When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 1223

With a clang, Hanske's spear slipped to the ground.

The crisp sound immediately startled him, making him stand up straight, afraid that he would fall asleep again and inevitably be scolded by the sentry captain.

But before he could stand up straight, he felt sleepy again, his eyelids felt like they were filled with lead, and he couldn't open them no matter what he did.

After all, he is only 14 years old, which is the time when he is growing and needs sleep the most.

If you don't sleep well at this time, you may end up like that saintly grandson, finding it difficult to grow taller.

The light spring rain slanted down, leaving dark stains on the wooden tower walls.

Hanske deliberately stuck his head out to let the rain fall on his face, hoping it would help him stay awake.

When he was captured by the lord's conscription team last winter, his sister cried and gave him a cloth bag containing three pieces of bread and a pair of cloth shoes.

But the cakes in the cloth bag had long been eaten, and the soles of the cloth shoes were worn through, revealing toes that were red from the cold.

He still couldn't go home.

At times like these, he would especially miss his little family, even though he was afraid of his alcoholic brother-in-law who beat his sister.

He couldn't fight back, but at least he could stand by his sister and take the beating with her.

Now that he's not home, my sister is being beaten all by herself. Will she get hurt even more badly?

He exhaled a puff of white steam in the rain and mist, pressed the cross to his chest, closed his eyes, and prayed silently.

My Lord, when will the wars in the Empire end? When will the earthly paradise that the Holy Path Sect speaks of finally descend?

"Snapped!"

A sharp crack of a whip roused Hanske from his prayers.

His right cheek burned with pain, and tears welled up instantly.

He staggered backward, and when he looked up again, he saw a knight in plate armor standing in front of him.

His armor was dripping with rain, his feather ornaments were soaked and drooping, and he looked displeased.

"You little bastard! Daring to doze off?" The knight raised his whip and lashed Hansk's left cheek again. "Didn't you see the smoke in the east? Go and light the beacon fire to send a message to Fishing City!"

Hanske covered his face, too painful to speak, blood trickling down between his fingers and dripping onto the small wooden cross his sister had given him.

He dared not refute, hurriedly picked up the spear on the ground, and staggered up to the top of the watchtower.

The rain was like mist, and despite being so high up, he still couldn't see the smoke the knight had mentioned.

Maori hastily lit the beacon fire, and only then did he manage to catch his breath.

Seeing the beacon fire lit, the knight cursed a few times and then rode away.

After descending from the watchtower, amidst the panicked whispers of the other sentries, Hanske plopped down on the ground.

He was afraid, but he still did it subconsciously.

Only now, after the knight left, did he feel fear and dread.

What should he do if the Holy Alliance comes?
Will he be captured and taken to the Trinity Training Corps? Will he be forcibly assigned to breed with female beastmen?

Hansk didn't know what the female beastman looked like; he only felt fear.

He immediately thought of going home and running back to Songzhen Village to find his sister.

But he knew he couldn't. If he ran away, the lord's men would arrest his sister to make amends.

As for my brother-in-law, he definitely won't care.

"Damn world..." Hanske couldn't cry, he just buried his blood-covered face in his knees.

Upon learning this news, the other soldiers at the watchtower were in no better shape.

Three young soldiers, not much older than him, squatted in the corner, complaining quietly.

Two veterans leaned against a tree, smoking, their eyes blankly staring at the rainy sky.

It wasn't until evening that the soldiers carrying water and grain arrived on donkeys with new news.

Lord Matilda announced that he would send troops to meet the enemy head-on and would personally lead the campaign.

However, this has nothing to do with the soldiers who are responsible for guarding the sentry posts.

The next morning, Hansk was awakened by the sound of horses' hooves.

Covered with a tattered sack he had found, he leaned against the fireplace, dozing in a corner of the watchtower.

He was sleeping soundly when he was suddenly kicked, and the hay in the sack scattered all over the ground.

He looked up and saw a dozen cavalrymen surrounding the watchtower, each wearing leather armor and with a scimitar hanging at their waist.

These were mercenary cavalrymen, whose reputation Hansk had long known.

"We are the lord's cavalry, go and get some bread and water!" The bearded cavalryman jumped off his horse, grabbed Hansk by the collar and lifted him up. "What villages are nearby? Tell us everything, don't hide anything."

Hanske's face was still sore, and his heart skipped a beat when he heard the mercenary's question.

"To the east, there's Oak Village; to the west, there's Creekside Village..."

He paused deliberately, omitting the mention of Songzhen Village. His sister was there, along with newly sprouted wheat seedlings and the family's old sheep; he absolutely couldn't let those cavalrymen go there.

