chsdbacks #444 - The relationship between the two saints is a bit bad.
#444 - The relationship between the two saints is a bit bad.
Four chestnut horses pulled a four-wheeled enclosed carriage with black lacquered white trim and white clover-shaped spots along a country road, escorted by Saint-Gun Cavalry in short cloaks and constables in leather studded helmets.
This was the result of Horn outsourcing the Children's Army uniforms to Madame Isode of Jeanneburg.
Madame Isode, following the traditions of the ancient Elven kingdom, used decorations on the tips of the studded helmets to distinguish different affiliations.
For example, the constables' studded helmets had shield-shaped tips, the night watchmen's had hooked spears, and the Cheka's had upright eyes, though they rarely wore them.
Seated inside this luxurious carriage were naturally the bigwigs of Rapid Falls City: two Cardinal-level Saintesses and the Pope's Holy Grandson himself.
However, the two Saintesses didn't look very graceful at the moment.
Jeanne kept a straight face, not saying a word, her fair arms bearing several small purple and red swollen scars, and her close-fitting white shirt torn in several places.
Catherine sat diagonally across from Jeanne, her head turned towards the window, her once smooth and lustrous long hair now charred and smelling strongly of rotten eggs.
Horn had originally been sitting next to Jeanne, but seeing her unapproachable demeanor, he didn't dare approach and instead, Catherine beckoned him over.
"Your Grace, could you help me trim my hair? It's all stuck together."
Catherine deliberately reached back to cut her hair, fully exposing the curve of her chest.
Horn hesitated for a moment, then sat down, took the small scissors, and began to trim Catherine's charred and matted hair.
"How sweet," Jeanne said, crossing her legs, her eyes disappearing as she smiled. "Am I disturbing you? Should I leave?"
"No, no," Horn quickly put down the scissors and sat back next to Jeanne, saying with a smile, "What's sweet about it? Just lending a hand."
"Yes, go help her; she damaged so many strands of hair."
Where did she learn these words? Why haven't I ever heard her say them before? How come she can't write long and complex sentences with such complicated grammar in her homework?
Due to the heat, beads of sweat appeared on Horn's nose and cheeks. He wiped the sweat from his nose and philtrum with the heel of his hand: "It's a bit hot; I'll sit over here."
Resuming his seat next to Jeanne, Horn took out some herbal medicine, forcibly grabbed Jeanne's hand, and applied the green ointment to the swollen wounds.
"How is it? Does it still hurt?"
"It doesn't hurt. Seeing how sweet you two are, my heart feels like it's been eating honey; I can't feel any pain."
"I'm in pain, I'm in pain, okay?" Horn resigned himself to his fate and slowly applied the cool ointment.
"Mulier stulta et barbara [Old Elven: Foolish and barbaric woman]," Catherine hummed, gazing at the rapidly passing forests and wheat fields outside the window, in a voice not loud, but clear enough for Jeanne to hear.
The corners of Jeanne's lips, which had been slightly upturned, instantly turned downward along with her eyebrows. She stood up, only to hit her head with a thud on the roof of the carriage.
Forcing a smile, Horn quickly grabbed Jeanne's sleeve and pulled her back down: "Do you even know what she's saying? She wasn't even talking to you."
"Rich people's daughters..." Having suffered a disadvantage due to her lack of education, Jeanne gritted her teeth and sat back down.
These merchants were second only to nobles in her list of dislikes.
Look at their affected airs, wearing shameless gaudy clothes, no different from commoners like them, yet trying to imitate the nobles.
Aren't they just the nobles' lackeys? As far as Jeanne was concerned, these merchants shouldn't even exist. It would be better to let the artisans and laborers sell their own goods; why let them get involved?
"What was she saying just now? Do you know?" Jeanne's lips were tightly pursed as she stared at Horn with a smile that wasn't a smile.
"No idea. How would I know?" In fact, Old Elven was one of the required courses for priests. Although Horn wasn't as proficient as Catherine, he still understood such simple sentences.
But he couldn't say it directly. The two of them were still in the carriage. Before, in the training grounds, they almost got into a fight under the guise of 'error'.
If he stirred up any more conflict, wouldn't they just blow up this carriage?
Horn really couldn't understand. When the two of them first met and introduced themselves, they were perfectly fine.
Although they weren't exactly bosom buddies, how did their relationship deteriorate so much in just three to five days?
This might have something to do with him actively getting closer to Catherine. Witches were high-end combat power, and the two of them got along surprisingly well. Uniting the decision-making layer was something that should be done anyway.
"Stulta [Old Elven: Idiot]."
"Are you muttering again?" Jeanne said coldly.
After applying the medicine to Jeanne, Horn returned to Catherine's side, picked up the small scissors, and helped her trim her hair, whispering, "Say less. We still have to meet with the Francian envoys later."
The corners of Catherine's mouth curved up like rippling water as she gently turned around and took the scissors from Horn's hand: "Then you should rest more; otherwise, the carriage is so noisy that it will disturb the subsequent talks."
Jeanne stared at Catherine's face for a long time. Although she felt that Catherine was scolding her, she couldn't find any evidence.
Taking out a feather fan from her waist, Catherine opened it with a snap, covering her lightly laughing mouth. Her watery eyes looked at Horn through her glasses: "You are such a smart and knowledgeable person; it must be hard to be with foolish people, right?"
Leaning back, Jeanne looked at Horn with a smile.
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"Serving the faithful," Horn said, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the fine beads of sweat from his forehead. "I'm hungry. I'll get some water to quench my thirst. You stay here and don't move."
"Oh, wait, I have water here; no need to get out of the carriage," Catherine said, taking out a water skin from somewhere and handing it to Horn.
The exquisite outer layer of the leather water skin was embroidered with silk, and the mouth of the flask had a silver wire ring. It was clear at a glance that it was expensive.
Horn coughed, took the water skin, took a big gulp, and then returned it to Catherine: "Thank you."
Looking directly at Jeanne, Catherine picked up the water skin, didn't even wipe it, and took a sip while staring at Jeanne's face.
"Jeanne, why are you looking at me? Do you want to drink some?"
"Old woman! I won't drink it."
Horn could clearly see the corners of Jeanne's upturned mouth trembling, and judging from the hairs standing up on his arm, there were already subtle, invisible flashes of lightning in the air.
Catherine on the side was not to be outdone. The moment the words "old woman" were uttered, several young shoots of blood-sucking vines emerged from the gaps between her fingers.
Just when the atmosphere inside the carriage was at its most tense, the carriage finally stopped.
In dead silence, Horn barely managed a smile and sat upright in his seat.
"Knock, knock, knock—"
Armand's voice sounded from outside the carriage: "Your Grace, we've arrived at Rapid Falls City. The Francian envoys have just settled in."
"Great," Horn said, abruptly opening the carriage door, jumping down directly without even using a stool. "Where are they?"
Horn's hurried appearance puzzled Armand. Weren't they just a few Francian envoys? Why was he so anxious?
"They are currently staying in a country villa outside the city. You can summon them whenever you want to see them."
"There's no time like the present. Let's do it today," Horn quickly decided. "Invite them to attend tonight's private banquet. We can discuss everything at the table."