Krafft's Notes on Anomalies

Outsiders' specific understanding of Westminster often begins with a request. At that time, they will realize that this is not a town-sized fortress, but a town fortified into a fortress.

This building complex that occupies the entire top of the hill not only accommodates residential areas, warehouses, stables, and training grounds for long-term garrison personnel, but also a small but exquisite chapel, a winemaking area, and supporting wine cellars. , livestock breeding sheds, and small vegetable and fruit growing areas, mainly lettuce. It is not difficult to see the attitude of staying there until eternity.

While the ignorant besiegers were eating high-altitude objects on the long hillside where round stones could run for a few minutes, the castle owner would taste fresh and plump vegetables and meat on the upper terrace of the inner castle, holding cold beer or cold beer just brought out from the deep cellar. Wine overlooking their show.

Of course, there will be no shortage of various workshops, dealing with wood and stone engineering, iron making and repair, as well as luxury craftsmen who meet high-end needs. They have been involved in the construction since their fathers and even their ancestors, and have inherited the service to this building. Most of the objects seen here, large and small, are from their hands.

But today, the craftsmen were made a special request that they had never heard of before.

"No, no, no, I don't think the quill is good. It can't even pierce the skin, and it will break easily." With a little force, the quill in his hand was broken into corners, and the demanding outsider threw it in The stove next to it "needs a hollow tube that is at least as thin as this one, but has much better hardness and toughness. It is best to be made of metal and can be connected to the gas cylinder."

The people present looked at the jeweler. His skillful hand, which could fit gems the size of wheat grains into earrings, was also troubled. "I have never seen anything like this, but I have seen bird bone hairpins before. They are indeed hard and strong." thin."

"If you insist on making it out of metal, then I can try, but there's no guarantee it will work." He added with a grimace. This profession is not like most of its peers who only have to follow the passed down craftsmanship, but also have to face the endless strange demands of the nobles. The demands made by this young noble are among the most outrageous among all kinds of whims.

The medieval high-quality Party A held her chin and said nothing, seemingly dissatisfied. Today he has accepted too many compromises. The inflatable device may have to be an enema type. The hose is only made of leather sewn and sealed with glue. Dance master.

He fell into self-doubt, whether his request was indeed inappropriate and the equipment should be adjusted based on objective conditions.

"Is Professor Craft here?" The sound of hurried armor walking interrupted the conversation in the workshop.

Kraft walked out of the crowd and looked toward the door, and unexpectedly saw a man who should have left the castle three days ago, "Martin? Didn't you go to the port?"

"It's urgent. Is it convenient now?" Martin wiped the sweat from his face and took off his helmet. His soaked hair was sticky and compacted, almost like freshly fished seaweed, which can produce salt grains.

"Of course, you can do it at any time." It's hard to imagine what it would be like to run to Westminster in all this equipment under the sun. Kraft believed that no one would be willing to go to such trouble. Martin should have brought him some ideas. Want the answer.

Out of respect for the people running around outside, he could give up thinking about the shaman style of painting first and said, "That's it, try both. I'll be back tomorrow. If you have any questions beforehand, please let me know." Attendant. Coop and Yvonne, please stay here for me for a while. If you need anything, you can tell them. You don’t have to wait for me for dinner.”

Kraft quickly left the workshop and followed Martin towards an unimpressive road, the sound of people moving away from them.

"You asked when that sect emerged?"

Martin took off the water bag from his waistband, poured the last sip into his mouth, and licked his dry lips. Obviously this was not enough to replenish the lost water, but he had no intention of spending more time on it. "As early as four months ago, the church handled the first case. The reason was that the guy tried to defraud the believers of money. , but ended up being targeted for charging too much.”

"Then I discovered more and more." Kraft continued, "I remember you said that some people have believed in them for several years. They can obviously continue to live in peace and harmony. Why have they become active recently?"

"Although it makes no sense, and there is only some overlap in time, I always feel..."

"You think they are tampering with something that shouldn't be touched." A statement with a positive tone.

This surprised Kraft. After all, he only caught uncertain thoughts in trivial fragments without any intermediate evidence. Why would Martin think about it with him?

He looked at Martin again and found that the knight had put on that stuffy helmet again at some point. The hot weather could not stop him from getting some subconscious comfort through this action, "What happened?"

"Do you remember Diego? He was the steward at the banquet." At this time, Martin mentioned something that seemed to be irrelevant. "We had some friendship before. When we first arrived at the port, we originally wanted to find him, but I heard that He went outside the city to chase some criminal involved in the disappearance."

This indeed left an impression. It was obvious at that time that he was familiar with Martin, "Yes, I remember. The slightly chubby knight."

"At first we thought he was going to catch some unrelated thief to make up the numbers." A certain emotion was attached to the tone like plaque, giving the narrative a complex color. It was probably regret, depression, and something that shook his spirit. , "Maybe he thinks so too. Twenty of us are just outside the city, so what's the problem?"

He seemed to be restoring Diego's thoughts, but also seemed to be in disbelief.

"Then?" Kraft felt something was wrong.

"Diego, the knight of the Duke of Westminster." He paused and continued to walk forward, leaving something invisible behind him, "and my friend, return to the arms of the Father in a way that is consistent with his status. , proven loyalty and bravery.”

Kraft was speechless for a moment, making sure he understood the meaning correctly. Someone he had only met once was confirmed to be dead within a few days, and it was relayed to him by another person he didn't know very well, which lacked real sense. All he blurted out was "May Heavenly Father bless him."

Then he quickly connected back and forth and looked at Martin in surprise.

"That pagan?!"

He had seen the equipment of the guards. A knight under the duke, with about twenty people and followers, was actually planted not far outside the city. His guess is probably right. It's hard not to associate all bad things with a heretic that can do such a thing.

But the most important thing now is that with Diego's death, he also cut off the clues that were accidentally discovered here. The pagan people probably packed up and ran away.

"Is it too late to continue the search now? Or can we find something else?" Kraft asked without hope.

During the conversation, they had walked to a remote courtyard, which seemed to be a training ground, but the dummy wooden piles had been moved to the side. The Duke's soldiers were guarding several long wooden crates, which were just big enough for an adult to lie in. .

Kraft realized what these were and silently closed his mouth. He still didn't understand what kind of help Martin needed from him, and if it was used as the coffin of a knight or a retinue, it would be a bit crude and inconsistent with the status of a person who died in a normal battle. But this was someone else's internal matter, and he didn't intend to comment on it.

"This is where we need your help. Have you seen anything like this?" Martin pulled out a dagger from his waist, inserted it into the gap, and pried open one of the boxes.

Somewhat surprised, Kraft stepped forward and leaned over to look inside the box. It was not the body of the fat steward he had imagined, but an ugly face.

In the white ring on the chest of the robe, a sword wound penetrated through the heart, and there was a thread-like substance in the wound.