After winning this battle and assigning the task of "reconnaissance rather than pursuit" to the cuirassiers, it was time for post-battle arrangements.

The nearby Defensive Army and stationed Black Hat Army quickly arrived.

The service soldiers of each corps, accompanied by a few War Monks acting as assistants, roamed the battlefield.

They occasionally gave the severely wounded a final blow, bent over to pick and choose among the weapons, while the horses were driven aside for centralized management.

The scorching sun was overhead, and this summer was particularly hot, almost setting the air ablaze.

In such sweltering weather, to prevent plague, Jeanne ordered that the bodies of the enemy soldiers, except for their own fallen, were to be buried on the spot.

They loaded the corpses of the War Monks and Beastman Cavalry, put the wounded and spoils on the wagon, and escorted the prisoners back.

This sudden attack was very bizarre, and Jeanne did not dare to act rashly.

The Holy Gun Cavalry had not gone far when the villagers from several nearby settlements swarmed out.

What Jeanne and her troops found useless, such as tattered clothes, rusty daggers, and the horse meat of dead horses, were significant treasures for these villagers.

The sound of horse hooves clattered, and the road back was stained with bloodstains everywhere.

"These cuirassiers should indeed be equipped with armor, and preferably some clockwork guns, otherwise they can't even break armor,"

Officer Kolebo, catching up with Jeanne from behind, complained.

Jeanne shrugged, "They are meant for reconnaissance, harassment, and pursuit. If they could deal with Heavy Knights, what would we need to do?

The most important thing is, with armor and clockwork guns, how would their tactical positioning differ from ours? They'd just be a low-end version of the Holy Gun Cavalry."

Although Jeanne studied the military book "Knight Sifal," which advocates traditional knight tactics, she personally had to combat knights, so her understanding of cavalry was entirely different from that of traditional cavalry officer Kolebo.

Past cavalry/knights were multifaceted yet simply structured, relying on brute force alone.

Jeanne focused more on top-level design, precisely defining vertical segments of different cavalry tactical roles, to achieve coupling of tactical subdivisions of cavalry branches.

She required clarity in the division of labor among cavalry members, where those responsible for charging would specialize in charging, those for harassment would specialize in harassment, and each cavalry subdivision must excel in a singular function.

Such cavalry training was faster, allowing even civilians to quickly enhance combat abilities without requiring a decade.

Of course, in real battles, the ability to use different cavalry in cooperation set high demands on the officer's command and cavalry organization.

Cavalry officers could no longer charge recklessly like Master Knights.

Humming the Celestial Kingdom Dream tune, Jeanne headed back toward Joan of Arc Castle with two victories.

A faint sobbing interrupted her humming tune of the Celestial Kingdom Dream.

Jeanne raised her head.

Unknowingly, they had arrived at the village that was previously raided and plundered.

The Defensive Army had extinguished most of the fire, yet the ruined huts swayed precariously in the wind.

Amidst the wheat fields cleared by flames, aromas of cooked rice grains and wheat kernels lingered in the air.

The source of the sobbing was Griz and Nikola, gathered on fields left with only charred wheat stalks.

Griz knelt on the ground, staring blankly ahead, as if observing something, yet there was nothing in front of him.

Before his knees lay Old Nicholas, trampled flesh and blood by horse hooves, with ribs, viscera, and blood vessels exposed to the air.

Little Nicholas lay on his father's corpse, crying aloud, so mournful that his sobbing was intermittently disrupted by lost voice and breathlessness.

Jeanne halted her warhorse, leading it to the roadside.

The once peaceful village square was rows of charred corpses, the knights had shown no mercy to these "betrayed" subjects.

It was not only Griz who wept, but the entire village was in tears.

In the distant, black smoke rose behind the hill, and cries of lament came from people of neighboring villages.

This dispelled much of the joy of victory in Jeanne's heart.

Kneeling for a long while, Griz seemed to notice Jeanne's arrival. He braced himself with one hand on the ground, struggling to stand.

His calves trembled as he stepped through wheat fields, ditches, and mud pits, approaching Jeanne and her group.

"Who are you? What are you doing?"

Several Holy Gun Cavalry immediately blocked him, drawing their sabers and pointing at Griz's chest.

They couldn't be blamed for their nervousness; the Holy War Special District was a military zone, often having War Monks, officers, and civilian monks attacked.

"Let him through." Jeanne removed her helmet, revealing tousled black hair, "I know him. He was the one who alerted us."

Despite saying this, several Holy Gun Cavalry still drew their heavy, nearly meter-long single-hand guns, aiming at Griz, who had his head lowered.

If Griz dared make any sudden move, they would not hesitate to shoot him on the spot.

"What do you want to say?"

Step by step, Griz approached, then knelt before Jeanne, raising his head as tears finally fell.

"Saintess, I want to kill the devils!"

Jeanne exchanged glances with Kolebo and both focused on his missing left arm.

Such cases of pleading to join the Salvation Army after family tragic losses were numerous for them, most being absorbed into the Saint Father's Association or Cheka Military Police.

But Griz lost his left hand. Having him undertake high-risk tasks again...

While Jeanne hesitated, Little Nicholas staggered over, holding his cousin's shoulder, "What are you doing?"

Held back by his cousin, Griz remained steadfastly focused on Jeanne, speechless.

Even missing one arm, Little Nicholas could not forcefully move him.

Punching his cousin's shoulder heavily, he wailed with sobs: "Papa exchanged his life for yours, and you want to waste it like this?"

"It's not a waste!" Griz finally spoke, "I want to avenge them!"

Seeing this, Jeanne sighed, "Killing devils doesn't necessarily happen on the battlefield; the grain you grow can also become..."

"I killed one myself!"

"What did you say?" Jeanne frowned.

Turning around, Griz pulled out a round, bloody object from the pocket behind his waist.

He lifted the head, with eyes wide open, causing Little Nicholas nearby to be shocked speechless.

"I killed an escort knight myself! I'm as good as anyone, I can kill devils too!"

Griz lifted his head, his eyes bloodshot and nostrils flaring, his muttered growls resembling mania.

"Papa Amma was killed, my sister was killed, Old Nicholas was killed, my home is gone again!"

"If you don't take me in, I'll kill the devils myself!"

"I'll chop off their heads, pierce their hearts, send these devils all back to the Fire Prison, I want them dead! Not a single one left!"

Griz's right fingernails dug deep into his palm as he panted intensely, tears slowly flowed from his furious eyes, and his cries and roars echoed like an owl's lament in the wind.

"Not a single one left!"

The surrounding smoke and wheat swayed in the evening breeze.

After a full minute of silence, Jeanne finally broke from her trance, sighing deeply, "Foolish boy, then what about your brother?"

"I've sold my fields to give him a good wife, someone who will care for him."

"Alright." Jeanne finally relented, "But you have to prove yourself first. For now, follow Kolebo... follow the cuirassiers and work as a service soldier."

"I can fight in battle!"

"You cannot!" Jeanne interrupted him. "You'll follow the cavalry as a service soldier for two months; if you can endure, I'll ask a friend to make something that will let you barely go to the battlefield."

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