When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

He rolled up his pants, and there were traces of river water on his calves and wrists.

"The fish in autumn are indeed fat," Horn said with a grin.

Looking at the fat fish roasting over the fire, Jeanne gazed at Horn, "When did you learn to fish?"

"When I was little, I often went fishing with friends..."

"When?" Jeanne asked blankly, "You didn't even pay the Stream Forest Tax, so how would Barnett allow you to fish."

"Oh, I must have remembered wrong." Realizing his slip of the tongue, Horn quickly corrected, "I just met a villager asking if I'd paid the Stream Forest Tax, and I thought I'd be in trouble.

I intended to lie that I was a noble, but he saw the ring Harbin gave me and left without needing me to say a word."

Jeanne didn't reply; she watched the blazing firewood, and behind the smoke, Horn couldn't discern her expression.

Maybe she was too hungry; it's best to eat first.

As Horn expected, Jeanne was just too hungry earlier, and after finishing the roasted fish, she visibly felt much better.

Spitting out fish bones, the two lay down in unison on the waist-high wild grass by the roadside, their bellies full and round. The grass was soft, warmed by the sun.

"Do you remember back in Red Mill Village, after working on the farm, we'd fall onto the haystacks just like this."

Jeanne turned her head to look at Horn.

Horn lay in the wild grass, staring at the sky, but Jeanne could sense that he had already fallen asleep.

All the noisy sounds faded away, leaving only the clear and boundless sky.

Only then did Horn realize, from Red Mill Village to Joan of Arc Castle, it had been a long time since he'd taken a break for himself.

Horn and Jeanne didn't continue to play but lay on the wild grass together, watching the white clouds in the sky drift like tides, recede and then pass over again.

When the sunlight gradually turned red, Horn suddenly woke up, sitting up from the wild grass.

"It's time to go back."

Jeanne also sat up, her silk long dress smeared with mud spots and weeds, which she painstakingly picked off one by one.

At Horn's words, Jeanne took something from her cloak pocket, resembling a pendant.

Jeanne pulled out the hand-and-a-half sword from Horn's waist; he didn't resist at all, allowing her to tie the pendant-like object to the sword's hilt.

"What's this?" Horn flicked the black, disc-shaped wooden bead dangling from the sword hilt's base.

Jeanne wedged the bead between her index and middle fingers, with the cord wrapped around her palm and back of her hand:

"This is called a Sword Pearl. When you wrap it around your hand to hold the sword, first, it provides a steadier grip with one hand, and secondly, it prevents losing the sword after it slips from your hand."

Following Jeanne's instructions, Horn wrapped the Sword Pearl on the back of his hand and tried slicing the air. Indeed, it was much steadier than before.

Stroking the rough Sword Pearl, Horn watched Jeanne lying on the haystack, giggling foolishly, deep in thought for a moment.

Finally, he sheathed his sword, turned around, and pulled Jeanne up from the wild grass, "Come, I want to take you to one last place."

"Didn't you say it's time to leave? It's almost evening; can we make it in time?"

"Plenty of time, come, mount up."

The long-silent forest was again filled with the abrupt sound of hoofbeats.

Passing through interlacing branches, the remaining sunlight cast patches of light on the ground.

Horse hooves tread on these light patches, causing them to ripple like water waves, and the piebald horse beneath them neighed proudly.

Jeanne sat sideways on the saddle, resting her head on Horn's chest, and her ankle-brushing long skirt swayed in the grass-scented wind.

"Where are we going?"

Jeanne looked ahead; the black forest seemed like a place where a witch might dwell, eerily dark and deep, like another world.

"Our destination," Horn's hand holding the reins was slightly stiff, "Harbin told me it's the only place worth visiting near Joan of Arc Castle at the end of autumn."

Smoothing the strands of hair from her cheeks back behind her ear, Jeanne leaned her ear against Horn's chest again, hearing the clear yet chaotic heartbeat.

It was pounding as if two hearts were beating simultaneously, just like when he once held her and said, "I believe in you."

Horn was dressed in coarse farmer's clothes, while Jeanne looked like a noble who had just fled from a banquet.

It was almost like a knight's tale of a farmer eloping with a noble's daughter.

Jeanne's face once more flushed slightly.

Horn silently urged the horse to speed up again, as if the night was chasing after him.

In the gaps between the pitch-black pine and beech trees, the battle horse kicked up the deep mist, scattering it to the sides.

Mossy trees rushed towards them, becoming a blur before their eyes, while the light patches beneath the hooves grew denser.

"We're here."

Sunlight returned to Jeanne's world; she squinted her eyes, and as she took in the scene before her, her eyes instinctively widened.

The world seemed to come to an almost complete standstill at this moment.

The red light of the setting sun swayed the entire mountain of maple leaves, a fresh and chilly aroma wafting with the wind, making the whole mountain sway with the evening.

Billion upon billion of maple leaves rustled, surrounded by a green river imprinted with purplish-red dusk, making the whole mountain ripple and blaze in red.

Beneath the branches and maple leaves, the bluish-green grass messily painted, obscuring the boundary between the red maples and green grass, blurring them together.

Sitting sideways on the horse, hugging Horn's waist, Jeanne was in the perfect spot for viewing; she sat there dazed, without a word.

The evening wind lifted her skirt, as red leaves swirled, brushing past her ankles.