Chapter 147, Montoka City, Priest Lothar Batal

"The village, everything is destroyed."

"Where have everyone gone? Orr? Trish? Sadra?"

"Don't cry, don't cry. Please, don't cry, wuwuwu——"

"There are no corpses, charred bones, it's okay, it's okay. My Lord, please bless them, bless the people in the village, and let them be free and have land to farm."

"May this never happen again. My Lord, I pray to you, do your might, I pray to you."

-

Early morning in Montoka City, southeast of Cavan Territory.

Deep in the ancient and mottled residential area of ​​the Church of Saturn, in a row of red-tiled houses, Priest Lothar Batal woke up from the stone bed sobbing with tears streaming down his face.

He reached out and touched it, his face was wet, and he cried in his sleep for a long time.

There was no strength left in his body, so he huddled on the stone bed covered with animal skin mats for a while.

The window of the room, which is the size of a head, faces the south, and the early sun quickly shines in the sunlight from this window. A winding luminous grass at the head of the bed twists and unfolds its numerous leaves curled up at night according to the agreed time pattern, trying its best to capture every scattered sunlight that shines into the house through the stone window.

Priest Batal climbed out of bed wearing a sleeping robe that was more than a circle too big, picked up a copper kettle from the wooden table in the room and poured himself a glass of water.

Silently, he took out a silver spoon and scooped out a small spoonful of the viscous juice from the jar next to him. After a pause, he still put the spoon into the cup of water, slowly stirring it to dissolve it in the cup.

A scent with the calming flavor of flowers and wood wafted out of the water glass.

Facing the first sunlight shining through the stone window, he took a small sip of the potion that he heard could calm his mind.

Although this stuff smells particularly good, it feels very bitter when it tastes in your mouth.

After drinking half of it with a frown, Priest Batal still couldn't drink it, because the bitter feeling always reminded him of the painful moment a few days ago.

He poured the potion in the water glass into the luminous plant pot beside the bed, and Priest Batal pretended that he had already drank it. And that glowing plant feels a little more energetic.

Putting on formal priest robes and buckskin boots, Priest Batal walked out of the small borrowed room.

This is Montoka City, an important city located at the southeastern border pass of the Western Province.

Only a few kilometers outside the city, there is a neat and tall stone wall built of white stone, which firmly controls the trade routes to the southern provinces. With the main trade routes leading to the southern provinces and the prosperity of the Cavern Territory, the city of Montoka also occupies a large area, with many business travelers coming and going. There are also various large and small chambers of commerce in the city, no less than a hundred.

However, this does not mean that Montauca is a city mainly focused on trade. On the contrary, a large river flowing north through the city not only provides the city with sufficient water sources, but also means that the entire city is built on a On the flood plains of ancient rivers.

The vast plains have brought fertile land, and naturally there is also a large agricultural area under development.

Therefore, the Church of the God of Agriculture in Montauca City is also an important pillar in the local area, as much as the Church of the God of Animal Husbandry and the Church of the God of Wealth.

Since it is a pillar force, the scale of the Church of Saturn in Montauca City is not small.

Not to mention the residential area that can support hundreds of priests living at the same time, there are five churches, large and small, for praying to God. And they are not the low wooden buildings in the countryside. They are all made of white stone and tall and round with green vines. Dome church.

Priest Batal, who walked out of his borrowed house, kicked his hands together, covered them with his sleeves, and walked slowly towards the church closest to his house.

Along the way, he met many local church priests. They were all walking in a hurry. Many of them were no longer about to get up and go out to do errands, but were returning tiredly after finishing church business.

Many young priests had to get out of bed before dawn, pick up jars filled with blessed water early, follow the senior priests leading the team out of the church, and walk in batches towards various city gates.

The smart ones would put the water jug ​​on the cart to save effort, while the dull ones would eat and use magic to maintain their strength. Before many farmers in the city went out to work in the fields, they would use blessed water to give to the followers of the god of agriculture among them. Spread blessings.

Young priests must get to know every devout believer in their diocese and give them a positive blessing when the first sun shines over them.

Blessings are not magical, but words have their own power.

A kind word of blessing can give believers more confidence and strength to work throughout the day.

At this time, if any believer still has troubles and troubles, the young priests have to make an appointment with the other person. During the day, usually during the lunch break, they go to the fields to find the troubled believer and spend time listening to the other person's problems. And use his own power to solve problems for believers.

Most of them are trivial matters, whether they are conflicts at home or quarrels with neighbors.

Sometimes it’s questions about farming, sometimes it’s guilt about the dark places in my heart.

Either comfort, mediate, answer, or analyze.

