Kingdom Come: Deliverance, but Warhammer 40k

"Have you heard?"

The town of Baitouwo was just waking up in the early morning.

A light rain fell last night, and the muddy roads still smelled damp. Several hens were pecking at insects by the roadside, and the clanging of hammers could be heard from the blacksmith's shop not far away.

Several women were drawing water around the well.

An old man carrying firewood passed by and mysteriously lowered his voice.

"What is it?"

A middle-aged woman carrying a wooden bucket looked up.

The old man looked around.

Only after confirming that there were no church members nearby did they move a few steps closer.

"Someone else is going to be burned at the stake today."

Upon hearing this, the women who were chatting simultaneously paused for a moment.

Baitouwo Town is not very big.

There are only two or three hundred households in total.

If a hen loses an egg, or a husband gets drunk, the news spreads throughout the town the next day.

As for burning at the stake, that was of paramount importance.

Who is it?

Someone couldn't help but ask.

The old man swallowed.

The voice was lowered even further.

"Henry".

The woman carrying the wooden bucket was taken aback at first.

His expression suddenly changed, and the hemp rope slipped from his hand. The wooden bucket rolled down the edge of the well, making a series of clattering sounds.

Finally, with a "plop," it crashed into the well, and a large amount of water splashed out of the well opening.

But the woman acted as if she hadn't seen it at all.

  

She stared wide-eyed.

His face was full of disbelief.

"Which Henry?"

"The one from the blacksmith's house."

"Henry from the pharmacy?"

"Could there be a second one?"

The air suddenly became quiet.

The women looked at each other in bewilderment.

Their facial expressions were almost identical.

Shock.

doubt.

It's also somewhat absurd.

Because in their eyes, Henry didn't seem like someone who would be burned at the stake.

That kid can be a bit cheeky sometimes.

He likes to brag in pubs.

He also frequently flirted with the miller's daughter.

But he's really not a bad person.

During the plague last year, many people in the town were saved by his medicine.

Especially that kind of medicine called Calendula officinalis.

The effect is simply amazing.

After drinking it, whether you break your leg or cut your arm, the recovery speed is astonishingly fast.

"Did the church arrest the wrong person?"

Finally, someone couldn't help but speak up.

The old farmer next to him immediately changed his expression.

"Shut up!"

He lowered his voice and said something.

Cold sweat even broke out on his forehead.

"How can you just say things like that?"

The woman was startled.

"I was just saying."

"Talking about it won't work either."

The old farmer looked warily toward the other end of the street.

There were two church apprentices standing there.

The two men wore faded gray robes and wooden imperial emblems on their chests, looking no different from ordinary farmers.

But everyone in town knows it.

They love to tattle.

Who said the wrong thing?

The next day, you might be invited to church for tea.

"Your Honor has already investigated."

The old farmer said in a low voice.

"Henry worshipped an evil god."

The women were all taken aback.

"An evil god?"

"What evil god?"

"I heard she's called something like the Goddess of Luck."

"what?"

"A few days ago, there was a winemaking competition in town. After he got drunk, he held up his wine glass and shouted, 'Thank you, Lady Luck!'"

"Just because of that?"

"Just because of this."

"Is there anything else?"

"That's all."

The group looked at each other for a long time.

They both sighed at the end.

"That's quite serious."

"yes."

"How could he say such a blasphemous name? I always thought he was a good kid."

"If I express my gratitude twice, I might be able to burn it twice."

Everyone couldn't help but burst out laughing.

The laughter had barely started when...

The church bells in the distance slowly tolled.

The echo reverberated throughout the entire town of Baitouwo, signaling to the townspeople that something big was about to happen.

Pedestrians on the street stopped in their tracks.

The blacksmith put down his hammer, the farmer picked up his hoe, and the tavern owner locked the wooden door.

Everyone walked toward the town center without prior arrangement.

The trial is about to begin.

Today, he will be tied to the stake.

It was Henry, whom they had watched grow up.

The center of the square was already packed with people.

In a remote town like Baitouwo, where there's little entertainment throughout the year, the trial of heretics is always a major event, even more exciting than the annual harvest festival. After all, the harvest festival happens every year, but seeing someone tied to the stake isn't something you see every day.

Many people arrived before dawn to reserve a spot.

They sell black bread.

They sell cider.

A few daring children even climbed onto the church wall, craning their necks to peer inside, looking like a flock of ducklings waiting for their meal.

Henry, the protagonist of today's trial, is firmly bound to the stake.

The rope was tied very tightly.

The rough hemp rope made my wrists ache.

Even so, he looked around at the crowd with great interest, as if he were attending a lively market rather than his own execution site.

"Seventy-three."

"Seventy-four."

"Seventy-five."

The peasant soldiers guarding the area finally couldn't help but frown.

This peasant soldier was named Tom. He had just been conscripted from the wheat field yesterday. Before that, he had never even held a weapon, let alone knew that he was a registered soldier.

Looking at Henry's nonchalant demeanor, he finally couldn't help but ask:

"What are you counting?"

"Counting heads."

Henry answered without turning his head.

"What are you counting people for?"

"Let's see how many people come to see me off on my final journey."

He even nodded seriously as he said this.

"So far, I'm doing pretty well in terms of relationships. It's a pity that my favorite girl couldn't come to see me."

Tom's lips twitched.

"You're almost burned to death."

"So what? Everyone has to die."

"Aren't you scared at all?"

Henry remained silent for two seconds upon hearing this.

He then seemed to think about it seriously for a while.

"Actually, I was scared last night."

"And then?"

"Later I passed out from drunkenness."

Henry sighed.

"When I woke up this morning, I found that I was still going to be burned to death, so I suddenly felt that whether I was scared or not didn't matter anymore."

"The priest can't just put me down because I'm scared, can he?"

Tom was speechless for a long time.

think carefully.

That actually makes some sense.

Just then.

A commotion suddenly broke out on the other side of the square.

The previously noisy crowd quickly quieted down and parted to make way for each other.

A middle-aged man dressed in a black robe slowly walked out.

The man is tall.

His thick beard almost covered half of his face.

He had a thick holy book hanging from his waist.

On their chests they wore a metal badge symbolizing the authority of the church.

He was the only judge in Baitouwo Town.

Father Derek.

It is said that when he was young, he left the town and went to Shibao City, hundreds of miles away, and even saw a large city with three layers of walls.

Therefore, in the eyes of the residents of Baitouwo Town.

This person is already considered a worldly and sophisticated individual.

Derek appeared.

The crowd immediately fell silent.

Even the women who were secretly gossiping fell silent.

After all, in this small town, the authority of the church was almost equivalent to that of the lord.

And the judge's words.

Sometimes they are even more effective than lords.

After all, the lords of this land are mysterious and unpredictable; no one has ever seen them, at least not to most of the townspeople.

The lords are often no different from the legends.

Derek slowly walked up to the wooden platform. Then he took out a roll of parchment from his pocket.

As he began to move.

The long parchment scroll hung all the way down to the ground.

Seeing this scene.

Many townspeople looked on with awe.

Because most of them can't even write their own names.

In their eyes, someone who could write so much on a parchment scroll was almost no different from a scholar.

Only Henry, on the pyre, craned his neck and glanced at it.

Then, unable to resist asking:

"Father Derek."

Derek frowned and looked up.

"What is it?"

"I'm just a little curious."

"What are you curious about?"

"Are there really that many words on it?"

"Of course, these are the God-Emperor's maxims."

"You didn't copy the same sentence a dozen times just to scare people, did you?"

The air suddenly became quiet.

Followed by.

It's unclear who laughed first, but then the entire crowd began to stir slightly.