Chapter 15 Monroe Celtic

"Collection! Brothers and sisters!"

The surroundings are in a mess.

Silver plates, wine pots, enamel, and pottery pots were all scattered on the ground, and even the tapestries hanging on the wall were torn into pieces and fell to the ground; a sofa was rolled up and thrown into another corner of the room; a specimen of sand scaly hit him, and the terrible yellow-orange eyes stared at him, covered with The big mouth with sharp teeth seemed to bite his throat.

The air is filled with the smell of ozone, mixed with volatile wine and sweet honey fragrance. So strong, as if driving away all the oxygen, Monroe Celtic only felt almost suffocated.

He sat in a pile of wood chips and pottery fragments and trembled, and was afraid that he would not leave him as if he had taken root. Although the woman was covered with black veil and her tone was as indifferent as water, he could still hear something like a monster roaring angry behind her, spitting out a fishy breath to swallow him up. He felt weak all over.

The grunt of swallowing saliva is particularly harsh in the quiet room. Only then did Monroe Selt realize that they had left. He turned his stiff neck and looked at the closed door. He was glad that his embarrassment was not seen. He moved his body with his palms on the ground and tried to stand up. However, a burst of short and intense pain made him sit back in place. Several wooden thorns pierced the back of his hand, but he didn't realize it before. He clenched his teeth, pulled out the wooden thorn without a sound, and then got up with his elbow on the ground. He gasped, and the closed door suddenly thuded.

"Your Excellency, Your Excellency." The servant shouted outside the door.

"Get out!" He shouted back. Wait outside. No one is allowed to come in."

I'm fine, just scared. His chest was undulating, gasping and telling himself. He glanced at the messy reception room and sighed weakly. He can't clean up here. When he opens the door, everyone will guess what just happened here? Great mother of the desert, is this your punishment for me? He knew that he could not stay in the room forever, but before that, he wanted to maintain at least a little dignity. As he gasped, he pinched his fingers to tidy up his wrinkled clothes. However, the clothes are stained with stains, which are like oil paintings soaked in water.

Anger becomes unstoppable. Get me a dress!" He opened the door and loudly ordered the priest apprentice who was waiting for him. Hurry up!"

When the door was opened again, Monroe Selt had changed into a purple-red robe with a dark blue satin inlaid with jewelry around his waist. The long sleeves covered the back of the injured hand. However, the tingling on the back of the hand will not diminish at all, continue to tear nerves. He tightened his face and tried his best not to let others see any flaws.

When he passed a room, the erected white stone statue was looking at him, with ruby-inlaid eyes, godless eyes, cruel eyes... In any case, he could not see the divine light over the statue's head, nor did he feel the so-called divine gaze. Of course, he had never heard any oracle... He had only seen miracles.

He wanted to leave, but he was surrounded by worshippers and burning priests, as if his arrival was like the presence of God, as if he were the spokesperson of God in the world. The back of my hand hurts faintly. He really wants to tell these ignorant guys loudly that that woman is the one you should kneel down and give a five-body salute! As for me? I'm just a lamb with longer wool, just like you? He bowed angrily and perfunctorily, without seeing the slightest piety, and then shook his hand away.

In the corridor outside, a priest in a gray-yellow robe quickly caught up with him. Your Excellency." The priest said, "Mr. Bennett has been waiting for you for a long time. He wants to see you."

It's better to have some good news. He prayed. Bring him to my room." He ordered.

Monroe Celtic rummaged through cotton cloth and bandages and wrapped the wound randomly and roughly. In the era of miracles, a prayer can be exchanged for magic and heal wounds. But what about now? There is no fart. Even if you call the name of the god and point to the nose of the statue and curse with blasphemy, even if you pee on the head of the statue, there will be no divine punishment. He sarcastically in his heart. However, he was trapped in it and couldn't get out of it. He looked out of the window at the yellow sky, and the despair in his heart could not be eliminated.

The door was knocked. Bishop Monroe.

He poured a mouthful of cold spring water. Come in."

Bennett opened the door.

This is a golden machete, wearing thin leather armor and dazzling silver on it. No wonder most people are more afraid of us. A machete stuffed in the lizard's skin hung around his waist and rang when it collided with the armor.

"How's it going?" Monroe Selt asked first.

"We failed." Bennett said shamely.

