When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#725 - Carriage and Jackdaw

The morning mist had not yet dissipated when Old Raph's carriage had already traversed the seventh frozen mountain pass.

The wheels slipped on the gravel-strewn slope, and the axle emitted a whistling groan like a dying patient.

Old Raph tilted his ear towards the carriage, listening to the axle's spasmodic wheezing like a brilliant physician.

"This axle is about to give out," Old Raph shouted to the driver, clutching the ropes binding the goods on the carriage. "We need to stop and fix it."

"Are you a centurion or a decurion?" The driver in front didn't even turn his head. "If we delay, the entire troop transport will have to stop.

If you want to rest, rest at Bear啃堡; if you want to slack off, no way!"

Old Raph immediately cursed at the driver: "You pig-fucking bastard, do you think your grandpa is just talking nonsense? When the carriage breaks down, it'll block the road even longer!"

"Who are you talking to like that? I'm the driver!"

"You'll regret it, I'm telling you. I've transported grain on this road before. Anyone who doesn't rest ends up breaking down. It's too cold. Iron nails shrink, and wood becomes brittle, understand?"

"I'll fuck your..."

After a few rounds of verbal abuse with the driver, receiving a whip each from the decurion, Old Raph returned to the ranks, his face full of resentment.

On the snow-covered blue-gray mountainside, pale red dragon blood moss intertwined with common dwarf grass moss.

And beneath the treacherous and steep mountain walls, a long, black-gray dragon slowly advanced.

The new recruits wore uniformly issued double-breasted wool coats, their heads covered with dog or wolf skin hats.

They were truly like wolves and dogs, advancing silently and gauntly, with only the old horses exhaling puffs of hot, moist breath.

The cold wind between the mountain passes made people's faces ache. Those with experience like Old Raph would buy pig or sheep fat in advance to smear on their faces.

Those inexperienced or from the plains either paid double to buy it from them or endured the cracked wounds on their faces as they continued to march.

It had been more than half a month since they left their hometowns. First, they traveled by boat down the Ibe River, heading to Rapid Falls City, and then transferred to the Nauan River.

Then, they went upstream on the Nauan River, being pulled by trackers through the turbulent gorge river.

Next, they traveled north from Horn's hometown of Upper River County, arriving at the border of the Thorns Garden, Gravel Plains, and Thousand River Valley.

They faced layers of high mountains and increasingly cold air.

Stepping on the crunching frozen earth, Old Raph could see the wheels swaying more and more from side to side.

It struggled to hold on, biting tightly into the axle, but it still couldn't control becoming looser and looser.

Finally, while passing through the ninth mountain pass, the axle completely gave way. With a crack, the brittle sound of the fracture even startled the snow owls in the rock crevices.

"Oh, damn it!" The driver jumped off the carriage, staring blankly at the wheel stuck in the ice crevice.

The broken axle wasn't the problem, but the enormous pressure pressing down on the wheel, trapping it firmly in the frozen soil crevice.

"Oh, damn it!" Old Raph immediately echoed, mimicking the driver's tone sarcastically.

However, the driver was in no mood to argue with him, even breaking out in a sweat in this cold weather: "What do we do? What do we do?"

"What's going on... Damn it, what's wrong with this wheel?!"

The quickly arriving decurion was also helpless. Even giving the driver a few harsh whips couldn't solve the current problem.

"You few, get the shovels and pickaxes from the carriage."

Several enthusiastic new recruits immediately stepped forward, taking out shovels and pickaxes from under the oilcloth. They straightened their backs, bent over, and swung the pickaxes high.

"Clang—" To everyone's stunned gazes, the pickaxe actually collided with the frozen soil, emitting a metallic sound.

After a few strikes, not only did the wheel not budge, but it also made several soldiers' hands go numb.

And at this time, the following convoy also arrived.

"Hey, what's going on up ahead? Why aren't we moving?"

"The axle broke, and the wheel is stuck in an ice crevice!"

"We still need to move. What are you doing? Can you make way?"

"Stop arguing. This is such a small place. Can we fly over it?"

A young new recruit, seemingly confident in his strength, reached out to grab the wheel hub, but Old Raph grabbed him: "What are you doing?"

"Getting the wheel out. We can't keep blocking the road, right?"

