ebookland #239 - It can't be that the Holy Grandson is a witch, right?
#239 - It can't be that the Holy Grandson is a witch, right?
"Today has indeed been a day of ups and downs. I must first inform you about Andar; he will be returning separately ahead of schedule.
Andar has been marginalized for too long, and he has bottled up too much anger, leading to repeated breaches of etiquette.
Our judgment was flawed; Andar is not suited to the situation here.
If that Holy Grandson had signed the first or second contract according to our wishes, serving only as a spiritual leader, Andar would have been suitable as an officer to train soldiers.
Because they would be dependent on us, Andar could have taken the opportunity to cultivate our people within the Salvation Army.
However, the Holy Grandson signed the third contract, and although we no longer need to provide them with supplies, we must consider the internal sentiments within their ranks.
Andar, born the second son of a knight, places too much importance on his noble status.
I must defend him by saying that he has always behaved politely, only complaining in private, but due to his status and tone, he is still disliked by the members of the Salvation Army.
I must say, that witch named Jeanne is not as straightforward as she seems.
I don't know if she figured it out herself or learned it from that Armand, because before she arrived, I saw her talking to that little monk.
She saw through our attitude and Andar's potential to seize training authority.
She deliberately took us to the new recruit camp, pretending to be foolish and misleading Andar.
If Andar could have considered the purpose of our arrival, controlled his emotions, and maintained basic respect, none of the subsequent events would have occurred.
But he was blinded by anger and arrogance. He underestimated the combat power of the Salvation Army and actually demanded to fight ten of them alone, only to be stunned by that magical crossbow.
Andar made a complete fool of himself in public. He receives no respect here, and even if we kept him here, it would be useless.
The Lightning Witch achieved her goal; Andar cannot take away her army.
Of course, this is just my personal speculation. Perhaps she was simply acting out of disgust or for amusement. Witches' actions are always extreme and unpredictable.
Except for you.
Next, we will continue to try to find a group within the Salvation Army that can replace that one. I don't think this action has much chance of success, but what if?
Wishing you well.
Mitney."
The night was like water, the lamplight like a bean.
In the cold wind seeping through the window gaps, Mitney rolled up the letter and placed it in a special small wooden tube.
By the fireplace in the room, a sloth bird the size of a pigeon was dozing off, the flames almost igniting its wings.
"Wake up, wake up," Mitney snapped his fingers to wake up this strange bird that specializes in delivering messages, and in its dissatisfied gaze, he stuffed the wooden tube into its throat.
Opening the window, the sloth bird shook its translucent wings and soared into the low-hanging clouds, disappearing from Mitney's sight.
This sloth bird can deliver messages not only because it knows the way and is extremely fast, but also because it uses acid to destroy the letters in its stomach when it dies to prevent information from leaking.
Sitting in front of the fireplace, Mitney took out a bottle of wine from his luggage.
He really couldn't understand how a leader of twenty thousand people couldn't find a bottle of wine.
Pouring the purplish-red liquid into a copper cup, Mitney took two small sips, but then he thought of the clockwork gun he had seen in the morning.
In the afternoon, to prove that he wasn't lying, Horn had specially let Mitney try the clockwork gun.
As Horn had said, only the so-called Favored Ones could use it.
Stroking the copper cup in his hand, Mitney stared blankly at the crimson reflection in the wine.
Why can only the Favored Ones use it? Could there be some peculiar mechanism?
Could it be that this Holy Grandson is really the grandson of the Holy Father? That would be too absurd.
Shaking the wine glass in his hand, blurring the reflection, Mitney seemed to grasp something and muttered to himself:
"The process of mortals becoming Favored Ones after infection is so similar to witch disease... Impossible, impossible. If it were witch disease, how could so many Favored Ones have no sequelae?
Moreover, are all these witch familiars infected by Jeanne alone? Could it be that the Holy Grandson is a witch?"
Smiling self-deprecatingly, Mitney poured all the wine into his mouth, wondering where his thoughts were going. Horn was a man.