Monroe Celtic doubted how much he was ashamed. What about the white devil?

"I don't know." That's the truth." They destroyed the hanging basket, and my people couldn't go underground in large quantities. But they went down to explore with hemp rope, and there was no one left. Bennett sighed, "A whole team of golden machetes and soldiers are dead."

At the beginning, Monroe Celtic would rather do less than more than more, but... two guests were present... "The blasphemers should be wiped out with thunder." The stupid, stingy man said so. Now he thinks that the other party may just be to please the female magician and show how noble his false beliefs are.

He controlled his mouth and finally managed not to show a sarcastic expression. Where's the white devil?" Monroe Celtic prayed for the best result as he wished. Didn't leave any clues?"

The golden machete shook his head. Probably died." He smiled with a shallow smile, "What can happen to a traitor?"

Monroe Celtic always feels that there is a deep meaning in the other party's words. The gravel is full of mice. He raised his vigilance and weighed his words. Where are the two... distinguished guests?" He asked softly.

Bennett showed a moment of hesitation. They should, maybe, have left.

There is no doubt that this is the best news he has heard today. However... "So fast?"

"What?"

Monroe Celtic waved and didn't want to answer. If it's okay, you can leave. Let me rest alone for a while." He said, "It's too hot, don't you think?"

When the door closed, Monroe Celt could no longer control his inner restlessness. He stood up and walked back and forth impatiently in the room. His head was soon covered with sweat, even because of the heat and panic. The cold spring water poured down one after another could not suppress the inner frenzy and the uneasiness that made his legs weak.

Yes, how can it be unhappy? He thought manicly, isn't everyone greedy and afraid of death? But... how can he escape? His footsteps slowly stopped, his shoulders drooping loosely, like a deserter who had lost the war, and his eyes became focusless. He desperately found that he could never escape, and his fate was almost doomed. Thinking about the methods of the children of the desert mother, he couldn't help shivering. This is a hot sea of sand, but he feels like falling into an ice cellar.

A priest saluted him, and he replied impatiently. Before the formal etiquette was over, he lifted his robe and jumped down the stairs. He went deeper and deeper, and the heat gradually left him, replaced by a refreshing shade and layers of darkness like thick ink. He held the torch high and went down step by step.

The footsteps echoed in the dark corridor, and the echo engulfed him. One, two, three... He counted and calculated silently, and finally failed to tell how many people's footsteps there were. What is hidden in the darkness that the fire can't dispel? His footsteps involuntarily slowed down, and his hesitation and hesitation surged up, driving away all the long-accumulated manic and returning to his reason. However, Monroe Celtic looked back at the same dark past: it was hidden in the fog and full of despair as the future. He remembered the songs he heard by bards when he was a child. The ballad tells a story about the magic box. The magic box left by the gods to mortals is full of plague, war, death, blood, and despair... But in the end, there is still a glimmer of hope as if the fire of light illuminates the darkness. But what about his hope? He can't find it.

A breeze came to my face with a gloomy breath. Only then did he find that he was about to reach the end unconsciously. Guilt and guilt engulfed him without warning. Maybe those white devils are hidden in the darkness not far away, and he can't help thinking about it.

He sighed and shouted in the darkness of no one around, "I'm here. Come and kill me, kill me!"

However, no one responded.

The gods left him. This is the end of the traitor. Monroe Selt stopped and looked at the closed stone door in front of him. This is the end of the traitor. He shouted at the other himself.

He wanted to turn around and run away, but he didn't have enough courage.

Monroe Celtic hesitated in front of the stone gate. I have to go back. I can't do this. I can't do this." He told himself and lowered his raised hand. However, the image of the black veil woman remained in his mind, and then suddenly appeared. His hand was raised uncontrollably, and he rushed forward and opened the stone door fiercely.

A head with a clear outline, exactly like a living person, was placed on the bracket in the basement and was looking at him. Short brown hair, square face, strong nose, fat lips. A spine protruding from the neck seemed to have a tail hanging to the ground. Those cold brown eyes are as mocking as if they were looking at the dead.

Monroe Selt squatted down and vomited, and the stone door closed.

After a while, he finally stood up straight. He squeezed out a desperate smile.

"Lord, I haven't seen you for a long time." He said miserably.

But the head did not answer.