[FDJ]Chapter 21: The Temporary Lord of Orléans

Meanwhile, 80 kilometers away from the Hun army camp, Orléans City, which had not yet recovered from the battle over ten days ago, was in a dire situation. The Lord had died in battle, and the defending forces were less than half of their original numbers, excluding the newly conscripted soldiers and the injured who couldn't participate in the fight.

As a result, despite the four orders sent by the governor of the Western Roman coalition army, Etius, urging Orléans City to join forces against the Huns, there was no response from the defenders. They also desired revenge for their brothers, fathers, and sons, as well as reclaiming the trampled fields. Some farmers still remembered their wives and daughters who had been taken as captives.

However, compared to the makeshift wooden barricades at the gates of Orléans City, these desires couldn't be fulfilled. The military and civilians in Orléans were already overwhelmed with gathering supplies, preventing diseases, and repairing the city's defenses. Especially with the loss of their lord, many orders required multiple times the effort to be accomplished.

All of this burden fell upon the male swordsman who miraculously appeared that day. Most of the defending forces elected him as the new lord, and even the few dissenters wouldn't dare to challenge him at this moment. Ultimately, the decision of who would be the lord of Orléans City rested with the Frankish king. Before the official appointment of the new lord, there was a scapegoat who had to bear the overwhelming burden of governing the city, which was a good thing.

This morning, the nobles in the city anticipated the depletion of food and started preparing to sell it at high prices. However, the temporary lord was quicker than them. His spies, positioned throughout the city, had already reported the situation.

In the afternoon, the temporary lord, accompanied by a dozen guards, stormed into a gathering of several nobles and hanged the most arrogant one in front of the city gates.

After dealing with the noble representatives who were unlikely to comply with orders, the temporary lord, the male swordsman who had manifested as a Saber-class Servant, returned to the former lord's residence. Currently, he uses it as his office, and a group of literate citizens selected by him assisted in handling various affairs within the city. The professionals were all former lord's trusted aides who had volunteered to join the great cause of "defeating the Hun invaders" after the Western Roman Imperial Army passed through.

If he wasn't familiar with these tedious affairs and didn't possess the skills of a Servant after manifesting, which could indirectly enhance efficiency in administrative work, he definitely wouldn't have been able to undertake the task of reorganizing Orléans City.

He looked at the pile of parchment papers stacked on his desk and, for a moment, thought that he should have followed Etius to pursue the Hun army ten days ago. Without a Master, he relied entirely on the magical leylines of Orléans City, and he couldn't stay away from the city for a long time. Regardless of whether he was tired of dealing with the matters at hand, he had to continue staying in Orléans City unless he found a suitable magi to form a contract with.

In Orléans City, let alone finding a magi, it was impossible to even find someone with a magical circuit. The Gaul region in the year 451 had no connection to terms like civilization or knowledge.

The sun outside began to set, and the surrounding citizens started to return home one by one. They worked for the city selflessly based on their sense of honor, and it was commendable that they could come every day.

At this moment, the swordsman received a report from the guards that a patrol cavalry sent out from the city had returned and was urgently looking for him.

"Let them in."

Before long, six cavalrymen stood in formation before the swordsman. They still appeared frightened, occasionally glancing back outside the door, as if they were being pursued by terrifying wizards and demon swordswomen summoned by the wizards.

The swordsman looked at the six individuals and could roughly determine that they had encountered the enemy because he remembered that this squad had seven members. "Who is the captain?"

The tallest cavalryman stepped forward, and it was hard to imagine that a robust cavalryman with a broad build would have trembling legs while standing.

"Speak up. Were you attacked by a dragon, or did you escape from the hands of Attila, the Hun king?" The male swordsman was nearly 190cm tall, and considering the nutritional levels of that time, there weren't many fully grown adults who could reach his height. The cavalrymen were equally fearful of the temporary lord standing before them, pacing back and forth. They had not completed their mission.

"We caught up with the Hun scouts. There were three of them."

"Don't tell me you ended up like this because of those three scouts! Stand straight! Is this how Frenchmen should look?! Even if you encounter a dragon, you should have the courage to fight it!"

The cavalrymen didn't understand what "France" meant, but the compelling words of the swordsman significantly boosted their willpower, and they answered in unison, standing in formation, "Understood."

"That's more like it. And then? You lost one of your men and came back in defeat?"

"No, my lord. We bravely surrounded the three scouts and killed two of them. But the remaining one escaped into a wooden house. It was a deserted village where people had already fled, so there shouldn't have been anyone inside." The cavalryman's response started to become confused. Simply relying on words of encouragement wasn't enough to overcome his fear.

