When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

"Duke, I have delivered the gift."

The Knight previously seen now knelt before Dane, removing his helmet, flattering and ingratiatingly spoke to Dane.

In front of him, the vast hall, though daylight, was darkly lit, forcing candles to be kindled.

At the long table, only the Duke and Duchess were seated, with a dozen servants lined up, holding towels, water glasses, handkerchiefs, and wine pitchers.

Not far away, a songstress gently plucked a harp, serenading the two.

"How is Bishop Buerwelf?"

"Still confined there, well-guarded, unharmed, not even bruised, just mentally not well."

"Being confined all this time, anyone's mood would foul." Bamanda swallowed a piece of steak, rinsed his mouth with grape wine, then said, "Friscia, you did well on this trip, come, have a drink."

A servant immediately handed over a wine pitcher and poured a cup for Friscia, who drank it all in one go.

"One day, I hope you can sit at the table with us and drink," Dane spoke with a slurred smile, "Oh, by the way, today's war bonds all sold successfully, it's the happiest time, how could it lack a knight's poem?"

Bamanda clapped and laughed, "Indeed, indeed, something was missing."

"Come, write us one, about wealth, villas, beauties, and donkeys! And praise the mercy of the Holy Father!"

No wonder the Duke and Duchess were so joyous today, their efforts over this period finally bore fruit.

The couple amassed up to 30,000 gold pounds, not to mention the 60,000 gold pounds after selling off assets deposited in the Holy Seat Bank, and the 30,000 gold pounds from the Falan Royal Family yet to arrive.

A total of 120,000 gold pounds.

This didn't even account for the properties and estates purchased near Huaqiu City and shares in the coffee bean futures.

Last year's coffee bean labeled "Eternal Alexander" sold at a high price of 6,700 gold pounds.

Unfortunately, the former Duke's armory still housed 3,000 long spears, 900 outdated breastplates, and some scattered weapons and iron and steel ingots yet unsold, a pity.

"Bamanda, estimated after the New Year, around March or April, our wedding will be hosted in a sunny spring. Believe me, even the Red-robed Archbishop will be there then."

Dane left the table, walked to Bamanda's side, and held her hand.

Only at this time did Bamanda feel she hadn't chosen the wrong husband, "Yes, once our army comes, this won't be our end; it's just the beginning."

Dane said nothing, gently caressing Bamanda's shoulder, suddenly blowing out two candles, making the hall a bit darker.

His hand slid from Bamanda's shoulder into her ███, causing Bamanda to utter a low ██.

The light in the hall gradually dimmed, their ███ gradually reduced, finally entwining ███ on the dining table.

Friscia, who finished the knight's poem, stood awkwardly with pen and paper, slowly moving toward the door.

"Friscia, my poem?" Dane, face flushed, called out to Friscia.

"I, I wrote it, I'll bring it to you later... Now might not be the time..."

"What are you saying?" Dane breathed lightly, "Now, now's the perfect time, come to my back, read, read it to me."

.........

"Zang——"

The longsword sheathed tightly.

But Horn held the sword hilt, drawing it smoothly out again, staring at Brock, "Is this sword mine?"

"It is."

"Is it?"

"Yes, previously it was rather long."

"You know it's not this length." Horn displayed the sword, noticeably smaller than before, in front of Brock.

Harbin complained at the side, "Dad, that's not how you do business, you can cut corners but not like this, the sword is obviously a bit shorter, anyone can see..."

Brock kicked Harbin in the waist, knocking him over on the ground.

Turning his head, Brock explained, "This sword of yours is different from others, within that sword was a red steel sword core.

Possibly those who acquired it lacked our Dwarven craftsmanship, so a layer encased the sword core, making it longer than ordinary swords.

The reason you broke the sword tip while chopping wood wasn't the wood, but the red steel core within folding the sword.

I reforged the entire sword for you, a thousand times better than before." At his craftsmanship, the seemingly honest dwarf couldn't help but boast.

Perhaps dwarves were driven to the highlands by humans, but their fire-forged techniques far outstripped human capabilities!

Picking up the sword shortened to about 1.3 meters, Horn swung it, realizing it indeed felt more nimble than before.

Perhaps it was not the outer layer but the inner sword core that balanced well with Horn's hand.

He stepped forward, executing a plow-like slash at a fir tree nearby, which immediately split in two.

"Not bad." Returning the sword to its sheath, Horn felt exceptionally satisfied, "Harbin, no need to hide from debts. A war is coming soon; you two should flee while you can."

"Alas." At this point, Brock sighed deeply, full of trouble, "I don't know where to go; the castles and checkpoints are sealed, just like 19 years ago, shouldn't have listened to that kid, should have left earlier..."

Horn squinted, 19 years ago, wasn't that 1425?

He recalled the ledgers, asking quickly, "What happened 19 years ago?"

Brock looked at Horn in surprise, seemingly amazed at his interest in this, but he answered honestly, "That year seems to be when the Duke first took office."

"The Duke's rule wasn't supposed to start in April 1424?"

"You newcomers wouldn't know, Lord Dane, when inheriting the position, was asked to hand over a huge inheritance tax and gifts to the Leia Royal Family..."

As Brock recounted, Horn gradually understood.

The gift system had been abolished, yet King Leia insisted on Dane paying because at that time the Leia Royal Family was deeply in debt.

Youthful and rash, Dane stubbornly resisted King Leia, blocking canals, roads, and checkpoints, preventing Leia Trade Team from passing.

Later, the Leia Kingdom even dispatched an Imperial Knight, Dane couldn't bear the pressure and pulled in the Church, making King Leia relent, with just some symbolic gifts given.

Thus, Dane didn't fully assume the position until September 1425. It wasn't significant then, just a battle of words in letters, only old-timers like Brock knew.

"I see." Horn was thoughtful, there were such affairs, no wonder the Guild Church didn't have records, quite disgraceful indeed.

But this wasn't Horn's problem anymore, he planned to leave tomorrow night.

As for Diya's prophecy, probably the Church's army was arriving faster than Horn anticipated.

But that wasn't his trouble, it concerned the Duke, who prepared for long with taxes and bonds.

Rumors claimed the Duke's secret army had reached Joan of Arc Castle, the rumors seemed convincing.

Even if the Church's army arrived, with layers of castles and checkpoints, it would take at least half a year.

In half a year, the Duchess Hemashi and Blago Monastery, despite dragging on, knew when to act.

When both arrived, the Female Grand Duke's troops along with monks from Blago Monastery, the Church's army would have to retreat, otherwise risking encirclement.

But being surrounded meant harsh blockade, if Horn didn't leave, he'd be stuck in Joan of Arc Castle for good.

Time to go.

Repeating this thought, Horn felt something lodged in his throat, restricting speech.

Telling Harbin to settle his father somewhere, Horn glanced at the sky, then with several guards left the camp gate, going to blow the whistle Jair left him.

The night was thick, moonlight obscured by clouds.

Hooves trampled through chamomile by the roadside, Horn and his party's silhouette soon vanished into the night.

Yet none noticed a bridesmaid-dressed Jeanne by the gate, blankly staring at his departing figure, standing there.