The sky was close to dusk, and the scorching sun hanging in the sky was already showing its exhaustion. There were huge towering city walls, and groups of soldiers holding torches patrolling the city walls. They had brand new red armor, and the weapons on their waists were slender Frankish swords. Behind their heads were bright blue feathers.
However, it was a stark contrast to their brand new armor.
Every one of them was frowning, and some were even covering their noses. They were resisting the stench in the air.
The source of the stench was self-evident.
On the city walls, every hundred steps, there was a black iron cage hanging. The iron cage was full of spikes, and the spikes were dyed brown by the dried blood. In every iron cage, there was a naked male and female corpse curled up.
They were in the size of a square inch cages, dried up under the scorching sun. Their gums were exposed, and their eyeballs were all pecked away by crows. Their bodies were rotten.
The priests of the church dragged their long priest robes and followed behind the soldiers holding torches. Their faces were covered with white cloth, and their mouths were chanting. Every time they passed by an iron cage, they would sprinkle a few drops of water on the corpses in the cage, hoping to purify their evil souls.
At the end of the line.
Father Malsk retracted his gaze from the cages above his head. His face was pale, and he was tall and thin. He wore a red monk robe, and there was not much emotion in his eyes.
These were the wizards and witches that he had executed in the past few days. In Malsk's eyes, they were all cruel and tyrannical thieves who killed and set fires. They were in cahoots with the werewolves and ghouls. They took advantage of the night to kidnap young girls, and drank their blood with polished silver cups. They deserved to die.
945 —
Iberian Peninsula —
Aragon Goragoza.
It was the era when the Catholic Church was at its peak.
A burst of hurried footsteps broke the daily routine on the city walls. The soldiers carrying cross shields stopped, and the priests also stopped chanting.
Father Malsk turned his head to look, and another group of soldiers hurried from the streets of the city to the city walls. These soldiers wore clothes that were very different from the soldiers on the city walls. They all wore cylindrical helmets, and there was a cross sword at their waist. There was a metal shield on their back, and there was a thick double-headed eagle and a red cross painted on the shield. They looked exceptionally valiant.
They were soldiers of the Inquisition and also Malsk's subordinates.
The soldiers of the Tribunal escorted a man up the wall. The man was alone, but he was tied up like a dumpling by the soldiers. His waist, legs, arms, and even his mouth were stuffed with several thick ropes.
The soldiers on the city wall all gathered around, and some of them had sympathetic looks on their faces.
"Father Malsk!"
The soldier with the cross on his back shouted, "We've caught another Magus!"
Wizard …
Sorcerer!
Father Malsk's nostrils suddenly expanded. He was as excited as a hound that smelled fresh blood. He took out a Bible with a black cover from his chest. With it, he would forever be in an invincible position.
He parted the crowd and walked out. The soldier yanked the thick knot in the man's mouth.
"I'm not a sorcerer, I'm not a sorcerer … Let me go!"
The man looked at the person hanging in the iron cage in horror. He looked like he was about to cry. "There must be a mistake somewhere. I'm not … I'm not … I'm a devout believer. God can testify for me."
"Of course, I'll let God testify for you."
The leader of the priests shrugged expressionlessly. "But before that, you have to prove your purity."
As he spoke, he opened the Bible and flipped to the Gospel of Matthew. He read, "There's nothing that's hidden that's not revealed. There's nothing that's hidden that's not known. What happens between two people is not a secret. What happens between one person is known by the True God! " He slammed the book shut and said to the soldier beside him, "Do it!"
The soldier took a step forward skillfully, pulled out the long sword at his waist, and was about to stab.
"Ah!"
The man who was tied up let out a scream of horror. His body quickly shrank, and the rope that tied him quickly loosened. The man turned into a spotted cat and tried to escape.
The priest snorted and took a step back. The soldiers pulled out their long spears and stabbed. Soon, the spotted cat was fixed to the ground and kept twisting.
The setting sun hid in the plains.
The moonlight replaced the earth.
