When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#205 - The Great Theatre of Shilov

“Good morning, Ms. Shilov.” Gils, holding a washbasin, looked surprised and smiled at Shilov who was going out.

Gils had only recently returned to Mechanical Palace as Shilov's maid today, after recovering from the Holy Favor illness and then catching the flu.

The little girl had lost seven or eight pounds, and her originally slender face was a little sunken.

“Good morning, Gils.” Shilov nodded at Gils with a cold expression, her tail swaying leisurely, “You finally adjusted your schedule.”

“Yes, I finally see you in the morning.” Gils put the washbasin on the shelf, with a few florets of freesia soaking in the hot water.

Under Afu's guidance, Shilov first gargled with mouthwash, then reached out and scooped up hot water to wash her face.

After finishing everything, she scraped a small jar with her finger, pressed it on her lips, and pursed them hard: “Gils, is my lipstick crooked?”

“Not crooked, it looks great, Madam.” Gils looked enviously at Shilov's delicate lips.

Applying these cosmetics is a skill that a lady must learn, at least that’s what Mom taught Shilov, and that’s what the book says.

Even if Shilov didn't have to face anyone before, she would still insist on putting on makeup every morning.

“Breakfast in the hall?”

Hearing Gils' words, Shilov was a little nostalgic, she covered her knees with her big tail: “No, let’s eat on the terrace, Afu, let’s go to the terrace.”

Butler Afu, whose head was still swollen, nodded blankly, pushed Shilov's wheelchair, and walked towards the terrace, while Gils walked to the railing of the second-floor corridor.

“Ms. Shilov said she wants to eat on the terrace, bring the breakfast over.”

Standing in front of the wide door of the terrace, Shilov was a little scared, the reason why she didn't get up during the day later, in addition to recharging the gears, was that she was afraid of seeing the ruins.

The silence of a palace was enough for her, and she didn't want to see the silence of an entire ruin again.

“Madam?” Gils asked curiously, poking her head in with a plate, “Are you feeling unwell somewhere?”

Shilov's tail tensed up: “It's nothing, Gils, can you please open the door for me?”

“Ah, sorry, I forgot you…” Gils put the plate aside and opened the door to the terrace.

The cold and humid air rushed into the room.

The cold wind blew Shilov's forehead hair, but she seemed stunned, motionless.

Dozens of wisps of smoke rose from the town that was originally a ruin, and the cold wind was bringing the strong smell of smoke from afar to her nose.

Mixed in with the smell of smoke were the increasingly clear sounds of people, the noise of children, and Witt's hoarse shouts when directing the pulley crane.

These sounds entered the room behind the terrace from a distance, swirling around Shilov's head.

Shilov couldn't wait to turn her wheelchair to the edge of the terrace railing.

Raindrops from the eaves fell into the collar of her silk and linen pajamas, but she seemed to have no feeling.

In the three days of adjusting to the time difference, the ruins next to the white gate of the original town were cleared, and replaced by a dozen buildings with various signs.

The lower half of these buildings was extremely old, while the upper half was extremely new, this inconsistency was quite unique.

But in addition to this inconsistency, they also had consistency, they were almost all arranged in a straight line, and all the buildings that violated the street were demolished by Horn.

This was the first suggestion Witt gave Horn.

“This is really, this is really…”

Shilov grabbed the terrace handrail, and a different emotion rarely appeared on her ice-sculpted face.

Gils stood behind Shilov, smiling as she looked at Shilov's back.

Shilov's gaze followed the main road of the town forward, and busy masons could be seen on almost every broken wall.

They carried newly mixed mortar on their backs and stacked the stones layer by layer onto the half-remaining walls, and some strong women used carrying poles to carry some branches and garbage out of the city.

Next to the firewood room outside the city, dozens of strong men dismantled and sorted the rotten furniture, and finally split the unusable ones into kindling strips.

Under the howling of General Winter, the town in ruins gradually took shape.

You know, Shilov later didn't want to wake up during the day because she was afraid of seeing that town.

There, houses collapsed, weeds grew, a completely dead place, even the last trace of life was swallowed by the long-haired undead.

However, in this desolate land, smoke, houses, and residents seemed to jump out of the cracks in the ruins like weeds, filling Shilov's vision.

Silently backing away, Shilov's wolf ears perked up, and her tail swayed comfortably and leisurely.

“Gils, put the plate on that small table.”

Shilov's breakfast was not as delicate as her makeup, just a plate of wheat bread, two blood sausages, a few lettuce leaves, and a fried egg.

But she looked at the scenery in front of her and ate with relish.

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Early in the morning, rice porridge and fish soup began to be cooked in the temporary sheds outside and inside the city.

Although Horn tried his best to make salt, he still couldn't keep up with the speed of fishing. It would be a waste to leave the extra fresh fish, so naturally it entered the mouths of these temporary masons.

These refugees simply couldn't believe it. Even though it was just a bowl of fish soup, in an empire where rivers and streams belonged to the lord, this kind of meat could only be eaten during the Winter Festival or the New Year Festival.

You know, the lord would rather sell the products in the rivers and streams to the market to exchange for money or even let them rot, than give them to the civilians or refugees.

Because if the civilians and refugees were allowed to eat fish at will, they would be full, and if they were full, they would have whimsical ideas, and they would not be able to work well for the lords.

“One, two, three, four!”

The nearby voice drew Shilov's attention back from the distance.

Below the terrace, dozens of elders and high-ranking Salvation Army members were undergoing discipline training. Although they were still running crookedly, it was much better than before.

However, Horn's training for them was more than that. After that, they had to go to the military camp every week for classes, and even study writing together every night.

“Good morning, Shilov.”

Jeanne, who was supervising the running of these bishop elders, waved to Shilov.

Although there was a little conflict at the beginning, because Shilov and Jeanne were both a bit talkative, the relationship between the two quickly warmed up during dinner.

“Good morning, Jeanne, and Madelaine…” Shilov remembered the faces and names of all the bishop elders, and even the names of all the guards, maids, and child soldiers in the Mechanical Palace.

However, those bishop elders all had bitter faces and couldn't catch their breath, let alone reply.

That's great, that's great.

Shilov had never seen such a vivid scene or so many characters in her mechanical stage play.

They were so close that she could feel their warm breath.

When she embraced those puppets, if it was winter, they would be colder than usual, and if it was summer, they would be cooler than usual.

But real people, even in winter, are still warm to embrace.

“Okay, I'm done eating.” Using a handkerchief to wipe the oil from the corners of her mouth, Shilov turned her wheelchair and walked towards the hall, “Mr. Horn has prepared such a beautiful stage play for me, I can't watch it for nothing, was the water pump assembled yesterday?”