When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

"What's going on?"

Quincy jumped up and down, cursing loudly, "Do you even know what timing is? It should have been a surprise attack at dawn, and it's almost noon now."

"Isn't it because you insisted on taking the small mud ditch, saying you wanted to catch them off guard? Otherwise, how would the carriage have gotten stuck in the mud pit?"

Someone muttered softly.

Quincy twisted his head 210 degrees, looking in the direction of the voice: "Who, who's talking?"

As far as Quincy could see, there was only a group of night watchmen fanning themselves with leaves and pieces of wood.

They opened the fronts of their clothes, revealing their hairy chests, and sat crookedly on roadside stones, dead wood, or stumps.

Faced with Quincy's glaring gaze, they were either blank or nonchalant.

Quincy resentfully withdrew his gaze and continued to supervise the few sweating serfs repairing the carriage.

At this moment, about half a mile before the small mud ditch slope, ten large carts were blocking the middle of the road.

Three of the carts had broken axles in the mud and bumps, and the wheels were stuck in the mud, forcing them to stop by the roadside.

Quincy couldn't abandon these goods, as the Thousand River Valley after the flood was full of robbers and bandits, even robber knights.

If his banner of Archbishop Barneyfoss left, who knows what might pounce on them.

The sun was scorching, making people feel anxious, and even the sweat-soaked hair reflected the sunlight.

Several fat draft horses snorted不停地,烦躁地用尾巴驱赶来回飞舞的苍蝇.

The serf soldiers leaned on their wooden sticks in twos and threes, or simply sat directly on the mud, picking lice for each other.

Only the twenty-odd armored soldiers sat on their portable stools, carefully sharpening their swords with whetstones.

Consistent with the night watchmen, they were also cursing under their breath.

Looking at the high-hanging sun, Quincy rolled the horsewhip in his hand into a disc shape, constantly fanning himself.

No matter how he fanned, he couldn't fan away the anxiety in his heart.

Especially when he saw Bonnerd and Sissy, this adulterous couple, being lovey-dovey there, he felt a fire rising in his heart.

When he asked people to check the axles, he found that the axles seemed to have been tampered with.

Although there was no evidence to prove that Sissy did it, Quincy's intuition told him that it was Sissy.

It was because she stirred up trouble in the morning, insisting on checking the goods in the carriage, which caused Quincy to delay for a candle's time (1 hour) before setting off.

Fearing that the Secret Party would run away after waiting for too long, Quincy urged the carriage to hurry, which led to the axle breaking and another delay of almost half a candle's time.

According to Quincy's idea, they should have set off normally, arrived normally, and then encountered an enemy attack.

His side would be injured and retreat steadily, getting the inside (the share of the goods) in hand.

Quincy himself would then launch a counterattack, charging into the enemy camp alone, beheading more than a dozen people, and winning a great victory, getting the face in hand.

In this way, his side would be injured in order to protect the goods, and the reason for the initial failure was because they were attacked by surprise, caught off guard, while he turned the tide.

Face and substance, both were perfect.

But what he didn't expect was that the two things, checking the goods and the axle breaking, directly made him arrive who knows how late.

You know, the Secret Party is very sensitive to time because they have to act secretly and are often betrayed.

If there is any disturbance, they will flee at the first sign of trouble.

After waiting for a long time, they might think that Quincy was deceiving them, and then go to raid their old nest.

What made Quincy most helpless was that Quincy's ancestors had really done this kind of thing.

In the hearts of the Secret Party, the credibility of the church has been exhausted time and time again in such events.

In order to stabilize them, Quincy sent his confidant Pico to send a message again.

If they ran away, quickly call them back.

Quincy stood on a half-person-high wooden stake, ignoring the glare of the sun, like a gazing-husband stone, waiting for Pico's figure.

"Captain Quincy, why don't we go first?" Holding up that pretentious feather fan, Sissy walked out from the side, "Let's put these goods aside and leave a team of armored soldiers and a few of my guards to watch over them."

Sweat oozed from Quincy's forehead: "Haha, if I don't go, how can I put you in danger?"

"How can my little bit of goods be compared with the matter of exterminating the Secret Party?"

