When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

“South of the mountains, beside the river, there’s an orphanage…”

“They are clever and devout, they are devout and clever, their bodies flow with the blood of little elves…”

“Blue orphans, oh, you need to be careful…”

A mature female voice echoed, singing an extremely childish nursery rhyme.

The singing seemed to come from a great distance, yet felt extremely close, making it impossible to hear clearly.

Horn's eyelids fluttered. He blankly opened his eyes as bright sunlight, carrying the scent of flowers, drifted in from the window.

The weather cleared up?

Horn sat up, leaning his back against the corner of the four-poster bed. Only then did he suddenly realize that the pain in his sinuses was almost gone, and his previously dry and itchy throat had produced a lot of thick phlegm.

He reached up to touch his forehead and, sure enough, the fever had broken.

Looking up again, he noticed a wine distiller, as tall as a person, placed in the corner of the room. A strong garlic aroma wafted from the brass spout.

It seemed allicin really worked.

Although he still felt weak, at least he no longer had a fever. This illness was finally over.

Looking around, Horn felt that his eyesight and hearing had improved significantly. He could even see the dust in the sunlight and hear the sound of flowing water in the distance.

“Hunters and imps hide in the green forest, everyone quickly run for your lives!”

Following the sound, Horn immediately spotted the witch named Carrie.

The white-haired Carrie, exposing her marble-white thighs and wearing a white floral nightgown, sat sideways on the windowsill, clapping her hands and earnestly humming the tune.

Her brow was lightly furrowed, as if pondering something. For the first time, such a serious expression appeared on her doll-like face.

Like a kitten struggling to poop.

“Carrie?” Horn called softly.

“Ah!” The expression on Carrie's face instantly vanished, and her eyes regained their previous clear stupidity.

Seeing Horn get up, her eyes lit up, and she jumped straight down from the windowsill.

Then she skillfully fell flat on her face.

The loud thud made Horn wince in pain just watching.

Climbing up from the ground, Carrie first stared blankly at her knees, then touched the bump swelling on her forehead.

After a full three seconds, a layer of mist climbed into her pupils. She pouted, looking at Horn with a wronged expression.

You fell on your own, why are you looking at me?

Horn was extremely puzzled.

However, considering her identity as a witch, she might have combat power similar to Jeanne, but with only the intelligence of a child, making her much easier to control than Jeanne, Horn decided to extend an olive branch of friendship.

After all, he had been either unconscious or enthroned these past few days, knowing nothing else.

From others, Horn at least knew that this Carrie was once a member of the Secret Party. Although she had lost her memory, he might be able to extract some important information.

Having made up his mind, Horn put on a gray wool short robe, walked to Carrie's side, tiptoed, and laboriously rubbed Carrie's head: “Oh, it's okay, it's okay, it doesn't hurt anymore… Look, your hair is as messy as a chicken coop, come, let me comb it for you.”

As a five-star brother, Horn Gallar had plenty of experience in dealing with sisters who were only single digits in age, both in his previous life and in this life.

Children of this age are often easily distracted. Too much comfort will only make them focus on the pain. It's better to divert their attention directly.

“It's not messy!”

“It is messy, look for yourself, come, I'll make you two nice braids.”

Carrie sat on the edge of the bed, and Horn sat cross-legged behind her, picked up a ram's horn comb, and began to comb Carrie's hair.

“Carrie, what do you usually call me?”

“I call Sister Jeanne 'Sister,' I call you, 'Brother'?”

“Oh… Did you know us before?”

“No, I don't.”

“Then why do you call us Brother and Sister?”

“I can feel that you and Sister Jeanne are both good people. Sister Jeanne often says good things about you, but you like to scold Sister Jeanne, you're bad.”

Horn's combing stopped. When had he ever said bad things about Jeanne? He didn't think so.

Could it be when he was delirious?

But that's not important, Horn didn't care much. He continued to smooth Carrie's hair: “What about your own family? Where did you come from?”

