Chapter 35 Chapter 34 The Holy Fool (Part 2)
Eve Frostleaf believed that Jimar was prejudiced. Obviously, a person who bears the title of “Holy” and is highly respected by the proud winged knights has nothing to do with “madness” or “fools.”
Bored, Jimar turned her head to look at the bearded winged knight and said with a raised chin, “Hey, Bearded.”
The latter turned his head, his face hidden under the nose guard, watching Jimar cautiously.
Jimar smiled at him, and he tugged at the reins, moving his horse a few steps away from her.
Jimar asked, “Can you introduce me to the Fool?”
“The most devout follower of the Bear God.” The bearded winged knight became earnest, “She was originally a nun in the convent, bathing rarely for the Bear God, dressed in rags, eating bread and drinking water, volunteering to build houses for filthy beggars, speaking erratically, and everyone thought she was mad.
“She was spat upon, harassed, and beaten, never retorting but accepting calmly, instead responding with a smile.” A flash of guilt crossed the bearded knight’s face: “I even whipped her with my riding crop just because she looked like a blocking peasant.
“We discriminated against and misunderstood her for twenty years, until one day, the renowned hermit Saint Borg, guided by an angel’s dream, came to the convent seeking her.”
At this point, the bearded knight’s eyes lit up, his tone excited: “When all nineteen of the convent’s members were gathered, he asked if anyone else was there. The nuns looked at each other and then remembered her, the one helping out in the kitchen, saying we have another madwoman here.
“Saint Borg summoned her, and she mysteriously sensed everything, reluctant to meet Saint Borg because she was not mad for fame or fortune…
Hearing this, Jimar yawned and raised her hand to cover her disdainful expression.
“Two people pulled her until she was in front of Saint Borg, who, upon seeing her, kneeled excitedly and kissed her filthy feet, begging for her salvation; the moment she touched him, the corruption on Saint Borg dissipated and was healed….
“Only then did we realize that her mad sacrificial acts perfected her faith in the Bear God; He saw her inner devotion, and thus she was saved and received the blessing to save others.”
Then, the bearded winged knight spoke continuously about everyone’s realization while the knights nearby chimed in a few phrases to share the glorious deeds of the Fool.
What miracles, what folly—how the Fool fled to such a remote place to escape worship by everyone.
Completely oblivious to Jimar’s expression, the latter had been dozing off, not really listening, her eyes fixed ahead, hoping the journey would be shorter.
If this were a typical story, with such a long buildup, readers might have long since abandoned the book in frustration, cursing the protagonist as a masochist.
Jimar raised her eyes, bored, looking at the overcast sky, her hands wrapped around Eve Frostleaf’s waist.
Finally, surrounded by the incessant praises.
They passed through a small town and walked along a muddy path, stopping in front of a walled convent. This convent was built of gray-yellow stones and had two stories, larger than most buildings in the town.
Next to it stood a barracks, bustling with people; many winged knights rode back to the barracks, leaving Jimar’s group of fewer than eight.
The bearded winged knight pulled on the reins, his tone serious: “We’ve arrived.”
Jimar said, “Finally here.”
At that moment, the bearded winged knight suddenly realized how close he was to Jimar, like a shy girl, quickly tugging on the reins to steer the warhorse a few steps over before dismounting.
Jimar, too lazy to pay attention to the nervous bearded knight, grabbed Eve Frostleaf’s hand and walked towards the convent.
The winged knights lowered their heads in reverence toward the convent, clasped their hands, prayed briefly, and then entered.
The convent’s wooden doors were old, the threshold worn down by footsteps. The door was unlocked, and as Jimar stepped forward to push it open, Eve Frostleaf suddenly tugged at Jimar, drawing her sword and saying, “There’s an enemy!”
The sound of the silver sword being drawn triggered a chain reaction, and the winged knights hurriedly drew their swords.
The bearded winged knight’s face showed anxiety as he pushed the door open. In the dim light, a monk’s corpse lay face down on the ground, a pool of blood at its neck.
Jimar produced a “branch spear” from thin air and said, “What a coincidence.”
At that moment, outside the door leading deeper into the convent, sounds of a struggle broke out, with urgent and frantic voices shouting, “Die! Die!”
Without a second thought, the bearded winged knight rushed in with his sword. As he crossed over the monk’s body, the corpse suddenly moved.
Eve Frostleaf shouted, “Watch out below!”
The bearded knight instinctively bent down to look.
He saw a green-glowing dagger extending from beneath the monk’s black robe, aimed straight for the bearded knight’s unprotected thigh.
Fortunately, Eve Frostleaf had already sensed something was wrong with the corpse; quick to react, she threw her silver sword, which surrounded itself with wind, striking the fuzzy hand holding the dagger.
The “corpse” screamed, “Squeak!”
A figure sprang from the deep brown monk’s robe, and upon closer inspection, it was a ratman assassin! He discarded the silver sword and bolted toward the door.
Sensing the smell of blood, Jimar felt a surge of dominance and, gripping her spear, spread her wings and leaped forward.
The ratman assassin, not looking back, tossed three green balls behind him: “Boom!”
