear Lady Catherine's identity as a witch?"

Armand said confidently: "Don't worry, Your Majesty will not really let them exile Catherine. I have arranged everything. It depends on how these citizens decide."

In fact, Horn's purpose was quite simple. After thinking about it, he decided to give the citizens of Rapid City a chance.

At the same time, it also gave Catherine a chance to see what these citizens were like.

If the citizens could get past the church's ideological seal and keep Catherine in power, Horn was willing to give them more freedom to take a courageous stance.

For example, give them a status similar to that of a special economic zone, taking away only part of their sovereignty while still leaving them with some financial power.

But if they are still influenced by the church's "witch-church" binary opposition narrative, then don't blame Horn for using the invisible hand of the Holy Father and the visible hand of the Holy Grandson.

Let the citizens see what it means to do both things well.

The black-clad soldiers ran back and forth carrying baskets full of beans, pouring baskets of red-painted beans into wooden buckets that had been prepared in advance.

The round beans fell into the wooden bucket with a clatter, and the people around stared fixedly at the large scale that was as long as a person.

When the last basket of red lacquer beans was poured into the wooden bucket, the scale, which was thought to be tilted, actually maintained a strange balance.

The bronze pointer swayed left and right on the vertical line, causing everyone's hearts to fluctuate with anxiety.

One second, two seconds, three seconds... time passed slowly.

As the scales gradually regained their balance, in the frustrated and angry eyes of Mitternich, Carl and others, the pointer still tilted slightly towards Exile.

Although it was only a slight angle, it still pointed to exile.

Mitternich, who was standing beside the scale and counting, felt his heart sink. After measuring the angle, he spoke with difficulty, "Leaning, leaning towards exile."

In other words, the groups that wanted to exile Catherine and those that wanted to keep Catherine each accounted for about 50% of the city, but there were slightly more people who advocated exiling her.

For a witch who is hated by everyone, 50% support is pretty good.

Catherine's face darkened a little under the shadow of her hood. It was ridiculous that she still had a hint of expectation.

"I said no one wanted her to stay."

"I request a re-election. The previous one was not standardized and had too many errors."

"Yes, and for such a big event, it should be more than two-thirds to count."

"That's enough. Are we electing a pope? Why don't we all stay here to vote with you?"

The exile faction and the retention faction began to quarrel. Some demanded a re-election, some demanded that the original verdict be upheld, and some wanted to go home for dinner.

Looking at the noisy citizens, Horn let out a long sigh. Even though it was just a slight one, the citizens of Rapid City had already made their choice.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu"

The loud shouts from the stage spread out along with the sound-transmitting monks, and the echoing old shouts spread out like waves.

The citizens raised their heads from the quarrel and looked towards the platform, only to see Horn trembling all over, his eyes and mouth tightly closed, his arms constantly breaststroke forward in the air.

Of course, he did not act out the original twitching and hideous face. The first reason was that the citizens could not see it. The second reason was that the citizens had a high level of aesthetic taste and there was no need to create a horror atmosphere in that way.

This is? The so-called "Holy Father descending to earth" of Sheng Sun?
Many citizens had unnatural expressions on their faces, some even with a hint of contempt. This method was good enough to deceive the villagers and laborers, but they wanted to deceive them?
But as Horn trembled and hugged his arms, the surrounding Saviors began to fire their guns, and most of the people present began to sing hymns, and things changed.

The migrant workers were all led to sing along, while the citizens who thought they were rational and intelligent stood frozen in place, becoming the outcasts.

As the song reached its climax, Horn's body stopped shaking. He put his hands behind his back and imitated the past, drawing nasolabial folds on his face again.

"Why don't you bow to me when you see me?" Standing at a corner of the platform, Horn looked up at the empty space in front of him and shouted in a drawn-out voice.

After a shout, the black-clad soldiers half-knelt in unison, while the rest of the laborers prostrated themselves on the ground, imitating the posture of the Holy Fathers monks.

Only the citizens, neither standing nor kneeling, still stared at Horn with an uncomfortable look.

Horn did not force them, because they would kneel down on their own in a moment.

"Mr. Idelman, did you have sex with your dog yesterday?!" "I, I didn't." Under the gaze of everyone, Idelman retorted subconsciously.

"I don't know if you have any?" Horn put his hands behind his back and said in a hoarse and old voice, "Isn't that dog yellow and black? It's called Kalasha, which is the nickname you gave it."

The sound was not loud, but it was like thunder. The believer Idelman fell to his knees with a thud, and sweat seeped into his back at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The people around him immediately took a few steps back in disgust, trying to distance themselves from Edelman.

Horn squinted his eyes and didn't look at the believers in the audience, but he could accurately point to one of them: "Believers Dang Zig, you communicate with the devil, don't you think I don't know?"

"Believers Bresol, you..."