The priest walked resolutely in front of the spotted cat and asked with extreme disgust, "Blasphemer, who taught you the Transfiguration Spell?"
The tabby cat twisted its body and turned back into a human. One of its legs had been pierced by a spear and was bleeding profusely. It couldn't move and could only look at the soldiers surrounding it with a terrified expression. It couldn't say a single word.
"Tell me who taught you. Maybe you'll suffer less."
The priest took a torch from the soldier beside him and squatted down. He put the torch next to the one-legged wizard's forehead and burned his hair.
"If you don't tell me, I'll hang you on the stake and slowly burn you to death."
The one-legged wizard struggled and twisted, trying to get away from the burning torch. But the priest pressed the torch against his forehead, and he finally screamed in pain.
"I'll talk … I'll talk, I'll talk!"
The priest smiled and put away the torch.
But at this moment, the sound of horse hooves came from the distant plains.
The priest turned his head and saw a column of cavalry running over from afar. They stopped at the gate of the city wall. There were about a hundred of them. Their armor shone brightly under the moonlight. The flag held by the rider was a fluttering carnation.
The leader of the group was a tall man. He was about thirty-nine years old and had gray hair. He had deep sunken eyes and a few scars on his face. Light armor covered his entire body, and he wore a black and white robe with a cross hanging in front of his chest.
???? The man's gaze was unfocused. He did not focus on the soldiers waiting on the city wall. He looked at the slowly opening gate, his eyes full of anxiety and impatience.
The priest recognized him.
It was Ramiro, Count of Aragon.
The illegitimate son of Sancho the Third, King of Navarre.
A man who was not blessed by the gods. According to legend, his mother was just a prostitute in Navarre. She was accidentally pregnant when the drunken King Sancho the Third took her to the woods for pleasure.
In Navarre, a country founded on Catholicism, this kind of thing was a great shame even for the royal family. As an illegitimate son, he naturally did not deserve to bear the royal family name and even appear in public.
But who knows what kind of magic potion the great Sancho the Third gave the illegitimate son the most important north-eastern plain of the kingdom, Aragon, to be managed by him after he came of age.
Seeing the man on horseback outside the city wall, the people on the city wall showed different expressions. The church soldiers with crosses on their backs showed contempt. They were not employed by the royal family and only served the church. Naturally, they despised illegitimate children, even if they were the illegitimate son of the king.
On the other side, the soldiers of the security department showed a look of respect.
Lord Mirabeau, who had been in office for fifteen years, worked hard to govern the country. He didn't have any bad habits. In this chaotic land, it was hard to find a better ruler than him.
The city gate opened.
The illegitimate son of the count walked up the city wall with his head held high.
The priest raised his finger and signaled for his men to calm down.
When he came closer.
The soldiers with crosses on their backs and his guards all knelt down on one knee. Whether they liked the illegitimate son of the king or not, he was indeed the real ruler of Aragon.
"Why did you come back so early?"
Father Malsk looked at the Count's white robe, his expression uncertain.
A month ago, the ruler of Aragon, Count Mirabeau, was summoned by the king to Pamplona, the capital of the Kingdom of Navarre. The original plan was to come two months later, but he came back after only a month. In a month, he didn't even seriously search for wizards in Aragon.
"The king has passed away."
Count Mirabeau gave a short reply to the priest, then turned his eyes to the one-legged man on the ground.
"What happened?"
He asked the head of the security department.
"We caught a wizard, my lord."
The head of the security department replied.
"I am not! I am not! "
The one-legged man crawled forward and hugged the man's leg. "I am not … My lord, I am not …"
He was quickly dragged back by the soldiers and pinned to the ground.
"A wizard?"
The count's somewhat slack eyes gradually became sharp.
In this land, theft, plunder, rape, and even murder were not punishable by death, except for blasphemy.
According to the church's definition, all humans with supernatural powers were the incarnations of hell's demons, and their existence was the most evil. The most important thing was that these people's powers and doctrines violated the orthodoxy of the church, or challenged the authority of the church. Once discovered or proven, they would be executed immediately.
