Chapter 76: The Pope in the Holy See City is doing a very bad job. Why don’t you replace him?
"Isn't this Pope too shameless? He actually engages in the best-of-three-games scheme?"
The villagers complained as they bent down to lift the potato roots from the stream.
The villagers nearby agreed and began to criticize the Pope on a daily basis.
After all, since Armand became the gold medalist chanter, his daily activity has been to compile false news and little jokes about the Holy See and the Pope.
What is the happiest thing in the Holy City is when the Inquisition knocks on the door and says "You are mistaken, Tom is next door."
The most common thing in the Holy City is temporary difficulties.
When it was Horn's turn to promote himself, he suddenly cut down the cherry tree and bravely admitted his mistakes, and suddenly had to wash the dishes seven times to maintain strict hygiene.
The Pope is often shocked by the Gulag. It costs nothing to eat in the Gulag, and there are oil-paper bags hidden in the sewers of the Gulag.
It must be said that the speed and quality of Horn's production of such little jokes far exceeded Armand and others' expectations.
These jokes have spread virally throughout the territory of the Great Papal State and are familiar to everyone.
In such little jokes, the fear of the church disintegrates little by little in jokes and wars.
“This time the Pope thinks he can’t beat us, so he’s going to start a horse race?”
“It’s so funny, can the church’s gentlemen walk as fast as us? I can compete in the knight race. Even more afraid, run away, I am his ancestor."
Under the towering monastery wall in the distance, there is milky white smoke in the thatched shed.
The villagers carrying baskets loaded with potato roots were still talking as they walked.
Ever since Horn announced to them that they would hold a second special walking event, this incident has become the biggest hot topic among the people of the Gulag Papal State in the past two days.
"Then what is the church? How many popes have changed in the Holy See City in one term? Have they changed it? Changing the soup does not change the medicine."
"Then what is the old pope's name? Yes? Johnny VIII, right? Does he have that ability? He doesn’t have a good foundation for a fight like this, and he’s shameless.”
“What if he doesn’t admit it in the end? Do it?”
"Hmph! Don't admit it? First ask me if I agree with the flail in my hand." A black hat soldier danced with the flail in his hand.
Another black hat soldier who had just joined the army said with admiration: "Our Great Papal Kingdom is invincible in the world."
"It must be our Qianhe Valley people's own Pope. . ”
Walking on the path among the woods, the villagers talked and laughed, and frogs jumped back and forth on the path.
They could see the smoke there, indicating that dinner was about to begin.
Cooking smoke is a rather unfamiliar term to many refugees and public farmers.
Because for them, firewood is also an additional expense.
Many times, they would take grain to the mill in exchange for bread, so that they would not have to spend extra money on firewood.
On the lord's land, even a newly grown shrub branch has its owner.
In their Papal State, they can eat hot food every day, they can eat well every day, and their daily labor will be rewarded.
There are punishments for lazy people and rewards for hardworking people. If anything is unfair, Master Danji will deal with it fairly and without any partiality.
When they returned to their small shed, they could sing hymns together, drink hot soup, talk happily, and tell jokes.
General, marshal, senator, bishop, those out-of-reach nouns are so close that they can see them when they look up.
If someone had told them a month ago, they would never have believed that such a life would exist.
That’s why they firmly believe in those Holy See jokes and Saint-Sunday stories, because Saint-Sunday really made them eat well and wear good clothes.
"Eighty acres of good land, and a gentle and good in-laws..."
"The children can reach adulthood smoothly, and they can build a house when they are adults..." "Grow your own food, work more Just harvest more..."
Sitting on the hillside, Frick hummed along with him.
"Are you lazy here? Frick!" Frick's hand holding the wine glass trembled and he almost spilled the wine.
Madeleine sat down next to Frick helplessly: "You can't always be lazy like this, even if you are my uncle."
"Brat, how could you see me being lazy? , I'm just resting here after finishing my work, don't look down on others," Frick straightened his back and cursed angrily.
Madelan glanced at him sideways: "Humorous."
Frick did not respond to Madeleine's taunt. He just sat on the muddy grass and looked into the distance.
The setting sun loomed, shining on Frick's shoulders, and the evening wind blew gently, shaking the grass blades on the ground.
Frick's back was hunched, like a stone statue carved from black stone.
“Boy, have you thought about what to do in the future?”
“Treat this cardinal first, Mr. Frick, you are not still afraid of the church, right? ?”
Frick didn’t speak, he still held up the glass of wine.
“Do you think Myrcella is truly merciful?”
"Why are you suddenly talking about this kind of topic?"
Turns his head, Frick chuckled: "If Myrcella is really kind, why do you need to become a fugitive? Only I know, your bread What a great bake."
"When this is over, when Dean Juano clears my name, I will open a bakery, Frick, out of my kindness. You are allowed to be my apprentice."
"Go away," Frick cursed angrily.
He raised his head again, and some unknown migratory bird was chirping and flying past in the sky. He closed his eyes, but he could only hear the croaking of frogs and the rustle of the wind through the woods.
"Master Frick, what's wrong with you?"
"In the beginning, we just wanted to survive." Frick swayed the wine glass in his hand, "That dog Durdafo didn't let him feed, so we rushed What sin do we have if we leave his monastery?”
The muddy smell of vegetation filled his nostrils.
"Later, Duldaf died, but he died deservedly. He starved to death so many people, but we were not the ones to kill him. What crime do we have?"
Frick's neck was already red before he drank.
"They don't care, they sent troops to suppress us. We just resisted for a while, but they are going to kill me. Can I just block it?"
"Master Frick, you What are you talking about? This is just a special walking competition..." Madelan stepped forward quickly and held Frick's back.
But Frick still ignored him, still yelling at the empty valley in front of him:
"What have we become, even if you say you want to put me in jail, or... Or exile me, I have no objection, I have surrendered, but they still want my head, but they still come, and they come again...
I just want to survive, why is it so difficult? What sin do we have! ”
Frick's voice echoed across the valley.
"What crime are we guilty of?" The dark beer in the fir cup had turbid foam floating on it. Frick took a sip of the wine and lowered his head.
The echo in the valley gave him the answer.
"What's the crime?"
PS I have another chapter later, half of it is written, let's go have dinner first.
(End of this chapter)