For these little things, the young priests need more of their own mouths to solve these problems. The great power given by the God of Agriculture can also solve them, but it is not necessary.

Because the divine power possessed by young priests is limited, they are far from comparable to middle-aged priests or high-ranking priests.

They rely more on their status or words, no, wisdom and patience to solve the troubles encountered by believers.

But all this was of no use to the sad-faced Priest Lothar Batal.

The problems he faced were far from being solved by relying on status and words.

It was simply impossible for the group of broken soldiers who burned down Changmai Village and were blinded by desire and violence to rely on words to make them feel guilty and release the villagers.

"Lord, I hope you can give me some real and useful news. On behalf of the villagers of Changmai Village and your believers, I pray to you."

Kneeling in front of the stone statue of the god of agriculture in the church hall, priest Lothar Batal murmured to himself.

The cuffs of his priest's robe were worn apart by the ground due to the constant kneeling and praying recently.

The beautiful cuff decorations that originally showed off the silver threads turned gray, making him look as desolate as Priest Batal himself.

The local priest who was making his morning rounds in the church frowned again when he saw Priest Batal kneeling to pray like this.

"Has the Great Lord given you any news?"

Priest Batal raised his head and saw that the person speaking to him turned out to be the Vice-President of the Saturnalia Church in the local city of Montauka. This person's position in the church is two levels higher than his, but he is a big shot who must be dealt with carefully.

"Go back to the pastor. I just prayed to the gods for an answer. You still asked me to go to the tavern in the city and wait for someone to come."

Priest Batal frowned, obviously not satisfied with this same answer.

"Since God has given you the answer, then go to the tavern in the city and wait for the person you are looking for. The great Lord, His power is endless, how can you question it at will?"

The old deputy dean held a long wooden staff and stamped the ground vigorously.

Boom boom.

Young shoots sprouted from the wood knobs.

"You look like you're overwhelmed by the difficulties you're facing, aren't you?"

A pair of old but not cloudy eyes looked down from high to low at Priest Batal who was kneeling on the ground and looking up. His eyes were burning and his tone was serious.

Priest Batal's face turned red quickly, and he wanted to argue something, but due to the identity and status of the two of them, he could only mutter something in a low voice: "I have prayed countless times in the past few days, and the answer is always the same." ?Waiting for? Who is coming? The people and believers are suffering."

The old man closed his eyes, and his dry ears did not miss the slightest sound around him.

"I heard it all. The great God of Agriculture has made arrangements for you. What are you doubting? Isn't there a legendary hero descended from the sky? Not to mention that we don't have it. Even if there is, there are hundreds of millions of people in the world, and things are happening all the time. Good, bad, despicable, glorious, urgent, all kinds of things that have a long time to come.”

"How can one or two heroes who can solve all troubles deal with it? You, you are not young anymore, why are you still like those young trainee shepherds, always expecting others to solve your problems? ?”

The old man twisted the green shoots that grew spontaneously from the top of the long wooden stick in his hand, and gently put it into his mouth.

The buds turned into green light and blended into the tip of the tongue and between the teeth, making the old priest feel better for a while.

"You are an official shepherd, a priest of the God of Agriculture who can act alone. You should be the steady support of others. Because you have the God of Agriculture behind you to support you, and they don't. That's when they need your help."

Priest Lothar Batal closed his eyes and resisted the old priest's principle: "Don't say it, I understand all these principles. A dozen days ago, I really thought that just by relying on myself My ability can protect my village and the people and believers it belongs to. Yes!"

His face showed pain, and he thought again of the night when the flames were everywhere.

The devout believers who entrusted the children to him, the crying children, and the scorched Changmai Village that they saw after crawling out of the shelter exit the next day.

"The village is gone. Everything is gone. The villagers were taken away and either sold or are suffering the violence of others at this moment. The fields that have been worked for many years have been burned to ashes, and those are the wheat seedlings in spring! They were planted one seed at a time. It took hard work, sweat, and patience to plow deeply. I once sincerely blessed every inch of the fields in Changmai Village, but it was all in vain!"

The old man looked at the young priest who was gradually becoming more and more fierce in his words, and then twisted off a bud growing on a wood tumor. This time, the old dean handed the bud to Padre Lothar Batal.

"Eat some."

Priest Batal did not answer, turned his head away, and remained silent.

"The gods have made arrangements. You may not understand it yet, but that's it." The old man took the unwanted sprouts himself.

