Chapter 153: There's Something Wrong With Your Ring

He could only say that Westminster Castle was indeed the military center guarding Dunling; its responsiveness and efficiency far exceeded expectations. On the very day Kraft was soaking, cleaning, and packing his gear, he received word that the personnel were fully assembled and they could depart the next morning.

By the next day, when Kraft arrived with Kup and the luggage, he found a column where horses outnumbered men. Some riders wore armor or chainmail, each accompanied by one or two extra horses driven by squires, carrying armor and miscellaneous items.

In total, there were over thirty people. From his observation, the bundles on the horses' backs contained at least seven or eight sets of full plate armor. Under normal circumstances, this would require a proportional number of support personnel.

According to Steward Wilbert before departure, they had intended to bring more people, but this matter was not one where more was better; an extra batch of infantry would only slow them down, turning a rapid march into a muddy trudge, and giving the enemy more time to react.

……

"Actually, it's impossible to bring more people." Martin rode alongside Kraft in the middle of the column. They had been traveling on this relatively good road for over two days, approaching their destination, which was not particularly distant.

"Hudson Town is small. The manor is merely one of the temporary residences along the Duke's travel route, usually maintained by very few people, with staff arriving only in advance when it needs to be activated. There simply isn't time to prepare supplies for a large number of guests."

"Actually, these people are enough; we don't need many who would collapse from a mere fright." After two days of getting along, Kraft was quite satisfied with the quality of this group.

They consciously maintained formation, rotated night watches regularly, had a high rate of armor wear, and carried crossbows and short bows suitable for mid-range direct fire in small-scale conflicts. In summary, they were a professional team with no obvious weaknesses; quite perfect.

Faint metallic friction sounds rattled incessantly beneath Martin's outer robe as the horses jolted; it was the chainmail and the metal plates covering it. "Although this is somewhat inconsistent with the spirit a knight should possess, I cannot say I am not worried at all."

He appeared somewhat insecure. After dissecting the leader of the heretics, they had opened another corpse as well. The situation was better than the former, but the sight of a body with an intact exterior while the interior had been largely eaten away... it was like invisible leeches clinging to some corner of the soul, inducing a nauseating chill every time one became aware of it.

"Ha, Martin! I can't even remember the last time I saw you afraid." The rider ahead turned his head and let out a loud, good-natured, direct laugh, hitting right on the sore spot.

"Barro, ride your horse properly. I still remember how you fell off your last time; don't force me to tell that story again."

His companion's interruption pulled him out of his slightly gloomy mood. Martin ordered the column to slow down to give the horses a rest, and during this pause, he took out an object tightly wrapped in cloth and handed it, along with a leather tube with a buckle, to Kraft.

"I trust Barro and the others; we have served under the Duke for some years and know each other well." As he spoke, he showed Kraft the identical leather tube on his own belt, indicating it could be hung there.

"But trusting in the enemy's incompetence is foolish. Call it cowardice, or perhaps a bit of intuition; Diego's case always makes me feel something is wrong. And those who are missing, especially his squire; logically, he was closest to Diego and the least likely to get lost in the woods."

"I agree with your thinking; expect the worst from the enemy." Kraft hung the leather tube on his waist just as Martin had done; it was the size of a pencil case and seemed to contain some slender object resembling a pencil. Combined with the tightly wrapped item, this gave him certain suspicions.

"What is this?"

"Just in case, and also a gift; I believe you will like it." Speaking of this, Martin revealed a mysterious smile.

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Kraft unwrapped the cloth strips coiled around the surface. Inside was a polished, smooth, reddish-brown wooden grip and body, fitted with metal mechanisms and a bow section, in a folded and retracted state, less than half an arm's length.

He had seen Martin use something similar before, but this one looked obviously more exquisite, adorned with silver plates and wood carvings. Its shape resembled a branch with silver oak leaves spreading out as wings, ready to flutter.

"A one-handed crossbow? I truly didn't expect this." To be honest, the first time Kraft saw Martin pull this thing out on the ship, he wanted one for himself.

Unfortunately, it was obvious it wasn't cheap, and it had nothing to do with his own affairs, so he never found an opportunity to ask for one. He never expected his wish to be granted here.

"The leather tube contains specialized arrows. This thing is accurate within fifteen paces and has considerable power. The only regret is that to make the crossbow foldable, it isn't as sturdy as similar models, so its effect is ultimately somewhat inferior."

"Thank you, I like this very much." This was absolutely the most satisfying gift he had ever received. Kraft couldn't put it down; if not for the current inconvenience, he would have found a target to test immediately.

With the company of a new toy, the remaining journey seemed less dull. By the time the sun was high and everyone was watering their horses by the river, they could see logs floating by. These were products from a logging site not far away in the woods, transported free of charge via water logistics to Hudson Town, a settlement protected by a fence of bark-covered logs.

The Duke's place of convalescence would naturally not be placed together with the town. The main structure of this manor was a two-story building near the forest edge, protecting a shaded vineyard with low stone walls. The outer perimeter was enclosed by a simple fence easily stepped over, encompassing a small patch of woodland.

The dozing guard was awakened by the sound of hooves, ran into the building, and called out the estate steward, who wore a worried expression.

He came running with his sleeves rolled up, stained with mud. Upon hearing that they were not here to inform the Duke of his schedule, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then, while leading them into the building, he chattered away, reporting on various matters of the estate.

He apparently thought the column had come to inspect the estate's condition. He spoke of this year's rainfall and the quality of the grapes, the preparation of firewood, and how the forest produce delivered from the town was less than in previous years, and he hadn't yet had time to find the town mayor and the tax collector.

