CHAPTER 532: CHAPTER 510: SO IT WAS ME

"Why does this potato root and rice porridge seem burnt?" Horn sniffed the clay bowl on the table, then stood up. "I’ll get some honey to cover it up."

"Eat it if you like, if not, get lost."

Horn looked at Jeanne, whose face was flushed red as she fled back to the kitchen, then instinctively turned to Catherine, who had a fox-like grin.

"What did you do?"

"I didn’t do anything. Wasn’t it you who told me to get along with Jeanne?" Catherine shrugged. "That’s exactly what I’m doing."

Horn scrutinized her from head to toe, finally letting go of his suspicion, then turned to Armand, who was washing goose feathers at the door, and shouted, "Call those guys over for breakfast."

"Got it."

Currently, there were no slave servants in Horn Mansion; it was mostly filled with loyal followers.

There weren’t any rules during meals; everyone sat at the table regardless of background.

The only exception was that they needed to leave the head seat for Horn.

Horn’s courtyard was located behind the castle, with two rows of semi-detached villas on either side housing Old Child Soldiers.

The three villas behind housed the Cheka and Night Watchers, and even this road was guarded by military police.

Of course, the major security measures were inside the house.

With witches Catherine and Jeanne around, even a hundred Demon Hunters might not be able to breach the mansion.

The smell of vegetable meat pies filled the air as they were placed on the table, causing Horn’s stomach to grumble immediately.

He stood up, eagerly grabbing a piece of pie to satiate his hunger but was interrupted by Jeanne from the kitchen: "Don’t eat yet; we haven’t done the pre-meal prayer."

"Tsk, which idiot thought of this pre-meal prayer?" Horn grunted as he put down the pie.

But when he looked up, he found Jeanne from the kitchen, along with several Child Soldiers, staring at him intently.

"Oh, it was me, huh? Well, nothing then."

Embarrassed, Horn took a sip of red tea, lowered his head, and continued flipping through the newspaper in his hand.

Yes, a newspaper, freshly printed and still hot.

With progress in movable type printing technology, Horn’s first action was to try printing newspapers.

Coordinating various parties, the Pope’s Palace produced an official newspaper.

This newspaper was free and delivered to the houses of the cardinals, with extras placed in office spaces.

This was the newly printed "Truth Newspaper," directly managed by the Truth Court’s printing workshop, issued fortnightly, now on its third issue.

Derived from monthly notices posted in rural and city noticeboards, it consisted of two sheets with four pages, totaling eight panels, each about the size of an A4 paper.

The eight panels were divided into four sections: academic commentary, doctrine and war reports, recent policy trends and personnel changes, news and market prices, and reader contributions.

Limited by technology, they couldn’t create small-type movable print, so the print was large, naturally limiting the content.

An article only contained a few hundred words, with the entire paper holding just a dozen articles and news pieces.

According to the Truth Court, with current capabilities, supplying newspapers to the Priestly Order level wouldn’t be a problem.

Once experience was gained from this internal newspaper, they could gradually issue official newspapers for the public and even allow private press offices.

Holding the newspaper, the poor-quality, light-yellow paper reeked, with printing smudged with black spots and ink blots.

Horn dared not apply too much force lest he accidentally tear the paper.

Reading the newspaper in the morning felt like something from Horn’s grandfather’s era, yet now it seemed like an advanced way to acquire information.

Don’t assume Horn knew everything; he didn’t have eyes everywhere.

The Cheka didn’t report everything, or how would he focus on important tasks?

Setting down the teacup, he opened the newspaper, naturally missing headlines like "Shock! Saintess Catherine spotted at the Pope’s room door at dawn..." or "Jeanne angrily punches errant officer, sending him flying five meters."

Instead, there were straightforward headlines like "Good news, Holy Axis Camp established" and "Tender for six Ibe River Wharfs expected soon."

Under traditional standards, such wharf projects were usually guided by Vite.

However, Vite was swamped with projects on Autumn Dusk Island and various places, with insufficient state masons, hence the external tendering.

These wharfs were simple transit wharfs, even temporary, merely to expedite trade channels between both sides.

Meticulous design like Autumn Dusk Island wasn’t necessary; as long as they served their purpose, local masons’ skills were ample.

In early November, with winter approaching and the busy farming season over, excess labor was now available, perfect for helping with wharf construction.

Turning to the second page, Horn’s quickly scanning eyes suddenly halted on the local news panel.

"...Lately, North laborers have formed groups, frequently clashing with local laborers... Armand, Armand, come here."

"Your Eminence?" Armand poked his head out from behind the door, spotted Horn waving, and rushed over.

At this moment, Catherine and Jeanne emerged from the kitchen, finally carrying out a pot of stewed offal.

"What’s going on?" Putting down the pot, Jeanne wiped her wet hands with her apron.

"Do you know about the North laborers?"

"Yes, of course," Jeanne pulled over the newspaper and read one word at a time, "North laborers clashing with local laborers... I’ve seen it several times."

Listening to Jeanne’s explanation, Horn realized that after the summer, the Mande County Church, solely guarded by North, had entered a ceasefire period.

Thus, a large number of North County mountain people returned home, coinciding with the North County mountain people who had profited heavily in the Langsande County war also returning home.

When both sides met, the Mande County battlefield veterans realized they had been tricked.

Back then, the Wild Boar Knights of North County believed in the rumors of Mande County’s weakness, considering Moliat’s dispatch to Langsande County a tough assignment.

Helping a group of farmers defeat the duke sounded improbable.

But now, lo and behold, those farmers really did defeat the Duke’s army; it’s unbelievable.

The Wild Boar Knights initially believed Horn’s titles of the Saint’s Grandson and Chosen Pope were fake, but now they were starting to doubt.

Led by Mira, the knights, along with the mountain people who went to Langsande County, all got rich, buying land on the plains, building houses, and planning to move their families there.

Yet they still had to toil in the mountains, which seemed immensely unfair.

A large number of North County mountain people decided to descend and seek fortune at Joan of Arc Castle.

Within a month, nearly a thousand North Mountain People had flooded in, with no skills or status other than carrying loads at the docks or working as construction laborers.

These mountain people were naturally bold and fond of banding together.

While they weren’t prone to sneaky deeds, conflicts with locals were frequent, increasing security costs.

"Why didn’t I know about this?" Hearing there was no major trouble, Horn was relieved.

"You’ve been busy with Holy Axis matters lately; how would you have time to focus on these minor issues?" Jeanne explained, shaking her head regretfully, "They’re good candidates for Long Spearmen. If they had come earlier, they could’ve been new recruits in the Black Hat Battle Group."

"No wonder." Armand suddenly slapped his forehead, pulling a letter from his pocket.

Horn folded the newspaper, taking the letter from him. "Why the sudden surprise?"

"When I went out just now, I saw Mira pacing at the door. I asked him what he wanted, and he handed me this letter to give to you and left." Armand chuckled, "I suppose it’s about this matter."