When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist-Chapter 804 - 755: Sheep God?

A hand full of sword calluses reached into the icy cold river water, and the rushing current almost prevented Kaler from scooping up water to wash his face.

The end of August, the peak of the rainy season, and the rising water level was about to climb up the bank. Kaler simply buried his face directly into the flowing water.

A piercing chill instantly surged to his forehead; he shivered all over, and only then did he quickly lift his head from the river.

Gazing at his fragmented reflection in the ripples, Kaler was unsure of his own expression at that moment.

Was it a smile or a bitter smile? In the water, both were fragmented.

For some reason, Kaler felt a bit homesick.

The battlefield was not what he imagined.

Not only was it different from what his father had told him, but even different from what his brother-in-law had said.

His father spoke of knights who charged freely and bravely, using their hot blood to defeat all formidable foes.

His brother-in-law spoke of soldiers who marched with order and noble character, courageously and resolutely flattening all roadblocks.

But in reality, he neither charged bravely nor marched with courage.

Every day, apart from marching, he drilled, and sometimes he played the role of a laborer, transporting goods.

At times, they had to run errands for the officers, and even help guard the officers' private property.

What Kaler found hardest to accept was the flogging of laborers and the looting of innocent shepherds.

How was this any different from being a bandit?

According to his father's words, a knight of noble character should stay away from requisitioning supplies, like how one would find it unbearable to hear the bleating of sheep when slaughtering them.

When it comes to knights, in the eyes of most lower-ranking officers, only those at the level of Captain Ten are considered knights.

So these tasks were left to these lower-ranking officers like Captain Ten to handle.

Everytime he opened his eyes, he saw either the gloomy sky or the top of the tent, followed by the officers' endless shouts and orders.

Under the dual burden of death and exhaustion, most soldiers had more or less developed a fondness for alcohol and gambling, while the officers fell in love with tobacco from Pioneer Land.

If it weren't for the incentive of that medal, Kaler might have become one of them.

Touching the last bit of tobacco in his pocket, he stretched lazily with self-mockery, realizing he might already be one of them.

Though it had only been a short six months, he felt as if three to five years had passed.

Perhaps war was just like this.

"Kaler, what are you slacking off for?" Old Laver's voice came from outside the reeds. "Come help us load and unload the winch, the gear's awfully heavy."

Due to being out collecting food supplies when the war started, they hadn't had time to form ranks.

So in the end, they were tasked with guarding the winch, which not only earned them no military merits, but also no spoils of war.

No wonder even the usually composed Old Laver was filled with complaints.

Kaler picked up his helmet, dusted off his knees, and was about to respond when he felt the reeds behind him rustling.

Almost instantly, Kaler raised his helmet to his chest, drew his military saber with his right hand, and glared fiercely at the reeds: "Who?"

"Don't, don't kill me..."

Behind the reeds was surprisingly a raftman, around fifteen or sixteen, naked, wearing a sheepskin vest.

With solid muscles attached to his bones and covered with a layer of bronze skin, this was the appearance of the shepherd.

Huddled in the reeds, clearly an escaped laborer, the shepherd looked at Kaler with drooping brows and eyes, pleadingly.

Kaler slowly lowered his hand gripping the saber.

"What's going on?" Footsteps came from outside the reeds.

Kaler immediately turned his head and replied, "It's a water rat."

Looking at the shepherd again, he heaved a sigh of relief.

He went from crouching to kneeling and drew a character on his forehead, speaking in broken Leia, "May the Holy Father bless you."

"When did you escape?"

"Just now, during the fight."

"Do you know which way to go?" 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

"No, I don't know..."

Seeing the gaunt face of the raftman, Kaler sighed lightly and pulled an oat bar from his pocket.

The shepherd smelled the sweet oat bar in his hand dreamily, then looked blankly at Kaler.

"Run quickly, run far away." Kaler squatted down, his smile on his face indistinguishable between bitterness and consolation, "The war will end soon, and when the monks from the Saint Father's Association arrive, everything will get better."

The shepherd evidently didn't understand what the Saint Father's Association was, but just stared blankly at Kaler.

"Go on, go as far as you can."

Kaler stood up to leave, but the friction of fabric on his body reminded him that someone was holding onto his clothes.

"Swish——"

The bright military saber was drawn from its sheath, and Kaler narrowly suppressed his instinct to swing it.

In the shepherd's pupils, he could see himself.

It was a face of shock and anger, twisted, and ferocious.

It was only then that he realized the battlefield had left more marks on him than he had imagined.

"Didn't I tell you to leave quickly?"

The shepherd shook his head earnestly and drew a circular stroke character on Kaler's boot: "You, you also run, you can't win."

"What are you saying?" Kaler couldn't help but laugh, "The Duke of Wing Nest's main force is gone, it would take them three weeks to regroup, Salt Market is right ahead, you say we'll lose?"

"You, you are a good person." The shepherd stammered in clumsy Leia, "But your master Moliat is a very bad person, the Sheep God is angry."

"You still believe in foreign gods?"

"The Sheep God isn't a foreign god... It's a very special kind of... The Sheep God rides a auk..."

Watching the shepherd getting more and more confused, Kaler grabbed him off the ground: "What nonsense are you talking, don't go out first, head south along the river tonight."

The shepherd opened his mouth but didn't say anything more. He just bowed deeply and disappeared into the deeper parts of the reeds.

Watching the shepherd disappear from sight, Kaler shook his head, unsure of what he was thinking.

Harboring an escaped laborer, if the military judge found out, even his second-class medal would be taken away.

But what's done is done, he had no complaints.

"Kaler Hans!"

"Coming, coming." Kaler shouted towards the reeds, "I'm taking a dump."

"Couldn't you have done it earlier, later, or anytime else other than when it's time to work?"

"Why do you talk just like my sister..."

Kaler stepped out of the reeds and joined the team transporting the winch.

Clenching his teeth, he lifted the heavy winch components, covered them with an oilcloth, and tied them with hemp rope. Kaler and Old Laver sat on the carriage.

With a crisp sound of the coachman's whip, the two gentle mares began pulling the two-wheeled cart forward.

The afternoon sun shone on their shoulders, and the sound of cicadas and crickets singing came to their ears.

Unlike the wide slopes of Shattered Stone Plain when they first entered, when they traveled along the Upper Nao'an River, they could see hills and villages lined one after another.

This was one of the few river valley farming areas in Shattered Stone Plain — Nanbo River Valley.

The destination of Old Laver and his team, Salt Market, named a market was actually a city, with a population of even twenty thousand.

Here was the core economic stronghold of the Duke of Wing Nest in the southern part of Shattered Stone Plain, mainly relying on the mining and refining of rock salt from Nanbo River Valley.

In the grassland-strewn aridlands of Shattered Stone Plain, salt was a scarce and essential commodity.

At the same time, Nanbo River Valley was also the largest grain producing center in the southern part of Shattered Stone Plain.

To control this area was to control the economic lifeline of the southern part of Shattered Stone Plain.

Moliat's military camp was just 65 kilometers from Salt Market.

When Old Laver and the others rejoined the Service Soldier's supply camp, the first thing they saw was the flag of the iris flowers, and the second thing was the fleeing laborers hanging under the banner.

The cart traveled along the dirt road into the camp, but Kaler's gaze shifted from the banner to the fence by the roadside.

In the cool summer breeze, a yellowing sheep skull was mounted on the tip of the fence.

For some reason, the shepherd's whisper echoed in his mind again.

"The Sheep God rides a auk, the west wind comes from the north."