Secret: The years I served as a foreign aid for the Aurora Club

Chapter 324 New Life
644
Late at night on August 1st.

This period of time was a very difficult time for the Intis garrison in the southern continent.

Since the news came from the country far away in the northern continent last month that the great Eternal Blazing Sun had died and the well-known evil god True Creator had become the new Sun God, everyone felt as if they had lost their parents. The service period of the garrison was about ten years. After leaving their hometown and coming to this barbaric, bloody and dangerous land, faith became the only spiritual support for the garrison, and they would become more pious than before.

Especially at this uneasy moment, when they sought comfort in their faith, they were told that the most pious and kindest elderly deacon in the church had locked himself in the confessional and followed the eternal sun in the middle of the night.

This elderly deacon had a certain reputation in the colony. He had treated the lower classes in the colony as equals, generously supported local education and charity, and helped everyone as a fellow believer in the Eternal Sun. His death further intensified the panic of the sun believers and local garrisons in the colony.

During this month, the garrison first waited tremblingly for their country and the new church to issue them transfer orders, but Intis seemed to have forgotten about these people, or was thinking about how to deal with them. They then gradually became numb in the day-to-day waiting, but they were confident that their country would never abandon their precious colony, so they put their minds at ease and continued to return to their previous carefree lives.

Anyway, based on the ethics of professional soldiers, they cannot surrender.

The best thing might be to withdraw to their home country and replace them with a new group of people, because the lunatics in the colonies will not accept their surrender, and their families who rely on the titles they obtained from the colonies and live a happy life with the titles will fall into the abyss overnight because of their surrender.

In the past, with the support of the powerful Intis, the garrisons could do whatever they wanted in the colony. They could take away any woman they liked, take away any thing they liked, and eat without paying. Even the most ordinary junior sergeant could carry a weapon in the market and be arrogant, not allowing anyone to look up at him. Killing someone in the street was just a pretense of confinement and compensation. The docile people would often obey in order to save their lives, except for those crazy people.

But now Intis's attitude may have changed. If the Highland rebels really take the opportunity to attack and they are unable to fight back, then they can only die, and before they die, they should pray that their relatives far away in their country can successfully receive their fallen soldiers' pensions.

The positions changed, while the country remained ambiguous and silent.

"What on earth are those cultists thinking?"

Wilson pushed the door open and walked in. Seeing the ham on his colleague's desk, he looked away uncomfortably, his Adam's apple rolling: "You asked the cafeteria to start a fire again. Our supplies are limited now, so we have to keep them just in case!"

Flami laughed and pointed at the white bread and vegetable soup on the table: "Would you like to have some too?"

They were talking in Intis. The Highland half-blood maid knelt in the corner with her head lowered and her eyes submissive, not responding to her masters' conversation at all - she didn't understand much Intis, and she hadn't even been to school for a few days. Apart from her appearance, she only had the virtue of obedience and docility.

In many Intis homes, servants are not allowed to speak the local language.

Wilson shook his head. He patted the table with his hand, and glanced at the white bread and vegetable soup, as well as the maid in the corner who was placing herself there like an object. He frowned.
"You still keep the Highlanders to yourself."

"These brown-skinned bastards are very smart! I don't know what kind of magic potion their cult has given them, but they are getting bolder and bolder. Today, they just caught a slave who wanted to escape from the army."

Wilson didn't like getting along with the Highlanders. When he was a junior officer, he had encountered the Highlanders' guerrillas more than once. These crazy people not only killed the enemy, but also their own people. Fortunately, he met some stragglers with less equipment than himself, and didn't really encounter those cultists who were said to have terrifying power. It is said that some people can suck the life and soul of the living. Some officers were suffocated to death by their own quilts in their sleep. Some people just slipped on the road and were pierced in the head by a stone that suddenly appeared, or fell down and were hanged on the cliff by vines.

Lately, they have been a little restless and their actions have become more planned. I heard that a former cult leader has returned.

"The Slave Act has been abolished. You should call them free men and mercenaries. Although they don't get paid much, they are truly free." Flami smiled and took a bite of bread soaked in thick soup. He didn't have the same worries as his companions because he believed that most of the people in the colonies were stupid, barbaric, silent and inferior creatures. However, it was undeniable that there were indeed a few smart people who could make the lives of their masters more comfortable.

He made such a casual comment, and the Highland mixed-race woman in the corner still kept her head down, motionless, like an exquisite ornament.

"The rebels have always been indiscriminate about friend or foe. Anyone who joins us will be killed. Our mercenaries have nowhere to escape, so of course we can only fight them to the death."