That's how the army is, like locusts; he can't let his family suffer.

The bearded cavalryman raised an eyebrow and tossed Hansk aside: "Very well, if it's not right, I'll come back to settle the score with you."

Hansk asked in a low voice, "How many troops does the Holy Alliance have? Can you win?"

"Yes, it was just a small group of troops that stumbled upon the area."

"How did you know it was a small group of troops...?"

"Nonsense!" The bearded cavalryman glared at him. "The Holy Alliance hasn't declared war. It's probably just a small group that wandered in by mistake. Hey, why should I explain to a little brat like you!"

After saying that, he waved to the other cavalrymen, "Let's go! To Oak Village!"

The cavalrymen rode away, splashing mud and water from their hooves all over Hansk.

He ran to the top of the watchtower and looked towards Pine Needle Village, but could only see a gray misty rain.

"It absolutely must not be a problem," Hanske had never been so anxious.

Before we knew it, it was evening. The spring rain stopped, and a faint starlight appeared on the horizon.

Standing atop the watchtower, Hansk, who was dozing off, suddenly heard the sound of horses' hooves.

It was that group of cavalrymen, but unlike during the day, they were all dressed in tattered clothes and had wounds on their bodies, some even gunshot wounds.

Clearly, in the battle against the Holy Alliance, the lord was defeated, utterly defeated, in less than a day.

Hansk rushed forward, but before he could even speak, a bearded cavalryman with red-stained clothes lashed him on the back with a whip.

"Snapped!"

The whip tore his coarse cloth clothes, and Hanske staggered and fell into the mud.

Before I could even get up, another sharp pain shot through my face.
The cavalryman kicked Hansk so hard he rolled twice on the ground, curling up with tears and snot streaming down his face.

"You little bastard! You dare to lie?" The bearded cavalryman squatted down, grabbed Hansk by the hair, and lifted him up. "When we went to Creek Village, someone said Pine Needle Village was closer! You deliberately didn't report that, are you trying to collude with the enemy?"

Hanske's mind went blank.

Has Pine Needle Village been discovered? Will my sister be in danger? Will the Holy Alliance's army target Pine Needle Village?

He tried to explain, but his throat felt blocked, and he could only make a "woo-woo" sound.

"Tie him up!"

After slapping him twice, the bearded cavalryman threw him to the ground.

Two cavalrymen found a rope, lifted Hansk up, and tied him to an old locust tree next to the watchtower.

The locust tree branches in early spring had just sprouted tender buds, which brushed against his face, making him feel a little itchy.

But he paid no heed, and the whip rained down on his body and face, drawing blood that stung.

"Stop fighting," a tall, thin cavalryman advised. "If they cause trouble for the lord's people..."

The bearded cavalryman spat, put away his whip, and muddy water dripped onto the ground from it: "He deserves it for not reporting what he knew!"

"Keep him there, wait for the Holy Alliance people to come—let him experience what it's like at the Trinity Education Team!"

The cavalrymen carried away their loot, and the sound of their hooves gradually faded into the night.

None of the soldiers under the watchtower dared to speak, much less untie Hansk; they simply packed their belongings and left in silence.

The early spring nights were still too cold. A gust of wind made him shiver, and tears streamed down his cheeks like tiny ice crystals.

Hanske suddenly burst into tears, not because of pain, nor because of fear of the dark.

When I was little, on nights like this, after the spring rain had just stopped, my older sister would sit by my bed and tell me stories.

It begins with the story of the Holy Lord slaying the evil god, and later tells the story of the Holy Grandson Horn fighting the devil.

But now, he can no longer hear it.

The sobs were suppressed in her throat, turning into muffled whimpers.

He tried to struggle, but the rope was tied too tightly, leaving red marks on his wrists, and he could only let the darkness envelop him.

Darkness, ever deeper darkness.

After an unknown amount of time, just as Hanske was about to lose consciousness, a light suddenly appeared in the darkness—it was a torch.

"Look, there's a watchtower ahead!" a clear voice rang out, the torchlight illuminating the hem of his dark gray military uniform. "It looks like someone's tied to a tree!"

“Let’s go take a look!” Another voice, more composed, said, with a hint of surprise.

The torchlight grew brighter and brighter, illuminating Hanske's face.

He squinted and saw several soldiers in Holy Alliance uniforms walking over, with a priest at the front.

"He's just a child!" The pastor strode over and examined the whip marks on his body closely. "Oh my... who did this? Quick, put him down, medic!"

(End of this chapter)