When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist
Chapter 92 - 90 Cléante, You Rat!

Chapter 92: Chapter 90 Cléante, You Rat!

Autumn rain seemed to form a dense layer of silky fur on the brim of their wide-rimmed hats, turning into small streams that trickled down from the brim.

This type of hat was relatively popular among mercenaries and had been recommended by many veteran ones.

Its popularity stemmed from its dual function of providing sunshade and rain protection, with the sole drawback being that it boiled one’s head in the summer.

Cléante stood with over a hundred Mountain Infantrymen, each dressed differently, and slowly advanced through the narrow mountain path.

Although Algang had instructed Cléante and Belard to each send half their forces to guard Roswell Pass and Yier Mountain Pass, they did not comply.

After all, it was a dual-command system, and both Cléante and Belard were seasoned veterans who wouldn’t indulge Algang’s whims.

War still had to follow basic rules, though Algang’s opinions were also important.

Thus, the two commanders each dispatched fifty troops to secure Roswell Pass.

The remaining soldiers were positioned in two defensive lines at Yier Mountain Pass, holding fast and guarding firmly.

In truth, Cléante understood Algang’s mindset very well; being old and experienced, having no hope for promotion, his performance made little difference—naturally, he didn’t care as much.

Cléante, however, was different; he had to capture Horn and claim Banifus’s 100-gold-pound bounty.

He owed Sanda, the royal agent of Leia Kingdom, 120 gold pounds; although he still needed 20 gold pounds, at least he could ease his financial troubles.

Thus, he couldn’t understand Belard’s mentality.

You’re still young, a relative of the 20 Imperial Decree Master Decree Commander, plenty of opportunities and potential for glory—why compete with an old veteran like me?

Putting up a front on the outside while being greedy for wealth and fame on the inside.

The first autumn rain couldn’t quench Cléante’s burning anxiety.

But his soldiers behind were slacking off; however, born and bred in Mountain County, they walked steadily on such slippery ground.

Raindrops slanted across their bodies, making them appear faint and indistinct.

When on earth were those short-haired thieves going to show up?

As Cléante was contemplating, rounding a mountain slope, he suddenly caught sight of tents and grass huts standing on level ground within the valley.

Those tents stood there crookedly, and recently extinguished campfires emitted crackling steam in the rain.

Short-haired thieves!

Cléante almost shouted, gesturing behind him, his 150 Mountain Infantry promptly encircled the camp.

As Cléante approached, he sensed something amiss; why was this camp so quiet.

He had done this kind of bandit hunting many times; these rabble should’ve been noisy and boisterous.

Could it be an ambush?

Impossible, those foolish countryfolk couldn’t devise such a plan; even if conceived, they couldn’t execute it.

The technical aspect of an ambush tactic is actually quite high.

Approaching with a group and shooting some arrows inward, still seeing no sign of people, Cléante led his men charging inside.

Walking on the pathways between the tents, with rainwater wantonly flowing on the ground, flags hanging from the tents stuck greasy to the flagpoles.

"Judging from the flags, it’s indeed those short-haired thieves." Cléante’s gaze roamed around, but all the tents were empty.

This camp was truly abandoned.

Did those short-haired thieves leave before his arrival?

"Not good!"

Like his brain was struck by lightning, Cléante broke out in a cold sweat.

He and Belard had organized two lines of defense—not one for each, but two lines each separately.

Given their relationship, even their patrol times and paths were unconnected.

Here was a deserted camp the short-haired thieves hastily left, and no one here, not even seen.

So, either they’d been caught by Belard or had already slipped away under the cover of time.

With rain today, any traces had been washed away.

"Damn mountain goat, I knew that damned fake Knight would ruin things."

No time to explain, Cléante directly ordered everyone to run back, pursue the short-haired thieves, for he can’t let them escape, nor fall into Belard’s hands.