Flammy commented nonchalantly, which was also a common perception. The Highlanders in the colonies were usually docile and silent, but always crazy when forced into a desperate situation. They were suitable for fighting, suitable for being death squads or cannon fodder, and suitable war consumables.

The master habitually ignored his inconspicuous slave, and Wilson was always wary of this dark-skinned race. As if she had noticed the gazes of others, the mixed-race woman kneeling on the ground raised her head and met Wilson's gaze.

She didn't dare to delay, and immediately stood up with her stiff and numb legs, and lowered her head meekly to Wilson:
"You're looking at me? Sir, what can I do for you?"

Wilson's face looked a little better because of the other party's attitude. The humble appearance of countless people in this land always fascinated them. He casually sent the maid away and asked her to pour him a cup of tea. Then, Wilson's eyes swept across the place where the maid had just stood, and suddenly frowned:
"Where is that antique you treasured?"

Flami froze while eating the bread, then smiled calmly and said, "I put it back in the warehouse."

"Don't you always like to show it off? Why do you put it away suddenly?" Wilson didn't believe it. He looked around his colleague's residence and found a bigger doubt. "Why is she the only maid? Don't you always brag about the number of your maids? The last time I came to visit, there were at least four maids standing in the living room!"

Flami laughed dryly: "My financial situation is not very good recently, so I sent them all back..."

"Are you planning to escape?" Wilson suddenly asked, "I remember that there are pirate ships docking at the private port from time to time!"

"What pirate ship?" a voice asked.

Flami's expression suddenly became dull, and a overlapping figure appeared in his eyes. However, Wilson, who was standing opposite him, did not notice anything unusual. He only heard his colleague say in a somewhat rigid voice:

"...The private port of the Rose School has always had pirate ships and sea smuggling ships paying to dock for supplies. They are willing to temporarily station officers in the Rorsted Islands for 300 gold Louis per person..."

After saying these words, Flami said in a very strange tone: "Barranca, who is managing the private port?"

"It's a vengeful spirit."

A grand and eerie voice floated in from the window. The wind blew the gauze curtains, and the soft gauze curtains gently fluttered on Wilson's arms. Without making any sound, his neck was twisted by the curtains and he was dragged to the window.

Flami snapped his fingers.

Snap, as if a magic trick suddenly happened, or like some kind of surreal photographic work, the bodies of the two people in the room suddenly swelled up, slipped out of their clothes, and turned into square pieces of toast, which were even better than the white bread on the table.

Their spirits were crushed and restored to their basic spirituality, which was then sprinkled on bread like butter, adding a special flavor of spirituality to the food. Both extraordinary people and ordinary people could experience the unique deliciousness from it.

Richard floated out and landed lightly on the ground.

Each piece of toast grew thin hands and feet. Under the command of the angel, they lined up and jumped out of the window and landed in a large sack prepared nearby. Everything was filled with a grotesque and terrifying fairy tale atmosphere.

"Three hundred gold Louis per person, this is not a small amount." Richard said, "It seems that the manager of the private port takes a lot of commission?"

You also want a piece of this... Baranka said nothing: "Originally it was managed by Zatwin, but he is still in the Northern Continent. The private port was handed over to a resentful soul. After returning, I will ask Mahmuds to question him."

"I remember now. Was it because Steve died while chasing Sharon that Zatwin was sent over? You guys are really sending them one by one. Find a time to let Zatwin come back. Renette is not dead yet. I remember that his good disciple, little Sharon, was already a resentful spirit when she escaped. Maybe now all he needs is a puppet to be promoted." Richard rubbed his fingers, smoothed out the rough and uneven part on his nails, then sat on the windowsill to enjoy the night view of the garrison military district, and snapped his fingers. All the people in the military district suddenly opened their eyes at the same moment, flashing crazy and bloodthirsty lights in the darkness.

Their guns and daggers also flashed coldly. They fought each other in their pajamas without distinction. Those who reacted a little slower often didn't even have time to groan. They were pierced and bled like a bag filled with water, and finally fell to the ground like a broken wooden barrel, slowly shrunken and cold, and were trampled back and forth by others. Everyone was controlled by extremely crazy emotions. It was difficult for them to think of shooting, so some people moved huge stones like crazy and smashed other people's heads like smashing watermelons, and the dirty blood fell on the equally dirty ground. Some people bumped into candlesticks or torches in the chaos, allowing the fire to spread wildly and ignite everything that could burn.

"…Aren't you going to turn into food?"

"..." Richard held his chin and hesitated for a moment, "Don't you think it's interesting to appreciate such a scene? It doesn't matter. I remember that their granary is to the east. Just don't let the fire spread there."

