When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist-Chapter 869 - 820: The Battle of Malun Slope (Part 1)

The baron, drenched in filthy water, was dragged out of the latrine by soldiers.

His thin shirt was soaked through, dripping dirty liquid continuously.

A top hat was ruthlessly plopped onto his head—the same one he brought in earlier.

Unfortunately, the exquisite hat now reeked of an overwhelming smell of urine.

The pungent odor made the surrounding soldiers hold their noses, laughing uproariously.

Joyful laughter erupted everywhere, even the guards deep in the camp poked their heads out to see.

Some soldiers clutched their stomachs, laughing so hard they couldn't stand up straight, while others leaned against the walls, pointing at the baron and mocking mercilessly.

Even several Defensive Army members stopped their tasks to watch the scene.

The baron's mouth was tied shut, his face flushed to his ears, and tears welled at the corners of his eyes.

Victor stood aside, a smile on his lips, but his eyes gradually became serious.

He watched the unfortunate and detestable baron struggle up onto a mule with his entourage's help.

No sooner had the baron untied the ropes than he let out a shrill scream like a frightened woman: "Just wait! Just wait! I'll have the Count kill you all! Wait for me, I'll be back!"

His voice was exceptionally piercing in the cold air, carrying a hint of tremble and break.

It was unclear whether it was anger or fear, or perhaps both.

While comforting him, his entourage wrapped the baron's thin body in a blanket, trying to keep him from losing composure further.

Kolman grinned, folding his arms, seemingly unfazed by the baron's threats and curses.

He turned to Victor: "It seems as expected, Count Dretta is still planning to attack the manor direction."

"They're really jumping into the pit when they see it." Victor sighed lightly.

"Who would have thought? They've studied old tactics for thirty years, but it's all obsolete stuff." Confidence in their tactics was ingrained in every Salvation Army veteran.

Seeing Victor straighten himself, and Kolman also set aside his mirth: "Her Highness Jeanne is likely to arrive by evening, enough to restrain those Extraordinary Knights."

Victor narrowed his eyes and spoke softly: "Any word on a few Imperial Knight squads following them?"

Kolman nodded: "Yes, and not only that, but those Blood and Flesh Royal Court Red Knights too, though their deployment is uncertain."

"They should be with Count Dretta, right?"

"Probably..."

Their conversation gradually quieted, the wind outside the tent howling, flapping the flags, occasionally carrying the sound of soldiers sorting equipment from afar.

After a moment of silence, Victor took a deep breath and looked at Kolman: "Your soldiers are assembled, it's time to go."

Kolman's expression grew solemn: "A thousand men against an eight thousand-man attack, can you hold?"

"Who said there's only a thousand?" Victor chuckled, shaking his head, "There's nearly another thousand Defensive Army and Service Soldiers with us; they're not mere laborers. Not suited for field battles, but they can hold the camp."

Laughing, Victor patted Kolman's Five-Color Feather Hat: "But you, wearing that flashy hat every day, watch out you don't lose your head to the Imperial Knight squads or Red Knights."

"An oracle predicted my long life, and a wealthy one at that." Kolman grinned, "Even if you die, I won't."

"Curse me, will you? Take this!"

The two exchanged a few friendly punches, laughed twice, then shared a tight embrace.

They knew well, when the Leia people launch their so-called full assault, they'd actually fallen into the Holy Mechanical Court Pope's trap.

But that didn't mean nobody would die in this war.

War always brings death.

For them, the executers of strategy, this was still a life-and-death war.

"We don't have many friends left." The wind blew through Victor's beard, making it flutter.

Kolman wore a handlebar mustache, speaking nonchalantly, yet tightly gripping Victor's hand: "Ha, from the Gulag, out of both our original ten-man squads, there's just you, me, and Siyaq left."

"Yes, take care."

Before letting go, Victor solemnly patted Kolman's hand, his tone steady: "Take care."

...

Gray clouds hung low on the horizon, the ground covered in lingering snow.

Under the winter sun's rays, a thin layer of black soil was exposed from the white snow.

No trace of green anywhere, even the sky was gray-white, as if the Holy Father had placed a black-and-white filter over the world.

Far away, the Red Iron Mountain Range looked stern in the morning light, the river flowed gently, reflecting a faint silver glow.

Marlon Slope lies between two forts, near a river, with higher ground to the south and lower to the north.

Once the site of a knight's manor, it's now the main base for the Thousand River Valley Army.

A silver-white winter wind blew against the face of a ranger on the slope, he squinted his eyes, staring intently at the horizon, where some unusual disturbance seemed to appear.

"Enemy troops!" He gasped suddenly, turned sharply, and blew his horn.

Under the sky, the horn blared repeatedly, each call more urgent.

The horn sound cleared the thin morning mist, the entire camp was already awake, soldiers were on their positions, prepared to face the battle.

On the distant horizon, the black flag of Leia Army fluttered fiercely in the wind,

Swarms of soldiers surged forward like a tide.

Their steps barely maintained order, most clad in chain mail or plate armor.

Embedded within the infantry phalanx were haughty knights.

Their Milan-style half armor gleamed with icy metallic luster in the dawn.

Breathlessly concerning was a few catapults slowly advancing behind them, heavy stone bullets dangling from the high mechanical arms.

"Damn it..." The artillery commander cursed, standing by two six-pound spring cannons, looking up at the sky, "It's against the wind, range limited."

His voice carried a bit of unwillingness, but he still waved to give the order: "Alternate firing!"

Boom——!

The first cannonball trailed white smoke, slammed towards the distant Leia Army, but missed.

The second followed suit and missed again.

Third, fourth, until the fifth, a six-pound marble shot flipped over a group of infantry.

From the fifth on, the adjusting commander fired consecutively, even striking a catapult.

Wood splinters and stones splattered, even overturning several Leia Soldiers pushing carts.

Next, a second cannonball fired, drawing a curve downward, directly striking a shield cart of the Leia Army.

The flying iron shot carved a bloody path through the dense phalanx, causing seven or eight casualties.

"Hit!" A gunner cheered with raised arms.

A knight clad in silver-white armor seemed dissatisfied with the declining morale, rode to the front to rally the soldiers.

Just as he started speaking, a lucky cannonball flew through the cold air, precisely hitting him and his warhorse.

Boom——!

The knight soared in the massive impact.

Splashing armor fragments struck Leia Soldiers' armor, producing a clanging sound.

As that Imperial Knight fell heavily, the surrounding soldiers descended into chaos.

Sadly, the chaos only lasted briefly, the Leia Army already advancing within five hundred meters.

The crude alarm sounded again, its ring heavy and urgent.

"Leia people are charging!"