Priest Batal raised his head and looked at the vice-president: "He is so great, but why do you let me wait here? Every day, the people and believers are suffering. I am afraid that if I delay for one day, they will suffer more." The suffering of the world will be far away from us as soon as possible. Without the blessing and guidance when death, where will the soul go after death? The underworld? How many people can reach there completely after death? Most of them can only Turn into a lonely ghost in the world, slowly and painfully dissipating?"

The old priest was silent for a while, obviously knowing that what caused Priest Batar's pain was indeed very likely to happen, or was happening.

"Well, this is what you will understand when you are promoted to a trainee priest one day. Our Lord is not omnipotent, even if His divine power extends to every place in the world and is extremely powerful and respectable among all gods. But."

The old priest said this and raised his head.

He looked out from the gap in the skylight of the church and saw a mysterious celestial body sliding across the sky.

It was the emblem of a certain natural god. It hung far above the sky, never falling day and night, and was extremely powerful.

"But our Lord is not the God of heaven. Not so much. Not so much."

The old man smiled bitterly: "Oh, let the Sun God go up first. Human gods come first? But the price is so heavy, how can our Lord be willing?"

Priest Lothar Batal obviously didn't understand much of the old priest's words, but he clearly understood that the local deputy dean of the priest level in front of him, an old man over a hundred years old, actually recognized their Lord, Oprochen Didine is not an omnipotent and powerful god.

That’s right, if everything is omnipotent, there is only one god in the world.

There are countless gods in the world, which shows that they are not omnipotent.

"Young man, God may not be able to do everything. But that's not the reason why you are so depressed, is it? You say you love your people, but what have you done to save them?"

The old man came back to his senses and changed his demeanor and tone.

"Me." Priest Lothar Batal became anxious: "I handed over the children in the shelter to the care of friends in other parishes. I also prayed to the Lord and asked Him to save the villagers of Changmai Village. I also We extinguished the fire in the village and maybe saved a house or two. I, I also followed the Lord’s guidance and walked through the chaotic western part of the southern province and passed through the White Stone Pass and came here.”

"That's it. Since you believe it, why don't you continue to believe it? If our Lord has arranged it, then you will go to various taverns in the city every day to wait for the arrival of God's arrangements. Why are you crawling here, Pray repeatedly.”

The old man turned and looked at the stone statue of the God of Agriculture several meters high behind him: "What are you praying for? Are you putting pressure on the great God of Agriculture? Or are you criticizing? Why didn't you immediately arrange an army to take back the fallen Abducted villagers?”

The old pastor turned his head: "To be honest, we have an army. Not to mention the dean, I, the deputy dean, can summon an army of hundreds of believers. But what are the consequences? If there is no religious war, if we do this, the two locals will What does the viscount think of us? Those nobles will unite with other churches to oppress us and our believers. Thousands of people will die and be displaced."

Priest Lothar Batal was frightened. He seemed to be able to imagine how the farmers near the city of Montoca would either convert to other gods or refuse to change and be oppressed and humiliated.

He trembled at the thought that all this might have happened because of him.

"God has his own arrangements, go down. Go to various taverns according to the instructions of the Lord. Maybe, in these two days, the person He arranged will really come. Don't be resentful, we have The great god of agriculture is already the best thing. There are some shortcomings, and it is up to us to fill in the missing imperfections."

"You are a good seedling, and you may grow into a big fruit tree in the future, so don't cry when encountering wind and rain. Read more and listen to the legends and stories of the saints in the sect. You will understand that each of them, No one can do great things just by praying to God. While the God of Agriculture supports us, we also support Him. He is not omnipotent, but with our efforts, He can do anything every day. Walking on the road to near omnipotence.”

"Ascending to heaven may not be something that requires many sacrifices."

After the old patriarch finished speaking, he looked at Priest Lothar Batal with hope.

After thinking about it, the young priest finally felt relieved that the god of agriculture was not omnipotent. He also needs to arrange and prepare.

Priest Lothar Batal once again prostrated on the ground, but this time the object was no longer the statue of the God of Agriculture, but the old priest and deputy dean.

"I'm leaving?"

The old man nodded: "Where to go?"

"Go to the tavern and wait for whoever comes."

"Go. The God of Agriculture bless you, and may you grow in the spring breeze."

The young priest continued: "Walking in the shade of summer trees."

The old priest smiled and continued: "Autumn is full of fruits."

The young priest walked out of the church door: "Taste the sweet taste of winter."

-

At noon, in the trade distribution area inside the west gate of Montaoka City, there was a rather messy tavern.

This pub is very lively. Young guys from the surrounding chamber of commerce like to talk freely and drink in this cheap and affordable pub.

The emblem of the God of Brewing is displayed generously in the center of the tavern in the form of a wool tapestry.

