"Hey hey hey, here comes the bread." Madlan lifted the tray of thin-sliced bread and handed it one by one to the high officials of the Pope Country inside the tent.
The evening sunset shone through the door curtain, laying a layer of golden sand on the ground.
In this small tent, the fire basin emitted a dark red glow, gathering the bishops and high officials of the Knight Order.
They washed their faces, rubbed their feet, and dried their clothes.
Beside a straw bed, Jeanne held a bowl of medicinal soup, trying to force Frick to drink it.
Clenching his teeth, Frick argued noisily, complaining that there's no medicinal wine, and he couldn't drink it.
"Are you trying to drug me? You just want wine!" Jeanne replied sharply, "I've already promised Madlan, I will make you drink it before his return."
"I'm strong and can endure it. There are so many believers with colds, let them drink it." cried the thin Frick.
