When the Saint comes, she does not collect food.

Thousand River Valley, South Mangde County, on the edge of the Gaotai Mountains.

Beside the snake-like winding gravel road stood a small church with white walls and a black roof.

The church consisted of only three rooms, surrounded by sparse, verdant trees.

The small hill on which the church stood was about ten feet higher than the road.

White-haired Algan, risking staining his monastic robes, stood on the hillside, gazing into the distance.

In the V-shaped angle between the green hills on either side, a massive snow mountain sat, gazing distantly at him, meeting Algan's gaze.

Just as Algan was growing dizzy from waiting and about to faint, the sound of hurried hooves finally rang out.

He quickly steadied himself with his cane and looked down the hillside.

On the winding gravel road, which could barely accommodate three people side by side, four people were squeezed together.

The long line was crowded together, like a snake that had eaten too much, writhing as it crawled.

Although they were squeezed together, they were distinctly separated.

Those on the left mostly wore long-tailed helmets, uniform robes with stylized leaf patterns, and leather boots.

Those on the right favored a casual style, with greasy longswords, spears with cracked ends, and some even hung infant skulls on their waists.

The two groups jostled and shoved, and if they weren't careful, someone would roll down the hillside, but they still gritted their teeth and fought for the right of way.

Amidst the sound of hooves, a man rushed from the side of the long line, and before he even arrived, his hoarse, unpleasant laughter preceded him.

"Old Algan, long time no see, hahaha."

Dismounting before even getting close, a mustachioed man wearing a round-brimmed helmet greeted him with a loud laugh.

"Oh ho ho ho," Algan immediately laughed in response, his snow-white beard trembling, "Long time no see to you too, Kleiont."

After laughing and embracing the mustachioed man, he turned his head and saw a garlic-nosed youth dressed as a knight, trotting over on horseback.

"You must be Lord Belard, just like in the portrait, truly a handsome man."

After the man dismounted, Algan released Kleiont's arm, turned around, grasped Belard's hand, and shook it vigorously.

"Old Monk Algan, I'm so lucky to meet you."

"Hahahaha."

Algan didn't notice the insincere expression on Kleiont's face behind him.

Similarly, he didn't notice the undisguised disgust on Belard's face when he saw Kleiont.

"Did you two come together?"

"Yes," Belard replied with a polite smile.

"Good, good, good," Algan laughed heartily, "This time, the pursuit of those short-hairs will be carried out by the two of you working together, it's wonderful that you've met in advance."

"Yes, yes, hahahaha," Kleiont forced the corners of his mouth up, echoing with a smile.

Belard even snorted coldly without any attempt to hide it: "I've seen Mr. Kleiont's great abilities along the way."

"How dare I, Lord Belard is so young and already a knight, that's what amazes me. Why don't you ask him?"

Algan asked in surprise: "Mr. Belard, are you a knight?"

Belard's face turned red, and after struggling for a long time, he squeezed out a single word through his teeth: "No."

"Oh, I misread, with such an imposing presence, I thought he was a knight, hahahaha," Kleiont immediately burst into loud laughter.

Algan laughed as well.

Regardless of what the two of them thought, Algan was very satisfied with the combination before him.

Belard was sent by Prince Condé, whose decrees only retained the ranks of Decree Knights and Banner Knights during peacetime.

Only before going to war would they temporarily sign contracts with several nearby mercenary groups to recruit infantry and conscript squire knights on the spot.

This Belard, for example, was a confidant of a certain company commander, who had transferred 600 infantrymen to him to lead the pursuit of Hohen.

As for Kleiont, he was a representative of Bishop Barnifos, and a well-known local mercenary agent.

Unlike Belard's infantry, most of whom were professional soldiers, his men were mostly recruited from the five mountain counties of Thousand River Valley.

Often, they were recruited from idle layabouts, even bandits, robbers, and beggars.

Rough mountains breed unruly people, and without training, these mountain people were more courageous and fierce than ordinary farmers.

In Algan's view, this was simply the perfect combination.

A local old-timer, a newcomer from out of town, one familiar with the environment, one with strong combat power, one experienced, one daring and aggressive.

