Chapter 192 One and a Half Spells

Before dawn, the vanguard has already set off.

Two regular army brigades and another militia corps walked in front. The Jashka corps served as both baggage train and rear guard, and a squadron of hussars accompanied them to support them - this was the entire strength of the vanguard.

Their duty is to confirm routes, build camps, clear out possible enemies, and prepare in advance for the arrival of subsequent large forces.

The sun has not risen, so it is very cold, so cold that one's chest can't help but tremble.

The clever soldier sewed himself a helmet-like hat, leaving only his eyes exposed.

Soldiers who didn't know how to sew and sew had no choice but to suffer from the cold. Their noses, mouths, and ears were all red from the cold, and the white mist brought by their breath made their eye hairs frosty.

Some soldiers cut the Hud's robes into sections and used them as scarves, or randomly found some scraps of fabric to use as triangle scarves.

The camp area of ​​the Jessica Brigade is now extremely deserted. All the things that need to be taken away have been loaded on the carriages and carried on the shoulders. There are only piles of charcoal-black ash on the ground.

Before it was the rear guard's turn to set off, the militiamen lined up and stood by. Everyone rubbed their hands, stamped their feet, and whispered gossip.

Winters walked among the queues, doing one last check before leaving.

The militiamen along the road saluted when they saw the centurion approaching, and Winters returned the salute seriously.

Many of the militiamen were wrapped in Hurd robes, for no other reason than that Hurd robes were really warm.

If he wasn't worried about the negative impact, Winters would have wanted to wear a robe to wear over it - after all, in this damn weather, he would never have too many clothes on his body.

[Samu Jin] from Wolf Town was so cold that he shrugged his shoulders. When he saw the centurion approaching, he quickly asked: "When can we leave? Sir."

Winters estimated the time and replied: "Don't worry, it should be soon."

"Okay...that's good." Samujin sniffed and said tremblingly, "Just walk. It'll be warm when you walk. It's too cold to stand."

Seeing that Samutin only had the jacket he brought with him when he left home, Winters was very surprised: "Why didn't you get a robe to wear?"

Samutin's voice was as small as a mosquito: "It's unlucky to wear clothes of a dead person. Sir, I'm fine. I feel warm when I walk."

"Do you want the dead man's gold?" Winters simply hated iron. He pointed at Samkin's scabbard and asked, "Did the Hurds give this knife to you on a plate? You want the dead man's saber, and you wear the dead man's armor. Tell me, what's the difference between the dead man's robe?"

Samujin was unable to refute, he lowered his head and muttered: "That's still different."

Winters was angry and funny: "Ignorant guy, do you know how expensive Hurd's robes are? A Hurd woman's dowry must have three sets of robes, which is not an ordinary family. There are businessmen who specialize in buying Hurd's leather robes. So you got it for free and you still don’t want it?”

"Ah?" Samujin was dumbfounded: "I didn't know about this... Then it's too late now..."

"I'll give you five minutes. Go to the back to find Lieutenant Bader to get one." Winters urged: "Go! Run!"

Samkin ran away quickly.

"Wear the robe sparingly, and be careful not to get eaten by moths." Winters said to the others around him: "It's a bit difficult to wear it for a lifetime, but it's okay to wear it for half a life."

After inspecting the two centurions under his command, Winters walked into the carriage of the old magician.

When he opened the car door, he happened to meet the little lion's eyes.

Seeing who was coming, the little lion buried his head in his arms again and continued to sleep.

"Go away, go away." Winters slapped the little lion and pushed it aside.

The little lion purred and grunted, making room for Winters to sit down.

Brother Rhett had a hint of a smile: "This little guy has very good ears. I can hear your footsteps even from a long distance."

"Is this a little guy?" Winters felt worried when he saw the little lion: "It's almost 80 pounds, right?"

"What's the matter with eighty pounds?" Brother Rhett didn't care: "It's still too early to reach adulthood."

Although the little lion is still called Little Lion, this is only because Winters did not allow Bell to name the little lion.

In fact, the little lion is already bigger and heavier than any domestic dog Winters has ever seen, and it is getting bigger and heavier every day, and his food intake is increasing day by day.

Fortunately, Winters doesn't have to worry about where to find meat these days. A horse carcass can be enough for the little lion to eat for a long time.

Winters touched the fur on the little lion's back and said helplessly: "That's why I'm anxious. You've never seen its mother... Well, I'm thinking about whether to let it go back here." wilderness."

"Ahem." Rhett put his feet on the little lion to keep warm, and asked Winters: "How to let it go? This little guy can't even catch a rabbit. Are you putting it in the wild, not letting it starve to death?"

"The Hurds will be in pursuit soon, and they should capture it."

"The leader of the Hed people is called White Lion. If you give the white lion to Yasin, isn't it equivalent to sending auspiciousness to Yasin? Will it increase his authority?"