Speaking of witches, Mitney couldn't help but think of the attitude of ordinary people in the Salvation Army towards witches.
At this time, he had to admire the Holy Grandson's ability to incite and deceive.
Those ordinary people actually treated Jeanne as a saintess, even though they saw the "saintess" using magic!
Mitney specifically asked Armand about this, and the explanation he received was roughly this—
Even angels can be tempted by demons, so why can't witches convert to the Holy Father? Could it be that demons are stronger than the Holy Father?
According to this logic, angels are the Holy Father's assistants, and witches are the demons' assistants. After equivalent exchange, the status of a saintess should be equal to that of an angel.
In this way, Jeanne, as a witch, really didn't suffer any discrimination from anyone.
This might be useful in the future? After all, Mitney's superior, Catherine, is a witch.
After two cups of wine, Mitney gradually became sleepy. Feeling his eyelids drooping, he stopped thinking.
Walking to the window, Mitney was about to draw the curtains to sleep, but his eyes couldn't help but stop at the dormitory where Horn and others lived in the distance.
That was a mysterious place, with a striking spire, the only place Mitney was not allowed to visit.
Struggling to lift his heavy eyelids, Mitney didn't know if he was hallucinating from being too tired, but he seemed to see the spire in the dormitory flashing.
…………
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When the light inside the Aether Spire dissipated, and the faint feeling of chest tightness disappeared, Horn waited for more than ten minutes before entering the Mechanical Palace.
Outside the Aether Spire, Sylph and others were already waiting for him.
"How is the Moon Pool?"
"Still no good," Jeanne shook her head dejectedly.
Sylph yawned: "We just tried it, and the result is that these plasma waters are difficult to control. Sometimes they discharge electricity, and sometimes they don't. We can't figure out the pattern."
Horn felt a headache when he heard this. He had hoped to use the plasma water from the Moon Pool for welding, so as to make up for the lack of welders like Jeanne.
Things can't always go as planned.
He raised his head after only a few seconds of frustration: "Sylph, you can divine into the subtle. See what the composition of the plasma water is."
Originally, when Horn learned that Sylph could divine into the subtle, he was so excited that he almost jumped up. He thought he could finally enter the level of the microscopic world.
But Sylph told him that her limit was only to see the level of tiny hairs and bugs. She couldn't divine the so-called "element" level at all.
Even if it's only to the extent of microorganisms, it's still valuable.
Horn thought, maybe by comparing the microorganisms in the plasma water with the microorganisms in ordinary water, he could see something?
"Okay," Sylph drooped her soft wolf ears. "I'm so sleepy. Can I go to sleep?"
"Go to sleep, go to sleep," Horn rubbed Sylph's head and smiled, "Remember to experiment with those methods I taught you tomorrow, otherwise it won't be accurate."
Sylph was pushed back to her room by Afu, and Jeanne also yawned: "Then I'm going to sleep too."
"Wait," Horn suddenly stopped Jeanne. "Jeanne, can I ask what's going on with you?"
"He's not one of us," Jeanne looked into Horn's eyes, seriously and directly.
"Is it that simple?"
"Brother, if Catherine's subordinates are all like this 'knight,' then we shouldn't ally with them. She should be our enemy."
Untying her braids, Jeanne changed to a dangerous hairstyle and continued, "I have a feeling that they are not as friendly and amiable as they seem on the surface, and do we really need to ally?"
Jeanne's serious face flickered under the fluorite lamp. Horn looked directly into Jeanne's eyes: "Sometimes, you know there are stones in the mango, but you still have to swallow it, because if you eat it, there is still a possibility of digesting or pulling it out in the future, but if you don't eat it, there is no future."
"Can it really be digested? Is there really no future?" The wind blew Jeanne's hair, and her voice seemed to come from afar.
"Yes..." Horn just spoke, but was blown away by the oncoming wind, so he had to say, "Tomorrow is the new recruit assessment, go to bed early."