20demayo #153 - The last day at Jeanne d'Arc
#153 - The last day at Jeanne d'Arc
"Your Grace, the gift has been delivered."
Kneeling before D’Arnet, the knight removed his helmet, speaking to D’Arnet with obsequious flattery.
In front of him, within the vast hall, candles were lit despite it being daytime due to the dim lighting.
Only the Duke and Duchess were seated at the long table, with a dozen servants standing in a row, holding towels, water glasses, handkerchiefs, and wine jugs.
In the distance, a female singer gently plucked at a harp, providing accompaniment for the pair.
"How is Bishop Bulverulf?"
"Still detained there, the guards are quite strict. He’s doing alright, hasn't suffered any abuse; not even a bruise. Just not in good spirits."
"Being locked up constantly would dampen anyone's mood." Barmanda swallowed a piece of steak, rinsed her mouth with wine, and then said, "Frisciska, you did well on this assignment. Here, have a drink."
A servant immediately poured Frisciska a glass from a wine jug, which he promptly emptied in one gulp.
"One day, I hope you can sit at the table and drink with us." D’Arnet slurred with a laugh. "Oh, right, today the war bonds were successfully sold out. It's the happiest of times, how could we be without a knightly poem?"
Barmanda clapped her hands and laughed, "Yes, yes, I was wondering what was missing."
"Come, write one for us! It must have money, villas, beauties, and a donkey! And praise the Holy Father's mercy!"
No wonder the Duke and Duchess were so happy today; their efforts over this period had finally borne fruit.
The couple had amassed a total of 30,000 gold pounds, not to mention the 60,000 gold pounds stored in the Holy See bank after selling off assets, and the 30,000 gold pounds owed by the French royal family.
A full 120,000 gold pounds!
And that's not counting the properties and estates purchased near Flower Hill City, and the shares invested in coffee bean futures.
Last year, a type of coffee bean called 'Eternal Alexandrus' sold for a high price of 6,700 gold pounds.
It's just a pity that the former Duke's armory still had 3,000 spears, 900 sets of old breastplates, and some scattered weapons and iron and steel ingots that hadn’t been sold. What a pity.
"Barmanda, after the New Year, probably in March or April, our wedding will be held on a clear spring day. Then, believe me, even a cardinal will come."
D’Arnet left the table and walked to Barmanda's side, taking her hand.
Only at times like this did Barmanda feel that she hadn't chosen the wrong husband. "Yes, as soon as our army arrives, this won't be our final destination. This is just the beginning."
D’Arnet didn't speak; he gently stroked Barmanda's shoulder, then suddenly blew out two candles, darkening the hall slightly.
His hand then slid directly from Barmanda's shoulder, reaching into her ██, and Barmanda let out a low ██.
The light in the hall gradually dimmed, and the two's ██ gradually decreased, until they simply climbed onto the dining table, their two ███ large ██ intertwined.
Knight Frisciska, having completed the knightly poem, stood awkwardly to the side with paper and pen, slowly moving toward the door.
"Frisciska, where is my poem?" D’Arnet called out to Frisciska, his face flushed.
"I, I, it’s written, I'll give it to you later… Now doesn't seem like the right time…"
"What are you talking about?" D’Arnet panted softly. "Now, now is exactly the right time. Come behind me and read, read it to me."
………………
“Clang—”
The longsword slid into its scabbard, fitting perfectly.
But Horne gripped the hilt and smoothly drew it out again. He looked at Brok: "Is this sword mine?"
"Yes."
"Is it?"
"Yes, it used to be quite long."
"So you know it's not this length." Horne displayed the sword, which was obviously a size smaller than before, in front of Brok.
Halkin complained from the side: "Dad, that's not how you do business. You can cut corners, but you can't cut them like this. It's obviously shorter, people will see it right away…"
Brok kicked Halkin in the waist, sending him tumbling to the ground.
Brok then turned his head to explain: "Your sword is different from others. Inside that sword, there's a Crimson Steel core.
