When the Saint comes, she does not collect food.

Rainwater streamed down the eaves of the church, striking the windows with sharp taps.

The pale sky outside was even colder than usual, causing everyone present to wrap themselves tighter in their coats.

Rising from his chair, Tom Lee went to close the windows, then returned to his seat, glancing around at the others.

Now, a group of refugees sat in what Duldaff had cherished as his "scriptorium," at tables meant for copying texts but now laden with exquisite food.

White bread, fish soup, chicken gratin, roast suckling pig, cream of mushroom soup.

Each dish gleamed under the light of the silver candlesticks.

These refugees were the instigators of the earlier riot and the core members of Tom Lee's group.

They wore the monastery's exquisite ceremonial robes, yet they hunched over, their postures awkward, managing to make the garments look crumpled and ill-fitting, like servants who had stolen their master's clothes.

Spilling gravy on themselves, they didn't know how to use knives and forks, simply grabbing at the food with their hands.

When they were full, they simply rolled up their sleeves, opened their fronts, and got greasy sauce all over their sleeves, armpits, and crotches.

The dining room was filled with the sound of their boisterous drinking, and they were even clamoring for some prostitutes to come and join them, and some were fighting, splashing water and wine all over the walls, carpets, and even Messala's portrait.

This was, of course, Tom Lee and his gang enjoying the fruits of their victory.

As for the other refugees who had participated in the riot, Tom Lee magnanimously opened the granary and gave them all enough moldy old black bread to last for two days.

Compared to not having enough to eat before, it was already a great kindness, but they didn't even kneel down to thank him, which made him feel really wronged.

In Tom Lee's opinion, he should have only given it to those who had contributed to the attack on the monastery, and the rest should have been left to starve.

If it hadn't been for Madelaine and that damn knight commander Danji's insistence, they wouldn't have given these precious grains to the refugees.

Tom Lee had previously been a rogue smuggler, relying on smuggling grain and slaves to Black Serpent Bay, which was how he got in touch with the Secret Party.

These grains, after the flood, whether smuggled or sold directly, would be worth a lot of money.

As a result, the pure white grain was given to the poor, what a sin.

Sitting at the head of the table, Tom Lee asked Chilves beside him: "Ahem, how is His Excellency the Chosen One?"

Chilves replied: "I've seen him, it's Witch's Disease, a common problem for our Secret Party."

The so-called Witch's Disease or Witch's Curse is when some people stay with a witch for a long time and come into contact with a lot of her blood, sweat, or dander, they will get infected and develop a high fever and rash.

Many members of the Secret Party don't pay attention when contacting witches and get infected with this disease.

After being infected with Witch's Disease, most people will die, and only a small number of people will survive, and they will generally become Witch's Familiars.

The vast majority of wizards have the bloodline of Witch's Familiars, and they can use magic mostly because of their bloodline.

Tom Lee turned to look at Grampwen next to him: "That witch Carrie and that, uh, Jeanne, have they been taken care of?"

"Hiss." Chilves interjected, "That Carrie seems to have been driven mad by holy water, and now she can't even speak."

"Oh, oh, oh." Tom Lee breathed a sigh of relief, "Too bad, what about the other Jeanne?"

Grampwen nodded: "They have been arranged in the best rooms, but Jeanne took His Excellency the Chosen One to her room, and the two of them have been sleeping together for the past two days."

"Damn it, no wonder he got Witch's Disease, he was fucking a witch."

"This Holy Grandson is fucking a Holy Maiden, how many more calamities will there be?"

"Full of doggerel, do you want to be a priest?"

"What is Holy Grandson?" Listening to the discussion of several of his men, Tom Lee looked confused.

Grampwen quickly told him about Horn's deeds from Jeshka, Rene, and Duvaron, and also took out the proof found in Horn's pocket.

There were six in total, but five of them were soaked and worn out in this wonderful "King vs. King" duel, and only one proof from the Joan Party was barely legible.

After listening to Grampwen's account, Tom Lee couldn't help but smack his lips.

It's still the Joan Party, they dare to do such a ruthless job as beheading.

Looking at himself again, he can only bite the torch at most, there is no comparison at all.

No wonder they can be high-level members of the Secret Party, and he is just a small fry.

"Let's not talk about this for now, let's talk about what to do next?" Grampwen said anxiously.

Speaking of this, Tom Lee had a headache.

According to the original plan, at this time, they would have pushed Madelaine to become the Bishop or Pope of Thousand River Valley.

But with Horn, this high-profile version, plus the resurrection legend that has been spreading everywhere these days, people are unwilling to recognize Madelaine as the Pope of Thousand River Valley.

But in this case, Horn has to take the blame.

These high-level Secret Party members are all about letting others take the blame for them, how can they take the blame themselves?

When the time comes to investigate, these few will not be able to bear it.

Besides, this lord must be arranged properly.

Although Tom Lee often refers to himself as a member of the Secret Party, he is mostly an outer periphery, where has he seen a high-level Secret Party member with a witch guard?

Although this lord doesn't have many days to live, if he is served well, and he leaves a letter of praise before he dies, the benefits will be great.

Tom Lee wants to improve too much, and he is also preparing to retire to Black Serpent Bay to retire.

Black Serpent Bay is humid and rainy, with many venomous snakes, beasts, and monsters, but it is not afraid of being annexed by the lord and the church.

Can monsters and poison be more poisonous than the lord?

In this regard, the Secret Party has much better credibility than the church.

After Grampwen finished speaking, the entire scriptorium hall fell silent, with only awkward breathing.

Tom Lee didn't speak, and the others didn't speak, everyone knew what they were thinking, no one wanted to be the first to speak, otherwise, what if they were resented?

Seeing that no one spoke, after thinking for a long time, Grampwen slapped his thigh and stood up.

"Now, the old method is probably useless, why don't we just push that Lord Horn to be the Pope."

In Grampwen's opinion, this kid has Witch's Disease anyway, and he won't live for a few days.

"Good!" Tom Lee's eyes lit up, this scapegoat has come, "In that case, this matter will be entirely up to you!"

"I, I didn't mean that." Grampwen was dumbfounded, he looked at Tom Lee as if he was meeting him for the first time.

"Little Grampwen." Tom Lee said earnestly, "You are the one who came up with this idea, you should be the most familiar with it, it is most appropriate to leave it to you."

Grampwen protested: "But how can I do everything by myself?"

"Your matter, we are not saying that we want you to do anything, we didn't say, there is nothing that says, we must give you something, right? It's up to people, how do you know you can't do it if you don't do it?"

"Yes, yes, we will just help you, at most just give you some suggestions."

Looking at this group of old foxes with upturned mouths, Grampwen had no way, his wife's illness depended on those magic to support her, otherwise, why would he be willing to join the Secret Party?

"Okay." With throbbing veins, Grampwen agreed, "Then I ask you to give me a suggestion? Let's make an assumption, if someone wants to make His Highness Horn the Pope, how can he agree?

We can't force him, there is also a witch with terrifying combat power guarding him."

Originally, their intention was to use the ancient election law and Madelaine's indecisive personality to put him on the shelf with the kindness of relatives and friends, so that he would not be able to refuse.

If he refused, it would be a complete break, and then they could directly use tough methods.

But after the target was changed to Horn, they were surprised to find that the above methods didn't seem to work, so what should they do?

At this time, the previously silent Chilves' eyes flashed with light, he coughed lightly, and said in a hoarse voice:

"About this, I have an idea, cough, no, no, no, if someone has such a plan, you know that Holy Grandson, His Highness, comes from a place called Red Mill Village..."