Stray: Chapter 59 Holy Scripture

When they left the tribe again, the leader Paso Tallo did not appear.

Nemo can probably be sure of the tribe's attitude towards Jesse Dylan - compared to the relatively civilized residents of Vincent Town outside, the primitive bluebirds no longer identify with their own gods, especially It's the younger one. Under the system of illusion and magic that has been perfected year by year, the lives of the Blue Birds are no longer as tense as their ancestors, and Lavinia's prediction of destruction two hundred years ago has long lost its deterrent effect.

They don't need God.

The so-called **** messenger is more like a relic of the past than the **** messenger who actually possesses power. They are willing to respect him and show a certain limit of obedience. But he is just a symbol of a small privilege, and is not worth mentioning in the face of growing hatred. In other words, they were willing to give Jesse Dillon some face—but only so much.

The older blue birds are still afraid of "God", but most of them have lost the right to speak. The two forces are fighting against each other in the tribe. At present, the advantage of the main war faction is particularly obvious. After all, there is nothing in this world more acute than the hatred of young people.

Oliver left Jesse Dillon a small communication crystal with a little reluctance. Despite their captain's best efforts to hide it, Nemo sensed the regretful look of throwing gold coins directly into the trash can. And when Oliver did that, Jesse was lying comfortably in the tree hole, looking as laid back as on vacation. He was flipping through a book at random, yawning as he turned, and the book was so familiar—

"You brought it out?" Nemo nearly choked on his own saliva.

"She didn't stop me anyway." Jesse threw the book over, and Nemo hurriedly stretched out his hands to pick it up, for fear that the ancient book, which was very valuable at first sight, would hit the hard slate floor.

The ancient book is heavy and thick, and the pages are slightly yellowed. Its spine is inlaid with rings of finely polished ore, the light of which flows as the angle changes. The metal with pattern wraps the edge of the book cover, and the thick book cover even has fine embroidery. The silk thread has not faded due to the passage of time, and the powerful magic circle is perfectly integrated into the embroidery pattern. It is closer to a work of art than a book.

There is no title on the cover, only a small line in the margin. Written in Common Language, the handwriting is clumsy and immature, usually only seen in the workbooks of children learning to write—

Nemo wiped his hands with the hem of his robe, carefully opened the book cover, and then he was immediately disappointed - it was filled with the sacrificial language of blue birds, and he didn't know a word. So he had to close the book carefully and put it on a clean corner of the stone platform.

"Look, it's not a big deal. There won't be any blue-bird sprites... I can't go with you, I have to find something to pass the time."

In fact, Nemo was thankful for that—at least it meant that Jesse Dylan would no longer pop out of nowhere when they were unsuspecting and completely disrupt their minds. A bagelmore is noisy enough, but the grey parrot can at most make people's ears hurt, and Mr. Dylan's nonsense can be called a torture of the soul.

No Jade Bird kindly sent them back this time. Although the group set off when the sun rose, they barely reached the edge of Vincent Town at noon. They made their way across dry, cracked riverbeds and around fishy puddles filled with duckweed and insect larvae. When we saw the first human-style building in the distance, it was close to noon, and everyone stopped in tacit understanding.

Nemo remembered the faces of the Draenei and the young hunter. But he didn't know if he could face them calmly now.

The nearest house to them is a modest house. It had thatched shacks and dilapidated chimneys, and two children were playing around in the yard, their hands and faces covered in mud, and laughter pierced their ears clearly. Another sat on a pile of tree trunks, blowing soap bubbles from a hay stalk. A girl walked out of the door, holding a large clump of dark green vines in her arms. She aired them carefully on the rough wooden fence, the long braids almost reaching her knees.

A quiet and peaceful life.

None of them were human, Nemo thought trance-like. The image of Merotti struggling on the ground reappeared in front of him, and the girl might not be able to pluck the strings of the lute again.

"Are we still going to the Draenei's?" He turned his head like Oliver, trying to get rid of the cluttered thoughts in his mind by talking.

"...not going." Oliver also looked absent-minded. "Go to their mayor or religious leader first... whichever."

Fortunately, the mayor and religious leader of Vincennes appear to be the same person. The girl with long braids enthusiastically pointed the way for them. A day later, they returned to Vincent Town again, and this time Nemo couldn't help glancing at everyone who passed him—those with their backs hunched or hunched, covered in satin or plain, with faces full of faces. Smile or look unhappy. They seriously live in a dream as fragile as a soap bubble.

But compared to the last time they passed by, the street was a little different - there were many serious faces, and the hot and humid wind had an unpleasant smell of fire and medicine. The smell of gunpowder was at its peak when they reached the mayor's house. Several armed militiamen stood in the courtyard. They wore snow-white robes, and the white cloth was dyed with strange patterns of dark blue, which should be religious clothing. The militiamen poked them with their eyes, as though some moss with feet had entered the yard.

See the mayor later, what will they say? Nemo took a deep breath, a lump of lead in his stomach.

A violent quarrel entered his ears, and after an angry roar, a young man rushed out of the house like a whirlwind - his speed was too fast, and his size was amazing. If it wasn't for Oliver's quick-witted tug of his back, Nemo would have been rammed right into the head by the bull-like gentleman.

The young man stopped, snorted angrily at them, and slammed the door behind him. Just as Nemo felt that this man was a bit familiar, Bagelmore spoke up—

"Idiot! Villain! Shithole head!" it yelled over Nemo's shoulders, deliberately lowering the tone, dutifully playing a real grey parrot. "Idiot! Villain! Shit-pit head!" it repeated happily, as if believing that the other party wouldn't do it now.

