When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

Imperial Calendar, November 13, 1444, evening.

By the canal at Joan of Arc Castle.

The ground still showed the bloodstains from two days ago, dried black blood mixed with stones and soil, a stark reminder that the previous battle was no dream.

Standing on the dock, several rowboats bobbed on the water, the sunlight pouring over their white sails and onto Qianqian's shoulders.

Standing opposite her were Horn and a few protectors.

"Is everything arranged?" Horn looked at Qianqian and asked.

Qianqian nodded: "Everything is arranged, Your Eminence, what about Master Patrick?"

"He was very interested in that long-haired creature, and followed the latest wave of refugees to the Wild Spider Forest, by now he should have reached.

Master Patrick can also play the bone flute, allowing Jeanne to return to Joan of Arc Castle and bring back the last batch of refugees."

"It's a pity we couldn't meet Jeanne before departing," Qianqian tucked her long hair behind her ear, "We'll have to wait another three months to see her."

Horn dispatched Qianqian to Rapids City to connect with Catherine, thus establishing a two-pronged position that would make it difficult to be suppressed each time.

"If in three months you predict correctly, Duchess Hemashi should have already raised her army.

My mistress Catherine, along with the Blago Monastery in Kasha County, as well as a large number of original Kush nobles, will follow and raise their forces.

If you aren't able to defeat the stationed decree company, don't lose heart, you can come to us in Rapids City; Lady Catherine will surely be willing to take you in."

Horn looked at Qianqian's face, smiling silently.

"I shouldn't say this, but I believe that you and your Salvation Army will surely have a place in the future Thousand River Valley." Qianqian said earnestly, "My mistress Catherine often says, the more friends the better, and I think you are surely a friend my mistress would be happy to have."

"Lady Catherine of the Meigedi Commerce Association is likewise a friend I'd be happy to make. From Joan of Arc Castle to Rapids City isn't far; an alliance between us is definitely the right choice." Horn stepped forward and shook Qianqian's hand.

"I believe that." Qianqian shook Horn's hand, "You and Lady Catherine will get along very well."

"Be careful sailing, don't get caught by the Church."

"How do you suppose our commerce association thrives?" Qianqian stepped back onto the deck and waved to Horn, "Don't worry, I've been smuggling for over a decade, I was born on a smuggling ship, they want to catch me? Impossible!"

The sailboats cut through the water, stirring the shimmering red light into chaos, Horn stood by the river, watching the long sails, sighing.

"These times feel like a dream."

Horn smiled, gazing at the sky bathed in an ethereal purple by the sunset, soon, he would depart, leaving Joan of Arc Castle.

He probably arrived in this world at the end of August, now it was mid-November, almost three months.

He came into this world three months ago, from a mere farmer to the pope of a Salvation Army numbering thirty thousand, slaying a duke, hundreds of knights, and bringing the southwestern stronghold Joan of Arc Castle of the Thousand River Valley into his fold.

His ragtag band turned into a somewhat better ragtag band.

Throughout the Thousand River Valley, there were refugees rising under the titles of Saint's Grandson, Brother Saint Son, Saint's Great-Grandson, Holy Brother.

Although their uprisings were for amnesty, at least they spread Horn's name and fame far and wide.

Three months, yet Horn traveled far, faced many challenges, almost like three years.

"Brother? Why are you standing idly by the river?"

"Jeanne." Turning around, Horn reached out to pat Jeanne's head, "How is the last batch of departing villagers?"

"The warhorses have been ridden away, the carts loaded. They're having dinner right now, once finished, they can set out." Jeanne replied fluently while slightly rubbing her head against Horn's palm, "Almost three to four hundred registered but haven't come, we can't wait for them."

"No choice, if they choose not to, then let it be." Folding his hands behind his back, Horn laughed heartily, "There's still time before we depart, care to walk with me?"

"Sure."