"Neither advancing nor retreating, what exactly do you want to do? The Bishop has entrusted such an important task to you, is this how you treat it?" Bonnerd chimed in from the side.

Gritting his teeth, Quincy glanced at Bonnerd, barely showing a smile: "If I leave you behind, what if you encounter robbers and bandits?"

"I'll go with you, these rebels are just a rabble, can't you take them down?"

"But look, there are robbers and bandits everywhere now. If we leave, who will watch over these goods?"

"A few carts of goods are not worth mentioning to our Megdi Chamber of Commerce." Sissy covered her mouth with a feather fan, "Our Chamber of Commerce has always been concerned about our Lord's cause. If it is for the sake of exterminating the Secret Party, my mistress Catherine is absolutely willing to compensate you for your loss, two percent higher than the market price."

Damn it, these goods can be sold at a premium of ten percent or even ninety percent on the black market!

Quincy's face became even more ugly.

"You wouldn't be afraid of the rebels, would you? You know, you're flying the banner of our Barneyfoss Archbishop." Bonnerd sneered.

Blocked by Bonnerd and Sissy, Quincy's face gradually turned livid: "Alright then, there are no eyes for swords and swords on the battlefield, you two must be careful."

"Are you threatening me?" Bonnerd was furious, but was held back by Sissy, who grabbed his arm.

Sissy elegantly lifted her skirt: "Don't worry about it, Friar Bonnerd will protect me, right?"

"Of course." Bonnerd raised his head, "I will definitely report today's events to Bishop Barneyfoss."

Quincy, with a belly full of fire, ignored the two of them and rushed into the serf soldiers, starting his rampage.

"Get up, you lazy dogs, you eunuchs, get up, we're setting off."

The horsewhip waved, creating afterimages, drawing out streaks of flesh, and the serf soldiers crawled up, covered in excrement, urine, blood, and tears, trembling as they stood up.

With a straight face, Quincy stood on top of a carriage and shouted loudly: "Tisquie, you take half a team of armored soldiers to stay behind, untie the reins of the carriages, and the rest of you, follow me to suppress the bandits."

Jumping off the carriage, he looked up at the sky, about one and a half candles' time later than the scheduled time.

In his heart, he silently prayed that those Secret Party members would have more patience and courage, and not run away as soon as they didn't see anyone.

If they had already run away, he hoped that Pico could move quickly to call them back or renegotiate a location.

Leaving half a team of people and a dozen serf soldiers, the rest formed a line and ran towards the small mud ditch.

The scorching sun burned everyone walking to the point of sweating profusely, especially on this muddy slope.

The soldiers complained while using their weapons to drive away mosquitoes and flies. Mud, broken leaves, and fermented animal corpses splattered all over the soldiers.

As the distance to the fence of the small mud ditch got closer and closer, Quincy's heart sank more and more. Having reached this point, the ambush he had expected had not yet occurred.

Just as he was anxious, he saw Pico, who had gone to notify the Gulag Monastery, sneaking out of the bushes.

Pulling Pico into the shadows, Quincy questioned in a low voice: "How is it? Where are they? They haven't run away, have they? You can come out now."

Faced with Quincy's series of questions, Pico was sweating profusely, panting: "You, why did you move ahead of time?"

"That bitch Sissy is to blame, and I was afraid they would run away. Tell me quickly, what's going on?"

"Oh dear." Pico slapped his thigh, stomping his feet repeatedly, "What run away? They haven't come yet!"

"You, say that again?!"

Quincy thought he was more than an hour late, which was long enough.

But he never expected that those Secret Party members would be two hours late.

Didn't they say the Secret Party had a good sense of time?

"Then what do we do? We're almost past the planned ambush location, and I can't order them to rest."

Quincy lowered his voice: "I suspect that Sissy and Bonnerd have discovered our deal with the Secret Party, so we can't expose it, or you go and notify them to change the ambush location?"

Pico smiled bitterly: "It's too late. You and the Secret Party, the timing is too good."

"Ooh-ooh-ooh—"

The sound of the horn rang, accompanied by shouts and footsteps.

"Found the rebels! Found the rebels!"