Chapter 58 You are so kind
Between the towering hills, the river flows across, wetting the green grass on the roadside.

The original dirt road had been basically destroyed by the flood, and every time we stepped on it, the mud would sink to our ankles.

But even so, there were still countless people wearing straw sandals or walking barefoot into the mud and water, pushing the carriages stuck in the mud forward.

Beside them, the armored soldiers in chain mail and the night watchmen were chatting and laughing about which girl was the prettiest in the village yesterday as they walked lazily forward.

The leader of this group of people was Quincy, the militia captain of High Castle City.

Quincy's face was covered with red spots, and his eyes were so swollen that people were afraid his eyeballs would fall out.

At this moment, he was sitting in a carriage, humming a little tune and counting the silver coins in his pocket.

It was already September 9th, and he should have reached the Gulag Monastery by now, but he had only walked two-thirds of the way.

After all, there is not much profit in this mission of suppressing the rebels.

A bunch of poor country bumpkins elected their own Pope. What can they have?
When Quincy first heard about the actions of this group of rebels, he almost laughed for a full five minutes before stopping.

There is still the Pope, the Papal States, and even cardinals. Why don't you have a few more royal decrees?
Add some titled knights and set up a few legions, wouldn’t that be enough?
None of the farces Quincy had seen at the circus had been funnier than this.

However, in Quincy's opinion, no matter how daring this group of rebels was, they probably would not attack Father Durdafo.

After all, he is a priest and has the amulet of unspoken rules.

If Durdafer is present, it will be more difficult for Quincy to get his hands on the monastery's warehouse.

When rescuing Durdafo, you have to go to the warehouse first. As for the lock, it is not a problem.

Quincy was born a thief!

He got the position of militia captain by stealing from nobles, killing his accomplices, and then returning the property to gain the recommendation of the nobles. He used the hidden wealth to bribe the cathedral priests.

After thorough market research, he discovered that the fastest stealing professions were priests and nobles, followed by clerks and city councilors.

The flood was a great opportunity for Quincy because all the tax cards were washed away.

He acted decisively and mortgaged his position as militia captain in exchange for the ten carts and the accompanying horses.

Of course, he was still short of goods, but he no longer had the money to get them.

Fortunately, he had channels, so he found the Grocers Guild and found a person in charge from the Magdi Chamber of Commerce.

He provided the vehicles, escorts and channels, while the Muse Chamber of Commerce was responsible for delivering the goods.

After the thing is done, if there are no risks along the way, it will be 50-50, if there are risks, it will be 40-60.

The criterion for risk reduction is the casualties of night guards and armored sergeants.

There were refugees and public servants pushing carts, and Quincy had a lot of them just by waving his hand.

Now these ten carts are filled with grain, salt, iron ingots and medicinal materials. After the flood, the grain production in Qianhe Valley, which is the main food supply area for Black Snake Bay, will definitely decrease or even fail.

Then the prices of grain and salt on the black market would surely skyrocket, and because of blocked roads, grain could not be transported in, and grain merchants and aristocrats were hoarding them.

The valleys, valleys, ditches and jungles were filled with rioting hungry people and bandits.

The flood also destroyed the connection between the secret party and local forces. The Demon Hunters took the opportunity to strangle the secret party and destroy the disobedient black market.

Knights need weapons to resist hungry bandits, witchers need weapons to hunt down secret parties, and secret parties need weapons to fight against witchers.

Weapons require iron whether they are being repaired or forged.

For the same reason, medicinal herbs can also be sold at a good price.

Not to mention anything else, along the way, he had already made a full 20 gold pounds from those knights and armed peasants with no background.

Chaos is a ladder.

Quincy didn't dare to think about how much this batch of goods could be sold for. He even thought about how great it would be if some blind bandits came to attack him.

As long as one or two night guards and armored sergeants are injured, 60% of the income from this trip can be obtained.

Unfortunately, he was holding the banner of Barnifoss, so no hungry bandits dared to come and make trouble. How to let his own people get hurt reasonably was Quincy's problem all the way.

He had previously asked his trusted followers to pretend to be bandits and tried it out, but the hateful monk named Bonard saw through him at a glance.

If he hadn't given her a way out, she would have almost fallen out with that little girl Megdi.

Now that little girl sends people over to inspect every day intentionally or unintentionally, leaving no room for maneuver.

Thinking of this, Quincy looked away with hatred and focused on the man and woman in the carriage in front of him on the left.

Sitting in the swaying carriage, the girl was wearing a simple riding suit that was tightly tied around her wrists and ankles, but her simple yet sophisticated lines could still be seen.

"Brother Bonard." The girl with wavy curly hair covered her mouth and nose with a small indigo feather fan. "Look, our militia captain is watching us again."

"Don't take it to heart, Miss Sissi, it's just a rat in the gutter." Bonard snorted coldly, "It's just such a despicable trick."

"You are so manly." Sissi's eyes were almost sparkling with stars.

She reached out her hand to hold the edge of the carriage, and as if by accident, she pressed on Bonard's hand, then quickly withdrew it.

Then she covered more of her face with the feather fan, as if she were blushing.

Anyway, Bonard's face was already red.

But his blushing face showed a more serious expression.

He said righteously: "I have urged him several times to hurry up and wipe out the hateful secret party, but he is still so slow. If it were me, I would have arrived at the Gulag Monastery three days ago."

"You are different from him. You are a monk from the Flying Castle Monastery. You strictly abide by the rules, have noble aspirations, are smart and self-disciplined..."

"You praise me too much. Compared with Ms. Catherine of the Magde Chamber of Commerce, my wisdom is just a speck of dust."

"Hahahaha, you are really good at talking. But compared to my mistress, I am just a speck of dust. We can just make a perfect couple."

Bonard's mouth was almost grinning from ear to ear: "Yes, is it?"

"Yes." Sissi smiled sweetly, and the side of her calf accidentally brushed against Bonard's foot. "I've only known you for a short time, but I feel like I've known you for a long time. You're the first man who gives me this feeling."

"I feel the same way about you."

"Alas." Sissi suddenly sighed again, "How great would it be if you were not a monk?"

"The world is unpredictable. If I had met you earlier, I might not have become a monk." Bonard's mood immediately became depressed.

He was a Frank from a knight's family. Because he was the third son and had excellent grades in the church school, he was sent to study at the monastery in Feiliu Castle.

From childhood to adulthood, the people he met were either nuns who strictly abided by the rules, or monks who were his classmates or even his bedmates.

Perhaps Barnifors had seen too much and had returned to his original nature, so he preferred the nuns' shyness and restraint, but Bonard didn't like it at all.

He had never seen such a charming, knowledgeable and interesting person in his life.

When he thought about parting with her, even though they had only known each other for four or five days, he felt so sad that he almost cried.

"Ah, Brother Bonard, I am heartbroken at the thought of having to leave you so soon."

Bonard felt both sweet and painful in his heart. Could it be that she felt the same way?

"It would be great if I were a member of the secret party. Then I could take you away and run away to a place where no one can find you..."

Bonard straightened up and moved closer: "Miss Sissi, please don't make fun of me."

"What if, I mean, I am a secret party member, what would you do to me?"

"... Out of my devotion to Myrcella, I shouldn't let you go, but out of my heart, I hope you'll be alive. If that day ever comes, I'll let you go, then atone for your sins and pray for you."

"Oh, really?" Sissi covered half of her face with a feather fan and chuckled, "You are so nice."

(End of this chapter)