"Ehehe, chicken soup is here."
The night was like water, somewhat chilly, but Madlan’s voice felt so warm.
He carried a large pot of chicken soup, taking quick little steps into the room known as the dining hall, which was actually a scriptorium.
The rich aroma of the chicken soup wafted out from the gaps of the pot lid, causing the noses of the high-ranking bishops from Pope Country to twitch slightly.
Placing the chicken soup on the five-meter-long writing table, Madlan wiped his hands with his apron and looked around: "Drink it, why aren’t you drinking?"
"Jeska, take a seat, let’s have a sip of soup first," Horn smiled and explained to the bishops present, "I specially ordered this from the kitchen as a midnight snack to treat everyone."
Standing by the map on the wall, Jeska obediently sat down at the table.
Picking up the ceramic bowl and ladling out a bowl of soup, Madlan offered it to Jeska: "Here, drink it while it’s hot."
Everyone present, seven or eight of them, each got a bowl of soup, even the guards standing at the door.
The bishops naturally enjoyed chicken legs, wings, and breasts, while the guards could only have chicken heads and feet.
Though Pope Country is vast and resource-rich, such chicken soup is not something the guards can enjoy daily, so there were no complaints.
Picking up the spoon, Chervis scooped a spoonful of chicken soup, intending to taste it.
But his hand trembled uncontrollably, forcing him to use his other hand to steady his wrist, allowing him to drink smoothly.
"The taste is a bit odd."
"Having chicken soup is good enough, why be picky? If you don’t drink, I will." Madlan rolled his eyes and took a sip, "Tsk tsk, it’s perfectly seasoned, tastes great."
Off to the side, Grampwen took out a small cup of malt liquor: "I think you probably need this."
Chervis grinned and took it: "I have important things tomorrow, so I’ll just have this one cup, just one cup, no persuasion allowed."
"Who’s persuading you?"
Busak and the others couldn’t help but laugh, even Danji, who was always serious, smiled and took a sip of chicken soup.
"Alright, alright, let’s be serious, we’re having a tactical meeting here." Horn’s smile lingered as he tapped the table with his scepter, "Quiet, quiet."
Blowing on the steam rising from the chicken soup in his bowl, Horn smiled at Jeska: "Madlan wasn’t here earlier, summarize our plan once more."
Jeska pointed at the simple map spread on the table and said: "Please see, this is the battlefield agreed upon with the Church’s militia captain, Little Muddy Ditch.
The place was originally a small incline, farmland for Armed Farmers, flanked by dense shrubs and small woods, with a fence wall at the edge.
After the floods, the original dirt road became muddy, restricting the battlefield’s width.
No matter their number, they certainly can’t maneuver here; the route would be avoided by any commanding officer with sense.
Yet due to selfishness and arrogance, the enemy really chose this as the way through."
Jeska gestured with a twig on the map: "We can station Black Hat Army at the front gap to draw attention.
Our Imperial Guard and Holy Grail Knight Order will ambush from the side, attacking at the opportune moment.
The Armored Soldiers will be divided into two by the Holy Grail Knight Order to encircle and annihilate them.
The Pope Guard only needs to engage the Night Guard, and when the Black Hat Army defeats the Peasant Soldiers, they’ll come to assist.
At that point, we can flank and outwit the enemy army."
"The plan’s flawless." Grampwen scratched his head, "But can the Black Hat Army really defeat the Peasant Soldiers?"
"Recently, Black Hat Army’s training results have improved immensely, I think they can barely meet requirements." Horn drank some chicken soup, "Jeska, what do you think?"
"Absolutely foolproof, Your Grace, if any Church soldier crosses the fence even by one step, I’ll change my surname to Slug." Jeska replied resolutely.
"Everyone, the fate of Pope Country hinges on this battle." Horn nodded, raising his ceramic bowl, "It’s late, once we finish this soup, let’s rest separately."
After finishing the chicken soup, everyone dispersed, Horn moved with heavy steps back to his bedroom.
But once he lay down on the big bed, sleep didn’t come.
He rolled from one side of the bed to the other, unable to close his eyes, tossing and turning restlessly.
Time passed bit by bit; as the moon climbed higher, Horn prepared to simply stay awake for the morning prayer, when Jia Li’s arm stretched out from beside him.