The sunset woven into glowing Western-style silk draped over the chapel walls, with the Holy Tree in the shrine holding two fruits.

For the two fruits on the Holy Tree, there were varied interpretations; officially, the Church's explanation was that they represented Eve and Adam, the ancestral humans.

The most unofficial explanation was from the Scales Hermitage, claiming the two fruits represented the twin sisters Lilith and Miseria.

The bridge deck listlessly drooped over the water, the scorched marks on the planks attesting to the danger of the previous battle.

Walking down the quiet street, locals watched the central figures of the Salvation Army with complex expressions.

Time nearing evening, the air was heavy with the scent of cooking smoke.

"How is Jils?" Horn asked first; the young girl had caught Divine Favor days ago and had been bedridden since.

Jeanne frowned, "Her symptoms are more severe than normal Divine Favor but lighter than the witch's syndrome. I have no idea who infected her."

"Perhaps it was my Divine Favor," Horn reassured, "Simply the girl's constitution is weak."

"Maybe." Jeanne folded her hands in prayer, "Saint Master Miseria, please bless poor little Jils..."

"My mother is always busy, you might be easily overlooked this way, tonight I'll discuss with my mother." Horn laughed, interrupting the devout Jeanne.

Jeanne half sighed and pouted at Horn.

"Do you like it here?" Horn asked, pointing at Joan of Arc Castle.

Jeanne looked around, touching the railing along the riverside road, "I've never seen other cities, this is the biggest city I've seen. To say I like it? I quite like it; if only I could see the leaves every year.

Actually, I prefer the countryside; the city is too dirty, crowded, can't see the sky, I prefer living in the countryside.

You know, somewhere we can freely run and bask in the sun..."

As she spoke, Jeanne suddenly fell silent, noticing Horn gazing at her with a peculiar look.

"What is it?"

"You know, I only just realized you're somewhat chatty." Horn raised his head, looking at the distant sunset, "The journey has been so urgent, dangers lurked everywhere, I've almost forgotten how to talk normally."

Talking as they walked, the Sword Pearl clapped against the sword sheath, ringing melodically.

"Indeed." Jeanne turned back momentarily, suddenly laughed, "Brother, you've grown taller, you really have, you can look me square in the eye now."

A glance at Jeanne beside him, Horn realized joyfully that he had indeed grown taller, nearly 3 centimeters in three months.

Then it seemed right; breathing techniques naturally have the potential to increase height and unlock potential, otherwise how are those nobles so exceptionally tall.

"If I can grow as tall as Jia Li..." Noticing the ominous look from Jeanne nearby, Horn quickly changed the subject, "Speaking of height, time's nearly up, we should go."

"Hmph."

Seeing Jeanne's pouted lips, Horn laughed heartily, holding her hand as they walked to the rally point.

Three months, he buried three friends, numerous Thousand River Valley people, his longsword went from Cloudy Snow to Blood Covering Cloud.

In three months, he must leave Blackbone Marsh, defeat decree company, banish the Church and Empire, transform the Thousand River Valley into a free land.

And this starting point was the looming Blackbone Marsh.

"Jeanne, we keep calling it Blackbone Marsh, all sinister sounding, how about we change the name?"

"To what?"

"The entire Blackbone Marsh spans an area comparable to a village, let's treat it as one. It's a large lake-marsh, we'll call it Daze Village."

"Daze Village." Jeanne echoed twice, the name was Horn's rough translation, perhaps she heard it as [Great Swamp Village].

"Plain and clear, henceforth Daze Village it is."

Reaching the rally point, Horn faced a long line of refugees, roughly four thousand, varied in age, all looking eagerly at Horn.

"Let's go!" Horn walked directly to the forefront of the line.

The long line slowly moved, Horn standing by the road, gazing back at Joan of Arc Castle.

Cooking smoke stood like pillars atop the houses of Joan of Arc Castle, hawks circled the sky, the evening breeze carrying fallen leaves to the ground.

"See you in three months."