When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#254 - Your time is over.

In the dim light, a candlestick sat on a low wooden table, its flame flickering slightly, dispelling the shadows of the hidden cellar.

The center of the long table was piled with maps, weapons, and some handwritten papers.

In the corner stood several wooden crates filled with armor and crossbow bolts.

Beside the wooden table, a gaunt old man in black monk's robes and a blacksmith with hairy arms, sleeves rolled up, wrung his hands anxiously.

Several labor representatives stood in a corner of the cellar, conversing in low voices, while the youths acting as guards stood by the winding staircase, both nervous and excited.

Seated at the head of the wooden table, Mitne wore sturdy leather armor, a longsword hanging at his waist.

His once-rounded and gentle face appeared exceptionally stern in the firelight, his gaze sharp and uncharacteristic of the gentle diplomatic envoy he once was.

"You all know the news. According to the plan, tomorrow is the day of action. Rapidwater City, no, the future of Thousand River Valley, will be in our hands."

Those present exchanged glances, their eyes filled with both fear and excitement.

All those present had sworn a blood oath together and each kept a copy of the blood pact.

For the merchants, artisans, and citizens of Rapidwater City, although they created a great deal of wealth, much of it was seized by the church, which contributed nothing, due to the church's presence.

Although they had bought their freedom during the Hundred Years' War, they were still limited by the control of the church.

A free city that controlled the appointment of bishops was completely different from one that did not.

The former was completely autonomous, while the latter had merely changed from being directly subordinate to being a vassal, its sovereignty still incomplete.

In Huo En's previous life's history, this distinction did not exist, but because there was extraordinary power in this world, it was difficult to seize cities by armed struggle, which caused this differentiation.

"Lord Mitne, we are ready. The weapons have been distributed.", the blacksmith said in a muffled voice.

"Very good."

"Lord, I have notified all the laborers."

"Good."

"Lord," a laborer raised his hand and asked, "Why hasn't Lady Catherine arrived yet?"

Mitne chuckled softly: "Lady Catherine has gone to do something important…"

His voice gradually turning somber, Mitne swept his gaze over everyone present, speaking slowly and deliberately: "That is, to catch the traitor, and the list has been narrowed down to only a few people."

"Who are they?" The blacksmith Petol widened his eyes, "Anyone who dares to violate the blood oath, their soul will go to hell."

"Our list of traitors has been locked down, and he is sitting right here."

After a half-second of silence, the chaotic voices of denial threatened to overturn the cellar.

"Don't be anxious, don't be anxious. I have brought you all here to resolve this matter. Finding the traitor is very simple.

The day before yesterday, I inadvertently leaked a piece of information to each of you present—"

At this point, Mitne playfully scanned every anxious face.

"But each person received a slight variation, such as small differences in time and place, as long as…"

"Die!"

Before he could finish speaking, the old monk, who had been dozing, suddenly jumped up, roared, and lunged towards Sisi in the corner.

He seemed to be trying to grab Sisi as a hostage.

Before his fingertips could touch the hem of Sisi's skirt, the blacksmith beside him grabbed his ankle, swung him around, and slammed him onto the table.

"Cough, cough, cough—" The old monk curled up on the table, coughing violently.

The young laborers hadn't reacted yet: "You, you violated the blood oath, do you know that? Are you even from Thousand River Valley?"

"What Thousand River Valley person!" The old monk roared, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth, "I graduated first in the seminary. If it weren't for this impure bloodline, I would have become a bishop long ago. Who is a Thousand River Valley person, whoever says that is a Thousand River Valley person! Who is a Thousand River Valley person!"

Mitne licked his dry lips, and two guards immediately stepped forward and pinned the old monk's arms.

"What if you catch me?" Looking around, the old monk laughed wildly, "The bishop and the city council speaker already know your plans. Tomorrow at dawn will be your death."

"My friend," Sisi raised her foot and stepped on his face, "I have to tell you, after midnight, it's already tomorrow."

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you think that we would proceed according to the original plan when we knew there was a traitor?"

"Dawn is also morning," Mitne added.

Almost as soon as he finished speaking, they heard a series of footsteps overhead.

In an instant, the old monk's face turned pale.

Inside the Rapidwater City guardhouse, city guards in uniform were pierced through the chest by armed swords the moment they changed shifts.