The warm moisture tickled Horn’s ear, accompanied by an inexplicable fragrance.
"Papa, are you going to war tomorrow?"
"No, we’re just going to perform at the Special Knight Competition, not going to war."
"Really? I don’t believe it." Jia Li puffed her cheeks, "You’re clearly going to war."
Horn chuckled helplessly, tapping her head: "How did you know?"
Horn widened his eyes, "Who taught you this?"
Jia Li stammered and refused to continue talking, just reached out and hugged Horn’s waist, pressing Horn’s head into her mysterious curves.
Resting on Jia Li’s broad bosom, Horn sighed comfortably.
"Papa, will you come back tomorrow after you leave?"
"Maybe I’ll never return, maybe I’ll be back tomorrow." After a moment of silence, Horn muttered.
Horn didn’t know if he was saying this to Jia Li or to himself.
Soon after speaking these words, lying in Jia Li’s embrace, sleepiness crept up Horn’s forehead.
With his head nestled between two warm pillows, as if floating in soft water, Horn’s eyelids became heavier.
After a long silence, Jia Li held Horn’s head and whispered, "Papa, I want to go with you too."
"Don’t be silly." Horn’s eyes were already closed, but he didn’t forget to refuse, "You’ve even forgotten your witch powers, barely able to defend yourself; just stay home obediently."
Pouting, Jia Li didn’t reply, just pressed her cheek to the top of Horn’s head.
Feeling the soft sensation on his head, Horn couldn’t open his eyes anymore and fell asleep just like that.
In the gathered hills of her chest, Horn seemed to release the fatigue and tension accumulated over time, sleeping exceptionally soundly.
"Your Grace, Your Grace."
Grampwen’s voice sounded beside Horn’s ear, and Horn groggily opened his eyes, as if he had just closed them.
Grampwen didn’t speak, just stepped aside as the gentle morning light poured in through the cross-shaped window.
Horn suddenly became alert.
According to the original plan, they were supposed to wake up for morning prayers at 5 o’clock and gather for departure, when it should still be dark.
A terrifying thought surfaced in Horn’s mind.
It seems... they’ve overslept.
Leaping out of bed, Horn no longer cared about clothes.
He dashed to the bedroom door, and as he stepped out, he saw Jeska approaching from the other side of the corridor.
Looking at Jeska, who wore his pants backward and hurriedly tucked his shirt into his waistband, Horn asked sternly.
Jeska was sweating profusely: "Originally, it was said either three chicken cries or monks ringing the bell would wake us, but today the chicken didn’t crow and the bell didn’t ring. I thought I woke up early, only realizing it was wrong when the sun rose..."
"The chicken didn’t crow? Why?"
"Our only rooster was turned into chicken soup by the cook last night."
"Didn’t you notice? Weren’t they supposed to use the dead little hen?"
"What about the monk who rings the bell?"
"Previously Tommy attacked the monastery and mistakenly killed him."
"Didn’t they assign a replacement?"
"Yes, two Armed Farmers, but those two joined the Black Hat Army. You ordered all Black Hat Army to sleep collectively in the barracks, so..."
At this moment, Chervis and others also realized and hurriedly rushed over from the end of the corridor.
"Your Grace, Buniyan and Raphael have already begun gathering troops, and the Imperial Guard is also assembling." Barefoot, Chervis hurriedly called while walking.
"I asked about the rooster." Madlan was trembling with urgency, "The cook said that the little hen fell from a height and was lured by a demon, its soul went to hell, so they couldn’t eat it.
You instructed to make chicken soup no matter what, so reluctantly, they slaughtered the time-telling rooster."
Horn was momentarily speechless, "It’s already bright, not a single one of us woke up?"
"Ahem." Chervis coughed, "Your Grace, actually many people were already awake, but only we bishops dared to come out.
According to the ’Horizontal Sleep Doctrine,’ waking up and going out before the third chicken crow or bell toll is considered unauthorized nighttime activity, violating church law, punishable by whipping.
You just demoted a commander for this two days ago..."
After taking two hits on this meritorious feat, Horn felt a surge of anger, "How late are we?"
"We were supposed to wake up for morning prayers at 5, depart at dawn at 6, and battle at 7:00 AM. Now it’s just past dawn."
"Wake them all up for me and depart for Little Muddy Ditch immediately."