When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

"Are you Roger?"

"Yes, I am."

"I remember Roger was very fat."

"Half a month ago, I was indeed very fat, but due to the fear and anxiety caused by the war, I lost much of my spirit and became thin."

Standing by the side of the Parra River near the castle, Vite swore to Horn.

"You damn goat, you are not Roger at all. Who are you really?"

Horn never expected that the disobedient old stonemason would pull a trick of deception on him.

This youth, obviously taller than Rocker, slimmer than Rocker, he did not know at all!

"Alright." Vite, having his identity exposed, did not offer much explanation and straightforwardly admitted, "You guys cut off the Duke's head. Rocker comes from a citizen family and was too scared, so he entrusted this task to me."

Upon hearing the reason, Horn felt troubled, as not everyone has the courage to oppose the Empire and the Church.

"And you are?" Horn examined this young man.

"My name is Vite, Vite Rude, an official stonemason of the Orthodox Revival faction."

What does that mean? Did the upgrade happen due to a temporary swap? Did that stubborn, eccentric old stonemason change his mind?

Facing Horn's suspicious gaze, Vite remained unchanged in expression: "If you don't believe me, I can prove it. You can ask me any stonecraft-related questions, and I will answer them."

The moisture-laden wind hit Horn's face, clearing his mind a bit. He turned around and mounted his horse: "Alright, I was just about to inspect a nearby town. You come with me."

Since food storage was currently proceeding steadily, Horn still needed to deal with the issue of housing first.

He had originally summoned the former stonemason, Rocker, to plan out the entire camp. Now, with a new person, there was no point wasting time on a written test; better to get hands-on and see the practice directly.

"Sure." Mounting a mule, the stonemason named Vite closely followed behind Horn. After about three minutes along a dirt road, the small town in ruins came into view.

The once lifeless small town was now filled with young and old members of the Salvation Army.

Amidst the house ruins, the young men wore short tunics, sweating profusely as they strained to lift stone bricks from the ruins with hemp ropes, transporting them to the small square.

Amidst the crumbling walls and weeds, heads could be seen bobbing—that was the women, elderly, and children searching for usable furniture and materials in the ruins.

Similarly, useless debris needed to be cleared out and piled by the roadside.

Piles of various-sized rubbish were pushed to the street, where specialized personnel used wheelbarrows to haul them away, dumping them into the lake or splitting them into firewood.

These Salvation Army individuals, although not part of the old camp, were the second batch of refugees who joined Horn outside Joan of Arc Castle, with experience in clearing riverways and being ferrymen, thus better disciplined.

Despite the overall chaos, from an individual action standpoint, they were quite nimble, after all, they were cleaning houses for themselves.

In just half a day, they not only cleared out a piece of open ground but also placed quite a few building materials on it, such as stone, planks, and pit sand.

"I didn't expect this ruin to be quite large." Horn hadn't noticed from the castle before and realized it only now.

If one only counted the former artisan residential area, it was probably two or three hectares in size. If one added the former Ancient Aier people and Beastmen residential areas, it might even be around forty hectares.

Looking out, beyond the higher crumbling walls were layers upon layers of slightly shorter crumbling walls, extending to the nearby forest.

However, most of the Beastman residential area consisted of shanty towns on the outskirts, equivalent to the urban-rural fringe. Horn estimated that the actual range of the Ancient Aier City was about twenty hectares.

"Horn... Your Excellency." After a moment of thought, Vite referred to the noble title with only a general term, pointing to a junction ahead, "This is the main entrance of the entire city."

"How do you know?"

Upon dismounting, Vite pointed to a half-destroyed gate post and said, "Look, this is a classic Elania-style gatepost made with volcanic ash concrete."

The ruins of the entire city were clearly constructed in the style of Elmin City, with residential houses divided into chessboard-like grids by roads, arranged internally in the town like a chessboard.

Among them was a widest cross road, running east to west and north to south. At the intersection of this cross road, the very center of the entire city was built a temple of the original Mithraism faction (dedicated to the Holy Tree).

White Elania marble columns, covered in moss, supported a triangular pediment, though the roof of the temple had collapsed and disappeared.

As Horn passed by, a sharp sensation came from under his feet. Looking down, it was a bronze candlestick casually thrown in the weeds.

Picking up the bronze candlestick and feeling its rough texture, Horn softly murmured in his long-unused homeland tongue, "The palace halls, now turned to dust."

Beside him, Vite was intrigued, even running to the temple column to measure the circumference, touching around the entire temple until Horn called him back reluctantly.

Next to the temple was a pond, which after years of fermentation had turned into a cesspool, surrounded by an abandoned park.

Opposite the park was a semicircular theater and the central square made up of official buildings.

"To some extent, the culture of the Ancient El Empire inherited the culture of the Shepherd Clan of the Seven Hills Kingdom." Standing by the semicircular theater, Vite pointed at the theater with fascination, "The Shepherd Clan believed houses were merely places to sleep; the real place of action for the elves was public space.

The most distinguishing feature of the elves from other intelligent races was that they engaged in extensive public activities and philosophical debates.

This is why the El Empire built a great number of such parks, public baths, public theaters... even their public toilets were rows of commodes, allowing them to debate and discuss philosophy while discharging waste.

It's said that in ancient times, elves all lived in Holy Trees, where rooms carved into the tree were very small.

Those couldn't even be called rooms, but beds, as they were embedded in the trunk, with an open corridor next to them.

But the elves set their public activity spaces very large, a hall could accommodate over a thousand people."

Following Vite's guidance, Horn looked up, realizing this theater was built on a natural slope.

The stepped seating ascended in rows, with bronze resonator jars placed at intervals next to the seats.

If there were any major meetings or announcements in the future, this would be a good place. Its only drawback was being open-air.

While Horn was still contemplating the renovation of the theater, Vite suddenly ran a few steps in one direction, excitedly shouting, "Ah! Insula Apartment, it's so iconic, truly iconic!"

"Your Grace, shall we..."

Watching the sprinting Vite, the helpless Horn had no choice but to follow.

He now rather believed Vite's identity, for in the recent conversations, not only was Vite very familiar with the construction of the Imperial Era's buildings but also possessed deep knowledge of Ancient Aier Architecture.

Could it be that he really was a formal stonemason?

Originally intending to have Vite accompany him around the city, it ended up with him following Vite around instead.