Reforming into squads, Cléante led the soldiers down the mountain at full speed, completely unaware of the unnatural shaking in the shrubs on the mountain wall.

The sky was overcast, and a gentle drizzle fell, striking their hat brims and helmets with a crisp sound.

Splashes of water blurred the surrounding rocks into shades of gray.

Midway through the journey, they turned a mountain path and ran into Belard coming from another path.

Their encounter here naturally wasn’t a pleasant one.

"Cléante, why are you going back?"

"Finished patrolling, the rain is so heavy, I’m going back to take shelter."

"Oh, it seems our Mr. Cléante even fears a little rain. When on the battlefield, the rain of arrows is much scarier than rainwater, what will you do then?"

"I won’t trouble you with that." Cléante coughed, "Mr. Belard, so confident as always, I suppose you’ll definitely find the short-haired thieves."

"I don’t need you to say, just seeing how you all hide from a bit of rain, catching those short-haired thieves is as good as done by me."

Good, the short-haired ones didn’t fall into Belard’s hands, just escaped.

"Hmph." Cléante coldly snorted, not refuting, but knowing Belard hadn’t found Horn yet, he was anxious.

Without much exchange with Belard, he led the soldiers toward the pass.

Once out of Yier Mountain Pass, if the short-haired ones wanted to escape, there were many directions they could take.

Although we set up Luca at key roads and bridges, who knows what obscure paths they might find?

"Rats." Watching Cléante’s departing figure, Belard snorted coldly, "Let’s go, check this mountain path that old fellow patrolled, I don’t feel assured."

Despite Cléante being an old mercenary manager, Belard was from an Imperial Knight family, a professional mercenary far more specialized than that old fellow Cléante.

However, compared to those mountain troops, the White Maple Mercenary Corps Belard belonged to mostly recruited soldiers from the Golden Great Plains.

In this slippery and muddy mountain terrain, they were somewhat unaccustomed.

The mercenaries took each step heavily and cautiously, yet still slipped occasionally.

Among Belard’s numerous squad leaders, only the veteran mercenary, Hakuto, fared slightly better.

Silently passing through this mountain path, just as Belard thought he gained nothing and was prepared to return, a flicker of black at the corner of his eye caught his attention.

"Captain, what do you see over there?"

Belard looked in the direction of the finger, seeing a camp standing by the valley road.

In the camp, the banner of the Holy Grail unmistakably identified them.

"Quick, surround it, don’t let them escape." Belard’s breath became urgent, that banner marked the short-haired thieves, it must be them.

"Captain." Hakuto glanced, speaking tactfully, "There shouldn’t be anyone in that camp, if there were, it wouldn’t look like this."

Belard frowned and gestured, and a few grey-clad scouts hunched forward to investigate the camp.

Two minutes later, they openly waved from the camp entrance.

Belard led over two hundred troops closer, seeing the camp was indeed empty.

"Sir Belard, we searched thoroughly." The grey-clad scout’s face was heavy, "Based on the flags and characteristics, this was indeed the short-haired’s camp."

"Where are they then?"

"Unknown." The grey-clad scout approached Belard, "Sir, I must inform you, this camp has been searched before."

Belard started, visibly growing red with fury: "Cléante! Rat! Rat!"

Kicking over a tent, Belard walked outside, rainwater sliding down his armor.

"Everyone change course, the short-haired thieves were let go by that rat Cléante, follow me to chase them!" Belard growled through gritted teeth.

"Captain, captain." Hakuto stepped forward again, gripping Belard’s arm, "Something feels off, though we patrol separately, surely there should be some traces, they must number over a thousand."

"Then what do you suggest?" Belard impatiently shook off Hakuto’s hand.

Hakuto pondered for two seconds: "First send scouts to follow Cléante, then disperse more scouts to investigate the surroundings."

"Alright, take fifty people and search around here."

Without waiting for Hakuto to say more, Belard directly shouted to the other squad leaders.

"Everyone else, come with me."