When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

"Get away, get away!"

"Lowly and unclean ones, Master Knight is coming, get away!"

Under the gloomy sky, three to five servants lashed their whips, driving away the refugees who hadn't had time to move to the side of the road.

Welts half an inch deep hung with blurred flesh, and the unfortunate soul's family cried out, dragging them aside in the stench of blood.

The leading knight flew the banner of Duke Kush, and beneath the bird-beak helmet, his face could not be seen.

This should be the liege lord Horn and Qianqian saw the day before yesterday who went to support Joan of Arc Castle, possibly a baron or count.

Upon reaching the entrance to the camp, some farmers decorating the fences with wildflowers saw the Master Knight and quickly dodged aside, not daring to come close.

Only Jils, holding a small basket, forced a smile and approached despite her fear: "Welcome, esteemed Knight."

The knight halted his horse, saying nothing, and looked at Jils through the narrow slit of his visor.

"This is for you." With a smile on her lips and swallowing down saliva, Jils took out two pieces of malt candy wrapped in burlap paper from the basket and handed them to the knight, "His Eminence wants us to give each guest a piece, calling it wedding candy."

The knight remained expressionless, sitting upright on his horse, not even glancing at Jils.

Jils' outstretched hand awkwardly froze in place until a foot soldier beside the knight stepped forward and coldly took the two pieces of malt candy.

"How is the Duke's gift supposed to be delivered?" The complexity of the knight's grammar and auxiliary words puzzled Jils, leaving her standing dumbfounded, not understanding what the knight was saying.

The impatience on the knight's face became increasingly clear, and he even drew his whip, seemingly about to lash Jils.

The surrounding farmers backed away by dozens of steps, fearing Jils' blood might splatter onto them.

Luckily, Madlan arrived in time and glanced at the knight on horseback: "His Eminence is inside, you can follow me."

"Nevermind, I have other matters to attend to," the knight finally said flatly amid the disdainful snorts of the warhorse, "Alepuxis, you go deliver it."

A man dressed blatantly like a thug, heavyset with a brutish face, stepped forward.

Madlan sized up the knight before him, said nothing, and led the servant into the camp.

The knight who never removed his visor immediately turned his horse around to leave, as if he wanted nothing more than to depart from here.

"Lord, what about this malt candy..." As the camp gradually faded from sight, the squire knight beside him rushed up holding the malt candy.

"Bah—spit!"

The knight spat a green glob onto the amber-like malt candy: "Lowly and unclean ones, if it weren't for His Grace, when those secret troops arrive… hmph!"

.........

Today's refugee camp was filled with a joyous atmosphere, even the poorest refugees and Public Register Farmers sought wildflowers or found clean colored cloth strips to hang under eaves or on trees.

From inside the camp all the way to the wooden stage at the square, colorful flags fluttered everywhere.

On the wooden stage, a simple Miseria altar was set up, and Horn was hastily reciting the damned prayers on the altar.

He was to appear as the witness, while Madlan stood by to check Grampwen's outfit.

The noble garment on Grampwen looked upright but carried a strange comedic sense.

Perhaps it's Grampwen's jesting mannerisms acting up.

In a small house near the Pope's Palace, women surrounded Diya, choosing accessories and flowers for her, trying on different flower crowns on her head.

"Diya sister, you look so beautiful now." Jeanne couldn't help praising as she placed a white flower crown on Diya's head.

"Thank you, Jeanne."

"Diya sister, how do you feel right now?"

"I'm accustomed to divining, best at describing indescribable things," Diya reached out and touched Jeanne's face, "but I can't describe how I feel right now."

"Actually, I've never imagined what a wedding would be like before." Sitting beside Diya, Jeanne hugged her arm.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to be a Ranger Knight, wandering around to uphold justice, but later, I didn't want to be a Ranger Knight anymore.

I wanted to find a place with brother to live in seclusion for life, at that time, I started fantasizing what a wedding would be like."

"And now?"

"I don't know." Jeanne hesitated for a moment, "Diya sister, do you think Brother Horn truly likes me?"

"His Eminence, His Eminence should like you, as His Eminence, being the Saint's Grandson, he is compassionate to everyone."

"And what if brother is planning to marry me?"

"Really? By the Holy Father, that would be wonderful."

Jeanne, however, said nothing, only hugging Diya's arm tightly.

Diya couldn't see Jeanne's expression, but in the darkness before her, she could see much more.

She reached out her hand to embrace Jeanne: "My Little Jeanne, some things, when the time is right, you will know."