Winters was also devastated: "I never thought Yasin's father would give him this name!"

"The names of the Hed people are all given by their own shamans." Brother Red corrected with a smile.

"It does not matter!"

Rhett coughed slightly, and the smile on his face grew wider: "Don't be afraid, bring Plato back with peace of mind. If you can't afford it, I can arrange for the Catholic Church to take over. [Coming from the wilderness, like a lion's call], hahahaha! "

Winters' head hurt even more.

The image of the lion has special significance in both the Orthodox and Catholic churches.

First of all, the lion is the symbol of [King David] and one of the emblems of the twelve tribes descended from the [God Wrestler]. There are a lot of metaphors and images of lions in the scriptures.

The winged lion is the symbol of St. Mark, the patron saint of sea blue, and this image is painted on the Veneta military flag.

Another saint, Jerome, was even more closely associated with lions. Legend has it that he pulled out the thorns from a lion's claws, and the lion stayed with him from then on, which was considered a miracle.

There are also two saints who are said to be accompanied by lions.

It is precisely because of the precedent of Saint Jerome that the fact that the mendicant monk Rhett had a lion next to him was accepted by the vast majority of believers without any difficulty.

"The little lion is...is..." Winters was at a loss for words. After thinking for a long time, he couldn't find a word to explain what the little lion was.

He simply gave up on himself: "It's not a miracle anyway. I would rather raise it myself than leave it to the Catholic Church."

"Actually, you already have the answer." The old monk said calmly: "Are you willing to separate the two little guys? Are you willing to let this little guy go? There are feelings when raising potted flowers and plants, let alone this one. Waiting for the spirit beast? Raise it first, and no one will let you raise it. Don’t worry, you can wait until it reaches adulthood and then train it to return to the forest."

Winters thought about it over and over again, but there was no better way.

Released into the wilderness?

Not safe.

Sold to the church or other big shots?

Ignorant of conscience.

The main question, splitting up Bale and the Lions?

He couldn't bear it.

The little hunter and the little lion are simply inseparable. Although the little lion is still early to reach adulthood, the wildness and strength it occasionally displays still make Winters nervous.

Only with Bell, no matter how much fun they had, they never had any accidents.

Winters vaguely felt that in the eyes of the little lion, he and the old magic stick were still [people], while Bell was already regarded as [the same kind] by the little lion.

Perhaps the only solution left for the old master is to ensure that the little lion can stand on his own before letting him return to the forest.

"A lion raised by humans?" Winters hesitated: "Can it still learn to hunt?"

Of course, the old magician said firmly: "Don't you understand? Look at the cats raised by princes and nobles. They don't have to worry about food and water. You can see that they will catch mice when they see them. This is called instinct. Tsk tsk tsk... Young man, you have some knowledge. I am short-sighted and need to learn more.”

Winters was speechless. Judging from his life experience: the general ignored the mice when he saw them, but the young general did occasionally bring a mouse home, which would elicit screams every time.

The little lion's question was temporarily suspended. Winters casually told the old magician what he had just said, "Samkin would rather freeze than wear the clothes of a dead man", which he treated as an anecdote.

Unexpectedly, Brother Rhett became interested.

He stroked his beard and pretended to be serious: "I think there must be more than one person who has this doubt, and it may affect the army's combat effectiveness. After all, once the fingers are frostbitten, the soldiers will not be able to fight."

When Winters heard this, he also became worried: "What should we do?"

"I have a way, I think I can solve it well."

"any solution?"

"Simple." Rhett chuckled and said, "During mass next time, I will bring some holy water to consecrate Hurd's robe, and it will be fine."

Winters was silent for a long time, and asked the old man half in praise and half in sarcasm: "If...I mean if, you and your group of fanatical believers say that cow dung is delicious, will they eat it?"

…

The old magic stick Red has gradually evolved from [the Saint of the Jessica Brigade] to [the Saint of the Plato Army].

Even senior officers such as Sackler and Arpad did not dare to neglect the old master. They invited him repeatedly to live in the Chinese army with better conditions, but he was rejected again and again.

Ever since, Winters witnessed the attitude of the generals and colonels changing from "dare not to neglect" to "admiration and respect."

The old magic stick preached, and people from other brigades, regardless of whether they were Protestants, Catholics, officers, or soldiers, came to listen to the sermon.

The old priest handed out cookies, and those who received Holy Communion could line up from the west wall of the camp to the east wall.

The existence of the little lion not only did not weaken the sacredness of the old magic stick, but was regarded as a miracle by believers.

Seeing a real lion lying at the feet of the old magic stick like a puppy, many believers shed tears and regarded the old man as a living saint.

When he heard that someone had "canonized himself", Lieutenant Varga, another devout believer, became furious.

