The sunlight trickled through the gaps in the roof made of grass and wood, illuminating the dust swirling in the straw house.
In the dark room, this faint light was blurry, and the smell of manure mixed with the musty odor of soil swirled in the air.
Lying on a makeshift bed made of benches and straw, a man kept his eyes closed, his teeth clenched, and his chapped lips trembled continuously.
A few drops of golden liquid flowed from a wooden tube, falling onto the man’s lips.
Armand picked up a leaf and let a handful of water slide down its veins into the man’s mouth, helping the golden liquid flow into his body.
"Chant Master, is it done?"
Though older than the young monk before him by two cycles, the old uncle dared not put on airs in front of Armand and asked cautiously.
"It’s done, but I must remind you, the Holy Oil only works on faithful believers. If his faith is sincere, even if he’s got one foot in purgatory, the Holy Oil can pull him back. But if his faith is not sincere, it would merely be a waste of this precious Holy Oil."
Sweat beaded on the old uncle’s forehead: "We are devout, very devout."
"As I said before, recite the hymn of thanks daily and appreciate the mercy of His Excellency, and it will remain safe."
"Yes, yes, yes, thank you, thank you." The old uncle bowed to Armand, "Sir, I have another matter, my wife’s cousin, second cousin, has dysentery..."
"The old saying stands, either wait or bring ten households here; the Ten Households Leader has priority and one designated use." Armand said mercilessly.
"Yes, yes, yes." Not daring to argue, the old uncle picked up his son and left the straw hut.
"Next one." After checking off the list he held, Armand looked up only to see Jeanne lifting the curtain and walking into the straw house.
"Sister Jeanne." Armand stood up, hurriedly stepping forward to greet her.
Jeanne reached out and smacked Armand’s Mediterranean-style bald head with a crack: "When did you come up with the holy order of Chant Master? How come I never heard of it?"
"His Excellency once said, without a proper title, words carry no weight. I hold no official position, so it’s always inconvenient to get things done." Armand joked.
Jeanne smiled gently, took four tubes of garlic essence, corked with soft cork, from her satchel, and placed them on the small table in front of Armand.
"Wonderful, I was just worried about running out of stock." Armand hurriedly unlocked the box and stored the four tubes of garlic essence inside it.
Ignoring Armand, Jeanne found a spot to sit down.
After the previous events, Jeanne was pretty much completely disappointed with the villagers, knights, and priests.
The only people she felt close to and trusted were probably the Child Soldiers and children.
The Child Soldiers were all orphans, similar to Jeanne’s own background, and the children weren’t full of schemes, at least better than adults.
"I came this time because Brother Horn wanted to know how things are going here, how you are faring, whether anyone is causing you trouble."
Armand pulled over a stool and sat down: "We’re all part of the Pope’s Guard; who would dare trouble us? Previously, people would look at us oddly, but now those people are gone."
Ever since the villagers from Red Mill Village migrated to the Gulag Papal State, Horn gave them the title of "Pope’s Guard."
Now everyone from Red Mill Village, from breastfeeding babies to sixty-year-old elders, is part of the Pope’s Guard.
The Pope’s Guard is, of course, distinct; Horn custom-made uniforms for them.
Adult men wear black twill wool cloak hoods, adult women wear black headscarves, and children have black headbands.
On the grasslands on the outskirts of the Gulag Papal State’s capital, a marvelous scene could be seen every rooster’s crow in the morning.
In the faint dawn light, groups of black-topped Pope Guards, some leaning on staffs, some holding parents’ hands, formed into neat lines, approached Priest Kosse and Chant Master Armand.
In the aroma of food, they did not rush forward to snatch it but sang hymns such as the Grace Song, Hymn of Thanks, and Celestial Kingdom Dreams while walking in unison.
From time to time, groups of ten households, with the Child Soldiers in tow, would patrol, lashing out with rattans at those whose movements were not in order.
At first, the surrounding villagers would watch and mock them, even loudly complaining they were being woken from their sweet dreams, but lately, those voices quieted down.
Because they realized that the Guards’ singing was so loud, their movements so neat, their unity so strong.
If anyone was bullied, the men from the same ten households would step in together.
When they form an orderly queue, singing hymns, stepping in unison as if they were one person, waving pitchforks and sticks as they charge, those mischievous villagers think they’re facing a regiment of seasoned soldiers.
After all, Horn’s marching prayers had some effect, when walking, the guards subconsciously step in synchrony.
Through the beatings with rattans and the daily practice of marching prayers, these movements have almost turned into a conditioned reflex.
With initial formations, organizational skills, and morale, beating up untrained villagers and bullies was a piece of cake.
Maybe Horn thinks there’s still a long way to go, but it’s a different story for those villagers.
Besides being hard to provoke, there’s another reason why the villagers and ruffians have become more restrained.
That is, the Pope’s Guard holds the precious Holy Oil and doesn’t hesitate to use it.
Like Tommy and others, who also received a fair amount of Holy Oil, they never used this precious stuff on the common folk.
Yet, while the Pope’s Guard requires queuing, at least they genuinely get to use it.
There’s also a very useful little trick: as long as you can bring ten households to register on the roster, forming a Ten Households, the leader of ten households can have priority access to Holy Oil once.
Registering on the roster isn’t just for fun; in the evening, you have to sing hymns with the guards, perform the three-finger chest-touch salute upon meeting, and those from the same ten households must live together.
Moreover, if someone comes to you with an issue, evading it is unacceptable.
If you dare evade, the guards dare to beat people to death.
"How many additional ten households have we added to our guard?"
"Five." Armand held up five fingers on his left hand and four on his right, "In total, nine ten households, 498 people, the roster is here, and another ten households might join tomorrow, making it an even ten."
Jeanne calculated silently, originally outside the Gulag Monastery, there were at most a little over six hundred refugees, plus those from Red Mill Village, totaling over eight hundred people.
However, since the weather cleared, ten to dozens of new refugees arrived daily, and now the Gulag Papal State had nearly a thousand people.
But these ten ten households were nearly the limit; most of the rest were dependent on Tommy and others.
In any case, these new guards were selectively obedient and not necessarily as loyal as the old Pope Guards.
Those in the old guard had personally witnessed Horn’s resurrection and the Holy Father’s descent.
Further control must be established.
Despite discussing these situations, Jeanne still felt a headache whenever she thought of them: "Horn gave a response to your previous inquiry."
"What did His Excellency say?"
"Brother Horn said, as Jeska previously accomplished the feat of vanquishing a demon, he will be appointed as the Hundred Households Captain."