When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Rainwater streamed down from the eaves, pattering onto the ground.

Earlier, standing in the rain, it had grown heavier and heavier, but now that Hoen had taken shelter in the hunter's cabin, the late summer rain was gradually lessening.

Removing his soaked linen robe, drying his body, and donning the lord knight's comfortable blue and black brocade doublet, along with black serge trousers, Hoen emerged from behind the curtain.

The hunter's cabin was about fifty square meters, with four-legged wooden beds and thick carpets on either side, and a fire pit in the middle, filled with charcoal and embers, emitting a dim red glow.

Hanging on the walls were two axes, a skinning knife, and two bows. The wooden beds were covered with two layers of warm wolf pelts, and a thick woolen carpet with green cloverleaf patterns lay beside the fire pit.

Judging by the pattern, it must be a Western import from the Great Flesh Kingdom across the sea.

Three white tallow candles flickered with distorted flames, making Jeanne's fair face appear and disappear in the dim light.

It had to be said that the witch's magic combined with the knight's breathing technique granted miraculous recovery abilities. In less than three hours, the injuries on Jeanne's face had healed by more than half, at the cost of eating more rice cakes and dried meat.

Currently, only Hoen and Jeanne lived in the knight lord's hunter's cabin.

The villagers still lived in the shacks outside, or slept under the eaves of the wooden houses.

The villagers had no objections to Hoen occupying the hunter's cabin, and even felt it was only natural. The Holy Grandson Lord should live in a wooden house, after all.

Who would dare to disagree?

Sitting cross-legged on the Western woolen carpet opposite Jeanne, Hoen curiously touched the gold-threaded chrysanthemum embroidered red velvet blanket beside him.

The decorations and level of comfort here were not something a hunter could afford. He felt like he was taking advantage.

Jeanne had just dried her hair with a handkerchief, but it was still a little damp. She simply tied it up casually, letting it fall over her left shoulder and onto her chest.

Without looking up at Jeanne, Hoen reached out and picked up two books from the knight's oak chest.

Among the gold coins dropped by the knight, the most valuable items were these two books, besides the gold and silver trinkets.

One was called 'The Legend of the Rose of Lum,' and the other was 'The Fran Compendium.' The former was a collection of courtly love poems, and the latter was something like a dictionary, mainly explaining words, phrases, rhythms, and commonly used allusions.

Together, these two books were basically an introductory manual for knightly court poetry.

This wasn't a hundred years ago. A knight couldn't just rise through warfare; they also needed connections, culture, and the ability to compose poems with the earl lords who indulged in elegant pursuits.

For knights, composing poetry was a very important social skill.

Knights had to write love poems to impress noblewomen or even noblemen, to make it easier for them to use their advantages to climb the social ladder.

Hoen had originally thought of using the knight's collection of books to gain a deeper understanding of this world, but unfortunately, the knight lord only had two books. It was better than nothing, he supposed.

Head lowered, Hoen laboriously flipped through the poetry collection, completely unaware that Jeanne had been staring at him for quite a while.

His brain was about to explode, but Jeanne just kept her mouth open, unsure of what to say. After thinking for a long time, she finally spoke slowly:

"Thank you for today. If you encounter something like this again in the future, don't bother with me."

Uh...?

I saved you, and you're not happy about it? Besides, was I trying to save you? The first time, the original owner did it, and the second time, I was forced to.

Hoen didn't say these words out loud. He turned his head in Jeanne's direction.

At this moment, Jeanne's cheeks were red, and the ends of her hair had a faint golden hue. She didn't look at Hoen, but faced the window, yet she would occasionally glance at Hoen out of the corner of her eye before quickly looking away.

"You are a saintess. I can't ignore you."

"How could I be worthy of being called a saintess? Alas, in short, don't worry about me anymore..." As she said this, Jeanne's voice grew softer and softer, until it was only the size of a mosquito's buzz. "Besides, I've done so many wrong things, it's right that I should be punished..."

What are you doing? Using something from a retired meta to deal with me?

"Are you apologizing to me?" Hoen directly exposed Jeanne's thoughts.

"No, no, no." Jeanne jumped up from the bed, her fair face instantly as red as an apple. "Who, who, who is apologizing to you? I'm just, angry. I'm angered by those, those believers. They lied to me, it's not, it's not..."

In the end, Jeanne deflated, her voice becoming as thin as a mosquito's whine.

Hoen didn't respond. On the one hand, he really didn't want to have too much emotional entanglement with Jeanne, and on the other hand, he had to win Jeanne over. The two of them couldn't really fall out.

He had to grasp this balance, neither really having a relationship with her, nor having her obediently listen to him. In short, he had to keep her hanging at a distance.

Eh, something feels wrong. Where have I seen this scene before?

Just as Hoen was carefully considering where this sense of déjà vu came from, he felt an icy cold sensation on his neck.

It was Jeanne's hand.

At some point, Jeanne had walked over from the other side of the fire pit, gone behind Hoen, and her fingers were gently stroking Hoen's neck.