The young man who attacked the grey parrot with a bow and arrow last time, Fritz's friend. He frowned and spat at Nemo's feet.

"The devil!" he hummed in disgust, and walked away angrily.

Nimo carefully removed the boots—he was just a pair of moccasins, and Oliver had to dry them by hand. He made a bitter face at the back. And Oliver looked a little inexplicably angry, he let out a long breath, and knocked on the door of the mayor's house with a sullen face.

The door was opened by a middle-aged man in his fifties. He had a grotesque pointed dome on his head, a round silver emblem dangling from his chest, and a bearded face that was tighter than Oliver's. Nemo glanced over Oliver's shoulder, the blood of anger still lingering on the man's neck.

"The black seal that the Delaney family was looking for?" He glanced at Oliver's chest, turned sideways after getting a positive answer, and let out most of the door. "come in."

The Mayor's house is no bigger than the Delaney's. The main color of the living room is a rare white, and the metalwork shimmers with a soft silver light. On one wall hung five paintings, four of which featured the odd pointed hat inside—and beneath the paintings was a cube-shaped box, covered with a white cloth with dark blue embroidery.

"I think you have seen those birds." As the mayor, or the religious leader of the town, his attitude was much better than Mr. Delaney. "Sit down... don't be surprised. My son told me that his friend Fritz went to the forest with you. I guessed it."

The mayor waved his hand: "Honey water or tea?"

"You're welcome." Oliver shook his head, "Actually we came this time to... uh..."

Oliver's rare jam. And Nemo can fully understand this. They are wearing the name of a snake-level black seal, and the words they are about to say are extremely absurd. Talking about these kinds of things face-to-face is especially hard. To replace him, he would like to write a letter to the mayor from ten miles away.

"...want to talk to you about the Blue Bird." Oliver turned around awkwardly, "Yes, we've met them."

Hearing the reference to "them", the mayor raised his eyebrows and gave him a surprised look.

"You're back, intact." He murmured and sighed. "And instead of the draenei, you chose to see me first—yes, I know. If you went to the draenei first, Isaac would definitely come. So go ahead, boys."

He raised his eyes and stared at them frankly with pale blue eyes: "How much do you know?"

Oliver raised his head in surprise, his voice trembling because of nervousness: "Everyone in Vincent Town is... right?"

"What did their leader tell you?"

"No, he doesn't seem to know. But now he should."

"Oh." The mayor relaxed and his tone was calm. "I've heard people say that there are a lot of talented people in the black chapter. You do have some skills. Thank you for your information, children."

"You always knew?" Nemo interjected, "Since you always knew, why—"

"I also learned from the previous one." The mayor said lightly, "This matter is a grudge between us and Grace Bluebird, and has nothing to do with you. I said it before. , thank you Kent for coming to my place."

He slowly paced up to the portraits and lifted the white cloth with his back to them. He bent his back slightly and seemed to take out something - the next moment, the living room was closed by a red light film.

"You may be some kind people." The mayor turned around, holding a thick book firmly in his right hand, with sadness in his eyes. "But I can only let you die here, I'm so sorry."

Nemo's eyes widened. He had only seen the book not long ago, but in Jesse Dillon's hands—it was almost identical to the one next to the skeleton in the Holy Land.

Same spine, same embroidery, same warm and surging power.

"Why?" Oliver looked away from the book and reached out to stop Ann who was about to draw out the spear. "You at least let us die."

"I must protect my townspeople." The mayor drew a circle in the air, and the red light film completely separated him from them. "Even if it becomes like this, our flesh and bones can still be used as materials... Vincent Town is different from their tribe, and I can't take the risk of your leaking. It's hard for me to convince people to move out, and you only need to say a word , as long as a malicious person tries..."

He sighed and said nothing.

"I'm sorry," he said sadly. "I am really sorry."

"I'm sorry too." Oliver said, he drew out his silver sword, and with a single sword cut the film of light.

The sound of broken glass resounds through the room. The red translucent light film turned into pieces, shattered to the ground, and disappeared without a trace like snow flakes falling on the skin. Oliver walked up to the stunned mayor, took the book out of his hand, and handed it to Nemo—the movements were smooth, smooth, and even with a faint sense of oppression.

"Confirm, Nemo." Oliver touched his nose, "Is this the same as Jesse Dylan's?"

Nemo brushed the ornate book cover with his fingers, and it was indeed very similar, even the childish handwriting on the book cover and the content of the text were exactly the same. But this time, when he opened the cover, he was greeted with beautifully handwritten Common Language. The paper also looked newer than Jesse's.

He dipped a little of the spine glue powder on his thumb, and licked the tip of his tongue.

"The book cover is the same." He nodded, "But the inner pages have been reloaded, and the time difference is quite long."

"Wow." Ann exclaimed in surprise.

"...Don't have that expression, it's my job anyway." Nemo muttered, flipping through the pages, which were full of long-winded dogmas. He frowned slightly and turned to the end impatiently—on the back cover, the childish handwriting appeared again.

"...is this your 'Holy Book'?" Nemo closed the book and raised his eyes.

The mayor nodded slightly, his face pale. This book is clearly the source of his mana. He had now lost his only weapon, and had to stay where he was in dejection.

"We won't do anything to you, sir." Oliver put away the sword simply, and the silver sword slipped neatly into the scabbard. "At least I can understand your concerns, and if possible, I would like you to tell us the details."

He paused.

"We have an agreement with Lavinia, literally." Oliver said slowly, "And I think she deserves a truth."

(m..=)