When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

The night wind of the Fitcarter River chilled right through one’s bones.

Just past midnight, the floating bridge on the river was only half constructed.

A dozen rafts were linked by iron chains, with half submerged in the icy river water and the other half secured by thick spruce logs nailed to the riverbed.

Neither Alexei nor Gloev had correctly estimated the soldiers’ marching speed or the poor condition of the roads to Bear Castle.

The data and precedents from the Holy Alliance Army’s military textbooks were useless here.

The soldiers in charge of building the bridge shivered, their hands turning purple from the cold.

The fingers gripping the axe trembled, and each nail hammered required a breath of warm air on their hands first.

They had been busy here for three hours, barely able to see the reeds on the opposite bank.

Yet, the river wind howled, bringing with it once again the sound of hooves.

"Bishop Theomir! Bishop Theomir!"

Three swift horses burst forth from the southwestern darkness, the leading scout’s shoulder stained dark red, with torn scarlet cloth strips clinging to his armor.

Tumbling off his horse, he staggered towards Theomir: "We’ve been found out, the vampires are coming, at least ten thousand, with Blood Knights leading the way, and they’re less than ten miles away!"

"You’re lying!"

"I’m not lying!"

"Dammit, I said you’re lying!" Theomir tugged fiercely at the reins, "Seeing is believing, take me to see."

Following the sentry, Theomir climbed a small hill and pressed the binoculars to his eyes, his breath suddenly stopping.

Under the dark sky, indeed, a blur of scarlet dots was moving, the red eyes of the vampires reflecting the moonlight.

Densely packed, like a surging tide of blood.

"How could it be so fast..." Theomir’s voice trembled, "Didn’t I tell you to keep watch on the main road? Why wasn’t there a warning?"

"The scouts... the scouts never returned!" the scout coughed blood, "There are high-level vampires casting spells on us from the sky, we barely made it back alive!"

The night wind, carrying voices, crashed into the soldiers like a stone.

Those busy with the floating bridge instantly slowed their actions, the vampires were coming, and only ten miles away!

They instinctively backed toward the river, reaching for their packs.

Whispers quickly turned into blatant chaos, a soldier dropped his hammer, yelling: "Why build a bridge! When the vampires come, it’s death, better to run first!"

"Run? Run where?" another member of the Shooting Army retorted while leaning on a crescent axe, "Into the river?"

"We might as well surrender, I heard the Royal Court enlists prisoners and gives them bread!" someone shouted in the dark.

"Surrender? Have you forgotten how the vampires treat prisoners and our kin?!" someone howled, but no one responded.

The soldiers who once chanted "Restore the kingdom" with Alexei now only had fear in their eyes.

Watching this chaotic scene, Theomir felt his throat tighten, he drew his sword to shout orders but found his own hand trembling as well.

He was merely a clergyman, never having witnessed such a scene before.

Watching Gloev easily suppress insubordination from the soldiers with a few words was one thing, but when it came to himself, he couldn’t utter a single word.

The scarlet points of light were drawing ever closer, and even in the river wind, there was a faint stench of decay.

Meanwhile, Alexei, hurrying as fast as he could, was already a step too late.

As he arrived and stood atop a high hill, what he saw was the approaching vampires and the panicked Shooting Army.

Riding his roan horse with curled ears, Alexei prepared to charge down to join the Shooting Army.

Seeing his movement, Gloev quickly caught up, grabbing his arm: "Your Highness! You can’t go!"

"What are you doing? Why can’t I go?"

"The floating bridge isn’t finished, the vampires will be here soon, you won’t be able to leave once you go in!"

"Let go!"

"These gray beasts can easily be recruited in droves, but if you fall into enemy hands, there won’t be a second Duke Petrov’s son to rally the people!"

Opening his mouth, Alexei found himself speechless, and Gloev released his hand.

Silently, he hesitated for a while before suddenly turning his horse around and climbing a nearby hill.

He pulled out a monocular from the Holy Alliance from his pocket and looked ahead.

In the narrow field of view of the monocular, the vampires’ army was already in clear sight.

In the front row were Blood Knights riding Devil Horses and higher rank heavily armored Headless Knights, all equipped with top-quality cold steel lances.

However, with low intelligence, almost none, they had to be led by vampire cavalry.

In the middle were dense ranks of zombie infantry, marching in unison, with several high-level vampires flying overhead.

At the rear, more main forces were slowly advancing.

And on both flanks were ten thousand-strong Servant Army, with only about five thousand of the finest Blood Race soldiers, but counting the undead there were nearly twenty thousand.

"Your Highness!" Gloev also climbed onto the hill, his voice urgent, "We’ve lost this time, we can’t afford to lose you too."

Alexei lowered the monocular, his fingers absentmindedly stroking the engraving on the tube.

It was rough, a bit painful.

He looked down at his hand, a hand that previously only grasped pens to write tactical notes, now calloused from gripping gun handles.

In the day, with this hand, he patted children’s heads, telling them he would take them to a better place.

Earlier, with this hand, he had held the hands of the Knight guards, promising to keep the children alive.

Now must he break that promise? He smiled bitterly, he was not a real king, just a pretender.