Chapter 71 Today, I drink to celebrate my victory and admire the generals without white hair

According to the doctor, Xixi just hit her head and will wake up soon.

If Horn had let go and allowed the doctor to try an enema with peppermint water, it might have helped.

This proposal was declined by Horn.

If this method is used, something that was originally fine will become a problem.

Besides, Horn had an important matter to attend to when he came back.

We have won a battle that has the fate of the entire nation at stake. How can we not celebrate?
Preparations for this celebration banquet and rewards had already begun before Horn set out on the expedition, and were basically arranged by Madeleine alone.

The spoils and prisoners of war were escorted back to the monastery, where they treated the wounded and counted the military merits in a chaotic manner.

Next was the suppression of a brawl between the Black Hats and the Guards before the Holy Sepulchre. This took the entire afternoon, and it was only in the evening, when the celebration banquet began, that things finally calmed down for a while.

The setting sun is as red as blood, covering everything with a red veil.

In front of the small square at the entrance of the monastery, there are hundreds of sloping tables of varying heights, some of which are only as high as a person's knees.

To protect against wind and possible rain, large sheds made of branches and canvas were built above the area.

The citizens of the Gulag monastery were taking their seats noisily, the children were running between the tables, chairs and benches, and the adults were holding broken bones and shouting "big big big" and "small small small".

Although there was nothing on the table, the aroma of food in the air still made everyone shed tears of piety.

Standing on the top step in front of the monastery, the gold thread of Horn's papal crown shone with a crooked luster, solemn and dignified.

Many soldiers of the Papal States waiting to be conferred the title, their faces still bearing old wounds from fights with friendly forces, lined up in front of the steps.

"My believers, I want to announce something to you. We have won this special competition!" Horn's voice was solemn and sonorous, echoing throughout the square.

The believers below immediately gave out eager and impatient cheers.

"In this war, my soldiers, you defended the glory of the Papal State with courage and loyalty and won the victory. Now, I will fulfill my pre-war promise."

When the soldiers from the two legions heard this, their angry glares at each other immediately turned into expectant smiles.

Picking up a scroll, Horn said with a smile, "I said before that I always felt that I was treating you unfairly by making you barons.

Such a great achievement was too much for the little baron to bear.

Therefore, I decided to follow the officer system of the Ancient Aiel Empire and award you medals!

Of course, if you want to be a baron, I can still make you a baron."

Is there such a good thing?
Originally, the soldiers thought that the baron was more realistic. After all, they knew nothing and had no military achievements.

But after such a high-quality and sophisticated war competition, they felt that with their military achievements, it would not be an exaggeration to call them barons, even earls.

"Woolley, captain of the Fifth Imperial Order Company, First Brigade, First Division of the Black Hats, awarded the rank of junior general, six hundred acres of land, five hundred and forty acres of remote control, and three indulgences."

"Momri, captain of the first imperial company of the fifth brigade of the Guards, awarded the title of general, a thousand acres of land, nine hundred acres of remote land, and six indulgences."

"Yada, captain of the fifth leaping company of the third brigade of the children's army, awarded the title of junior general, three hundred acres of land, two hundred and seventy acres of remote control, and three indulgences."

Every time Horn read a name, the people of the Papal States cheered.

But gradually, they found something was wrong.

We cheered too many times and used up too much energy. I’m starting to feel out of breath.

At the bottom of the steps, there were already high-ranking military officers from the Papal States standing there.

After this awarding of honors, in the Papal States’ army of up to 210 people, there will be 140 junior generals, 65 generals, 10 marshals and 1 grand marshal.

In terms of the number of generals, it has already caught up with the El Empire in its heyday.

The title of Grand Marshal was originally intended to be awarded to Deshka.

However, due to the strong public opinion during the internal court deliberations of the Pope, especially the establishment civil servants headed by Busak, there was strong opposition to Jeshka's promotion.

Horn had no choice but to award the position of Grand Marshal to himself.

Standing on the high steps, Horn faced the many generals who were awarded titles and handed them the deeds and rank ribbons with a smile.

From time to time he would pat them on the shoulder and chat with them casually.

The deeds in Horn's hands are all genuine and carefully crafted.

They are all made of carefully cut hemp paper, with thin short tassels on the edges, which is particularly gorgeous.

The text on the deed was written in light ink that was so elegant that it was almost translucent. The technique of flying brush and breaking white space was used, leaving white space everywhere, revealing solemnity without leaving any trace.

Not only are the lands on these deeds real, they are also legally binding.

It had the Pope's personal signature on it, announcing that the land of the Gulag Monastery would be allocated to them.

Above the signature is the Pope's seal:

"I am commanded by the saint, and I will do whatever it takes to benefit you."

As for whether the church agrees or not?

Nonsense, the country has won the battle for destiny, and His Majesty Horn is the Pope. How dare the church disagree?

Not to mention, the church's land originally belonged to His Majesty Horn.

This is not a case of exterminating the entire family. His Majesty Horn is an adopted son, and this is a normal form of property inheritance.

From this perspective, His Majesty Horn is the son of a landlord, and the church is just a tenant farmer.

What's wrong with a landlord subletting his own land to others?
It makes perfect sense.

