"What? Tommy is planning to attack me tomorrow night?"
Madlan almost dropped the wooden bowl he was holding.
He found a flat spot to put down the bowl, took three quick steps forward, and whispered, "Where did you get this information?"
The middle-aged farmer, with shifty eyes, looked around furtively before whispering, "My wife told me; her cousin’s neighbor is the cousin of Tommy’s lover.
Tommy told that informant directly, he said, ’Madlan, that bastard, tomorrow night I’ll take his life, how dare he come after me.’"
"Absolutely true." A youth in shorts and a shirt said anxiously, "That thug of Tommy’s is my aunt’s client. He told her last night to stay away.
My aunt told us this morning when she came for breakfast, saying our family should hide early."
Madlan looked towards Frick, who was hiding among the crowd, as Frick wiped the sweat from his forehead, almost burying his head in his chest.
What’s the point of condemning Frick now? What’s done is done, could we possibly tell Tommy it’s all a misunderstanding?
Madlan fell silent, sitting heavily on a large rock, not saying a word.
The faint morning light cast a pale white glow, edging Madlan’s sitting figure with a white border.
Sitting there, he seemed like a marble statue, motionless.
"Boss, say something."
"Yeah, what should we do now?"
The seven or eight people surrounding Madlan were his inner circle, sharing his glory and his downfall.
"Let me ask you." Madlan looked up, facing the middle-aged farmer, "Are you saying Tommy is already outside the Monastery?"
"Looks like he might be outside during the day, then goes back at night unless he stays out... you know," the middle-aged farmer said, winking and nodding.
"Damn it, I didn’t want to provoke him, but he chose to provoke me." After a few seconds of silence, Madlan’s expression grew fierce, "He’s planning to ambush me tomorrow night, right? Fine, we’ll act first tonight, catch him first."
"How do we catch him?" The youth in shorts immediately perked up, looking at Madlan with shining eyes.
"We’ll go to his tent to catch him first; if he’s planning for tomorrow night, he won’t be on guard today."
"What if he’s not there?"
"Then we’ll block him at the Monastery’s entrance and inform His Holiness the Pope. As long as he can’t escape, with the fighting prowess of Saint Jeanne, those Armed Farmers will be too late by then."
The crowd fell silent again, but only the short-clad youth remained spirited: "As expected of Madlan, always thinking of what we can’t."
"Wait." A seasoned middle-aged man interjected, "For us to act, we probably need to mobilize those Public Register Farmers and vagrants, at most gather twenty or thirty people, is that enough?"
"Don’t worry, I have the Pope’s secret edict, commanding me to eliminate the power-hungry Tommy and rescue His Holiness the Pope. Isn’t there a Pope’s Guard’s subunit? With this letter, they’ll surely follow my lead."
Madlan rubbed his chin, "First, go spread rumors that Tommy doesn’t plan to distribute grains anymore.
Then, at night, don’t say we’re going to catch Tommy, say we’re discussing grain distribution, going to protest.
Once Tommy is caught, they’ll have no choice but to side with us, understood?"
"Also, no matter who it is, even if your own mother asks, even if an Angel descends, do not say a word, got it?" Madlan cast a fierce glare at the snickering Frick.
Horn suddenly sneezed, rubbed his nose, wondering how he started sneezing again when he had just recovered.
"It’s just a sneeze, why are you staring at me? Keep reciting."
"Thirty-four, forty-two, forty-four, forty-six..." The Child Soldiers crowded around the copy desk continued reciting with pained expressions.
Taking out a handkerchief and wiping his nose, Horn looked up at the sky.
The sky was clear as if a water surface, vast and deep, without a trace of ripple. Within the frame formed by the Monastery’s walls on all sides, it was like a dynamic oil painting.
The breeze of early autumn was neither cold nor hot, but rather filled with a refreshing coolness. The flowerbeds in the courtyard bloomed in various colors, like a box filled with jewels.
How pleasant it would be to go on an outing on a day , but unfortunately, Horn didn’t have the privilege right now.
"Continue," after enjoying the coolness of autumn for a moment, Horn focused back on reality.
In front of him was René, the Child Soldier who achieved first blood back then, an extremely clever child.
Even though they were isolated in the Monastery, Horn wanted to know the information outside, and since the Child Soldiers, being children, could come and go without attracting much attention,
Horn simply selected a group of clever children to form a secret little intelligence organization called "Cheka."
The first batch of Cheka spies consisted of five people, directly reporting to Horn.
The leader of the Cheka, Horn initially wanted to appoint René. This kid, not only being a first-generation Child Soldier but also having earned battle achievements,
was remarkably calm and composed at such a young age, with a flexible mind, making him an excellent intelligence manager.
However, when Horn was discussing with René, Jia Li was present.
As soon as Horn mentioned that the Cheka would consist of the cleverest children among the Child Soldiers, Jia Li threw a fit and insisted on being the head of Cheka.
René, showing his calm and clever nature, generously allowed the critical position of Cheka head to go to his 25-year-old little sister Jia Li.
Horn appointed René as the Cheka’s intelligence manager.
As per routine, René summarized information every three days, reporting it to Horn.
"... Two days ago, Rekado once again went to his sister’s place for a..."
"... Doyle from the Ruilan Family stole his father’s hidden stash..."
"... Tommy was outside all last night but didn’t visit the [technical woman]..."
Listening to René’s report of various findings, Horn felt caught off guard.
He never expected René to gather information in just three short days. Whether or not it was crucial, there was definitely some juicy content.
"These messages, most are confirmed, there are also some unverified ones, like Madlan planning to ambush Tommy and Tommy planning to attack Madlan, things that are just rumors, I didn’t include them.
Those messages are being organized by Monk Armand, if you want to see them, they’ll likely be sent to you this afternoon."
"Where did you get this information?" Horn rubbed René’s small head, genuinely puzzled about how these details were gathered.
René shook his head, "When I followed my mother as a vagrant before, I had to gather information and look for soup kitchens...
The adults didn’t pay attention to children, when we played, it was like they didn’t see us, they’d say many things they shouldn’t.
Before, the Pope’s Guard also collected a lot of information, Jeska Hundred Households Commander summarized it all here."
So that’s it, Horn came to a sudden realization.
Despite René being a Child Soldier, the entire Gulag Papal State, whether Tommy, Madlan, or those monks, they all thought of these Child Soldiers as jokes.
Child Soldiers, Child Soldiers, just kids in the end.
To most people, it seemed like something His Holiness the Pope was doing to vent against his captor, Tommy.
"Well done." Horn patted himself down, finally taking out a finely crafted dagger to give to René, "Keep up the good work."
Leafing through these explosive pieces of information, Horn couldn’t help but marvel at how complex things were for a mere thousand people.
"Dong—" a melodious bell sounded.
Rolling up the documents, Horn immediately stood up and approached the shivering Child Soldiers.
"A quiz, half an hourglass’ time. After the test, go run laps with sticks in hand; once you’re done, don’t rush off. Only those I don’t call out can leave."
The scribes, who had finished copying the test papers, handed out more than forty sheets to these orphans, each with a charcoal pencil.
"I’ll say it again, I don’t care if you knew numbers or not before. From here on, you must use Arabic... Gallar numbers, anything else will get a zero."
Amidst a cry of lament, Horn flipped an hourglass and set it on the table, the cries instantly morphing into the sound of scribbling pencils.
"Your Holiness," a monk beside him said sympathetically, "these children rise with the roosters and train until the moon is high; isn’t it a bit too much?"
"What’s the big deal? I didn’t make them get up at five-thirty for drills. When I was... I mean, in the Celestial Kingdom, I was way more exhausted than they are."