A pungent green smoke immediately engulfed the entire room. The group coughed as they pursued; Jimar kept her wits about her and did not run to the front. As expected, the leading bearded knight triggered a trap the moment he crossed the threshold.
Several beams of green light shot toward him. He clutched his side, leaning against the wall, hoarsely shouting, “Don’t worry about me!”
Once everyone rushed through the doorway, they found the courtyard of the convent, where the ratman assassin lay, arrows embedded in his back and neck. Jimar turned back and saw Eve Frostleaf holding a longbow, her long legs striding over the threshold, emerging from the smoke with a gentle breeze that kept the green mist at bay.
“Nice shot.”
Jimar’s words had barely left her mouth when Eve Frostleaf, with her thumb wearing a thumb ring, nocked an arrow and released it. The arrow flew, piercing the ratman assassin’s skull and nailing him to the ground. The ratman assassin’s legs kicked out as he squealed once and died.
One winged knight remarked, “Still playing dead? How cunning.”
The bearded winged knight, holding his side, pushed through the other knights, saying, “Quick! Go see the Fool.”
As the group passed a wall, they saw a stone house with a thatched roof, in front of which lay several deceased monks in the vegetable patch. A woman in a patched gray robe, disheveled, leaned against the stone house, facing three ratman assassins attacking in turns.
On the roof stood two ratman assassins, one gesturing commands, yelling, “Human scum! Die!”
He quickly noticed the newcomers, raising his head; his shiny black rat eyes looked this way. Upon making eye contact with Jimar, he was forcibly dragged into a dream by her, his eyes glazing over as he dreamt of his superior dying and himself being promoted.
Eve Frostleaf raised her hand and shot two arrows swirling with wind, silent as they flew by. The commander of the ratman assassins received arrows to his eyes and, consumed by his dreams, fell from the rooftop.
The ratman assassins engaged in a fierce battle below finally realized someone had arrived. Turning their heads, they saw the furious winged knights charging forward with swords drawn. Terrified, they turned and fled, tossing green balls at the knights, releasing green smoke.
Jimar cursed, Eve Frostleaf shot arrows, and the group moved in to attack; the ratman assassins left only two corpses behind and vanished without a trace. Their speed and decisiveness in escape made Jimar sigh inwardly, as expected of ratmen.
“My lady Fool, are you alright?”
The bearded winged knight, disregarding his injuries, stepped forward to inquire.
“Thank you for your efforts.” The Fool, disheveled with messy dark hair, did not look mad, as Jimar could understand her words.
The Fool reached out to heal the bearded knight. The latter moved his bloodied hand aside to reveal three holes in his rib armor; the Fool touched them and three green spikes popped out, falling to the ground.
The bearded winged knight half-knelt, joining his hands in gratitude to the Bear God for the blessing.
The Fool approached Jimar, who was barefoot with large feet, the soles covered in black, muddy calluses.
Jimar looked her over; her appearance was average, perhaps nearing forty—a middle-aged woman—showing no signs of madness. She was clean, unlike the usual “Holy Fool.” This piqued Jimar’s lack of interest.
“I sensed your arrival,” the Fool said, standing still, raising her eyes which were no different from an ordinary person’s. Despite the fierce battle, she bore not a single wound. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Eve Frostleaf smelled no foul odor; she felt Jimar’s earlier words were biased and said, “Just a small effort.”
Jimar, who had just opened her mouth to ask for money, closed it instead: “I hope my labor will be respected.”
“This city under the protection of the Bear God is facing trials,” the Fool stated. “Ever since the twin-tailed comet appeared, everything has become strange; mutated cursed Northerners, and chattering upright giant rats…”
Jimar turned to Eve Frostleaf and said, “We are on our way to do something significant to save the world, right?”
Eve Frostleaf nodded slightly.
Jimar said to the Fool:
“I believe the Bear God’s people are resilient enough to endure this trial; those who cannot endure are not true Bear God’s people. Goodbye, we need to set off early tomorrow. Please arrange our accommodations quickly; we just need one room with two beds and two tubs filled with hot water.”
“The people here need your help.”
“You must consider the greater good, Lady Fool,” Jimar said earnestly. “The entire world is on the brink of disaster. We have been sent by the Holy See, crossing the entire Empire to be here, and the journey has been long, solely to thwart the demon’s plan to annihilate the world and save all innocent lives.”
This statement was delivered with conviction and a sense of righteousness, if one disregarded her demonic identity.
The Fool replied, “I can sense the evil power within you that can glimpse the future. I can help it see more clearly.”
“What does seeing more clearly mean?”
“Even without using it as an eye, one can see clearly.”
Her knowledge of this indicated genuine ability.
Jimar’s heart stirred; the glass eye gifted by the Lord of Deception had proven accurate. But when she got confused afterwards, to see clearly, she had to truthfully place it on her forehead, making it a third eye.
Jimar had her doubts, fearing this could be the Lord of Deception’s scheme, which made her hesitant.
Feigning contemplation, Jimar put on a thoughtful expression and said:
“Since this would be beneficial for the great cause, Frostleaf, let’s try to help the people of this land.”
