"The power minister... Tommy... um... it’s this, Cardinal, something something isolated from inside and outside, the Pope Country will be in danger... hmm..."
"Frick, can you do it or not? You’ve been studying two lines for ages."
"Don’t make noise, don’t make noise." The old man named Frick rubbed his half-blind eyes and shouted loudly towards the weak sky light.
His eyes were half-blind, but his voice was so loud that it made Madlan’s eardrums hurt.
"Ah, your ink is smudged, below it says, you being Cardinal as well... wait patiently for something something, ah then, something something, and in the end something something, ah, then the major policy can be returned."
Madlan looked at the old man before him and said helplessly, "Frick, have you really been a Minstrel in your youth? You talked for so long, I hardly understood a thing."
Frick stiffened his neck and said, "I really have been, what would a young rascal like you know."
Madlan felt somewhat helpless; among the many villagers he trusted, this Frick was relatively the most credible, and he was considered one of them.
Following Madlan were either Floating People’s Public Farmers or Public Register Farmers, how could they have any cultural paper-making skills?
Among Madlan’s over two hundred men, fewer than ten were literate, and Frick was the only one Madlan could trust.
After autumn came, there was still a trace of cold in this grass shed with draughts on all sides and grass curtains.
The old man before him wore a wrinkled, patched knee-length robe, exposing his dry wrists with skin sticking to white bones and green veins.
Dragging a three-legged stool from the trash pile, he dusted off the stool, and Madlan sat down: "So tell me, what exactly does this secret letter from the Holy Father mean?"
"Ah, the Holy Father, why does he always use such flowery language? Thought we were reading those boring Knight poems."
Complaining with a word, old Frick nevertheless explained bravely: "This, His Holiness means probably, maybe should mean, asking you to invade the Monastery quickly and eliminate the power minister Tommy."
"Me? To eliminate Tommy? Is that really the Holy Father’s intention?" Madlan widened his eyes, "Do we, a bunch of old, weak, sick, and disabled, have such capability?"
Old Frick initially said it off the cuff, but the more he pondered it, the less odd it seemed: "What else? Those Armed Farmers are all standing with Tommy, the Pope himself is not even allowed out of the Monastery, and the Pope’s Guard is blocked outside the door.
There’s definitely a traitor in our Pope Country; Chervis and Grampwen are on Tommy’s side, Danji is neutral, who else can His Holiness rely on besides you?"
"But we’re no match for Tommy, alas, why did His Holiness give such an order?"
Upon learning Horn’s "true" intentions, Madlan was a bit troubled.
Although he was extremely at odds with Tommy, most of the time he could only endure because behind Tommy stood a vast number of Armed Farmers.
Compared to most Public Register Farmers and Floating People’s Public Farmers, these Armed Farmers not only had better physical conditions, but also mostly possessed chain mails, leather armors, shortswords, and longbows as equipment.
The Church’s Night Guard was actually a militia organization, its predecessor being the Night Watch Brotherhood, and the Night Watch Brotherhood was established by the Armed Farmers.
So more than ninety percent of the Night Guard were of Armed Farmer origin.
As long as Tommy wished, he could quickly pull out twenty or thirty Night Guards, and the armored soldiers’ weapons and equipment were also in his hands.
However, Tommy’s forces also had a problem; the Armed Farmers were very brave when facing the Floating People’s Public Farmers, but as soon as they faced the Church or nobility, they’d immediately become defeatist warriors.
This is also why Horn believed that if the Church sent troops, Tommy would surrender immediately.
If they didn’t surrender, it would be like saying, "Your Majesty, why fight when we’re about to submit?"
But Horn never intended for Madlan to go up against Tommy directly.
He meant for Madlan to liaise with Jeska, pass on critical information at crucial moments, guard the Monastery’s gate, and not let Tommy escape to join the Armed Farmers.
Yet this crucial segment was overlooked by Frick, who could only understand that the beginning cursed Tommy and the ending suggested returning power; the rest was all his own imagination.
Placing a bottle of turbid wine on the table, Madlan left worriedly.
Frick leisurely picked up the turbid wine, humming a tune, sipping it by himself.
But after only a couple of sips, another old man walked into the grass shed: "Frick, where did you get this wine?"
"Hey, bro, want a few cups?" Frick perked up upon seeing the old man; it was his cousin, and they were drinking buddies, often drinking together.
"Sure, hey, I just saw young brother Madlan leaving in a hurry, what was that about?"
"What’s between us that can’t be told? I guarantee I won’t tell anyone else."
The old man took a half-cooked, feathered pheasant from his pouch and threw it on the table, then took out half a bottle of mead and shook it: "Is that good enough?"
After a few cups, Frick’s face turned a little red; he glanced at the roasted chicken, hesitating for a long while: "Then I’ll tell you, but you mustn’t tell anyone else."
"You go ahead, I promise I won’t blurt it out."
"Come, bring your ear closer."
"What? His Holiness the Pope wants Madlan to eliminate Tommy."
"Lower your voice, lower your voice." Frick’s voice was booming, "Don’t let outsiders hear."
He swirled the wine in his cup, speaking with some satisfaction: "Look at your old brother, now even the Master Bishops have to consult me, how do I compare to that Forest Sage Heluo?"
"Nonsense." The old man laughed and cursed, and together they drank the wine.
"What?" Tommy leapt from his chair, "Madlan is coming to assassinate me the night after tomorrow?"
The roaring fire in the fireplace turned everyone’s faces red, and the flickering firelight cast shadows on the flower and leaf-covered Boss shrine on the wall, causing the Miseria wrapped in the Holy Tree to flicker between light and shadow.
"Where did you hear this information?" Chervis put down his cup, his dwarf-like long beard constantly quivering.
The boy with curly soft whiskers on his lips replied, "From my second brother. His blacksmith master’s daughter married Madafa from Tudunzi Village, and Madafa’s ex-wife’s cousin’s sister-in-law is one of Madlan’s people."
"Absolutely true. My second brother told me not to tell a second person."
"Alright, I understand." Tommy flipped a Dinar as a reward, "Here you go, scram."
Once the boy left, only Tommy, Chervis, and the core members were left in the small Monk’s Quarters.
After waiting for a long time in the firelight, Grampwen frowned and asked, "How did Madlan know you’re going to meet with the Secret Party Envoy outside the Monastery the night after tomorrow?"
"You ask me, who can I ask?" Tommy looked displeased, "I guess it’s most likely because we have a mole."
"A little Madlan, does he really dare to come attack us?" Chervis rubbed the cup in his hand, "Tomorrow, find more people to ask, we must investigate clearly."
"It’ll be too late by the time we figure it out. That Madlan has hated me since last time, he might just do this." Tommy stood up, "Maybe that Horn is directing this; he hasn’t sat tight lately, those refugees all follow him devoutly now."
"So what do you suggest?" Grampwen asked.
Tommy raised his palm, making a chopping motion: "Rather than sit idly by, better to strike preemptively. Tomorrow night, we capture Madlan first to give that Horn a lesson.
Humph, he might be a Secret Party leader, but we’re not easy to mess with either!"