"So, there were other people in the supposedly empty village? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes, my lord. There was a young man with strange attire. He looked somewhat like a Hun, but also different. We initially thought that only the fleeing scout was inside the wooden house. I entered with four men through the front door, while the other two blocked the back door. The two who went in through the back door happened to encounter that young man. He was skilled in sorcery."

"Sorcery?" The swordsman deliberately interrupted the cavalryman's description and asked him to point out the companion who entered through the back door. "Tell me, what kind of sorcery was it?"

"It was like a gust of wind. It suddenly blew me to the ground, as if I had been struck hard by someone. In any case, I managed to escape by sheer luck."

"So, the other person who entered through the back door was killed by that sorcerer?"

"No, my lord. After the sorcerer used his first sorcery, the unfortunate fellow managed to grab hold of his right hand. Then something strange happened." The other cavalrymen nodded in agreement, once again showing signs of fear as they recalled the events.

"A female swordsman appeared out of thin air, thanks to that sorcerer's trickery. Although the female swordsman initially looked beautiful, we realized our mistake in the next second. The sorcerer had summoned a demon, and that female swordsman swiftly severed the unfortunate fellow's hands with one sword strike, followed by another strike that killed him. Her swordsmanship was so fast that we couldn't see the details clearly, and blood sprayed all over the place."

The cavalryman, who was describing the situation, gestured enthusiastically to reenact the scene for the swordsman, although it wasn't necessary, as the swordsman could already ascertain that they had encountered a Master of the Holy Grail War, a magus who had summoned a Servant after being captured. He was only contemplating the identity of the opposing Servant, the one who wielded a sword. But he was the Saber of this Holy Grail War. Two Sabers couldn't exist simultaneously.

"And then that female swordsman licked the blood off her lips and threatened us to choose between life or death. Although we're not afraid of death, considering that charging at the demon together wouldn't stand a chance, we retreated. We can swear that everything we said is true."

The swordsman didn't continue to question them. He couldn't think of any other Servant besides Saber who would wield a sword. Whether the Servant was female or not was not important.

One of the six cavalrymen, a short man, suddenly raised his hand and spoke to the swordsman. "I can draw. I remember the appearance of that demon, the way she licked the blood off the unfortunate fellow. I can't forget it; it was too terrifying!"

Upon hearing this, the swordsman immediately pulled the short man to his table and handed him a piece of parchment and a charcoal stick. "Draw it down. Remember the main clothing style and obvious decorative patterns. If you can accurately depict her sword, I will reward you with two horses."

"But I only remember her face."

"What good is that?" The swordsman slammed the table in anger, ignoring the cavalryman and turning to question the captain of the cavalry squad. "Do you remember any other details? Tell me everything. I ordered you to intercept the enemy scouts and retrieve the map they had taken. Have you forgotten?"

"....But... it's impossible. That demon was too terrifying."

"What about courage? Stand straight! How could you be frightened into such a pathetic state by a woman?!" The swordsman continued to reprimand the cavalrymen. He had seen deserters during his lifetime who were more respectable than these few soldiers. At least they would acknowledge their mistakes when caught, repent before their superiors, and continue fighting against the invading English. He didn't expect the soldiers under his command, who were now Servants, to fight, but they ran back as if they had seen a ghost, their faces still filled with fear. It truly angered the swordsman.

"I cannot guard the city of Orleans for an extended period of time. The future still relies on the people of Orleans themselves to defend it. How can you withstand the Huns if you cower in fear at the sight of a powerful enemy? We are the army that can make the Hun King Attila retreat! Remember, this honor is enjoyed by only a few cities, including Constantinople in Rome!"

After finishing his reprimand of the cavalrymen, the swordsman turned his head and saw the cavalryman who claimed to be able to draw diligently. Curiosity piqued, he walked back to observe. "Forget it, it's useless if you only remember her face. There's no need to continue..."

The swordsman's gaze stopped on the piece of parchment, and even his outstretched hand came to a halt. He couldn't believe what he saw on the paper. The features outlined by the charcoal stick made his face turn pale, and then he trembled with excitement.

"Jeanne! It's Jeanne! Could it be that Jeanne has descended as a Servant, just like me?"

The cavalrymen all watched their temporary lord, his expressions akin to someone who had just obtained the first signed CD of his idol. His careful actions as they gingerly held the parchment resembled touching a fragile work of art. They had never seen their temporary lord show any expression other than seriousness, but now they witnessed it.

"Praise our Lord! To think that I can encounter Jeanne again! Jeanne!"

The swordsman shed tears of excitement, completely ignoring the presence of others around him. In this moment, he was immersed in long-lost joy, and even the wish that required the Holy Grail to be fulfilled became unimportant. Because his wish had already come true. The Holy Grail War belonging to him, Saber Gilles de Rais, had officially begun.

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