"Attention, attention, gather at the monastery gate, the Pope has an announcement."
"Everyone head to the monastery gate, keep your eyes on the Pope!"
Under the shouts of the tens of households and the Pope Guards, the refugees were unwillingly driven like a flock of sheep to the entrance of the monastery.
They touched their rumbling stomachs, gathered in small groups, shaking off the dust from their clothes, lazily chatting.
"What does this Pope want to do?"
A refugee picked a black spot from his companion, crushed a round, blood-filled louse: "Actually, I'm puzzled, does the Church really know about our Gulag Pope?"
"Yeah, don't let it end up causing trouble and dragging us into it."
"Hmph, don't speak nonsense, the sky has no two suns, in my heart, there's only His Majesty Horn as the Pope!"
"That's right, that's right, you haven't seen the miracle that night, you don't know how great that miracle was!"