Dazzled by religious enthusiasm, Lieutenant Varga broke into the Jashka camp with a sword, vowing to kill the heretics.

After Winters heard the news, he didn't even have time to put on his shirt or boots. He grabbed a steel nail and ran to save the old man.

By the time he arrived at the scene, shirtless and barefoot, it was already too late... Varga was kissing the old man's clothes.

Second Lieutenant Varga, who walked out of the Jashka camp, has been [Second Inspiration] and has become the most fanatical supporter of the old magic stick.

…

Brother Rhett was not angry at all after hearing Winters' [cow dung] question.

Brother Red looked Winters directly in the eyes.

With burning eyes and a serious expression, he said to Winters seriously: "They are just pious, not mentally deficient. Even if the Pope says cow dung is delicious, no one will eat it. Around you, except for you, Cultivators, everyone else is a believer. You should maintain a trace of respect, at least you should not show contempt. If you continue like this, one day your contempt will no longer be able to be hidden. At that time, how will you interact with others? How can this religious society get along?”

Winters snorted.

What he said just now was too presumptuous, and he knew he was wronged.

Moreover, the old man's sudden and righteous words made him as helpless as a naughty boy caught in court.

To tell the truth, Winters was startled: Brother Rhett's eyes seemed to look him in the face.

The carriage became quiet except for the snoring of the little lion.

"Ahem, that's all." The old man showed a sly smile: "If I tell them that cow dung can cure diseases, they should try it."

"Bang!"

The car door was kicked open.

Winters stormed off.

The little lion in his sleep was startled by the sound of the door being kicked. He instantly jumped up from the seat, his mane exploded, and his sharp claws were exposed, and he looked around alertly.

"It's okay, it's okay." Rhett gently comforted the little lion: "You're also mad?"

…

The first three brigades have left the camp, and it is the turn of the Jessica brigade to set off.

Carriage after carriage drove through the camp area, and the sound of "squeaking" could be heard throughout the camp.

Many people came out of their tents to watch the convoy leaving the camp.

Veneta officers and several senior students from Plato also came to see Winters and others off.

Lieutenant Mitch and Winters fist bumped: "See you at the next camp, Winters."

"See you at the next camp, squad leader," Winters replied.

When Winters entered the Mainland Academy, Mitch was in his third year. He actually served as class monitor for Winters and was also a senior in spellcasting.

With one last look at Bian Li, Winters put everything behind him and rode forward.

He came with nothing, and left with one and a half spells.

[Disintegration], and the prototype of another spell.

According to Winters' speculation, the large-scale spell that caused the heavy rain was probably not only powered by the Hed shaman, but the spellcasters of Plato also contributed magic power to it.

The Hed shaman's spell production resonates with Alliance spellcasters, and their "magic" is sucked away like a sailboat caught in a whirlpool - if there is such a thing as "magic".

According to this principle, the first [Enemy Spell] in the history of Alliance spellcasters is about to emerge, which Winters temporarily calls [Mana Vortex].

But thinking alone is useless. Winters needs more resources for experimentation and practice.

“The Antoine Laurent Award is mine,” Winters thought: “The youngest winner.”

Watching Winters' back fade away, Lieutenant Lieutenant Mitchell asked Lieutenant Matt who was still waving desperately next to him: "Do you think Winters Montagne is a completely unreliable person?"

"Huh?" Lieutenant Matt wiped his tears and was slightly startled when he heard Mitch's words: "Winters... this kid is pretty good? What's wrong?"

"Yes or no."

"……no."

"I don't think so. I took him with me for a year. He is a good boy, I know it very well." Second Lieutenant Michie said thoughtfully: "But he deliberately hid it from us yesterday."

"What?" Matt was still immersed in the sad mood of farewell.

"Someone told me that Winters killed the first warrior of the Telton tribe with one spear throw. Do you think he has such arm strength?"

"It sounds to me like spreading rumors..."

"No, it's true." Mitch stroked the stubble on his chin and said, "If I guess correctly, it's a specialized version of the flying arrow technique."

Matt was puzzled: "So what? Spellcasters have body-pressing spells."

"I tried, but I can't do it." Mitch said seriously: "Whether it's accuracy or strength, it can't be replicated."

"you mean……"

"A person who is not completely untrue, but does something that is not completely untrue, then the information he wants to hide must be very important." Mitch straightened his body and looked at Winters' back - he could barely see clearly. , smiled bitterly and shook his head: "What is the weakest? He is the strongest."

[Regarding the records of nobles raising wild beasts, I remember one of the more interesting ones:

A certain Austrian Archduke [Habsburg]—I can’t remember which one—kept a lion, which “haunted the palace, wandering about as it pleased, and occasionally devouring some unfortunate chamberlain.”]

[If I explain the story of the white lion and the old magic stick, the progress of the plot will be slowed down...]

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