"Are the rumors true?"
A man turned in from the other side, just in time to hear his last whisper.
The visitor had a beard, an oval face with a slightly narrow forehead, and lips like the cracked dry bark of dead wood. He was also wearing a washed-white woolen robe, and his haggard appearance made people doubt his age.
"Williamette."
Archbishop Rodrik didn't answer, but just nodded at him.
The monk known as "Williamette" took a step back, looked up and down carefully at his former college classmates, and finally grinned: "When I received the letter, I was so scared that I fell off the chair. I almost jumped off the second floor to escape, for fear that a knight in black would appear in front of me in the next second, drag me out and throw me on the stake."
"If you wish so much, I can arrange it for you now."
Archbishop Rodri nodded to the monks, then turned and walked into the church.
The few monks in dark coats scattered into the street outside the church without saying a word.
Seeing this scene, Brother Willenart shuddered, and couldn't help wondering whether it was the right choice for him to come to Roland.
"To be honest," he didn't dare to think about the identities of those black-clad monks, and caught up with Archbishop Rodri, "this is really surprising, in every way."
When he was a student, Rodriguez was the one with the best academic performance in St. John's College, but also the most incompatible with the people around him. Everyone knows there's one freak in the entire academy who literally lives up to every rule. There was a brothel area not far from St. John's College at the time... aha! When the seminary students went there, they comforted themselves with the fact that the Pope had dozens of illegitimate children, but Rodriguez didn't.
Not even the most experienced whore could melt his rocky sternness.
The "sage" who is incomprehensible.
Although this was just a private joke, it also showed that Rodri was as devout as a fanatic.
It is as startling as a lion giving up its meat for such a man who is so convinced that he is so awesome that he is suddenly willing to protect a heretic who is hunted down one day.
"Where is the manuscript?"
Archbishop Rodri didn't give Willenat any time to relax, and he cut straight to the point.
"Brought it." Willenat grinned helplessly, put the suitcase in his hand on the table, and opened it like a dangerous weapon by the light of a candle, "A total of two hundred and twenty-one pages , all are there."
The Circulation of the Blood and the Rediscussion of the Doctrine.
By candlelight, the title page of the manuscript is simply written with a single line in a slightly slanted font.
It was such a seemingly ordinary work that set off a sinister conspiracy in the Papal State some time ago.
The author of the book, Michelle, is a doctor of a cardinal in the holy city. He discovered the fact that the blood circulation of the human heart is bad in an accidental dissection. However, this is not in line with the long-accepted "reiki" theory. Dr. Michel discussed the working principle of the heart in his manuscript, and thus raised questions about the teaching.
Originally, if this was just a private note, it would not have led to a fatal disaster. Unfortunately, when he privately shared his discoveries and doubts with his friends, one person leaked his thoughts.
"Saint Trefus II is in a hurry to continue his cleansing activities," Willenart shrugged. "In less than a day, he was thrown on the stake by the Inquisition. That unlucky man I'm going to put this hot thing in my hand... I'm wondering if I offended him at some point, and he wanted to use it to kill me. "
Wellernath was still chattering, but he didn't mention the embarrassment of hiding in the Holy City under the most powerful Inquisition in the whole world with the manuscript that was judged to be "heretical".
Archbishop Rodriguez did not answer him.
The firm hand opened the manuscript, and the steel-blue eyes, like goshawks hunting for targets, quickly passed over it, examining the anatomical diagrams of blood vessels and heart, and the annotations denying spiritual energy and holy teachings.
He read quickly, and was not interested in the doubts of the unfortunate doctor behind him. In just a short while, he finished browsing the content he was most concerned about.
"I can provide you with a batch of printing presses and workers," he closed the manuscript, calmly interrupting Willenat's meaningless chatter, "on one condition."
"What?"
"Distribute all printed books to the Papal State and to the Holy City." The archbishop said terrible words in a calm tone.
Willenat's expression was as if he had seen a ghost, and he panicked like a cat whose tail was stepped on for a moment: "How do you know..." He interrupted in time, but his doubts were clearly written on his face— How did Rodrik know that they had established a secret organization in the Holy City
Suddenly, Willernath remembered a rumor. It seemed that his old classmate, who had been a believer, had not only betrayed his faith, but had also degenerated into an intelligence leader who was in league with the conspiracy.
He was dumbfounded, and suddenly believed that outrageous rumor—that of Archbishop Roland and Queen Roland.
"good."
Finally, Wellernath agreed with difficulty, only he asked a question.
"Does Her Majesty know that you are doing this?"