After a long silence, Jeanne finally raised her head and smiled:

"Alright, you're the star today, Sister Diya. Let's get ready and head out."

According to the customs of the Thousand River Valley, the wedding should be held at Chenjing Hour in the morning (8:30 AM), and now it's about 8 o'clock.

However, the people of the Empire have never been known for punctuality, so close enough is fine.

"Dear faithful, we gather today before Miseria to witness the union of two souls, our Archbishop Grampwen and his wife Diya.

Now, let the music play, and please welcome the bride Diya."

At this moment, a melodious music began to play.

According to custom, among commoners, wedding rings aren't necessary; instead, a Dinar Silver Coin is split in half, with half given to the bride and the other half retained by the groom.

Standing on the wooden platform, Grampwen nervously licked his lips, the sweat soaking the Dinar Silver Coin in his hand.

Amid the sound of flutes and lutes, Diya appeared in everyone's sight, with Jils and Fuchev scattering wildflowers to pave the way on either side.

Jeanne gently held Diya's elbow while Diya, holding a bouquet, slowly walked from the end of the crowd.

Grampwen impulsively stepped forward, nearly stumbling, but luckily Horn was beside him and reached out to steady him.

Diya wore a white long dress, her legs, which had been withered from witch's illness, were hidden beneath the dress, and a blue silk ribbon was tied on her shoulder.

For the nobility, the bride's gown is primarily blue, but the farmers, lacking such means, usually settle with a piece of blue cloth.

As Diya got closer to the wooden platform, Grampwen's nervousness diminished, and he even managed a relaxed smile.

Horn, standing beside Grampwen, felt differently; as he saw Jeanne getting closer, his heart began to tense.

Suddenly, Diya paused in her steps, and Jeanne thought she might have walked too much and grown weary. She quickly asked, "What's wrong? Let me hold you..."

"No need, just hold onto me." Diya said softly.

"If you can't walk anymore, you have to tell me."

"..."

"Sister Diya?"

The yellow rosemary petals suddenly quivered, and a drop of fresh blood dripped from a petal, staining the pure white dress.

"Sister Diya!"

Two trails of blood slowly trickled from the corners of Diya's eyes, sliding down her face, landing on the petals and the snow-white long dress.

"Ah! Ah—"

Diya began to tremble all over, tightly clutching the flowers in her right hand, holding it high to prevent blood from dripping onto them, while her other hand covered her face, as if unwilling to let others see her embarrassing state.

Her muscles convulsed, her calves trembling incessantly, her whole body suddenly swayed unsteadily.

"Diya, Diya." Seeing this familiar scene, Grampwen couldn't care about anything else. He hurried forward, leaping off the wooden platform and falling clumsily.

Not having time to feel the pain, he got up again, running to Diya's side, massaging her arm and temple.

"Smelling salts, quick, use the smelling salts!"

Running down from the stage's stairs, Horn quickly took out smelling salts from his waist and handed them to Grampwen.

Meanwhile, Qianqian shouted to the side, "Sessi, where are you? Come quickly!"

Sessi squeezed out from the crowd, sweating profusely, while the Ten Households and Hundred Households immediately drew canes, ordering the crowd to clear a path.

Grampwen picked Diya up, Jeanne supported her head, and Horn led the way, guiding the couple into a nearby grass house.

With this incident occurring at the wedding, naturally, it couldn't proceed. Under the harsh reprimands of the Ten Households Leader and the Hundred Households Captain, the whispering of the refugees gradually stopped, and they dispersed.

With this incident, Horn couldn't leave, so he waited outside with Jeanne and Madlan and others. They waited from noon until evening when Grampwen finally emerged from the room, looking numb.

"Your Eminence, Diya, Diya wants to say a few words to you." Grampwen's voice was filled with a sorrow that couldn't be suppressed.

"It's alright." Horn squeezed Jeanne's palm, reassuring her, then followed Grampwen into the house.

"Your Eminence, have you arrived?"

"I'm here." Horn sat by the bedside, "Sister Diya, take care of your health. Hold on, once we reach Swamp Town, I'll ask the Great Wizard to treat the aftereffects of the witch's illness for you, then I will..."

"They are coming."

"They...who are they, what are you talking about?"

"I don't know who they are either." Diya's pale face broke into a bitter smile, her voice weaker than ever before, "Some monks used a blessing to block my divination, cough cough, I can't see clearly."

"What did you see, roughly speaking, can you tell me?"

After a moment of silence, Diya's faint voice sounded again:

"Your Eminence, they are coming."