After a whistle mixed with the usual bird song, the ground gradually began to shake. At the end of the road, teams of cavalry emerged, entering through the guardhouse checkpoints one after another.

Inside the Rapidwater City armory, the watchmen on guard were shot down one after another by crossbow bolts, the sound of their bodies falling to the ground echoing in the night air.

In the row of stone houses, lamps were lit one after another, and pairs of eyes lifted the curtains to look outside. When they saw black-clothed figures with weapons passing by, they would quickly blow out the candles.

In the alleys and streets, shadows surged. The insurgents, like beasts released from their cages, charged toward the city hall with weapons in their hands, shouting slogans.

The night watchmen also picked up their hook spears and began to confront and fight with these militiamen.

These laborers had their own small groups. The dockworkers had the dock gang, and the dyers had the dyeing gang. They usually trained at the Megdi Merchant Guild when they had free time.

The artisans already had guilds to organize them, and they didn't need this gang or that society to train them with vibrant folk organizations.

Large numbers of night watchmen and armored soldiers did not expect Catherine to launch the attack ahead of schedule. They were scattered in taverns and homes, and were besieged by the insurgents who set fires.

In the chaotic night of slaughter, the remaining night watchmen on the city hall square were defeated by the sudden uprising and had to retreat into the solid city hall.

"Get the cabinet, block the door with that cabinet, you stupid pig who can't understand human words!"

The city council speaker, Fredian, stood in the entrance hall of the city hall, wielding a swift rapier, screaming and ordering the guards to block the door.

However, the door, which was firmly blocked by heavy objects, did not have the effect he expected.

A burnt smell suddenly filled the air. Before they could figure it out, intense light, sound, and heat burst out from the cracks in the door.

"Ah—"

"My hand, my hand is burnt."

Rotten flesh peeled from their skin, and the guards covered their eyes, wailing and crying, holding up their burnt and wrinkled arms.

"Damn it, it's the wizard's fireball spell. I knew that little symbol was a Secret Party dog!"

Fredian's screams could not prevent the door from being breached. After the fireball spell, the guards had long been frightened out of their wits.

Moreover, they were all locals, not Temple Knights from the church. A few dozen dinars a month, what were they risking their lives for?

"I surrender, I surrender."

"Sir, that's Fredian."

"Sir, look, he's over there, don't let him run away."

They raised their hands, dropped their weapons, and chose to surrender. Many even pointed the way for the insurgents.

When Catherine, wearing chainmail over leather armor, walked out from behind the door with a sword in her hand, Fredian, with both legs broken, was lying on the ground.

His face covered in dirt, Fredian turned his head with difficulty, looking at Catherine's cold eyes.

"Do you think you have won?" Fredian's hatred was about to turn into tangible black mist, "Lower River County and North Mound County are still separated by Upper River County and Mound County. Hotam County is in front of you, and Langsand County is behind you. The church and nobles will never allow you to usurp the city lord. You are just courting death."

"Why do I need you to tell me this?" Catherine squatted down, looking down at Fredian as if he were a drowning puppy.

More and more people poured in from the door, looking at this damned council speaker who helped the monastery enact laws and squeeze the citizens.

"Fredian, your rule is over." Standing up, Catherine said coldly, "From now on, Rapidwater City will be controlled by its true master."

"Ridiculous, just wait, when the church frees up its hands, all of you Thousand River Valley people will die!"

"Lord Catherine." The blacksmith Petol limped over from a distance, carrying a raven's beak warhammer. He was covered in blood, but he didn't feel any pain or fear.

"We have taken fifteen of the seventeen districts of Rapidwater City, and only a few hundred armored soldiers are stubbornly resisting with the help of blockhouses."

After the blacksmith, more messengers with feathers on their hats ran in from all directions.

"Lord, Carter has captured the armory."

"Lord Catherine, the granary and the Holy See Bank have been captured, and those bankers and accountants are under our control."

"Lord, the monastery has been breached, and only the Temple Knights in the church are stubbornly resisting."

"Catherine, you will regret it, you will regret it." Looking up at the sky, Holt knew that there was no way out, and roared through gritted teeth.

"You should be the ones regretting it." Smiling sarcastically, Catherine stepped on Fredian's back and slashed his neck with her longsword.

Blood spurted out, staining Catherine's cheeks red.

"Your era is over!"