This fact makes all the newcomers feel at ease when they come in and have a drink for the first time.

At least the owner or bartender of this tavern would not mix something worse than horse urine into the water and then take the opportunity to sell it to some drunkards at a higher price.

I heard that any tavern that dares to display the emblem of the God of Brewing has at least one or two excellent drinks for sale.

Regarding this, Priest Lothar Batal felt that it might be true.

He was sitting in the corner of the tavern, wearing a low-key cloak over the formal clergy robes. On the semi-circular table against the wall, there was only a glass of rye beer.

The aroma of the wine was rich, and the turbid liquor looked richer and thicker than the wheat porridge cooked by the stingy landowner.

Just looking at this liquid, many people feel that they can eat just by drinking this stuff. Priest Batal felt that this was true. After drinking half a cup, he felt that his stomach was full.

There is a lot of viscous turbid liquid settled at the bottom of the wine, which is the rye component that was not removed during brewing.

The surroundings were chaotic, and everyone's chatter was transmitted to the young priest's ears, which forced him to reduce the power of a certain magical spell on his ears, otherwise many obscene words were mixed with the stewards of the chamber of commerce to which the clerk belonged. Their curses would always fill his mind.

"It's all useless news. Hey, when will this happen?"

The awareness I had in the morning has almost been worn away by now.

I don't know if it was the dirty news surrounding him or the result of him going to three pubs in a row and drinking two and a half glasses of ale.

In a daze, he lay on the wine table and quickly snored.

-

Snap, Keir and Bloodfangster walked into this nameless tavern while laughing.

"Look, what I said is right. This is the emblem of the brewing god. I will let you taste the great power of the god right away! Man, let's have two glasses of the best ale. I'm talking about your local newly brewed big beer. The finest ale!”

As soon as Bloodtusk entered the tavern, he took off his thin windproof cloak, quickly pointed to the woolen tapestry god emblem hanging in the middle of the tavern with Kil, and asked the bartender to get them the best drinks.

The two of them looked at the lively and crowded scene around them and couldn't find a place to sit down for a while.

“There’s no other way, just look for an empty seat somewhere!”

Kil shrugged and slowly led Bloodfangster around the tavern.

The army was stationed in the military camp outside the city. Baron Kendall took Knight Crow to visit the local viscount. Kendall's army would stay here for one more day, so he took his companions out to visit the big city.

This Montaoka City is several times larger than Kendall City.

And just like the combination of Kendall City and Bingshuguan, not only does it have a large population and a huge city, but also caravans traveling from north to south gather here. Before entering the city, Keir felt that this place is quite special. lively.

The two of them did not ride into the city, but walked all the way from the local military camp outside the city to near the west gate of the city.

After paying the entry tax for foreigners, we walked around.

Bloodfangster was very familiar with this place. After feeling thirsty, he took Keir to this unnamed tavern to try the good wine here.

-

In a dark corner, a hand quietly reached out to Priest Batal, who seemed to be drunk and asleep. The target was the flat, embroidered money bag on the priest's waist.

It's not the dry money bag that people won't take. It's better to steal the dry money bag from a drunkard. After all, the drunkards themselves can't tell how much money was lost in it.

Before the owner of Keshou could succeed, a strong figure blocked the light.

"This, uh, pickpocket? If I want to take other people's money, I have to at least get their consent, right?"

Keir put his hands on his hips and raised his chin slightly to look at the thin figure standing in front of him.

The pickpocket who stole things was not polite: "I asked for the other party's consent. He owes me a sum of money. I am here to help him look after it. The pub is too messy and it is easy to lose things."

Bloodfangster was amused. He had seen this kind of pickpocket too many times, and he had no intention of chatting with him like Kil. He walked forward directly, pushed the thin pickpocket down, and then added a kick that was neither light nor heavy.

Tell the other person to get out.

The pickpocket looked at the two of them and noticed that both Kil and Bloodtusk were wearing weapons, although they were hidden under the cloaks they held in their left hands. Knowing that he had encountered a tough situation, he immediately rolled smoothly on the ground, and then After rolling away, he got up and patted himself, hunched over and walked away like a normal person.

"Kiel, there is no need to say anything to them. You saw them stealing. If you want to take care of them, just drive them away. These pickpockets, what do you say to them? These guys have their own 'pickpocketing culture'. I'm still excited, so I insist on telling you a couple of lines from the poem. Ugh, it's sour and smelly."

Keir was also happy. He shook the sleeping guy: "Hey, wake up, it's not a good idea to fall asleep alone in a tavern!"

Priest Batal woke up when someone shook him. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the two people who shook him awake.

"Um?"

His eyes widened!