When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

Standing on top of the carriage, Horn held the spyglass with three fingers, closed his left eye, leaned his right eye against the lens, and looked into the distance.

About three hundred meters away, in the narrow clearing between the low hill woods and the lake, the squire knights busily ran back and forth, waving whips urgently to drive the armed farmers.

The Salvation Army suddenly appeared in view, advancing in a neat formation, which brought them an unexpected surprise.

It was truly a surprise, saving them quite a bit of travel.

Lowering the spyglass, Horn touched the brass barrel with a sigh.

This spyglass was actually polished by Hilov, as a going-away gift for Horn.

It must be said, the Empire is truly outrageous, as critical military technology like the telescope has been invented for over two decades yet remains restricted to a small circle of astrologers.

Handing the spyglass to Jeska, Horn questioned him with suspicion: "What are they doing?"

"Hmm, they should probably be forming up?" Jeska replied uncertainly.

"You're asking me?"

"Then they're forming up." Jeska reluctantly returned the spyglass to Horn, "Your Grace, I suggest a rapid strike, we march swiftly to fight with speed against their slowness."

"Madlan, take note, I'm issuing the following orders: the Black Hat First, Second, and Fourth Corps are to advance quickly to engage, ensuring they are blocked. The Imperial Guard Second Corps and the Black Hat Sixth Corps will flank the low hill to ambush and intercept from the rear."

"Your Grace, there is one thing I do not understand." Holding a charcoal pencil between fingers, Madlan solemnly asked.

"Speak."

"How is 'order' spelled in 'issue the following orders'?"

"..." After half a second of silence, Horn turned to Armand beside him, solemnly instructing, "Armand, note this, I'm issuing the following orders…"

While Horn was struggling to teach Madlan how to spell the word "order", Count Enrico on the other side was shouting synonyms for "order."

"Order! Order! Maintain order!"

Seeing the armed farmers blocking the way of his charge, Count Enrico regretted not listening to Bernardo.

Who could have expected these peasant troops to run so fast.

The originally planned engagement site should have been more than a mile ahead in a lowland, but they encountered them on this narrow battlefield.

But regretting is pointless, he could only continue to command the chaotic peasants to clear the road.

"Woo—"

"Boom boom boom—"

Horn and drum sounds rang out simultaneously, accompanied by the sound of synchronized marching.

Climbing onto a nearby large rock on a low slope, Bernardo widened his eyes, staring intently at the three horizontal formations ahead.

Were it not for the swaying hems and gun barrels, he would have thought it was a giant piece of black cloth advancing.

They wore uniform black clothing, wielded spears of uniform length, moved in unison, like puppets controlled by a puppeteer.

But the speed of these puppets was too fast; typically, infantry advance at thirty meters per minute.

Even that requires stopping periodically to avoid falling out of line with companions or allies.

But not only did they not fall out of line, they even maintained basic uniformity with allied distance.

"Lord," Bernardo shouted to Enrico from the rock, unable to climb down in time, "The enemy is less than 200 meters away from us now."

"Aren't running away, but instead approaching?" Count Enrico scratched his cheek, unable to distinguish who the real threat in this band of peasant rebels was.

Doesn't make sense, how did they get here so fast?

He glanced at the still forming armed farmer infantry, falling into thought.

He recalled it should have been only three minutes, right? Was it even three minutes?

By advancing so rapidly, they likely aimed to crush these armed peasant infantry and trap them in this narrow space.

Count Enrico admitted he underestimated the Salvation Army, but this little trick, did they really think he hadn't experienced it before?

"Order the squire knights to charge first and drive them off, no need to pursue, we'll handle the pursuit ourselves." After a moment's consideration, Enrico quickly made a decision.

He was surprised, but realistically, if they couldn't run quickly, how could they repeatedly escape the chasing of the ordinance company? It sort of made sense.

Still, no matter how fast, they wouldn't stand a chance against the squire knights, who could topple them effortlessly with a charge.

Many times, Enrico led squire knights and extraordinary knights to smash through the ranks of barbarians and bandits the same way.

"By order of the Count, we are to charge and drive off these farmers!" shouted the temporary captain of the squire knights.

"Rally!"

Soon, two hundred squire knights formed nine wedge-shaped formations resembling hexagon fringes.

"Charge!"

Without much further ado, the nine cavalry wedges split into three paths, charging towards the three Salvation Army corps.

The first to engage the enemy was the Black Hat First Corps, at the forefront of the wedge-shaped marching array.