"Our war has already begun," Archbishop Rodrik didn't answer directly. He pointed to the Rose Strait outside the window, "Your war is coming soon."
"War is everywhere."
…………………
No one was blind to the nervous signals in the air.
On the command ship, Abigail had just inspected the warship. She stood on the deck and looked at the gathering point of soldiers not far away.
The sea breeze was blowing from the direction of the shipyard, and there was a strong strange smell in the wind. When pitch is boiled with spoiled tallow, it gives off this sickening stench. After these boiled animal fats are applied to the hull, it can improve the water resistance of the warship.
Above the wind is the shipyard working day and night.
Ships and convoys are also coming in a steady stream. Boxes of biscuits that have been baked twice are being carried onto ships, javelins, gun mounts, wood, ropes... only one port in the Strait of Roses, for large-scale battles The amount of materials prepared is already astonishing.
"You should stay and guard Rose Strait."
Earl Boli, known as the "Sword of the Imperial Guard", was wearing a military uniform and came up from behind.
The general who has been stationed in the Rose Strait for nearly his life is frowning, disapproving of the Queen's military commission.
"You have been stationed in the Strait of Roses longer than I have. This time when you go to Jager, a large part of the fleet in the Strait will be withdrawn. I don't have the ability to guard the throat of the empire under these conditions." Abigail lazily Said, with her back leaning against the railing, her heels crossed, in a casual stance.
Earl Boli frowned when he saw her sloppy look, and reprimanded her twice, but he did not insist on leading the fleet expedition by him.
They all knew that Earl Eberly's current physical condition could no longer withstand the turmoil of ocean voyages.
Earl Boli was silent for a moment. He watched the light of the Tower of the Sun fall on the sea. For a moment, the stubborn general became old.
"The fate of the empire is in your hands," said Jiu Jiu, "guard it."
Abigail raised her eyebrows, remembering that Earl Bolly was a witness to the sea war between Roland and Jager for more than ten years.
The real purpose of Earl Boli's coming to see her seems to be the last sentence. After speaking, he turned around and was about to go back to the shore—he had already handed over the "Tulip" that accompanied him for most of his life to Abigail.
"Roland will take back all the islands."
Abigail raised her voice behind him and called out to him.
Earl Boli paused, took a deep breath, and walked away with a straight back.
……………
That night, Abigail spread out her private journal in the captain's cabin.
As a cynical and arrogant ex-pirate leader, writing a diary doesn't seem to fit well with Abigail. She didn't have this hobby in the first place.
"..."
The habit of keeping a diary was formed after sneaking out with Adele that day.
"It's a pity that we didn't see the sunrise."
Abigail always remembers Adele's sigh.
They ran across the beach during the short but precious nights, sneaked into the warships in the harbor together, and she took her to meet the stupid group of minions... It's like the orchid spirit really worked its magic, They dropped everything briefly and had the luxury of grabbing handfuls of naughty bits.
Abigail splits a handful of berries she stole in half, and she hums a melody without words to her.
They walked the way back very slowly.
Adele, who would walk down the street side by side with her and share the sour berries, existed only for that night. After one night, those phantoms of carelessness faded from her. The sun hadn't risen yet, and the pretty silver-haired friend looked sideways at the sea surface with a little dark red light in the distance.
"It's a pity that we didn't see the sunrise."
Adele sighed with some regret, but didn't ask for a little more indulgence.
She just glanced at it with nostalgia, then turned around and walked into the coldness of the castle, and put on the crown and shackles again without complaint.
It doesn't matter.
Abigail hummed the melody of that night in her head as she wrote in her diary.
She can see the sunrise, and she can see many wonderful and interesting things, and she can write them all down.
So she began to write in her diary, and wrote that she saw children running by the side of the road holding the orchids, and that she saw the first merchants from Ermia, with bronze medals on their shoulders shaped like wings, Street performers planted seeds and immediately blossomed magic, wrote that she saw the homeless people in Xiul retain the habit of blowing the bone flute...
She wrote down everything she encountered, all the beautiful ones, or the ones that made people smile.
"I hope you enjoy this gift."
Abigail wrote this sentence squarely on the last page of this diary.
After finishing writing, she looked at it herself again, feeling a little apprehensive. Abigail hopes her gift will cheer up Adele. She wasn't sure Adele would like the gift — it was so cheap it was worth nothing compared to the jewels and silver goblets that were often given to the Queen.
After a pause, Abigail quickly added:
— Abigail giving a gift to a friend for the first time.
Let's hope that doesn't sound overly stressful.