When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

The bone-chilling wind kneaded the rolling clouds, making the overcast skies over Autumn Dusk Island even denser.

Behind the withered walls and broken walls, the army headquarters stood solitary. The southernmost end of the third floor of this headquarters was Horn's study.

Entering the room and standing by the window, Mitney looked up, the clouds hanging so low as if they were about to press down on his head, making it hard to breathe.

Using rosin and tinder to light the peat iron stove, Horn snapped his fingers casually, and the fluorite lamps embedded in the walls and ceiling lit up successively.

Illuminated by the firelight and fluorescent light, the once dim study brightened.

"Mr. Mitney, please sit." Pulling over a hardwood-backed chair, Horn warmly invited Mitney to sit down.

Astonished by the suddenly lit fluorite lamps around him, Mitney expressed his thanks while slowly sitting down.

This number of fluorite lamps, capable of emitting such bright light, indicates that the mana level of this Saint's Grandson is not weak.

Due to the sensitivity and special nature of Horn's identity as a Witch Man, Qianqian only reported the specific situation to Catherine alone.

Mitney is a core subordinate of Catherine, but he is not of witch lineage or from the Secret Faction, so not letting him know some things is actually protecting him.

From Mitney's perspective, Horn the farmer is Jeanne's witch affiliate, just a lucky person skilled at incitement with a conscience.

When Mitney actually sat across from Horn, he felt something was amiss.

The young man sitting in front of him, roughly one meter seventy in height, wore a priest's mitre robe, which couldn't hide his wheat-colored sturdy fingers.

Evidently having the appearance of a farmer, yet he sat upright in the chair, as if a young scholar or a youthful bishop.

In the small talk from the journey over, this Saint's Grandson rarely showed the typical ignorance and vulgarity of peasant vagrants in his dealings and conversations.

Even some long, complex sentences he used made Mitney wonder if he was talking to a playwright.

Could it be as Qianqian said, an epiphany hit him, and he became self-taught within a month?

"The room is rather simple. After all, I am a farmer by birth, unfamiliar with etiquette and art, so shall we both just be informal?"

"Hahaha, I'm not considered a noble, so who cares about etiquette!"

Responding with laughter, Mitney took a sip of the hot ginger syrup, feeling much warmer: "You call it simple, yet I see your bastion is as solid as Golden Soup Castle."

Golden Soup Castle, located in Bear Hammer Territory, withstood the vampire army for three years during the First Blood War, earning a reputation as the strongest fortress.

"It's merely the ruins of the Ancient Aier Legion headquarters, I can't see any good or bad in it."

Sitting opposite Mitney, Horn picked up the hot ginger syrup but did not drink.

He blew away the steam from the cup, whether intentionally or unintentionally, and asked, "Why haven't I seen Qianqian?"

"He went to settle Andar."

"Armand told me about Andar and Jeanne." Tilting the cup, Horn hid his face in the steam, "Jeanne is only sixteen, a bit mischievous and naive, I'll severely reprimand her later."

Mitney hurriedly interjected: "It was originally our rudeness first... Eh, but today's magical long crossbow really gave me a fright."

Without responding to Mitney's words, Horn gently smiled, placed down the cup, lifted his head, as their gazes met, mutually moving past this topic seamlessly.

Mitney knew such a crucial weapon could not be obtained casually; he was merely testing in passing.

"Mr. Horn, I won't waste your time, I came here mainly for the alliance discussion."

With prior groundwork laid, Mitney felt the time was ripe and began to address the main topic.

"According to our Lady Catherine's views, with the current situation in the Thousand River Valley, even if the Church continues to cover it, the blue-blood wine and Juanuo's death will inevitably spread.

The Church has yet to provide a reasonable explanation, leaving everyone in the Thousand River Valley, from nobles to farmers, increasingly disappointed.

Come spring of next year, after the floods, with new crops unplantable and old grains exhausted through winter, the number of starving and displaced farmers will surge dramatically.

In such a situation, Archbishop of Constans has left the Thousand River Valley.

If we wish to discuss the future of the Thousand River Valley, now is the opportune moment.

Everyone is uniting for a common purpose, so I won't hold anything back.

We are scheduled to officially respond at the end of February next year, rallying the citizens of Rapids City to expel the priests and calling upon the nobles of Lower Reif County aligning with the Thousand River Valley to join.

Originally we intended to support the Duke of Joan's Castle in claiming the throne of the Thousand River Valley, but now the reputation of the Kush Clan is already ruined.

We are most likely to support Grand Duke Moliat of the Fols Clan in claiming the title of King of the Thousand River Valley.