The implication was that he hoped someone would go urge them, but Martin was not here to manage such things at all; he nodded without interest and skipped past it.

As for the town, the steward shook his head, saying there were too many matters in the manor and too few hands, leaving no time to wander there. Interactions were generally limited to brief exchanges for handing over items; to say he knew anything about it was asking too much of him.

"Alright, I understand." Martin pressed his forehead, tossed the luggage to a servant, and turned his horse around. "Leave them to arrange the rooms first. I recall there is a church in town. While there is still time this afternoon, we can go ask. If the guy we are looking for is here, the local church people won't be more sluggish than us, right?"

Kraft pulled Kup along, and the two followed a small portion of the column as they turned their horses and galloped toward Hudson Town.

Somewhat surprisingly, the atmosphere of faith in this medium-sized town was quite strong. Before arriving, they had prepared themselves mentally to encounter a church with no visitors and heretics setting up their own sect, but in fact, the situation was exactly the opposite.

At least the facade of the town center church was well-maintained, with cobblestone paths. In several flowerbeds, a few transplanted lilies were in full bloom for the season, clustered with a few colorful accents that seemed to be some kind of wildflower.

Kup had never seen such large white flowers in the north. He approached with some curiosity to admire them, but discovered that the "wildflowers" surrounding the accents were too round to be flowers, and their "stems" were white. He paused slightly, realizing these were actually colorful mushrooms used to fill the gaps.

Such a unique combination made him feel a sense of unease amidst his surprise, causing him to lose interest in viewing them, and he quickly caught up with the column.

Kraft stepped into the church first. It was already afternoon. He had thought such a small church would require some trouble to get the doors opened, but the open great door echoed with the sound of a sermon.

A balding middle-aged priest, wearing an unwrinkled white robe that was creased, held a large holy scripture in one hand while immersed in telling a story of a miracle on the platform, occasionally switching hands to support it.

There were actually more than ten people on the pews in the hall listening to the Lord's teachings; it was hard to imagine such a scene occurring in a town on a non-Sabbath day.

Whether from the perspective of etiquette or the necessary respect for the church's deity on the surface, interrupting the priest's sermon at this moment would be extremely rude and likely to cause disputes. They could only sit in the back row and wait for the priest to finish this activity or for an intermission before approaching to ask.

The priest on the platform noticed someone arriving, looked up, smiled at them, and made a gesture with his free hand—a ring-drawing ritual on the chest specific to the church—directed at the leading Martin and Kraft. He then immediately lowered his head again to continue reciting the scriptures, not interrupting the activity due to their attire.

"... Thus Saint Yager said: 'So this is the king you have chosen?' At this moment, the voice of the Lord echoed in his mind: 'No, Yager, this is not the person I wish to choose. Do not be deceived by appearances; the human heart is what matters most.'"

It was seen that the seven sons of this family were all tall and handsome, with extraordinary bearing. Each time one walked before Saint Yager, the saint would doubt if this was the king chosen by the Lord. However, the Lord's answer was always: 'No.'

"Their hearts were insufficient, thus they were not enough to complete the trial of pulling out that sword..."

Kraft listened for quite a while before finding the part he seemed to recognize. He turned his head and whispered to Martin: "Is this the story of Your Majesty being chosen to draw the sword? So the original text in the holy scripture is that complex?"

"I don't know; I haven't read it either," Martin whispered guiltily. He was a knight who only knew common characters and basic arithmetic; if one wasn't interested, who would bother listening to this?

"At this time, Saint Yager was confused. He asked the father of that family: 'Are all your sons here?'"

The father answered: 'I still have one youngest son, herding sheep in that wasteland; he has not returned.' Upon hearing this, Saint Yager was joyful and went to the wasteland to find that youngest, thinnest child.

With one look, he knew this was one who could obey the Lord's teachings and see the Lord's kingdom. In the land thereafter named North, the succession of the throne was not a struggle for power and profit, but rather receiving the Lord's grace..."

The afternoon temperature was just right, and Kraft felt sleepy in the back row. Abstractly speaking, it was roughly the story of a useless shepherd boy receiving a heavenly cheat, pulling out the famous Sword in the Stone under the protection of the gods and the guidance of an old man, overthrowing the old nobility and old king, and becoming a benevolent new king.

It possessed a certain narrative quality, fully arguing the basic viewpoint of divine right of kings and the supremacy of the gods, yet it was full of backwardness.

A soul from another world had long ago become desensitized to the explosive points and exciting moments in this ten years ago. At this moment, unable to fall asleep on the spot, he could only glance around to sustain his consciousness.

Pillars, beams, pews; he observed every person here, finally turning to the priest, from his light-reflecting bald head down to his crumpled white robe. Even the church symbol on his chest was partially faded.

【Something seems a bit off.】

The priest finally finished the long story, dismissed the townspeople, and walked toward the outsiders who clearly had business to attend to. Kraft stopped Martin, stepped forward, and actively took hold of those hands that had held the holy scripture for too long and were trembling slightly.

"Father, life must not be easy for you in this remote place, right?"

"Ah? Not at all, not at all; it is all for spreading the gospel of God..." The small town's priest was completely baffled by this unprovoked enthusiasm. Meanwhile, the strength of the golden-haired knight's handshake in front of him was gradually increasing, causing pain in his finger bones, making it impossible to pull his hand away.

"Do you see the pair of wing rings on your robe? The color of the wings has worn away completely?"