He then asked, "Is there any evidence?"
"This man just turned into a cat, we all saw it."
The soldiers replied, "Yes, he is a very dangerous shapeshifter. We suspect that he is closely related to the disappearance of the baby three months ago."
Count Mirabeau didn't say anything more. He slowly pulled out his long sword from his waist and came in front of the subdued man. "Seven days ago, the great Sancho the Third, the sacred King of Navarre, who is also my father, returned to heaven in glory. Before he died, he gave this land to me to manage.
In the glory of God, I, Ramiro the First, will not allow any heretic blood to flow in this land. All blasphemous witchcraft will be destroyed, all evil rituals will be forbidden, and all heretical existences will be purified. Amen. "
After saying that, he tapped his forehead and shoulder three times.
"Amen."
The priest behind him prayed under the torch Zizi.
Count Mirabeau raised his long sword. The one-legged man's frightened eyes were fixed on the flame of the torch.
The newly ascended King Ramiro the First thrust the sword in his hand down.
Followed by a scream.
A crow flapped its wings and flew away.
The wizard's head was immediately separated from his body. Blood gushed out from his severed neck. The headless body twitched a few times on the wall before it gradually stopped moving.
After executing the prisoner with a solemn expression, the newly ascended King Ramiro the First sheathed his sword. He turned around and looked at the people who had submitted to him with an expressionless face.
Several soldiers from the Public Security Bureau came forward and carried the corpse away in a flurry.
His aide immediately took out a scroll from his chest and stepped forward. Under the torch, he read the edict of King Sancho the Third in front of a row of soldiers and priests, as well as the exact date of the coronation.
However, after reading it, the atmosphere on the wall didn't get much better. Under the flickering torches, the atmosphere was still somber.
Father Malsk took a step forward and pointed a trinity on his body. He said coldly, "Count, that Magus definitely had other accomplices. You killed him just like that?"
Zizi, the soldier with the cross shield behind him, stepped forward.
Ramiro the First looked tired. He sighed and said, "The King has just passed away. When I'm done with the internal affairs, Malsk, I'll issue an arrest warrant for you and help you investigate all the wizards in Aragon."
An arrest warrant for the whole territory!
Malsk's face looked much better. He nodded and slightly bowed to Ramiro. "May God bless you, my Lord. I'll inform the Bishop and let him choose a day for your coronation. "
"Thank you very much."
Ramiro nodded slightly and bowed to the priest.
Only then did Ramiro the First relax a little.
King Sancho the Third had just passed away, and the whole kingdom was in an era of turmoil. The four sons of the King all got their own territories, and as an illegitimate son, he was bound to be questioned in terms of legitimacy.
The shrewd Ramiro naturally wouldn't let his legitimate brothers inherit the throne and then covet his territory. He didn't want the power of Aragon to fall and become a vassal of the Church. He wanted to prove his ruling power and legitimacy to everyone.
In the land of Europe, there was nothing more important than the support of the Church.
Whether it was the King or the Lord, whether it was the Knight or the common people, they could only think and live within the framework of religion.
As long as he could get the support of the Church, his regime would have legitimacy. Then, with his ability and skills, he would be able to fight everywhere, defeat his useless brothers, and unify the entire Iberian Peninsula and even the entire European continent. He would turn the Mediterranean Sea into his own lake and become a character like Alexander the Great.
Ramiro couldn't help but smile when he thought of the exciting part.
However, he had just finished his conversation with the priest.
On the side of the wall, an old servant in gray clothes squeezed up. He was sweating and panting.
Ramiro the First recognized him immediately. He was the butler of his castle.
The butler ran to Ramiro the First and whispered another piece of news in his ear.
This news made Ramiro the First, who had just become the King of Aragon, suddenly change his expression, and his heart sank to the bottom.
???? The news came from home.
While he was on his way to attend the funeral of King Sancho the Third, his wife, who was in labor, gave birth to a boy.
But that wasn't the main point. The main point was.
His new son was born.
He turned out to be a wizard.
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