Alien Knights

"What did you say?! Marcos, he's dead?!"

The old man stood up straight from the chair, his arms hang down weakly, and tremblingly took over the damaged weapon, his sad face seemed to have aged ten years in an instant.

"who is it……?"

Master Meris' reaction made the pale-faced man's mouth curve into an arc: "The third Inquisition, judge... Alfonso De Cavo."

Holding the Broken Sword in his arms, the old man whose eyes lost focus fell back to the chair, unconsciously chanting the name: "Alfonso De Cavo, Alfonso... De Cavo..."

Turning around in the room, he first brushed the dust off the steps with his sleeves, and then sat down on the stairs leading to the second floor. The man frowned and looked at the candle on the handrail, and exhaled. Gray smoke and dust streaked through the air, and the candle was annihilated into a wisp of white smoke, which floated into the air.

He took out a well-made silver file from his pocket, carefully sharpened his nails, and looked up from time to time at the monk who was immersed in grief at the desk.

In the damp and cold hearth of the fireplace, the wind descended, blowing through the air-condensed space. Master Meris's forehead felt cold, and his mind slowly calmed down. He put the broken sword on the desk beside him, and the old man's voice was like a bellows with a broken skin: "Throat bone, tell me... what does the 'Relief Society' want us to do this time?"

The man called "Lynx" put the manicured nails by his lips, exhaled lightly to blow off the cuticles, checked his fingers over and over again, and said calmly, "It's not about the 'Sutherland Relic'. The president received a letter from you a few days ago. He is very unhappy about the loss of the relic mentioned above and returning empty-handed..."

The old man sat up straight and said calmly: "As I said in the letter, due to heavy snow blocking the road, my people failed to reach the handover site on time. By the time he found the bodies of members of the Relief Society, the relics had already been taken away."

The larynx flicked the ashes from his nails, looked at Master Meilis, and said with a smile: "You are the spokesperson of God in the world, and your words are the will of the Lord. I believe you will naturally dismiss such despicable tricks as lying and deception."

The swaying candle flames, the dark steps where nothing can be seen, the old man sitting in the light, and the man hiding in the shadows looked at each other.

Master Meris looked at the cross on the wall, and said slowly: "God will always protect those who fear, and his justice will also benefit their descendants. I abide by the oath of my heavenly father and faithfully fulfill his commandments."

"Very good." Throat Bone stood up from the steps, clapped his hands lightly, with emotion and sincerity written all over his face, and walked to the side of the monk.

In the next second, the man's expression suddenly became playful.

He used the shadow of the old man to block the light of the candle, leaned down and whispered in the ear of the other party, "However, there is one thing I don't understand. Why is it that the church, who is also a believer of the Heavenly Father and an envoy of the Lord, did such cruel and inhuman atrocities to Mr. Byrne, such as piercing his body, beheading his head, and leaving his body in the wilderness?"

Sitting in the chair, Master Meris' body trembled unceasingly. The nails of both hands pierced into the flesh, and without knowing it, words were squeezed between the teeth: "It is a sin to harm innocent people for no reason, and to hate people who abide by morality without reason..."

Put your finger in your mouth to moisten it, gently twist the throat bone with your thumb and index finger, and the candle on the desk immediately disappears.

The man who walked slowly to the main entrance in the dark pushed open the door, looked at the silent old man, put his finger on his chin and rubbed it for a while, tilted his head and asked in doubt: "I seem to have heard rumors that you had a son when you were young, and for various reasons, you gave him to a family as an adopted son. The family's surname... seems to be Bourne?"

There was silence.

After a long silence, a low voice came from the room.

"Nothing."

Shrugging, the throat bone nodded and responded: "I guess it's impossible, you are the ally of the heavenly father, so naturally you wouldn't lie to me."

As the man spoke, he raised his hand and swept away, and the last candle by the gate lost its light.

"I have always been an upright and sincere person. You taught me the difference between civilization and barbarism. I should leave from the front door."

After saying this, the larynx receded and closed the door.

Darkness suddenly flooded into the entire room, swallowing every bit of light in every corner.

—————————————————

After sleeping for a whole day and night, Todd was sore and hungry, and his eyes were pierced by the sun. Looking at the sun hanging high outside the window, he obviously remembered some important things in his mind, but he just couldn't remember them.

Opening his eyes on the bed for a while, Todd sat up from the bed suddenly after being relieved.

"Damn! Today is class day!"

Putting on the monk's clothes, bringing reading books and stationery, Todd pushed open the door, and ran at full speed to the class taught by Master Meris.

After arriving at the destination, sweating profusely, he learned a strange fact from the mouths of other people.

"Master Meris left the monastery in the wee hours of the morning without leaving a word. 』

Not knowing what happened, he touched his dry and empty stomach, thinking that there was still a long time before noon, Todd wandered around the monastery with the idea of ​​looking for the "mobile food storage box" - Huggins.

After searching for nothing, he was discovered by Jerry, the "follower". Todd looked at the tall figure behind him, and finally remembered the most likely place where that guy is now.

Sure enough, in the smelting field at the foot of the monastery, the familiar figures of Huggins and Edgar stood out among a group of craftsmen and apprentices.

Looking at the two dusty and excited guys in front of him, Todd sighed sincerely from the bottom of his heart, the magic power of money is really irresistible to anyone.

Huggins sat halfway on the ground, staring intently at the stove rising from the high-temperature steam. Hearing footsteps behind him, he took out half a piece of rye bread and handed it over without turning his head.

He didn't care about the half of the bread in his hand, and who left it to eat. Todd broke open the hard shell with his hands, put it into his mouth and swallowed it. He finally felt a little full in his stomach. He wanted to remind everyone near the stove that there is a lot of "lead vapor" when ash blowing silver smelting, which will cause chronic damage to the human body. Although I took this into consideration when I designed the furnace body, and specially installed a condensation guide pipe and an underground collection tank, it will still have some impact.

But soon, what Huggins said made him so surprised that he couldn't close his mouth and forgot what he wanted to say.

"I found a familiar craftsman in a nearby village, and I plan to make three more such melting furnaces." The man's tone seemed to be saying a very normal thing: "By the way, the silver ingots smelted in the past two days, I paid the other party first as a deposit."

Is this guy going for mass production?

But in this case, the fire cannot be covered with paper, and sooner or later everything here will be coveted by others.

Todd, who was just about to start admonishing him, thought about it again. After all, there is no technical difficulty in refining the slag, and it is reasonable for someone to know about it sooner or later. Instead of hiding it, it's better to make a fortune before then and then stop immediately.

Edgar did not have such complicated thoughts as the two of them. He walked up to Todd and said, "Uncle Huggins and I have prepared a 'gift' for you."

Gift?

Huggins stood up and patted the dust off his body: "To be precise, it's a room."