When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist
Chapter 105 - 103: Champagne at Halftime

Chapter 105: Chapter 103: Champagne at Halftime

It’s already October 16th, only 245 miles left to Joan of Arc Castle.

Sitting by the fire pit, Horn calculated silently in his heart.

If not for the illness, at the current pace, they could leave Wild Spider Forest in about twelve days, and after another three days’ journey, they would reach Joan of Arc Castle.

The past five days’ journey has been the smoothest since the march began.

On fast days, they could cover twenty miles a day, and on slow days, fifteen miles. As they adapted, their speed increased.

The only delay was due to the enfeoffment ceremonies for the Beastman Kings.

During these five days, every time they set up camp, Horn had to enfeoff a heap of kingdoms of fifty or sixty people and duchies of seventeen or eighteen people.

Upon hearing the arrival of the Imperial Emperor, the kings from all around were in a complete uproar, all rushing to seek enfeoffment.

In order to get enfeoffed first, many kings brought various tributes.

Don’t underestimate these tributes. They included not only rare herbs but also magical creature meat and even bits and pieces of mountain copper and Mithril.

One king even sent three young magical wolves, but Horn refused them.

His own people didn’t have enough food, where would he find the resources to raise magical pets?

If they could survive on excrement, Horn might consider, but they needed meat, so it was impossible.

Along the way to here, there were basically no more kings coming to seek enfeoffment.

This was already the boundary of civilization in the Beastman Kingdom. Further ahead was the uninhabited zone at the swamp’s lowest point.

Among the Beastman lands, only the bravest hunters dared to venture here.

In five days of travel, Horn completed a rough population survey of the Black Bone Swamp.

After all, the enfeoffment documents required an approximate population.

In this river valley swamp, about 195 kilometers long and 38 kilometers wide on average, lived about twenty thousand Beastmen and wild people.

This population is quite sparse. According to the records Horn saw at the Gulag Monastery, Tree Hedge Village was slightly smaller than Black Bone Swamp and had nearly seventy thousand registered people.

In High Castle Town, the registered population was around 160,000, with nearly 30,000 gathered in the densely populated areas around High Castle Town.

This didn’t even account for refugees, only citizens, Public Register Farmers, and Armed Farmers.

Besides, Horn traded with them. Garlic extract, shiny trinkets, and dyes could all be exchanged for piles of cloth, food, and herbs.

These herbs were a great help.

Horn never expected those herbs to be consumed so quickly.

In September, the weather was so hot, and by October, it suddenly turned cold. This journey started in the mountains, continued through the night, and ended in the swamp, which was exhausting.

Horn found it a bit odd; most of these villagers were young and strong like black-clad soldiers.

Why were women and children not sick, but the young and strong were?

But no matter what, they couldn’t march any longer like this, so Horn had to announce a half-day rest to cook herbal soup for them and let them rest.

Horn considered leaving the sick to the Beastmen to care for, but given their level of civilization, even a common cold might be fatal for them.

This was near the uninhabited swamp area, a real lowland swamp area.

The Beastmen and wild people nearby were seen as foreign barbarians by the Beastman Kingdom, neither humane nor beastly.

No choice but to tend to them himself.

After enduring this stretch, in about ten more days of walking, they’d reach Joan of Arc Castle.

"Another ten days or so, endure the last ten days, and this journey will be over." Horn sighed, warming himself by the fire pit.

Qianqian looked around and lowered her voice, "What do you plan to do next?"

"Should we not open the champagne prematurely?"

"Will you wait until the moment arrives to think about this problem?"

Glancing at the villagers outside the tent, Horn rubbed the sheath of his sword, "In the future... I don’t know, maybe lay low under a false name for a while and decide when the commotion dies down."

"Are you interested in joining our White Mountain Hermitage?" Qianqian removed her boots and placed her feet near the fire pit.

The tender soles of her feet bore the marks of several blisters, with white steam rising from between her toes.

"Do you have any preferential policies in the White Mountain Hermitage? If there’s no benefit, I won’t join it." Horn moved away from the downwind place, covering his nose.

"The Ruo’an Faction is very organized, hierarchical, and orderly, but also very oppressive." Qianqian picked up a rough stone, rubbing her toes.

With the swamp road being so humid and wearing boots, his boots seemed to emit a mist-like smoke.

Only when picking her toes did Qianqian act like a man.

"The Ruo’an Faction is made up of Ruo’an’s maternal origin familiars, producing many mind-type Wizards, such as illusions and charm spells.

Their leader is called Ruo’an III, rumored to be the great-granddaughter of Ruo’an’s familiar, possessing Witchcraft almost identical to Ruo’an’s.

We at the White Mountain Hermitage mainly consist of divination-oriented Wizards, who are more free-spirited and loose.

The leader is elected by collective choice, and everything is discussed. Members often work in various guild workshops.

You know, casting spells in divination doesn’t have as much physical impact as energetic spells, and we often mingle with deceiving Demon Masters, making it difficult to tell truth from lies.

A good Astrologer can earn 5 to 7 gold pounds annually.

They can help employers predict market risks, determine locations during trading, and even assist in selling alchemical products.

So, members of our White Mountain Hermitage are very rich and not stingy with money."

Horn silently noted the two secret features but skipped Qianqian’s invitation, asking instead:

"Speaking of which, you haven’t told me what types of Witchcraft and Spells there are."

"It’s quite simple." Qianqian answered while counting her toes, "Witches are classified as Energetic, Divination, Mind, Physical, and Others, with Spells adding one more category, Necromancy."

"Are there no Necromancy Witches?"

"Not a single one, necromancy is exclusive to vampires, no human Wizard has been able to replicate it.

Have you been to the Blood and Flesh Royal Court? In their fields, there are no farmers, only skeletons farming; in the mines, there are no miners, only zombies mining."

"Then what type of Spell is mine? Aren’t I a Wizard? Am I a Wizard or not?"

"I don’t know; maybe you’re an Other-type Wizard. Anything unclassifiable falls under Others, such as flight, feigned death, invisibility, etc."

So my Spell is just mana to draw a bow?

Horn secretly shook his head; running away with a bucket was still better, saving this ability as a last resort.

"Is there a Secret Faction composed of Other-type Wizards?"

"There is, but you wouldn’t want to join it." Qianqian sat up straight.

"The Secret Faction known for Other-type Wizards is the previously mentioned Scales Hermitage, a very radical Secret Faction.

Compared to them, the Ruo’an Faction seems shy and introverted.

They fervently believe in Miseria faith, believing Miseria to be a Witch and Monks to be her Witch familiars.

In the Church’s eyes, they’re heretics; in the Secret Faction’s eyes, they’re traitors; no one likes them."

Horn had thought the Miseria faith figures were already extreme, but didn’t expect there were even greater ones?

After several shocks, Horn’s psychological threshold had increased significantly; he was quite composed now.

The world was vast, and geniuses were everywhere; it wasn’t surprising.

While Horn was weighing the pros and cons between a few Secret Factions, Grampwen cautiously approached, carrying Diya on his back.

Seeing that Grampwen wasn’t alone and was carrying Diya, Horn immediately sensed something was wrong.

He mentioned it to Qianqian, and the two stood up and went to meet them.

As they approached, just as Horn was about to speak, Diya, who had been lying on Grampwen’s back, suddenly lifted her head.

Her face was several shades paler than before, with several lines appearing at her nose and eyes, and two distinct blood streaks from her eye corners down to her nose.

"They’re here, Your Grace, those demons, the knights of Cline, they’re here!"