When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

Hiding in an abandoned courtyard, Dane paced anxiously inside the yard.

The wooden door creaked open, and an attendant peeked inside before retreating through the door.

Dane anxiously asked the returning attendant, "What are they singing? What are they singing?"

The attendant looked at the Duke with a troubled expression, "Those refugees are saying you are the devil."

"Me, ha, me, I'm the devil?" Dane incredulously pointed at himself and asked, "If it weren't for me taking them in, they would have starved in the wild by now. And yet, I'm the devil."

Isn't that because it's convenient for you to use the Green-clothed Flute Player to catch people? The attendant secretly rolled his eyes.

"Enough of that, what's the situation?"

The attendant reluctantly replied, "Since City Hall was breached, there have been mobs along the way, not just from outside the city, but even some laborers and artisans from within the city..."

"...Kill the devil without looking back!"

A clear shout came from outside the wall, and the Duke darted into the shrubbery of the small garden, leaving only his trembling rear exposed.

The attendant helplessly stepped forward, supporting the Duke whose face was pale with fright, "They were just passing by."

"That's good, that's good." Dane patted his chest, gasping as he spoke, "Can we continue hiding here?"

"I doubt it. If they occupy the entire city, we'll be trapped in this small courtyard with no way to escape."

"Lowly refugees, after all the kindness I've shown, this is how they repay me?" Dane cursed furiously.

Being driven away from his home, escaping and hiding everywhere, he had never been in such a situation before.

In this situation, Dane could only cautiously lead the knights out of the courtyard, making a hard dash towards the castle.

Along the dark alleyways, the Duke of Dane, with his heart pounding, arrived near the moat.

At this moment, beside the street, thousands of refugees and mercenaries were fighting fiercely, the shrill sound of the Holy Guns echoing intermittently.

Seeing the castle's entrance blocked by the army of refugees, Dane immediately wanted to turn and flee, but knowing that the entire Joan of Arc Castle was filled with the Salvation Army made escaping outside almost impossible.

Staying inside the castle and waiting for the Church's army to arrive might present a slim chance of survival.

Dane even regretted briefly, thinking he shouldn't have gone to meet Bamanda.

But seeing the current scene, he felt some relief for coming to his senses halfway; otherwise, he truly would have been trapped by the refugee army.

Scattered knights charged among the crowd, but much more cautiously than before, not daring to plunge deeply into the crowd or fight too fiercely.

To be aware, unlike before, if one were to fall from the horse now, the Devil Wind's gust would leave no chance of escape.

Walking along the darkest paths, the Duke of Dane crouched his body, fearing any detection.

Yet, despite his fear of being exposed, the greater fear of being injured left him sweeping through the streets with twenty knights, getting noticed by the refugees even before coming close.

Though not everyone had seen the Duke's true face, at least the citizens nearby had.

They hid inside houses, stood by the windows, and squeezed their throats to shout to the refugees below, "The one in the red robe is the Duke, that's Dane."

The battlefield fell silent for half a second, all eyes fixated on Dane.

Hastily shedding his red clothes, Dane shook the reins and shouted, "Let's go!"

The refugees immediately swarmed forward, hurling insults, mud, manure, and stones at Dane.

Dane awkwardly lay on his horse, moving forward, while knights guarding him fell from their mounts, hit in the neck by iron shrapnel.

"Damn it, damn it." Led by knights pulling his reins, the Duke lay flat on the horse's back, not daring to lift his head.

His fine white silk underwear stained brown by manure and mud, almost turning into a yellow robe.

But most of the Holy Gunmen and veteran soldiers had gone to attack City Hall, leaving mainly local peasants of Joan of Arc Castle here.

Though their hatred ran deeper, ultimately, without those spring-loaded guns and long spears, they couldn't stop the Duke, allowing Dane to break through the outermost blockade.

But before Dane could breathe a sigh of relief, a shrill voice called out again, "The one in yellow and white silk is the Duke, that's the Duke."

Yanking a jacket from the attendant's hand, warming the cold manure inside, Dane furiously yelled, "Hurry, what are you waiting for?"

"Lord Dane, Lord Dane."

Amidst the chaotic fighting crowd, over a hundred mercenaries formed a phalanx, fighting their way to Dane's side.

Holding the dish-shaped iron helmet on his head, a mercenary captain, wearing a red or bloodstained jacket, reached the front of the Duke's horse.

"Duke, we've come to rescue you."

"Good, good, good." Dane, in a frantic escape, rode over and patted the mercenary captain on the shoulder, "If I survive this, I'll make you a Baron!"

"That would be my greatest honor."

Under the Falan Mercenaries' gun formation, Dane struggled through the surging crowd, the sound of spring-loaded guns ringing out from time to time.

Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards...

A distance usually covered in an instant on horseback felt so far for Dane.

He could already clearly see the scene in front of the castle.

In front of the castle's drawbridge, three hundred Falan Mercenaries formed a semicircular array, using long spears to stab at the refugees on the other side.