Holding the fort is not feasible; it will be flattened by orders.
Facing them head-on is not feasible; the villagers will face noble retaliation.
Fleeing is not feasible, as all land and water checkpoints are blocked.
Even though everyone was so determined to save the refugees of Joan of Arc Castle, in the end, did they accomplish nothing?
Even the most steadfast Jeanne was thrown into doubt; could it be that everything they did was meaningless?
However, this daze was only momentary. After regaining her clarity, Jeanne angrily looked at the old man in front of her.
"Sounds easy enough, so you must have a solution, right?"
Patrick gave Jeanne a mysterious smile: "Bring me paper and pen."
Momentarily stunned, Jeanne quickly grabbed paper and a pen from the table and handed them to Patrick with anticipation.
Patrick picked up the quill, dramatically wrote a large line on the paper, and gave it to Jeanne.
Jeanne took the paper, only to read these six simple words: "Haha, I'm not telling you."
"You!" Jeanne flushed red, "This is about the life and death of tens of thousands of refugees at Joan of Arc Castle. If you have a solution, don't hold back."
"Haha, I'm not telling you."
"Do you have a plan or are you just mocking me!" Jeanne's forehead veins throbbed twice.
Horn stepped forward, calming the provoked and furious Jeanne. He bowed to Patrick:
"Master Chrispa, if you have a solution, please don't tease Jeanne. We don't have much time left."
Patrick, with his legs crossed, looked Horn up and down and casually said:
"I have a letter from Duchess Hemashi."
Patrick pulled a lacquered envelope from his pocket: "This letter only has a header, ending, and seal, but no matter what I write on it, as long as it's within her capability, Duchess Hemashi will acknowledge it as genuine.
I don't have to tell you how valuable this favor is.
If I write a plea on behalf of the villagers of Joan of Arc Castle, in favor of the Duchess, they won't launch massacres, at most they'll provoke local citizens, wealthy merchants, and small landowning Armed Farmers.
This doesn't mean that the refugees participating in the siege on Joan of Arc Castle can escape. If they and their families stay in Joan of Arc Castle, they will still implicate you…"
The surrounding Salvation Army leaders' eyes lit up, and Madlan eagerly said: "Then we can take the Salvation Army by ship and leave, go to Kasha County to find…"
"Hey, hey, hey, who said you could use it? I'm just telling you, I'm damn impressive," Patrick tucked the letter into his pocket, "Moreover, why should I let you use it?"
"Master Chrispa, you've said so much, surely it's not just to tease us?" Qianqian, standing by, looked at the white-haired elder and pleaded.
"Tsk, no vision," Patrick shook his head, "Do you know what the most important skill as a leader is? It's painting the big picture. You, you still have to learn."
"Then what do you want?" Horn's initially calm voice finally held a trace of agitation.
"I'll be direct. First, I'll tell you, this protective letter for the villagers won't last long, at most, three months, and by then the knights will go on a killing spree.
The sins you've committed, you must bear them yourselves, you're not allowed to escape.
I can tell you a place, right near Joan of Arc Castle, where you can train during this time; the knights will find it hard to harass, but they won't retreat either.
Three months later, you must leave that place, retake Joan of Arc Castle, and completely drive out the knights. Can you agree to this?"
Is three months enough to defeat those knights?
Everyone's eyes were fixed on Horn's face, waiting for his answer.
"I promise you," Horn replied, locking eyes with Patrick.
Patrick waved the letter in his hand: "Even if you don't move out, there's not much I can do about you, as you're a rare Witch Man; Ruo'an III wouldn't allow us to kill you…
I only hope the decision you made last night under the tree will be the same decision in the future, and won't let those innocent souls look down on you."
"That is also what I fear the most."
"Good." Raising two fingers, Patrick continued, "Second, you need to join the Ruo'an Faction and share the alchemical musket technology, and recognize me as your master."
This was what Horn planned to do anyway; he had no foundation and needed the resources to maintain his current position.
"I promise you, the initiation ceremony can be held at any time."
"There's no rush for that," Patrick raised a third finger, "Third…"
Saying this, Patrick suddenly fell silent. He rubbed the letter in his hand, glanced at Jeanne, and sighed:
"I have a goddaughter, I watched her grow up. You're destined to make her sad. I only ask you not to hurt her. Can you promise that?"
A white-haired figure suddenly appeared in Horn's mind, but he did not look at Jeanne and said firmly, "I can't guarantee it, but I will try my utmost."
"That's enough," Patrick stepped forward and solemnly shook Horn's hand, "Don't let us down."
"In three days, the knights will arrive, think carefully about how to appease the refugees and take them with you." After saying this, Patrick turned and headed toward the door.
"Hey, hey, hey," Busak, jolted awake by a series of changes, called out, "That place within Joan of Arc Castle's territory, not far from us, and able to resist the knights—you haven't mentioned it."
"Actually, you all know that place," Patrick yawned, "Didn't you come from there?"