When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

The cane struck the saddle with a faint echo, and Mizam nodded slightly at Arman, unable to hide the joy and approval in his expression.

"I must offer you my congratulations. After this battle, I believe His Highness the Prince will definitely trust you more for your outstanding contribution."

Lady Marika successfully intercepted the Salvation Army, who were marching at high speed, while on our side, we successfully crushed the right wing of the Salvation Army's troops.

Although the enemy was left with only two platoons still barely holding on with the aid of wagons, defeat was just a matter of time.

Mizam initially thought this would be a fierce battle, but now it seems the situation has reversed.

The enemy indeed couldn't withstand it, decided to leave their position and engage us in a quick battle, finally exposing such a large flaw on their right wing.

The Salvation Army originally had about ten thousand people, but a third of them were wiped out in one go, and their camp was lost.

At least Mizam could confirm that until this point, since they still hadn't appeared, it showed that our side had gained complete upper hand.

"As my duty, Priest Mizam." Arman, emanating a strong smell of blood, flashed a big white smile, "It was my soldiers who won the victory with courage and blood. The Saint Master blesses me, I merely pointed the way."

"Lord Arman, Prince Kongdai often says that with great power comes great responsibility. I wonder if a position like that of a Duke or a Border Marquis would better suit your abilities?"

"Hahaha, Priest Mizam, you must be joking." Arman knowingly licked his lips, "With your abilities, even the position of County Bishop is too small; before anything else, it wouldn't be my turn."

"Ah, such matters can only be decided by the Saint Master, how could I have a say?" Even the normally composed Mizam couldn't help but smile a bit, pulling out a piece of paper to hand to Arman.

"What is this?"

"It's my victory report. Have a look, once it's confirmed, I'll send it out."

Arman took the letter, quickly scanning it. One had to admit that Mizam was indeed thorough, even handling such ornate wording quite well.

"Impeccable." Arman handed the letter back.

In half a minute, the two of them tacitly divided the results of the battle and then shifted their attention back to the battlefield.

After all, whether it's a great victory, a small victory, or a pyrrhic victory, it's the same in Mizam's report, but it vastly differs for the post-battle aftermath.

"How goes the battle now?" Considering it was his first time at the command, Mizam, reluctant as he was, still handed the specific command back to Arman.

"The Salvation Army's right wing has collapsed, leaving only some civilians and two platoons. These two platoons are quite good; even in such condition, they can retreat in an orderly fashion. If we could get them to surrender..."

"Impossible." Mizam decisively refused, "They are the Salvation Army, and the Prince would not allow it."

"Alright." Arman smacked his lips, understanding well Mizam represented Prince Kongdai and the Church, not to be lightly provoked.

"What do we do next?" Mizam waved his hand, "It seems the Salvation Army has been blocked by Marika's forces. They won't be here for a while. Can we regroup now?"

"No, it's too late. I've tried; repositioning the formation would take at least half an hour, that's no joke.

After executing the oblique attack, our formation has changed from a line to an arc. Don't get entangled with these routed soldiers; deploy two large infantry formations to secure them, while the main force acts alone..."

Speaking midway, Arman suddenly stopped, turning his head, listening intently, his expression growing serious: "Did you say Marika has detained the Salvation Army?"

"Yes."

"When was the last time you and Marika communicated your positions with each other?"

Mizam didn't speak, Arman's gaze immediately turned to Count Koma.

Count Koma's teeth clattered as he spoke: "We hadn't set it up, usually she should report to Priest Mizam or you."

"I haven't received any notification," Arman shook his head.

Mizam sensed something was wrong: "We heard continuous gunfire..."

Disregarding decorum, Arman grabbed Mizam's hand, questioning, "This gunfire frequency is off. They typically fire in synchronized bursts, how could it be this chaotic, shifting from near to far, do you recall when this gunfire pattern changed?"

"It started when we exited, it continued to sound, we personally saw them in combat when we passed by."