After calling out seven or eight names in succession, soldiers in black quickly appeared and took away three or five of them. In public, someone put a holy gun to their heads and they exploded with a bang.

Shattered skulls and brains fell to the ground, and the citizens finally realized the current situation.

In this situation, you have to believe it even if you don't want to.

This time, no matter which direction Horn turned his head, a large number of people immediately knelt down. They didn't want their little secret to be exposed in public.

This information was certainly not provided by the Cheka. They had only been here for a few days and certainly did not have such strong intelligence capabilities.

This is provided by the Magdi Chamber of Commerce.

"Why are you here? Your souls should not be in your bodies!" The Holy Father's majestic voice echoed over the square, as if the words were really coming from the sky.

"You deserved to have your heart pierced by the knight! But you are still alive. Who saved you?"

"You should have been shot through the head with an arrow, but you are still alive. Who saved you?"

Torches flickered, battle flags fluttered, and melodious bell sounds came from the Rapids City clock tower in the distance, blending with the last red light of the setting sun.

The light slanted onto Horn's face, and his eyes filled with anger made many citizens feel oddly itchy.

"Who saved you!?"

The harsh reprimands, mixed with the evening breeze, formed a storm that made many citizens lower their heads unconsciously.

They were well aware of Catherine's achievements, and even knew the identity of Horn's grandson.

But they had no ability to resist. The only one who could resist was standing in the shadow behind Horn wearing a cloak.

The citizens finally realized how important Catherine was.

"Misella thought that you could see through the devil's tricks and distinguish who is the devil and who is the saint. Unfortunately, she loves you too much and guessed wrong." Horn acted majestically, "Since you want to vote, I will cast my vote too!"

As he spoke, Horn strode to the wooden bowl, picked up a grain of sand from the ground, and lightly threw it into the wooden bowl of the reservation faction.

"Crunch--" the sound of wood chips breaking was heard.

Everyone suddenly raised their heads and focused their attention on the scale. Amid exclamations, the scale miraculously tilted towards the conservative faction the next second.

But Horn merely threw a grain of sand into the reserved wooden bucket.

The wooden bucket on the scale fell like a meteor, breaking the lever and smashing heavily to the ground.

The dust from the wooden bucket hitting the ground dissipated, and Horn stared coldly at the people in front of him. He mumbled, making his voice majestic and distant: "This is my vote, Catherine, not guilty."

The wooden bowl fell to the ground with a loud bang, hitting the hearts of everyone in the square. They looked at Horn, who was extremely majestic, and then at the black-clad soldiers around them with unfriendly expressions.

They immediately felt that something was wrong, but no one dared to stand up and point it out. After all, the current situation was that most of the citizens, laborers and craftsmen present knelt down.

The city councillors were still hunched over, whispering little by little: "Mrs. Catherine has been exiled. Who can put pressure on the Holy Grandson who is protected by the Holy Father for us?"

"Call Catherine, hurry up."

The strange silence lasted for a short time, and then, led by the brothers of the Holy Fathers, some people started shouting again.

"A grain of sand from the Holy Father is a mountain!"

"Praise the Father!"

"Katherine, not guilty."

With waves of thunderous applause, the originally depressing atmosphere finally became solemn and dignified.

The Holy Fathers in the crowd immediately began to sing hymns loudly, while the city councilors knelt on the hard tiles and sang loudly.

The singing seemed to be contagious, passing from one person to another. Within a few minutes, nearly ten thousand believers present were singing the hymn in unison.

The carols echoed around the square for seven or eight minutes, but strange "bang bang" sounds came from the roofs on both sides.

A strange floral fragrance accompanied by a gentle breeze blew across her cheek, and Catherine suddenly felt her ears itchy. She reached out and touched it, but it was a petal.

Looking up, she was stunned for a moment. Dozens of petals were scattered and slowly falling from the sky.

Yellow, white and red petals fell from the sky like rain, landing on people's heads, shoulders and ears.

Some citizens even forgot to think and stared blankly at the rain of flowers falling in front of them.

Amid the hymns, a victory trumpet song suddenly sounded, and along with the petals, it fell like a waterfall into everyone's ears.

It seemed that only at this time did people cheer and celebrate for their war hero, for the "witch" Catherine who protected the entire city.

Just as Catherine was staring at the petals in the palm of her hand, a rough but slender hand covered it. She raised her head, but could only see the back of Horn's head.

Lead by this rough hand, Catherine even stumbled to the platform.

Before Catherine could react, Horn took her hand and raised it high.

"From now on, there will no longer be a witch named Catherine, only a saint named Catherine!"

"Saint Catherine!"

"Yes, Saint, we love you."

"Katherine! Katherine!"

Holding Horn's hand, Catherine did not respond to the cheers from the audience.

She just stared blankly at Horn's face, which was shaking as if he had been electrocuted.

(End of this chapter)