You know, our Rapids City is located in Lower Reif County, and the main force of the uprising, Grand Duke Moliat, is separated from us by Shangruifo County, South Mangde County, and Mande County, three Mountain Counties.

The Church's stronghold in Hotam County is directly across a flat plain, and their army can arrive by evening if sent in the morning. Now that Joan of Arc Castle has also fallen into the Church's hands, this will undoubtedly leave us besieged on all sides.

To hold out until Grand Duke Moliat's strong army arrives, we must support each other..."

As he spoke of the plan, Mitney took out the contract and placed it on the table in front of Horn for him to read.

"What do these three contracts mean?"

"They represent three levels of our cooperation," Mitney said, blinking.

"Tell me about them?"

"The first level makes Qianqian your advisor. We will provide you with resources, officers, and tax collectors, assisting you with all necessary activities, and you only need to sit in your chair..."

"What about the second and third?" Horn casually tossed that contract aside and picked up the other two, shorter contracts.

"The second is a contract for close partners. We will provide you with interest-free loans and weapons equipment, but you must set out to attack Joan Castle at the time we specify..."

Having scanned the second contract, Horn still said nothing definitive and continued to pick up the third contract.

Mitney smoothly transitioned the topic to the third contract: "This contract is simply a mutual defense alliance. We will provide low-interest loans only after you have taken Joan Castle. Regardless of which side requests aid, the other must declare a break with the enemy and choose the appropriate time to go to war..."

Aligning the three contracts in a row on the table, Horn looked at Mitney with a half-smile: "Which one do you think I will choose?"

"Before I came here, I thought you would choose the second one. After I got here, I thought you would choose the first one," Mitney said with a smile, stirring the ginger syrup with a wooden spoon, "Now, I think you will choose the third one."

"Mr. Mitney, you are a smart man. Let's be frank. The contract I intend to sign is this mutual defense alliance," Horn said directly, "Being bound by an alliance to lose strategic autonomy is too passive."

"If you are willing to sign the second agreement, we can adjust those restrictions as appropriate."

"If by 'as appropriate' you mean wanting a clockwork gun, then I can tell you—I don't know how Qianqian spoke to you, but currently, only the Blessed can use the clockwork gun."

Horn did not hide anything from him and explained the reason directly.

From the look on his face, it was clear that Mitney, sitting opposite him, did not take this as Horn's legitimate reason, only as an excuse.

Horn had no choice but to say helplessly, "Let's sign the third contract. Some specific details and plans need to be discussed thoroughly."

Once the general framework was determined, both parties finally entered the discussion of the specific terms of the contract.

Mitney tentatively played some tricks in the contract, but they were all seen through by Horn.

In the efficient discussion, it didn't take long for them to draft this simple alliance agreement.

After gathering the added content and appendices, Mitney looked at Horn by the stove pouring hot ginger juice and couldn't help but marvel.

The behavior patterns of these siblings are truly cut from the same mold.

Sister Jeanne appears to be enthusiastic and straightforward, resembling a silly village woman.

Yet she can see through Andar's arrogance in an instant and make him suffer a silent loss with a simple trick.

Brother Horn appears to be a pious young priest, but his words are more calculated than the shrewdest merchant.

In every aspect, he can speak in detail without even needing to call in the relevant personnel.

What Mitney couldn't understand the most was how none of their behaviors seemed abrupt, surprisingly seeming quite natural.

Mitney suddenly laughed in relief. If these two had nothing special, how could they lead these peasant rebels to such renown?

"What is Mr. Mitney laughing about?"

"Among the many peasant rebels, only you, sir, have achieved such renown, and it's not without reason."

"Oh, why do you say that?" Horn asked with interest, holding the ginger juice.

"You govern so comprehensively, and your sister is sharp and clever. With such talent and ability, it's no wonder you can repeatedly defeat the church."

Horn, who was originally smiling while adding peat to the iron stove, halted: "Do you think these so-called talents are something we were born with?"

"Aren't they?" Mitney was instead puzzled.

Horn didn't immediately answer; he just stood by the window holding ginger juice.

He looked at the skinny soldiers on the drill field, silently for a full minute.

Just as Mitney was wondering if he had said something wrong, Horn finally slowly spoke:

"At first, Jeanne was incredibly naive and innocent, anyone could deceive her, and I made countless mistakes and blunders.

Mitney, my friend, my sister and I are just an ordinary pair of farmer siblings.

The talents you speak of were not inborn for us.

These so-called talents are forged through blood, with every step stained by the tears of our companions and ourselves."