“I don't know. I only remember being in a dark cave, people always beat me, and then someone tied me up and ran away, especially that fatty…

Later, later, you came and helped me beat the fatty away. Everyone else is bad, you are good, so I came to find you.”

“Do you know you have amnesia?”

Carrie nodded timidly: “I don't remember anything… Are you going to abandon me too?”

“I…” Horn's words suddenly stopped as he separated the girl's long white hair that was scattered on her back.

On that smooth, snow-white back, dozens of crisscrossing whip marks were firmly imprinted, some as bright red as blood, others as dark as the abyss.

Horn knew something about the magical recovery power of witches. Witches almost fix their age and appearance at the moment of awakening.

Except for height and body shape, they hardly change, let alone leave scars, like Jeanne, whose small wounds basically disappear in an instant.

According to the existing whip marks, hundreds or even thousands of whippings were buried under these dozens of whip marks.

“I… I won't, I won't abandon you.” Steadying himself, Horn continued to ask: “Do you remember anything about your past? What are your supernatural abilities?”

“I don't remember, I only remember a song.”

“What song?”

“South of the mountains, beside the river…”

Listening to Carrie sing this song, Horn picked up a hair tie and tied up one side of her long hair, then began to smooth the other side.

By the time Carrie finished singing the entire song, Horn had braided her hair.

The original messy hair had now turned into two smooth, white pigtails, hanging behind Carrie.

The white hair and red eyes were just like that killer rabbit that had transformed earlier.

It's just that this tall stature of over 1.8 meters is too incongruous, otherwise, she would be a cute little sister.

His sister back home should be at the age to get married.

Shaking off these inexplicable emotions, Horn patted Carrie's head: “How many days have I been unconscious?”

“Um… From the day Fatty was beaten to death until now, it's been five days.” Carrie said, counting on her fingers.

Five days. Horn looked at the bright sunlight outside the window. In five days, the flood should have receded by about half.

He had to hurry.

“Stay in the room and behave. I'm going to find your Sister Jeanne. Be good.”

After comforting the obedient Carrie, Horn put on his cloak, picked up the Papal scepter, and used it as a crutch, and was about to walk out.

But as soon as he reached the door, two burly figures blocked him.

“Your Holiness? You're actually awake.”

The man who claimed to be his aide-de-camp, Grampven, popped out of nowhere, looking deliberately surprised.

“Where's Jeanne? I want to see Jeanne.”

“Knight Commander Jeanne is discussing the formation of the Holy Grail Knights with Grand Commander Danji. She's not here right now. If you want to see her, I'll send someone to notify her immediately.”

“No need.” Horn carefully sized up the man with the thin, pointed nose. “I'll go find them myself.”

“How can that be?” Grampven waved his hands repeatedly. “As the honorable Pope, how can you go to see others? They should come to see you.”

Stepping back half a step, Horn narrowed his eyes, looking at the three people blocking the door: “So, without your permission, I can't see anyone, is that right?”

Grampven and the other three exchanged glances, and only said with a fake smile: “As the Pope, how can your honorable hands interfere in worldly affairs? We lowly commoners will take care of other matters.”

The corner of Horn's eye twitched slightly. Were they planning to sideline him?

What aide-de-camp? This was clearly a surveillance officer!

“Bold!” Horn raised his crutch, pointing at the man in front of him. “Blocking my way, aren't you afraid of divine punishment?”

“I dare not, I dare not.”

Although they said they dared not, their bodies did not move half an inch. Although Grampven and the others repeatedly begged for mercy, they still firmly blocked the door.

Horn's body, which was just recovering from a serious illness, couldn't squeeze past at all. He carefully looked at the faces of these three people again.

“Good, good dogs. Tell your master that if they don't want to be annihilated by the Church's army, then come to see me by noon tomorrow. I won't wait past the deadline. Anyway, killing a priest is enough for me.”

Watching Horn's back as he turned and left, the fake smile on Grampven's face disappeared instantly.

He hesitated for a while, looked around at the empty corridor, and quickly walked in one direction.

ps transition chapter