When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist
Chapter 107 - 105: Can’t Move

Chapter 107: Chapter 105: Can’t Move

On an autumn afternoon, a group of twelve hundred people was frantically dismantling tents on an open grassland.

The sunlight streamed through the sparse leaves, shining upon them, mingling with the water mist and spores in the air, bringing a hint of stifling warmth.

The children still laughed and played, helping the adults to roll up the tents, while some elderly villagers struggled to carry luggage or load it onto carts.

The swampy smell of grass lingered in the air, making it hard to breathe, and sweat trickled from people’s armpits down to their waists, soaking their pants.

The sick villagers were carefully helped toward the carts, some still asleep, others coughing, their voices hoarse and weak.

The Child Soldiers and elders moved back and forth among the crowd, while coughs and the sounds of falling echoed across the grass.

Busak stood on a cart, directing everyone to move the luggage and tents.

At the front of the line, Horn frowned, contemplating the next move.

After another count, there were over four hundred patients in Horn’s camp.

Although most could still move, once on the road, their speed was considerably slower than normal.

"Discard any surplus supplies, even food; as long as we live, there’s always a way." Horn grabbed a Child Soldier, instructing him to convey the order.

His gaze landed on a cart by an elderly man struggling to climb up, his face pale, breathing rapidly.

Horn immediately walked over, extending a hand to support the elderly man’s waist, pushing him up onto the cart.

Turning away from the cart, Horn spotted Jia Li and the Child Soldiers returning from scouting.

They hastily dismounted and searched around for Horn.

"How is it?" Horn asked, striding forward to meet Jia Li and the Child Soldiers.

The Child Soldier handed Horn a simple hand-drawn map: "There is indeed a path about 12 miles from here, but there’s a small river, and the original wooden bridge was washed away, we need to build a pontoon bridge with sheepskin rafts first."

Horn nodded, calling over Dass.

"Dass, take a regiment of the Imperial Guard, carry the sheepskin rafts, and head to the riverbank to build the pontoon bridge. Make sure it’s ready before we arrive."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Upon receiving the order, Dass led the only regiment of healthy Imperial Guards, carrying sheepskin rafts, to the designated location.

Horn was about to leave when Jia Li opened her arms, pouting with her eyes closed.

"Hmm."

Horn patted her head: "What’s up?"

"Where’s my reward?"

"Did I say I’d give you one immediately? Maybe later." Horn wrapped his arm around her waist, steering her toward the encampment of patients, "Go help those with mobility issues onto the carts."

"You cheating mountain goat!"

"Hey, who taught you that mountain goat business?!"

Though grumbling, Jia Li obediently ran to the patients and helped the seriously ill onto the carts.

Once a cart was filled, urging people on the way, Horn turned to see Kosse breaking through the crowd running back and forth.

"What’s wrong?" Horn asked Kosse, who ran over, breathless.

Kosse took a couple of breaths: "We have too many patients, the carts can’t hold them all."

"Then have the Imperial Guard or Black Hat Army carry them, put their belongings on the horses. Only patients or wounded may ride!"

Despite the tense preparations, Horn finally moved the entire group forward within half an hour.

On the long road, carts creaked as villagers carried their luggage and the injured with difficulty.

To the sides, the once seemingly endless puddles and dark ditches gradually vanished, replaced by dense cedar trees.

Water spiders glided across the surface, passing a large snake dragging a decayed mouse carcass.

The cedars stood like roadside trees or sentinels, silently watching the advancing crowd.

The villagers looked weary, their clothes soaked with sweat.

Children no longer laughed, silently following their parents and relatives, hands tightly holding the adults’ clothes.

The sick villagers appeared increasingly frail, their coughing intermittent.

Their footsteps lifted mechanically, then fell mechanically, and as they walked, a villager might stumble or faint, to be loaded onto a cart.

Horn walked these villagers ahead as well.

On his usual horse, three injured were installed.

"The pursuers are still 40 miles away, Your Majesty," a Child Soldier reported quietly after running down from the hill.

"And us?" Horn forced his eyes open from the sweat.

"Eight miles from the crossing point."

Horn had previously contacted nearby Beastmen, instructing them to tie a red linen cloth on the highest tree if pursuers passed through their village.

The last report indicated that the Imperial Knights were still 50 miles away, while they were 10 miles from the crossing point.

This report came just an hour ago.

At this pace, Horn would reach the crossing at the same time as the Imperial Knights caught them.

Too slow, this pace was only half the usual.

Even though the pontoon bridge was pre-arranged, crossing itself would take time, at least half an hour.

"There’s eight miles to the destination, everyone push harder," Horn shouted to those around him, "faster, faster."

Despite Horn’s urging, the pace didn’t quicken, the large number of patients made it impossible.

Horn was still anxious about the marching ahead, but the rear of the formation became noisy, some instances even halted.

Reluctantly, against the flow of people, Horn squeezed through the crowded throng to the rear: "What is happening?"

"Frick and some elders say they don’t want to go on."

"Is this the time for nonsense?" Horn, exasperated, shoved aside a Child Soldier, running to the back.

Sure enough, at the rear, Chervis was painstakingly persuading the elders to hurry up.

Stepping forward with long strides, Horn called out: "Why aren’t you moving? It’s time to go."

"Your Majesty Saint Sun, we really can’t go on," a red-nosed old man said, leaning against a tree, drunk-eyed.

"The Imperial Knights are still 40 miles away, there’s time."

"You go ahead," Frick, leading the dissent, sat on a large rock, legs apart, "we don’t want to go on."

Horn grabbed his arm: "Stop talking nonsense, get up quickly, otherwise those Imperial Knights will catch us."

Frick jerked away from Horn’s grasp: "We’re tired, not going! Didn’t I tell you? You go ahead!"