"Does your neck still hurt?" The firelight shone on Jeanne's face, her blushing cheeks flickering in and out of the light.

"It didn't hurt at first, but your hands are too rough, it's a little painful from the scraping." Seeing the veins bulging on Jeanne's arm in the corner of his eye, Hoen quickly made amends. "The new flesh is quite tender, but actually it doesn't hurt anymore."

Jeanne's breath smelled of chamomile. She loved to collect these small white flowers, putting them in the water when brushing her teeth, bathing, and washing her hair, letting them marinate into the flavor.

"Don't get me wrong, this is just a brotherly and sisterly hug. I've always thought of you as my older brother." The scent of chamomile wafted from behind his ear to his nose.

Her ears burning, Jeanne felt her cheeks were on fire. She brought her arms from Hoen's shoulders, and pressed her face against Hoen's back.

"I have divine magic granted to me by Misella. You've always been protecting me, now let me be the knight to protect you."

This, this isn't right, is it?

Only now did Hoen react a little. I thought of you as my younger sister, but you actually want to sleep with me?

Feeling the softness pressed against his back, Hoen's brain started working again.

In his plans for the future, there was no place for Jeanne.

Her risk as a witch was too high. Once exposed, she would not only be hunted down by witch hunters, but even the church would ask the winged angels to descend and hunt her down.

According to Hoen's original idea, with Jeanne as a "saintess," his path to becoming an official was ruined. After the flood receded, with his crime of impersonating the Holy Father, he couldn't stay in Thousand River Valley.

He planned to first pull a few reliable people from the refugees, then take the knight's property and seek development in the more eastern land of the Normans.

The church's control over the Normans was not strong. With his level of knowledge, finding a free city to be a rich man would definitely be easy.

He could seek to become a city councilor, or retreat to become a stable manor lord. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

As for Jeanne, Hoen's original intention was to find a secret society to send her to. Witches and secret societies were natural allies.

Especially the recently active Roan Party, whose leader was said to be a powerful witch, who had always been committed to witch mutual aid. They would definitely be willing to protect Jeanne.

This was why Hoen didn't want to get too involved with Jeanne. If there were feelings, and she insisted on relying on you at that time, that would really be a big problem.

This won't do!

Hoen was about to refuse, but the words wouldn't come out. If he refused directly, it would be troublesome if she lost control again.

After thinking for a while, Hoen suddenly stood up and picked up the hand-and-a-half sword with its scabbard from the ground beside him.

In Jeanne's stunned expression, he turned around and placed the hand-and-a-half sword on her shoulders.

"Good." Hoen's face was serious. "I have witnessed your piety and heroism. Since you want to be a knight, then, Jeanne d'Arc, in the name of the Holy Father, I knight you. From now on, within the scope of Thousand River Valley, it will be up to you to protect my safety."

If he were confessed to by Jeanne, then this fragile balance would no longer exist. In that case, let's use the knightly ceremony to cover it up.

Jeanne was caught off guard. Under the reflection of the candlelight, she numbly completed this extremely simple knightly ceremony with Hoen. She became a Templar knight conferred by the Holy Father.

It wasn't until the ceremony was over that Jeanne reacted.

Looking at Hoen humming a song and making the bed, an inexplicable fire came from nowhere in her heart. She grunted and turned her back to Hoen, directly throwing herself onto the woolen carpet.

Seeing that the atmosphere had been destroyed by himself, Jeanne stopped talking. Hoen slowly exhaled a breath of turbid air. He blew out the candle and lay down on the animal skin wooden bed.

"Hoen, are you asleep?"

"Not yet, what's wrong?" Hoen regretted it as soon as he said it. He should have pretended to be asleep.

"The marriage contract that Dad made before, you have it with you, right? I don't really care about the marriage contract, I just miss Dad."

"Speaking of this." Hoen stared straight at the ceiling. "I almost forgot, when our dad asked someone to write the marriage contract, he used hemp paper. The quality was too bad, light and fluttering. It seems to have been lost when I was beheaded before."

In fact, there seems to be something wrong with the papermaking technology in this world. The upper and lower limits of the paper produced are extremely large. Good paper is extremely good, bad paper is extremely bad, and there is almost no intermediate value.

According to the description in 'The Fran Compendium,' because paper is related to knowledge, and papermaking technology is very demanding, Fran texts often use "papermaking" to describe the level of knowledge and technology.

After reviewing the contents of 'The Fran Compendium' in his mind for a while, Hoen continued, "I think, since the marriage contract is lost, and you have become a knight, why don't we just forget about this marriage?"

Jeanne didn't respond. Turning her head, by the faint light outside the window, Hoen could see the girl's rising and falling body and even breathing.

"Asleep? You were just talking..." Yawning, Hoen was really tired after this thrilling day. As soon as he closed his eyes, he immediately lost consciousness.

Except for being almost awakened twice by the cold wind blowing from somewhere in the middle, Hoen slept extremely sweetly until dawn.

Happy New Year!