Chapter 339: Chapter 22 “Roast” and “Test”_4
“The heart of parents is a deep abyss.” the old monk sighed and said to Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, “If you wish for Pierre to attend the seminary, I can indeed recomnd him. However, clergy must take the vows of ‘poverty, chastity, and obedience,’ and cannot have legitimate offspring… I am willing to help, but you both need to think it over, and it is essential that Mr. Mitchell himself be willing.”
Mrs. Mitchell looked crestfallen and politely thanked Brother Winters and Reed, and left sowhat distraught.
It was the first ti Winters saw Mrs. Mitchell’s composure waver; he and the old monk exchanged a glance and simultaneously sighed.
Gerard also beca silent and lancholic, barely managing to perk up to continue tending to the roasting pit.
And the night continued on.
Not until the following morning did the whole roasted pig, smoked throughout the night, finally co out of the oven.
The pigskin was roasted to a beautiful orange hue with a hint of char. The succulent juicy at had separated from the bone. The hock could easily be removed from the whole pig, and the ribs and spine slid out of the pork on their own.
As Sergei had said, not only did the people working on the Mitchell Estate co, but people from other estates also arrived, drawn by the news, to savor the feast.
Aside from the roast, the Mitchell Estate also offered an unlimited supply of pickles, fresh fruits and vegetables, sweet beer, and bread.
So wrapped chopped at and sour gherkins in flatbread to eat, while others enjoyed large pieces of pork with beans and vegetables. Everyone had their own way of eating, and everyone who tasted the roast praised it highly.
Catholics, Protestants, and Dusacks, all of whom had viewed each other with enmity, cast aside their identities and religious differences to sit down and share the al together.
For those who had not witnessed this scene firsthand, it was unimaginable.
Gerard leaned back against a tree, sipping sweet beer, watching everyone enjoying the roast with a look of complete satisfaction on his face.
Not just Gerard—when Winters saw the people joyfully tasting the fruits of their labor from the previous night, he felt a surge of satisfaction and pride swell in his heart as well.
After eating their fill, the tobacco harvest season continued.
Having returned to his room, Winters felt as though he had only slept for a short while before being woken up again. He looked out the window where the sun was already sloping westward.
Miss Michel hesitantly knocked on the door, “Mr. Montaigne! There’s soone here to see you!”
He composed himself and followed Miss Michel to the estate’s main entrance, where a troop of Cavalry was waiting at the door.
The visitors were not wearing Vineta military uniforms. Winters instinctively reached for his waist, but there was nothing there—his sword was still at the smithy.
The leading officer, dressed in a cavalry uniform, saw Winters and rode up to et him face to face.
“Are you the officer stationed in Wolfton?” the officer asked with a distinctly unfriendly tone.
“Yes,” Winters replied, neither servile nor overbearing.
Without a word, the officer lashed his whip viciously on the lieutenant’s left shoulder.
With a “crack,” the unprepared Winters staggered from the blow as Miss Michel let out a scream.
The officer raised his hand to whip the lieutenant again, but the next second, the whip slipped from his grasp.
Winters, holding onto the end of the whip, yanked it forcefully out of the officer’s hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Lieutenant Montaigne’s eyes were practically shooting flas, unable to contain his anger any longer.
At that mont, a crazy thought flashed through his mind: kill all the cavalry in front of him and steal their horses to escape back to Vineta.
“Ha, so you’ve got so spirit,” the officer shook his wrist and asked with a sneer, “For allowing smugglers to pass through your area of responsibility, what should your cri be?”
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