"If you want to have a layer of skin peeled off, then go ahead!" Old Raph yanked the new recruit, making him stagger.

This new recruit was about the same age as young Raph, but Old Raph wasn't without a temper. If he insisted on doing it his way, he wouldn't stop him.

Unexpectedly, the young man was surprisingly obedient. He retracted his hand: "Then tell me what to do."

The driver also greeted him as if seeing a lifeline: "Old brother, I was wrong. I was blind. If you have a solution, please suggest it. I can't bear the responsibility for delaying the entire team's progress."

Seeing the driver's apology, Old Raph nodded with satisfaction: "If you want the wheel to come out, you need to use hot spring water to thaw the frozen soil."

"Old brother, don't joke around. It's so cold in these mountains. Where am I going to find hot spring water for you?"

"Don't worry. Who said we don't have hot spring water?" As he spoke, Old Raph loosened his belt.

Golden, warm liquid poured onto the wheel, and dreamy, misty white fog rose up, obscuring the new recruits' vision.

People stared dumbfounded at this stout mountain man until the ice layer emitted a cracking sound in the fishy, foul odor.

"Holy Father above!"

With dozens of strong young men's hot urine poured on it, although the carriage carried a urine smell, the convoy finally continued to move.

When they finally crossed the mountain pass, the endless gravel wasteland seemed to suddenly jump out, piercing their vision.

Herds of pasture grass, intermittent puddles, large and small stones, and crows filled the sky.

Shepherds wearing animal skins and wool clothes stood on the mountain peaks, watching them vigilantly and peacefully.

The most ⊥ new ⊥ small ⊥ say ⊥ in ⊥ six ⊥ 9 ⊥⊥ book ⊥⊥ bar ⊥⊥ first ⊥ hair!

"Dang—"

At the junction of the foothills and the wasteland, the bronze bell on the watchtower suddenly roared, startling the old horse pulling the cart to raise its front hooves.

"We're here!"

Old Raph raised his head.

Hexagonal low walls and the central fortress displayed eight three-pound falconet cannons.

The cold wind between the mountain passes blew through the huge mill blades on the hillside, and Old Raph could occasionally hear the creaking sound of the gears turning.

The cold wind howled, the horses neighed, and the new recruits, frozen stiff, felt a warmth in the first gust of wind as they stepped on the wasteland.

The long convoy slowly entered this mountain pass, immediately rolling into a ball, stirring up the originally calm air and making it turbid.

The horses neighed, causing the sheep on the distant hillside to bleat along.

Piles of new recruits crowded in front of the cast iron oak gate, unable to find their respective units.

They craned their necks, looked around, and shouted the names of their company officers loudly.

But everyone was shouting, so no one could hear anything.

Several officers wearing padded jackets waved their rattan canes in exasperation, walking back and forth on the grass in front of the redoubt to organize order and formations.

"You maggots! Stand properly, stand properly! Where is there any semblance of warrior monks? Stand properly! I'm talking to you!"

"Form two lines! Hold your damn letters of recommendation over your heads!"

In front of these rude officers, even Old Raph, who had always been rebellious, shrunk his head and acted properly, holding his letter of recommendation over his head.

He stroked the edge of the letter of recommendation—there, Anselm the Monk had outlined the holy emblem with a wax seal.

"Name!"

"Raph de Hunter."

The registrar's writing hand paused: "De?"

"My grandfather's grandfather."

"Is he Duke Herma石大人's coachman?" The quartermaster suddenly interjected, the cane striking sparks on the frozen ground. "There have already been six of the Duke's coachmen before you. Record him as Raph Hunter, next!"

Withdrawing his hand and picking up the blanket assigned to him, Old Raph adjusted the wolf hunting bow on his back and was about to walk into the redoubt.

But suddenly, the crowd stirred, as if something chaotic had happened in the distance.

"Holy Father!"

"Are those shepherds?"

"Let me into the redoubt! Let me into the redoubt!"

"Mommy!"

Several officers swam frantically through the crowd, anxiously whipping with their canes, asking loudly, "What's wrong? Why don't you say something?"

The new recruit who had tried to grab the wheel suddenly grabbed Old Raph's arm: "Uncle, look over there!"