Under the slanting sunlight, figures in black coats cast translucent shadows on the ground.

Every soldier's face was a mix of fear and indifference, as the pounding hooves shook the ground, making stones leap up and grass leaves sway side to side.

Nearly a hundred Squire Knights bent over their horses, waving specially crafted hammer spears, letting out strange battle cries of "Who-weh!"

"All corps, halt, organize formation—"

"All Long Spearmen, tighten toward the center!"

"All Holy Gunmen, line change to double, kneel front and stand rear for shooting, retreat into formation to hide after firing!"

Amidst the continuous orders, dense footsteps resonated with the sounds of horse hooves.

The first and third rows each stepped out to the side not adjacent to the Long Spearman, while the second and fourth rows of Holy Gunmen stepped diagonally forward.

When the Holy Gunmen raised their spring-loaded muskets, the distance between the two sides was just within the maximum lethal range of 70 meters.

"Praise the Holy Wind!"

In the regimental commander's roar, forty kneeling muskets and forty standing muskets simultaneously shot out eighty lead pellets.

The sound akin to popping beans rang out continuously, and the wall of pellet barrages swiftly pierced through the charging Squire Knights.

Over twenty Squire Knights on the outermost triangle fell directly off their horses, even tripping seven or eight teammates behind them.

A massive scent of blood lingered at the nose tip, and forty or so Squire Knights on the flanking wings of the charge formation soon halted their charging warhorses in uncertainty.

After all, with an instant casualty rate of 20%, if not for the Knight liege watching from behind, they would have likely fled already.

During previous battles against the Secret Faction and bandits, unless facing terrifying Wizards, such situations were never encountered.

Holding up his hammer spear, the leading Knight still charging shouted: "Do not fear, charge through, they cannot emit that demon's weapon anymore."

Fifty meters now, the Squire Knights raised their hammer spears, ready to crush the heads of these damned Salvation Army.

At forty meters, cold sweat broke on the Squire Knights' foreheads, and fingers gripping hammer spears began to itch.

At thirty meters, seven or eight Squire Knights turned abruptly, staring at the densely packed and dazzlingly long spears.

At twenty meters, even the bravest among the Squire Knights shivered, facing the motionless military formation.

Ten meters, the final ten meters, yet still not collapsing? Still not collapsing? You truly are not collapsing?

"Ah—"

The Squire Knights collapsed.

In front of the long spears, the last twenty Squire Knights frantically pulled the reins to halt, even colliding when turning.

Amidst the chaos of men and horses, finally ten Squire Knights stumbled to the side.

Not yet celebrating their survival, the last row of twenty spring-loaded muskets finally fired the Holy Wind.

"Bang—"

"Ah, my intestines are spilling out."

"Yuck yuck yuck yuck..."

As the post-charge Squire Knights fled in desperation, nearly a hundred corpses and wounded were left behind.

After all, these Squire Knights usually only bully bandits, the Secret Faction, and barbarians; how can their willpower match the Salvation Army who dared to stand against Extraordinary Knights in the Battle of Joan of Arc Castle?

In the stereotype of most Imperial People, Knight charges often seem like floods, relentlessly pushing everything over.

They always apply the Knight traditions from the wars of the past century to the present, as though man and horse were emotionless machines.

In the past century, due to decentralized power, civilizational and economic regression, iron smelting levels were extremely low.

At that time, Knight wars were truly wars between Knights, as all infantry were unarmored or lightly armored units, collapsing at once.

The tradition of favoring Knights, and ransom purchases for prisoners sprouted from that era.

During the Hundred Years' War, with the rapid development of printing technology and wide dissemination of breathing techniques, the Norn people pillaged the Dwarves' iron smelting skills from the Imperial library.

Especially at the Battle of Windmill Land, after the Deng Jia'er Array was invented, the old cavalry tactics proved futile.

In the face of a cavalry charge against infantry formations, they realized continuing at this speed and direction would break their limbs, or even be shamefully killed by peasants.

This was a problem not encountered in the arena.

They would instinctively turn and dodge, and Knights able to overcome this with tremendous courage were often at least of Square Banner Knight rank.

These Squire Knights hadn't even reached Squire Knight level, let alone directly charged the formations.

Kolebo once told Jeanne that seventy-five percent of cavalry combat strength is Spiritual Power, relying on steel-like will.

War never becomes more elegant as it progresses but instead more grotesque.

"Damn it, damn it, you cowards!" Enrico cursed while stomping his feet, watching the black figure once again press toward them.