"You came back a little late today, and Brother Brandon is probably already furious, and has gone to complain to Madame!" Mabel, the kitchen pastry boy, is kneading the dough, covered in flour from the palm of his hand to his elbow. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 "My lord, why didn't little John come with you? Just now, old John found here, and he threw himself into the air, and he had a whip in his hand, and I saw anger in those brown eyes, which were stronger than the fire in my stove, and I guess little John's ass will bloom tonight!"

Horn swallowed the bread in his mouth and casually cursed. Every night when he returned, he would come to the kitchen to eat something, first, because the food could overwhelm the smell of wine in his stomach, and second, his mother often punished him for thinking in the seminary for at least three hours at a time, although the chairs in the seminary were not harder than the oak chairs in his father's study, but his hungry stomach could not truly repent to the Namu God. "Can you give me another jam pie?" he asked, "and get me three more boiled eggs, which little John can use to put on his butt and swallow it to fill his stomach." ”

"No problem, sir, I have some good Assyrian wine here, would you like some?"

"your wine, Mabel. Horn glared at the noodle brother and shoved the remaining butter bread into his mouth.

"I'm just kindly reminding you, my lord, that you smell too much wine!" said Mabel, wiping his hands with a burlap cloth as he took the steaming jam from the oven and handed it to Horn, "if Madame can smell it, I'm afraid you'll have to come to me this week to report." ”

Horn sniffed nervously at his sleeve. The kitchen was filled with the smell of pastries, bread, butter, onions, and roasted meat, and he couldn't smell the alcohol on his body. "There's no smell, do you know what happened to me?"

"Hey, your nose is as good as mine, I say yes, your study doesn't have these miscellaneous smells. Mabel said as she picked up an onion and crushed it with a rolling pin, "After you finish eating and sprinkle this on your clothes, Madame said that she had gone to the market today to help Lord Sercy check whether the price of vegetables in the North City was stable." You remember that now the price of onions is six copper plates, potatoes are five, and flour and butter have recently gone up..... Madame ....."

Horn smiled and swallowed the fragrant jam pie in his mouth, and after quickly glaring at Brother Brandon who was standing aside, he called out obediently, "Mother, are you here?"

The hardest thing to endure was not the stern reprimand of his mother, nor the meditation of sitting in front of the kind and peaceful statue of Namu, nor the pious and boring prayers of Elder Eugene, but the fierce collision of leather whips and flesh in his ears. The adults seemed to have touched him thoroughly, and the punishment was far more unbearable than the whipping of Horn himself.

Mabel and little John were taken to the dimly lit temple of the temple, where the servants stripped their pants off, and Brother Brandon himself held the Dharma, and each time the whip tore through the air and let out a terrifying scream, the next second one of them let out a heart-rending scream, a voice full of despair, lamentation, and Horn's most unbearable plea for mercy, but he could do nothing but sit quietly, facing the serene Namu God, listening to the cruelty that the enforcers had brought him.

In the meantime, the whip sounded a full forty times, and each one sounded with a lot of strength, far more vigorously than old John. When Brother Brandon and the servant had departed, and the door to the temple was closed, Horn finally left the chair like a thorn and ran to the two who had been punished for him.

Little John had fainted, and his waist and calves were a blur of flesh and blood.

"Big ..... Your Excellency ....." Mabel gritted his teeth, gasping for air, "I..... Oh..... Damn it..... I'm afraid I won't be able to ..... Can't continue to make jam pie for you....."

A fire lit up in the study. Horn's study was no bigger than his father's, but he was fortunate to have a view of the martial arts training ground, and he sat by the fireplace, poured a glass of wine hidden behind the bookshelf, and took a sip, only to feel that the wine was as sour as his mood.

What did they do wrong, and I was the one who was wrong. He looked at the flames and thought gloomily. My mother loves me, but as a man of the Dalton family, I shouldn't take care of all the things myself? After all, I'm an adult, and I've been anointed with holy oil in the seminary, and I'm already a knight, so if I were to be given those twenty lashes today, it would definitely be better than now. At least it can be a little better. Even if it's just a little.

Horn stared at the firelight reflected on the edge of the bottle, meditating on all the faults. "Like my father, I want to ride my horse and gallop across the field, ignoring the trivialities in the castle, and dedicate my life to the honor of Dalton. He whispered, taking another sip of his already sour wine, "Brandon damn it, if he hadn't gone to the tip, Mother wouldn't have been so furious, and John and Mabel wouldn't have ended up like this." ”

The empty sour wine could not bring comfort, so Horn asked the guards on duty today to take out their bows and arrows and accompany him to the martial arts training ground. He stood there, aiming at the target and shooting arrow after arrow until his shoulders ached and his fingers dripped. He paused for a moment, waiting for Wesker to pull the arrow off the target and start a new round of shooting. During this period, maids kept coming to the well to draw water, and there were also servants who hurried back to their residences to rest, but no one stayed, and everyone turned around and ran away.

Behind him, the tower of the lords of Fort Horn stood proudly. A long time ago, this was just a barren mountain range, and my father brought people from another continent here, and after many thrills, he finally established the northern city. The moonlight moved with the trembling of the arrows, and the shadow of the tower gradually lengthened, like a black hand reaching out to Horn. Slowly, even after the moon fell to the tower, he had completely fallen into the hands of the black hands.

"My lord, it's late at night, you should go back and rest early. A voice came from behind him.

Horn looked back and saw that Aiden, his father's personal soldier, was behind him. "Go away," he told him in a low voice, "where have you been tonight, and why didn't you come earlier?"

In the past, Aiden would always take Horn away from his long days in the temple on the pretext of taking archery lessons when he returned late or made a mistake, and came to this shooting range to teach him archery while teaching him the mistakes he had made today. Unbeknownst to Horn, Aiden was instructed by Kenny. Every now and then, his father would watch him from the windowsill of his study, shooting arrow after arrow at the target.

"There's no archery class tonight, sir. The pro-soldier explained.

"That's enough, you just don't want to save me!" he let go of his bowstring, and another arrow hit the target, but it missed the bull's-eye.

"My lord, I have good news for you. The soldiers walked up to him and put their hands on their shoulders, "The envoys and lords of the major territories will arrive in the northern city the day after tomorrow to discuss with your father about the southern expedition. ”

"Sonny and Sula are coming too?" Horn pulled the bowstring, black feathers pulled to his cheeks.

"Yes. The archery teacher's hand on his shoulder went around his neck and grabbed the bleeding fingers. "Watch your breathing, control your heartbeat, keep your eyes on your target, keep your mind open, relax your wrists, and relax again..... Let go!"

With a whoosh, the black feather arrow hit the bull's-eye, shivering in the darkness.