Standing in the harsh wind, the horse sneezed.
In front of the military camp, Mitney and his group sheltered from the cold wind by the side of the horse.
By noon, the sky had completely clouded over. Only a few thin, barely visible rays of sunlight spilled over the backs of the warhorses from the thick grey clouds.
After Armand entered the camp to report the situation, Andar couldn't hold back any longer and started venting incessantly:
"They're practically just a bunch of farrs playing house. How many of them are there that they dare to call themselves the Pope Country?"
"Did you hear what that Thomas said? Sothing about the Saint's Grandson dreaming of asking Miseria to appoint him as Pope, and she actually agreed!"
"I'm really curious, how did they manage to defeat the Extraordinary Knights? By so rustic farrs' magic dance performance?"
"They say the Duke's defeat wasn't the Salvation Army's doing at all. It was internal strife between the Duke and the Duchess. I didn't believe it at first, but now I'm a bit skeptical."
"Mr. Mitney, I have to say, I don't know why we're here on Autumn Dusk Island instead of staying ho for the New Year Festival."
"From what we've seen so far, they're just a bunch of ignorant farrs, no different from other peasant rebels..."
Andar's complaints grated on Mitney's eardrums, and he replied helplessly, "Say no more."
Mitney and the others ca to the Salvation Army mainly to deliver talent, aside from conducting an inspection.
In Catherine's view, although the Salvation Army had a grand montum, it was ultimately born in the countryside, with few people they could use.
Among Catherine's experienced officers, Andar was the only one not too averse to the Salvation Army.
In the plan, Andar was to serve as a military advisor, helping to train the troops, while Marshall would be a political advisor, assisting in handling governntal affairs.
Catherine had promised both that if they did a good job, they might be appointed as Land Knights or city nobility in the future.
Originally, hearing that the Salvation Army had defeated over a hundred knights at Joan of Arc Castle and even beheaded the Duke, Andar thought that might not be too bad.
But upon arrival, he found that the knights had been drowned by a witch breaking the chains, the gun was actually a loud crossbow, and the Salvation Army was a ragtag group of farrs' mutterings.
If not for his promise to Catherine, Andar would have turned back and left.
"Honestly, I'll go have a look at their soldiers soon. If the soldiers are salvageable, there might still be hope. If not..."
Ignoring the chattering Andar, Mitney turned to Qianqian and asked, "Do you know who will co to receive them?"
Qianqian looked toward the distant El Camp: "Armand said His Majesty Horn has matters to attend to, so it will likely be the second in command of the Salvation Army..."
"Segal?"
"No, it's Her Highness Jeanne D'Arc, the Holy Maiden Paladin."
Upon hearing this na, Mitney knew she was the witch the Salvation Army had under control.
Their willingness to support the Salvation Army largely stemd from the weight of this witch, Jeanne.
Based on the keywords Mitney extracted from Qianqian's description, he could generally describe this witch as: enthusiastic, cheerful, chivalrous, righteous, and brave.
But after recent events, he began to doubt how much embellishnt was in Qianqian's narrative.
Thinking about it carefully, though she was of Ard Farr origin, she was raised by Public Register Farrs, so she likely was an unworldly village girl.
Enthusiastic, cheerful, and brave, doesn't that fit the image of the silly big sister from the village?
As for chivalry and righteous speech, it's probably just from reading too many knight's novels.
It fits Mitney's stereotypical impression of rural ignorant won.
"Ah, here they co."
Speaking of Jeanne, Jeanne indeed arrived. Mitney straightened up and looked toward the camp gate.
The gate slowly opened, and a black braided ponytail could be seen swinging.
A female knight in dark brown armor skillfully rode her warhorse over, with Armand quietly reporting by her side.
The heroic-looking female knight tilted her head, listening to Armand, who followed closely, her lips slightly curled upward.
"Sister Qianqian!"
Upon seeing Qianqian, Jeanne imdiately waved and gave a big smile.
She dismounted quickly, ran up to Qianqian, and gave her a big hug before starting to catch up with her.
After catching up, Qianqian dutifully introduced everyone present to her one by one.
After mutual communication and self-introduction, at the formal occasion, Andar refrained from his earlier complaints and respectfully greeted her.
"Hello, I am Andar Fullar, the military instructor sent by Catherine."
"Andar, sounds like a woman's na. So it's a man, hahahaha." Jeanne said with carefree boldness.
Mitney stepped forward, squeezing Andar's clenched, white-knuckled fist: "I wonder where Mr. Horn is now? Is there a chance to et him?"
"My brother is attending a theological debate." Jeanne patted Mitney's shoulder, "Co on, let show you our Salvation Army training. Isn't Andar an instructor? He can give us so advice."
"Our great Pope manages such a large country, he's truly busy." Sohow, Andar's tone even carried a hint of gunpowder.
Jeanne glanced at him but didn't retort. She simply waved naturally, "Co on, let take you to see the new troops."
With his cheek muscles tense, Andar turned his face with a "can you believe this" look at Mitney.
Frowning, Mitney squinted his eyes and shook his head slightly, signaling Andar not to cause trouble.
Jeanne didn't lead them into the camp, but instead headed toward another side's training ground.
At this point, all the sunlight was blocked by the clouds and mist, and at so point, it seed as if everything was covered with a layer of withered yellow filter.
Horse hooves clattered, shredding dry grass and branches. On the gradually cold mud ground frozen by the chill, a group of robust young n in patched clothes appeared from behind the hill.
"Look, here are the elite troops of our Pope Country training."
After this journey, Andar's mood had slightly settled.
Hearing Jeanne's words, he lifted his felt hat slightly to look at those young n.
After all, this would be his future livelihood, displeased or not, he had to work earnestly.
On the grass, four to five hundred soldiers were bustling with training. At tis, they ran like headless flies, at others, they collapsed like blobs of slop.
But to Andar, their formation was simply a cluster of randomly drifting mist.
If their formation and array were already unbearable to look at, their spirit was even more like beggar serfs, perfectly matching their tattered clothes.
If these were soldiers, Andar would eat them.
Especially after approaching, even Mitney couldn't help but turn his eyes away from the painful sight.
During the march, the new recruits in the back row pressed their chests against the backs of those in front, shouting "at ease" five tis to move three ters forward.
Dozens of soldiers spun like ballet dancers, and when the officer shouted "look to the left," each team had dozens staring directly at one another, unfazed by any mistakes.
"Is this training?"
"Yes, it is." Jeanne said earnestly, "My Salvation Army is invincible in the world, re conscript companies. We have 4000 here; the Leia Kingdom has only 40, how about that?
Our Pope Horn is strong and vigorous, the current Pope Johnny VIII is old and weak.
When the ti cos, our army will directly have His Majesty Saint Sun challenge in battle. The other side can only send Johnny VIII to match his status. Eighteen against eighty, how could he not win?"
"Haha, haha." Mitney chuckled dryly, "Yes, yes indeed haha."
"Oh?" After a long silence, Andar's mocking voice rang out unrestrainedly, "Then why not just have an Angel descend and slaughter the entire Church's army if your Saint's Grandson can communicate with the Holy Father?"
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