"This is an illegal sacrifice, the church won't agree."
Mucha didn't even sit down, but unclipped his sword and placed it on the table to express his position.
The alarmist was a bit shaken by the situation.
Unsurprisingly, as soon as Mucha raised his voice, Sir Elder would retort, "It's not a sacrifice, it's a tradition here, a noble lord from the court like you surely can't understand it, but at least you can respect it."
The knight nodded, seemingly not disagreeing with Elder's statement, "Indeed I cannot fathom that the Most High God would allow such a tradition of betrayal of human life."
The candlelight in the sanctuary flickered, reflecting the changing faces on the glass windows. As soon as the High God was brought out, the atmosphere in the sanctuary became solemn and harsh, and everyone's eyes couldn't help but turn to the statue of the god that stood silent and tall.
The mayor immediately eased his cheeks and said, "Yes, yes, those ancient traditions have long been banned."
"Shut up! Dog!"
Elder suddenly burst up and kicked toward the mayor's chair, the middle-aged man was thrown on all fours. Dill guessed that probably Mucha and the mayor's previous suspicion angered him.
Sure enough, Sir Elder turned his head and snarled at Mucha: "Well, let me tell you, people are in a panic; werewolves are running around out there; last night he scared one of the townspeople crazy; tonight he probably won't be satisfied with just a little hors d'oeuvre; so where's your god, may I ask?"
Mucha's hand also pressed on the sword on the table, "I can pretend that I can't hear your god-insulting remarks; when it comes to the people who scurried around last night, the werewolf shouldn't be the only one."
Seeing that the atmosphere was tense, the alarmist from before excused himself to serve wine to the crowd, and only then did the atmosphere ease a little.
In front of Dill was a rough oak cup. She glanced at the man who poured the wine; in his hand was an old tin pot.
The man simply made a gesture of pouring the wine, a golden bell resting on the table, but Dill could hear if anything a voice whispering in her ear, like a feather tickling the contours of her ear. Dillng sat up and took notice.
She looked at the glass of purplish-red liquid and shook it gently a few times, an unusual fragrance blooming under her nose.
"Where's the silverware from before?" Sir Elder was disgruntled.
The mayor hurriedly explained, "We listened to Lord Mucha's advice, and all the silverware was taken and melted down to make weapons."
Only the nobles would notice this small detail; the others appeared not to care that much, Shulk looked at the other alarmists for a few moments, he took the lead and picked up his wine glass, and
"To the Most High God!"
Everyone raised their glasses at the same time.
The broken words in her ears nearly screamed along with the crowd, and Dill couldn't restrain herself any longer, just as she was about to tip over her glass and yell, another man beat her to it:
Sir Elder snapped, slamming the glass to the ground with all his might, and charged straight towards the mayor.
The two instantly wrestled, knocking over an entire table in the process, and the cups and bowls of wine exploded all over the floor, leaving the scene in such a mess that the people around them tried to pull them back, but didn't dare to offend the lord's son.
"Quickly do something!" Shulk rushed to Mucha for help.
"I only have a way with werewolves." Mucha was good-naturedly watching the show from the side.
Although Shuke was angry, he didn't dare to say anything to Mucha. When the teenager was no longer so obsessed with the role of the knight, the arrogance and reserve of the young aristocrat unconsciously stayed exposed. Dillng people remember with hindsight that the other party was not a statue of the supreme god that was left to the mercy of others; he was also a human being and an aristocrat that the commoners couldn't offend at will.
The scene was chaotic; the setting sun gradually receded at the feet of the statue; and the horizon was only a light red, Dill saw the merchant, and the couple took advantage of the chaos to touch away, no longer stay, follow them out of the sanctuary.
With the darkness of the night approaching, the streets have been empty—not even beggars begging beggars—quiet as if even rats are hiding in the sewers shivering.
The doors and windows of every house were nailed shut with wooden planks and iron bars; some well-off families even hung some silver products at the entrance. But Dill knew that it was useless; silver was just about the only material that could pierce a werewolf's body, and a door made of sterling silver was far less useful than a silver needle, assuming, of course, that you had the guts to charge at a werewolf.
When the young girl returned to Cole's house, only the great white goose came to greet her. There was no longer any firewood or food left in the empty house, and Dill couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.
Great, they've all gone first; now it's all about you.
You're leaving?
The last trace of sunlight outside the window disappeared, and Cinnamon's voice sounded in real-time, like a ray of clear moonlight, removing the uneasiness from the Moon Witch's heart.
"I left something behind; it should be able to stall for a while."
The big white goose flapped its wings in front of the window, and Dill didn't expect the person to come so fast.
The person's footsteps were sharp and fast like he was being chased by something. Dill hugged Turnip and hid in the corner of the wall by the shelter of the fireplace.
That person first knocked hard on the door; he did not wait too long, never waited for anyone to answer, and then directly entered the house.
His footsteps were skillful as if he were a familiar guest in this house.
Dill heard the other person's footsteps getting closer and closer, and she secretly prayed that the gadget would work ...
"No, no, this can't be! You're dead!"
The footsteps suddenly became disorganized, and the man stumbled and fled as if he were swatting away some horrible monster as the whole thing stumbled and fled.
"Please! Please! Cole, I'm your friend ah! I didn't mean to hurt you! And Lily! It was them, it was all Shulk and their idea!"
The man collapsed directly in front of Dill, along with a small object that fell at Dill's feet.
It was a finished salamander, its bulging belly stuffed inside with sage, hairy mandrake, ghostly mushrooms, and other assorted hallucinogenic herbs, and compelling smoke waned out of the gecko's mouth. Dill stomped it out and recycled this C-rated mesmerizing prop to the cupboard.
She looked at the man in front of her, the Mayor, or as she could call him, one of the Mr. Coyotes.
At this moment, the mayor's forehead was in a cold sweat, his eyes were white, he hadn't completely lost consciousness yet, and he kept muttering something about Cole in his mouth.
This low-level mesmerism took little effort, requiring only the appropriate herbs and the most important flavor: a little bit of guilt to make one's mind completely manipulated by the witch.