Perfect.

"Seeing you getting along so well puts my mind at ease. Come, come inside."

Pulling the two men into the picturesque little church, Algan pressed on their shoulders, making them sit side by side.

The table was set with seven or eight dishes, all with silver cutlery and warm, exquisite Western-style (Flesh-Blood King's Court style) porcelain plates.

"Lord Algan, does Prince Condé have any instructions?"

"Oh, you're asking about that. Let me find it. The church's Shadowless Ones went to investigate earlier... Ugh, let me see..."

After arranging for the two to sit down, Algan turned his back and rummaged through the bookshelf: "...Eh, where's my map?"

He searched the bookshelf from top to bottom, stirring up dust that almost fell into the wine, but he still couldn't find it.

Belard finally couldn't help but remind him: "Priest Algan, isn't that one in your hand?"

"Oh, oh oh," Algan looked at his hand and laughed self-deprecatingly, "It was here after all. I'm old, useless. I'll soon return to paradise and enter the embrace of our Lord."

"Nonsense," Kleiont said, tossing a fried eagle bean into his mouth and crossing his legs, "You'll probably live longer than me."

"Hahahaha, that won't do. It's time for me to return to the Lord's embrace. Come, come, let's look at the map first."

Spreading the map flat next to the cream soup, Kleiont and Belard leaned in to look at it at the same time.

"Now, according to the Shadowless Ones' reconnaissance, the short-hairs are most likely to come down from Mount Il, with a small chance of going through the Rosewater Pass."

Algan sat down shakily.

"The church said, this Condé Bishop, no, Prince Condé said, to have you two guard a place separately..."

"Then I'll go guard Mount Il..."

"Too dangerous, I should go. Our knight-like gentleman shouldn't be too tired."

"Lord Algan, I must tell you that this pursuit of the short-hair thieves is very important to me, but I sincerely believe that Mr. Kleiont's soldiers cannot meet the requirements."

"Haha, I can't meet the requirements? What kind of place are the Gaotai Mountains? Let me tell you, if you let them in, you won't find the short-hair thieves in your entire lives."

"Ha, we can't find them, you probably won't find them in two lifetimes."

"Oh? What? Can you plains soldiers walk mountain paths better than us mountain people?"

"Alright, alright, I know you all want to dedicate your strength to suppressing the secret party," Algan said cheerfully, "But these things are easy to discuss, it's all for the Lord's cause, let's eat first."

"Come, let's drink to our friendship!"

After all, Algan was the commander-in-chief of this operation, and Kleiont and Belard could only glare at each other with resentment, biting viciously into the steak and buttered bread on their plates.

The butter on the table gradually ran out, and even the last of the sauce in the plates was eaten by Algan with bread.

Reaching out and shaking the wine bottle, the wine was already at the bottom, most of which had gone into Algan's stomach.

He let out a wine burp and stood up unsteadily: "Alright, excuse me, I need to take a nap. I'm old, half a bottle of wine is too much for me, hiccup~"

"But, Your Excellency, who guards where hasn't been decided yet?"

"Oh, oh oh, right, right, like this, that who, you, are you Kleiont?"

"Your Excellency, I'm Belard..."

"Belard, you, you brought 600 soldiers, right?" With a wine-red face, Algan patted Belard's shoulder forcefully.

"Yes, all good lads, not like some people," Belard immediately raised his chin confidently.

Algan nodded: "Yes, you send 300 people to Mount Il, 300 people to Rosewater Pass, Kleiont, you do the same, alright, it's decided."

Belard and Kleiont were both shocked.

Kleiont even grabbed Algan's sleeve, disregarding etiquette: "Your Excellency, in that case, who will be responsible for commanding?"

"Joint command, you two, both, hiccup, commanders, alright, no need to keep me, I'm leaving."

Supported by two pageboys, Algan staggered off to take a nap upstairs.

As for Belard and Kleiont, the two stood in place for a while, looked at each other, snorted coldly, and turned to leave at the same time.

But after all, the small house only had one door. The two met again at the door, snorted coldly at the same time, and walked out of the door side by side, heading in different directions.