In addition to these deeds, there are also vertical strips representing military ranks. These strips are made of linen, in long strips, and come in two colors: dark red and dark blue.

The junior general has one blue ribbon, the senior general has two blue ribbons, the marshal has two blue ribbons and one red ribbon, and the grand marshal has two blue and two red ribbons.

One end of these straps are sewn to the clavicle on both sides of the cloak, staggered left and right, and can be used to tie the cloak.

When not in use, you can also use it to hang things, such as a purse kettle.

As for the scraps of cloth left over from making these strips, Madeleine did not waste them, but sewed them into palm-sized bags: one bag for a junior general, two bags for a senior general, three bags for a marshal, and four bags for a grand marshal.

Looking at these meritorious soldiers of the Papal Army changing their uniforms, Horn frowned. He always felt a strange sense of déjà vu coming from nowhere.

When General Mons stood in front of him, Horn's sense of déjà vu reached its peak.

At both ends of the black hooded cloak, there was a strip of tattered dark blue cloth hanging down. On one side were broken bones of unknown use, and on the other side was a shaky wooden spoon.

The shirt, whose color could not be seen clearly, was covered with patches, and around his waist hung two patchwork bags made of scraps of cloth. He wore straw sandals, and his hairy calves were covered with mud spots.

For a moment, Horn almost couldn't hold it in.

The only difference between this and the classic image he has in our minds is a dog-beating stick.

Just as the thought came to his mind, Madeleine, wearing three strips and three cloth bags and leaning on a stick as tall as a person, came over happily.

"Your Majesty, look, this is the bishop's scepter I prepared for the bishops."

"Why not?"

"Hey, Your Majesty, please don't leave, Your Majesty!"

After the award ceremony, we can finally start eating.

About twenty peasant women and monks were carrying dirty wooden barrels filled with delicious banquet dishes.

From table to table, a monk used a large wooden spoon to scoop a spoonful of stewed meat with peas and rotten yellow cabbage onto a plate.

Before the monk could walk away, countless hands and spoons reached out, and in the blink of an eye, the stew disappeared.

Fish soup, meatloaf, carrot sticks, cabbage soup, bread sticks, boiled eggs...

In the dirty wooden barrel, there were black hairs and flies that were still wriggling.

But how could the villagers care? For them who worked in the fields all day, an unbridled banquet would be the only sweetness they could taste in the year.

"I saw the bread loaf first, put it down!"

"I can still drink, don't stop me."

"Don't drink it, it's a swill bucket!"

"big big big!"

The dishes were piled up, juice was splashing, and the dirty table was covered with a layer of greasy dust in less than half a day.

The men rolled up their sleeves, put one foot on the bench, shouted loudly, and boasted to each other.

The women pulled open their collars, revealing their greasy white skin, and didn't even care that the mead was sliding down their chins into their grooves.

Despite the flood, this time in the Gulag Monastery was actually the time when they had the most to eat and the best food.

The moon was at its zenith and the smell of alcohol in the air was growing stronger. Madeleine had already sent people to light a bonfire in preparation for the increasingly heated atmosphere of the night banquet.

"belch--"

After pouring a large cup of mead into his mouth, Grampven burped for a long time.

He took out a lute from somewhere, jumped onto the bench, and looked like he was about to fall, but he managed to stand firmly.

“Are you heading to the High Castle Market?

Blood celery, rabbit's tail grass, rosemary and thyme,
Say hello to a girl there for me,
Tell her to make me a linen shirt, hey-a-ho-ho!"

As this country tune started, the drunken villagers stopped eating and pushed away their chairs, stood up shakily, and walked to the campfire spontaneously.

They held hands and formed a circle, leaned sideways, and neatly hid on the ground. They kicked their legs and began to dance in a circle.

At first it was just the villagers, then the bohemian bishops joined in, and even His Holiness the Pope was dragged into the disco by Jeanne and Carrie.

Almost everyone joined in.

Around several campfires, the circles they formed sometimes grew bigger and sometimes got smaller, and their laughter was cheerful and innocent.

Still sitting in the corner, Danji watched the celebration with a smile on his face.

That’s great. There were no rogue monks looking for trouble during the banquet. It’s quite different from the past.

"Danji, what are you sitting there for? Come along."

"Yeah, come on, let's go together."

In response to the invitation, Danji raised his glass and said, "I am a knight, I cannot participate in such an event."

"In our eyes, you are much better than a knight. Come on."

"Yeah, everyone is waiting."

Suddenly a little girl jumped out from the crowd, grabbed Danji's finger and pulled him towards the crowd.

Fearing that he might hurt the little girl, Danji had no choice but to move forward.

Holding the rough black hand of an old farmer in his left hand and the skinny hand of a little girl in his right hand, Danji danced awkwardly.

Although he was still talking about chivalry, he couldn't stop smiling.

The light from the bonfire in the distance danced in Sissi's pupils.

Even though he was in the bedroom on the third floor, he could still hear the laughter outside the courtyard wall.

Leaning against the windowsill and looking in quietly for a while, Sissi let out a long sigh.

Forget it tonight and tell them tomorrow.

I wonder if they will still be happy when they get to know the news.

　p.s. there will be another chapter later

　　
　
(End of this chapter)