CHAPTER 111: CHAPTER 109: HOW DID MADLAN GAIN MANA?

The gray-white sky faintly shows a hint of dark blue, and through the gaps in the water cedars, one can still see the rolling hills in the distance beyond the lake.

Beyond the mountains to the east there are towering ranges and snow-capped peaks, while to the west, the mountain mist blurs the horizon’s outline.

If one can cross the western mountains, they’ll see at the foot, the flat river bays divided by the high mountains and the rolling hills and mounds.

Thousand River Valley has a terrain sloping low in the west and high in the east, with all five Mountain Counties in the northeast and all four Plain Counties in the southwest.

The breeze with a touch of chill swept through the tent’s crevices, making Horn shiver involuntarily.

He added a buttoned jacket over his original clothes and changed into deerskin boots on his feet.

After crossing a small river on a sheepskin raft and reaching this secluded path, Horn and his party pushed on through the night for half a day, only finding a mountain hollow to camp in by the next morning.

Because of this night march, nearly half of the people in the Pope Country caught colds, and the entire camp was filled with the scent of medicinal soup.

But fortunately, most people’s illnesses only lasted three to five days before recovering.

By today, the third day, only a little over a hundred people were still sick, and spaces had become available in the wagons as food and medicinal supplies were depleted.

Putting the sick in the carts to continue onward was no problem.

During this time, Horn wasn’t idle. With the weather cooling and having received a lot of furs, woolens, and fine yarns from the Beastmen, they decided to make autumn and winter clothing.

They tailored oversized, large, medium, small, and very small robes as windbreakers.

As for fit, just tighten the belt a bit.

To make robes for over a thousand people, the original number of tailors was certainly insufficient.

So Horn assigned all the simpler tasks like cutting to those who were idle, leaving the tailors to handle the more difficult tasks like sewing.

This little production line managed to make three hundred sets of robes in three days, and Horn calculated that even during the march, they could produce forty to fifty sets daily.

Standing at the camp gate, Horn looked around and saw over a hundred canvas tents rising in this tiny mountain hollow.

Soldiers in black cloaks patrolled all around maintaining order, while a few children ran about with wooden swords and long sticks.

Jeanne sat in a straw hut, patiently listening to a few villagers embroiled in lawsuits discussing their cases, while two bruised and battered elders glared at each other furiously.

In another corner, two divisions of the Imperial Guard sat on the open field, listening to Boned explaining the simplified Falan alphabet as taught by Horn.

The Falan and Leia languages shared a common root with a universal alphabet, and Horn had simplified all the letters into single-stroke lowercase ones, making it easier for the soldiers to learn and practice.

If not for the pursuers behind and the uncertainty ahead, such a scene would truly be a rare moment of peace.

Horn turned away, returned to his seat, and continued grading the Child Soldiers’ homework.

In the tent’s corner, Jia Li frowned with beautifully knitted brows, diligently studying a sheepskin flute in her hand, and occasionally blowing it, but besides the "sizzling" sound, there was hardly any other noise.

She tilted her head, carefully scrutinizing the sheepskin flute, as if pondering some great mystery.

He only hoped she’d discover the hole that Horn had blocked with a paper wad a bit later, at least ensuring some peace for a while longer.

Lately, Horn had become increasingly curious about Jia Li’s background.

This route they were taking looked like it had been built in the last few decades, yet it seemingly hadn’t been maintained for seven or eight years.

So far on this path, Horn hadn’t encountered the so-called Long-haired Demon, just a staggering number of various Slimes.

The number was astonishing!

Who would build a road here?

What was their purpose in building it?

How did Jia Li know about this road?

With countless questions in mind, Horn continued grading the Child Soldiers’ homework.

After several months of study, the Child Soldiers had learned to do simple reading and arithmetic within twenty and multiplication and division within ten.

In the future, when Horn makes his escape, with these skills, they wouldn’t necessarily make a living, but they’d certainly be less likely to be deceived by Tax Collectors, priests, or lords.

A chill came over, and Horn knew someone had entered the tent. He turned his head to see it was Madlan.

Madlan, recently recovered from a serious illness, looked more haggard than before, with scruffy beard and hair already graying at thirty.

"Have you been to see Frick’s grave?" Horn put down the Child Soldiers’ homework, turning to face Madlan.

Madlan silently nodded as he approached.

He came to stand before Horn, his body carrying a faint scent of alcohol. He hadn’t touched a drink in ten years, and this was the first time.

"Your Holiness, I’ve spoken with the Qianqian brothers." Madlan murmured, "Once we reach Joan of Arc Castle, I might want to join the Ruo’an Faction."

"That is your choice." Horn gazed into Madlan’s eyes, "But do not seek revenge for the sake of revenge; their lives had a greater purpose."

"I know, I’ve heard your sermons." Madlan forced a smile, "Your Holiness, do you have time to hear my confession?"

"Always welcome."

"Toot—" A piercing series of flute sounds shrieked out, transforming an ordinary flute into something magical under Jia Li’s breath.

Both Horn and Madlan covered their ears.

But the continuous toot-toot noise persisted until Jia Li seemed satisfied, playing for a full half a minute before stopping.

"Papa, how do you think I played?"

Horn forced a smile and gave a thumbs-up, "Like listening to celestial music—my ears are temporarily deafened."

Glancing around, Horn picked up the spring-powered little frog and handed it to Madlan, whispering, "Take this and lead Jia Li away, let her play outside."

Madlan took the spring-powered little frog, stepped forward, and turned the spring key a few times until it wouldn’t turn anymore before handing it to Jia Li.

Jia Li obediently took the little frog out of the tent. When Madlan turned back, he saw Horn looking at him as if he’d seen a ghost.

"Your Holiness, what is it?" Madlan asked, puzzled.

Horn eyed his hand, "Did you just turn the spring with those hands?"

"Yes..."

"You did it yourself?"

"Your Holiness, I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at?" Madlan was bewildered by Horn’s reaction.

Horn, however, took a deep breath.

He knew in making that spring-powered little frog, enough to tire Jia Li, that unruly energy, for it was made of mountain bronze alloy.

Exhausting her mana enough, then at night, this massive thing wouldn’t torment Horn or Jeanne.

Despite being an alloy, only a Knight could have the raw strength to turn it.

How did Madlan manage it?

"Madlan, how do you feel right now?"

"Are you asking about my body?" Madlan scratched his scalp, "Feeling much better now, though I still get dizzy at times, just did earlier."

Horn stood up, dragged a chair over, "Sit down first."

Walking to the tent’s door, Horn spoke to the Child Soldiers guarding outside, "Go, call the Qianqian brothers, and have him bring the mountain bronze stick."

"Alright, go ahead and start your confession." Bringing his chair face-to-face with Madlan’s, Horn smiled and said, "But after your confession, there’s a small matter I need your help with."