Count Koma seemed to recall something: "However, after a few loud bangs, the frequency of the shooting decreased; it must have been around that time."

"Wait, you're saying that after a few loud bangs, the frequency of shots decreased?"

"Yes."

"And after it decreased, you didn't send cavalry to investigate, but just passed by directly?"

In bewilderment, Mizam inquired, "No, I sent Knights to check, they all reported that a fierce battle was underway."

"Which Knights?"

"Some hired Knights. Who were they again?"

The crowd had never seen the usually elegant and gentle Arman make such an expression.

With his lips tightly pressed together, as if invisible snot under his nose, Arman kept rubbing it with his fingers, almost igniting friction.

The other hand was placed behind his head, scratching with such intensity that it seemed blood might be drawn.

His ears rang with a dizzying tinnitus, and Arman, without even battling the Lightning Witch yet, already felt a bit numb.

How could those hired Knights dive deep into the battlefield? They're very cautious, it's second nature for them to make up false reports when pressed.

They're inherently Wandering Knights; if the fight doesn't go their way, they simply bolt, not risking their lives for nothing.

The local Knights from Lower Reif County should have been sent for reconnaissance, as they can't flee their estates, making them the most willing to undertake dangerous tasks.

But Mizam had those local Lower Reif Knights defending the camp, while sending the hired Knights to gather intelligence from the most hazardous places.

Why make such a fundamentally silly mistake?

Arman exasperatedly tugged at his hair.

Mizam's overly reliable persona had misled Arman, forgetting he was a Priest who had never commanded a battle independently!

He should have realized that Mizam is merely a strategist, excelling at making plans, but simply cannot lead forces on his own.

He might be profoundly aware of the script and rhetoric necessary for documents, eloquently discussing grand strategies, and able to create an environment perfectly conducive to exploiting strategic advantages.

But he knows nothing of the basic intricacies of the battlefield!

Clenching his teeth, Arman took a deep breath: "You, you all, head in that direction immediately, if you encounter the Salvation Army, blow the horn..."

Before Arman could even finish speaking, a sharp-eyed Knight pointed to the black smoke and shouted: "Quickly, look over there."

The hill, which had been shrouded in black smoke, was gradually emerging as the source of the fire was extinguished.

A dozen black figures stood upright on the hill, the red horse-headed man emblem of the Alco Clan flag billowing proudly.

Realizing they had been spotted, the dozen Kush Knights quickly turned back, disappearing among the black smoke.

"Stop them!" Mizam, whose face twisted in rage, realizing his grave error, sat up on his warhorse, pointing in that direction and shouting.

A squad of Knights immediately surged out from the main formation, charging towards the hill.

But before they had rushed a few steps, they felt the airflow around them begin to surge violently, the rustling of grass as the entire battlefield's black smoke was swept up into motion.

The unexpectedly strong wind, which was unnatural, swept over, forcing many to raise their hands to shield their faces, preventing black smoke from being inhaled.

"Cough, cough, cough—" Coughing violently, Mizam lowered his hand while coughing, feeling his soul almost being drawn out from his body as the gusts fluttered his robe.

The thick smoke within a hundred meters between the Salvation Army and distant forces was partially swept away.

"Ah—" he gasped.

Amidst the receding smoke appeared ten Infantry contingents of the Salvation Army, marching in an incredibly tidy formation.

Rows upon rows of solid black-coated rifle barrels rested on sturdy breastplates and shoulder guards.

In between the dissipating black smoke and the distant mountains stood a long line of War Monks filling every view.

The Cuirassiers and North Knights were absent from the corps. It was likely they were the ones engaging with the Lower Reif Knights in the shrouded smoke.

Jeanne's decimated head was tied to the gear leather cannon, swaying at Horn's side, whose chapped lips had lost color, looking intently and then down at the electric gold pendant in his hands with a puzzled expression.

Never before had Arman's throat felt this parched.