"I'm going to take a walk around the church later. Do you think the Creator Church is willing to reclaim the church? Those murals are very valuable."

At this moment, a series of crisp sounds of objects being smashed came from behind them. The tray in the mixed-race maid's hand was tilted, and the boiling hot tea and the exquisite tea set were all smashed to pieces on the ground. The tea was steaming and soaked her shoes. She looked at the scattered clothes of the host and the guests, the fire and chaos outside the window, her eyes were dull, she didn't shout, but she couldn't say a word.

Richard looked at her and extended his hand in greeting.

"Good evening, ma'am."

The angel said, "You are free now."

……

August 5, Innis, Trier.

Today is a sunny day. On days like this, people tend to be superstitious and believe that good things will happen to them.

John hoped so too. He nervously straightened his tattered shirt and put on his coat carefully to cover the embarrassing hole on the back of his shirt. For the first time in his life, he mustered up the courage to approach the cathedral in the downtown area, with its tall spire pointing directly at the sun.

There was already a long line in front of the cathedral. John looked at the simple sign on the wall and then at the flyer in his hand that had been folded and wrinkled repeatedly. He swallowed and approached one of the lines.

As soon as he entered the team, he looked around and immediately regretted it - oh no, he should have worn something more ragged!

What if I dress well enough and the priests think I’m still alive, and I can’t get the subsidy for low-income people?
Thinking of this, he could hardly control the urge to go back and change his clothes immediately, but curiosity and a sense of luck made him stop and follow the team slowly forward.

Soon, he was in front of the line.

Sitting behind the table was a man in red clothes and a red hood. He was writing something at his desk. When John timidly approached the table, he spoke impatiently, "Name."

"John, John...Cobb." He almost forgot his last name, which made John blush.

The red-robed man quickly wrote down the name:

"What is your weekly salary? What is your job? How many people are there in your family?"

John almost didn't catch up with the question. He thought quickly and then said with some embarrassment: "My job is... moving things at the dock. Sometimes I can earn one gold Louis a week. Sometimes I can't find a job and can only collect some old newspapers to recycle and earn a few coppers... I have no other relatives, only me."

The young man in the red robe was not surprised. He quickly recorded the information and pointed to the side with the pen in his hand: "Put your hand there and say 'I am not lying'."

John followed his pen and noticed that the black object on the table was not an ink bottle, but a black square with a strange shape. While wondering what the other person meant, he placed his hand on the black square and said, "I..."

As soon as he said this, John suddenly felt a sharp pain in his head, as if a wet whip had suddenly hit his forehead. He subconsciously wanted to withdraw his hand, but the shadow beside the table suddenly climbed up and pressed his hand tightly on the black square.

He didn't have time to be shocked by what was happening before him. He just wanted to finish his words quickly and get relief:

"I...didn't...lie...!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the severe pain in his mind suddenly disappeared, and the shadow shrank back silently.

John quickly withdrew his hand as if he was scalded, his chest heaving violently, and he looked at the strange block with fear.

"Well, you didn't lie."

"Starting next week, you will be able to receive a subsidy of one gold louis per week at the nearest church. If you are sick and unable to work, you can also go to the church to apply for medicine and treatment. Remember to go back and spread this matter so that more people can feel the gospel and mercy of the Lord."

The young man in red stamped the file and whispered, "Valid!"

A golden light flashed, and John suddenly felt that the piece of paper in front of him seemed to have established some kind of connection with himself. He opened his mouth in astonishment and said in disbelief: "Is this all right?"

You can receive one gold louis every week, and you can rent a bed for yourself. You won’t be hungry anymore, or have to eat old newspapers on the street!
“Is the Lord’s mercy fake?”

The young man tapped the table impatiently: "Praise the Lord, next!"

"Praise the Lord!" John took the certificate with trembling hands as if he was being baptized, and made the sign of the cross on his chest with unprecedented piety. "Praise you! Great Creator! You, you are the God of gods, thank you for giving me the chance to live!"

The young man in red then snorted and waved his hand, motioning the next person to come forward.

He left with great joy, still reciting the hymns to the Creator that he had just learned from the leaflets.

Not far from the long line, the Creator observed these people for a long time, observing the joy of rebirth on their faces, and then walked into the shadows with the people around him.

TBC
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So tired! ! The exam is coming soon! ! Such days are too torturous! ! !

It is no surprise that the reviews of this book are extremely polarized... After all, even an excellent top-level online novel like Guimi will have readers like me who are picky. Everyone has different interpretations. I am not surprised even if some people think that Aurora is a thorn in the book. Of course, I like to hear compliments, which is also human nature!
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(End of this chapter)