Perhaps the person who got this sword didn't have our dwarven forging techniques, so they cast a layer outside the core, so it's longer than ordinary swords.
The reason you broke the tip when chopping trees wasn't because the wood chipped the sword, but because the Crimson Steel core inside the sword broke.
I reforged the entire sword for you, it's a thousand times better than the original."
Speaking of his craftsmanship, the seemingly honest and rigid dwarf couldn't help but become proud.
Perhaps the dwarves were driven to live in the mountains by humans, but the dwarves' fire forging techniques are a thousand times better than humans'!
Picking up the hand-and-a-half sword that had become about 1.3 meters long, Horne swung it a few times and found that it was indeed much smoother than before.
Perhaps Horne felt that the previous sword was smooth not because of the outer layer, but because the core was smooth.
He stepped forward and used a plough-style slash on the fir tree next to him, and the fir tree immediately snapped in half.
"Not bad." Sheathing the sword, Horne was extremely satisfied. "Halkin doesn't have to run from debts anymore. There's going to be a war soon, you and your son should run far away."
"Sigh." Speaking of this, Brok said in a muffled voice, extremely distressed, "I don't even know how to leave. The castles and checkpoints are all closed, just like 19 years ago. I shouldn't have listened to that little brat, I should have left earlier…"
19 years ago, Horne narrowed his eyes. Wasn't that 1425?
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Horne thought of those ledgers and quickly asked, "What happened 19 years ago?"
Brok glanced at Horne in surprise, seemingly a little surprised that Horne was interested in this, but he still honestly replied, "It seems that year was when the Duke had just taken office."
"Wasn't the Duke's inauguration in April 1424?"
"You outsiders don't know. When Lord D’Arnet inherited the position, he was required to pay a large inheritance tax and gift money to the Leia royal family…"
As Brok recounted, Horne gradually understood.
The gift system had originally been abolished, but the Leia King insisted that D’Arnet pay because the Leia royal family was deeply mired in debt at the time.
D’Arnet had just taken the throne, was young and vigorous, and stubbornly resisted the Leia King, and also blocked the canals, roads, and checkpoints, not allowing Leia merchant ships to pass.
Later, the Leia Kingdom even sent out Edict Knights. D’Arnet couldn't withstand the pressure and pulled in the Church, and the Leia King retreated, only paying some symbolic gift money.
So D’Arnet didn't truly inherit the throne until September 1425. This matter wasn't a big deal at the time, it was just a war of words in letters, only old people like Brok knew about it.
"I see." Horne was thoughtful. There was actually such a thing. No wonder it wasn't recorded in the guild church. It's not honorable.
But this has little to do with Horne. He's leaving tomorrow night.
As for Diya's divination, it's likely that the Church's army is coming.
They're coming faster than Horne imagined.
But that's not his trouble, it's the Duke's trouble. To deal with this trouble, the Duke has been preparing for a long time, collecting taxes and issuing bonds.
It's said that the Duke's secret army has already arrived at Jeanneburg, the refugees said it with great detail.
Even if the Church's army comes, with these layers of castles and checkpoints, it will take at least half a year.
In half a year, even if Duchess Herma Stone and the Brago Monastery are procrastinating, they will know to take action.
Once the two sides arrive, the Duchess's army combined with the monks of the Brago Monastery, the Church's army will have to retreat, otherwise they will be caught in a pincer attack and be finished.
But being surrounded means a strict blockade. If Horne doesn't leave, he will really be trapped in Jeanneburg forever.
It's time to go.
Repeatedly chanting this sentence in his mind, Horne felt as if something was stuck in his throat, making him unable to speak.
Letting Halkin take his father to find a place to live, looking at the sky, Horne led a few guards out of the camp gate to blow the whistle that Carrie had left him.
The night was thick, and the moonlight was completely hidden in the dark clouds.
The hooves trampled over the chamomile by the roadside, and Horne and the others' backs quickly disappeared into the night.
But none of them noticed that near the fence of the camp gate, Jeanne, in a bridesmaid dress, was staring blankly at his back, standing there.