Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 199 Argument
"Madam! Young Master Allen's act of pardoning the slave soldiers is clearly an attempt to undermine the foundation of the nobility!" The red-bearded knight captain ripped off his helmet, veins bulging on his forehead. "Are the three-hundred-year-old rules of the Wolft family going to be destroyed by this bastard of unknown origin?"

Before he could finish speaking, the carved wooden door was suddenly kicked open.

Viscount Wilke, draped in a scarlet cloak, strode in, his face shifting between light and shadow in the candlelight. Behind him, Robin gripped his dragon-slaying spear, like a lurking beast.

The vassals fell silent instantly, some even instinctively taking a half step back, knocking over the bronze candlesticks in the corner.

“They’re all here.” The Viscount’s voice seemed to be squeezed from the depths of his chest, carrying an icy chill. He walked to his wife, his fingers tracing her trembling shoulder. “Do you know who led three thousand militiamen to defend Aspen Valley when the iron cavalry of Minnesota marched in?”

“But those slave soldiers,” a young vassal tried to explain, but Robin’s step forward startled him so much that he swallowed the rest of his sentence.

The boy's silver-haired eyes were like those of a venomous snake, piercing straight into the other's gaze: "While your knights and squires cannot even touch the hem of the enemy's clothes on the battlefield, my warriors are building a defensive line with their own flesh and blood."

A suffocating silence filled the palace.

The Viscountess suddenly stood up, her skirt sweeping across the mess on the floor.

She gazed at the unprecedented madness in her husband's eyes, then at the legendary weapon at Robin's waist that had slain a knight, and let out a sigh that was neither a laugh nor a smile: "Since Master has made his choice," she grabbed the jade hairpin from the dressing table and hurled it to the ground, "then our Wilke family will gamble to the death!"

The broken jade reflected an eerie light, and the vassals looked at each other in bewilderment.

Someone quietly pressed down on the sword hilt, but suddenly let go when they met Robin's cold gaze. In that instant, they seemed to see a huge figure appear behind the boy.

"From tomorrow onwards, all blacksmith shops in the fiefdoms will be under Allen's control." The Viscount's voice echoed in the deathly silent palace. "Whoever dares to disobey—" He paused, then his aged body suddenly erupted with astonishing power, "will take your fiefdoms and go to Poplar Valley to feed the wolves!"

As the last vassal left the door, Robin finally relaxed his tense shoulders.

The Viscountess suddenly grabbed his wrist, her nails digging deep into his flesh: "You'd better win, my good son." Her whisper was filled with despair and expectation, "Otherwise, I will personally rip your heart out and feed it to the slave soldiers you saved."

Viscount Wilke’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently, and the dry swallowing sound was particularly clear in the silent bedroom.

As the candlelight flickered, the tense figures of the mother and son cast distorted shadows on the wall, like two sculptures about to break apart.

"Enough!" The viscount slammed his cane heavily on the blue bricks, but it didn't startle the two of them at all.

“You need not worry.” Robin broke the silence first, grasping the lady’s trembling wrist in return. “I will not let Wilke’s banner fall.” Before he finished speaking, the Viscountess suddenly let out a cold laugh, her scarlet skirt sweeping across the mess on the ground: “What a boastful statement! When the iron cavalry of the capital tramples through Poplar Valley, I’ll see if you, boy, can protect everyone’s lives!”

After the lady slammed the door and left, Robin released his hand, revealing four purplish-blue finger marks on his wrist.

The Viscount, his steps faltering, steadied himself on the table, his old eyes clouded. "She's leaving the family a way out." He grabbed the remaining wine on the table and downed it in one gulp, the amber liquid dripping down his beard. "If we lose, the royal family only needs the Wilke family to hand over the culprit—but she wants to protect her bloodline, her fiefdom, and..."

“I understand.” Robin’s voice was eerily calm as he gazed at the dawning sky outside the window. “That’s why we must win.” The boy turned around. “When the slave soldiers first grasped their own longswords, when the war song of freedom resounded throughout the West—” A sharp smile curved his lips. “Failure will no longer be an option.”

The morning light pierced the stained glass of the Knights Guild's dome, cutting the gilded table in the council chamber into dappled light and shadow.

Alina put away the magical communication crystal, the faint glow of the runes remaining on her fingertips reflecting the suddenly frozen expressions on everyone's faces.

When the news that "Viscount Wilke has pardoned slave soldiers and formed a civilian army" was released, a crackling sound seemed to rise from the silence.

“Interesting! Very interesting!” Lady Aishar’s silvery laughter broke the silence. She leaned against the velvet chair, her rose gold skirt like a blooming flower bud, and the jade ring spinning on her finger reflected a sly light. “That boy, actually wants to overturn the table on the noble’s chessboard?” She laughed so hard that she almost fell over, and the pearl tassels in her hair trembled slightly. “I’ve always said that knights of order should not be confined by dogma.”

Leo, however, sat frozen in the shadows like a statue.

The guild master gripped the armrests tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force, and his metal gloves scraped against the oak wood with a harsh sound.

His silver helmet draped over his dark-patterned visor, revealing only the raging fury in his eyes that seemed about to erupt like a volcano: "This is a blatant challenge to the code of chivalry! Commoners take up arms, slaves are pardoned—if the Wilke family succeeds, the very foundation of the kingdom will be shaken!"

"Foundation?" An elder of the Bauhinia Organization sneered, his obsidian brooch gleaming eerily in the morning light. "When the defeated troops of Minnesota spread the news of the devastation in Aspen Valley throughout the Central Region, the so-called foundation was already bleeding. Leo, are you still going to turn a blind eye to protect those pampered nobles?"

The meeting room immediately erupted into a heated argument.

Some people slammed their fists on the table and denounced Robin as a "traitor," while others whispered about the ingenuity of Wilke's army's tactics. The buzzing of the magical communication crystals rose and fell, as if foreshadowing an even greater storm.

Mrs. Aishar rested her chin on her hand, her gaze passing through the noise to look out the window, which was shrouded in morning mist.

Leo suddenly stood up, his metal boots slamming into the ground as he shattered the argument: "I will go to Wilke Territory myself." His voice was like an icy blade: "Whoever dares to trample on the thousand-year-old tradition of knighthood will pay the price."

The doors to the council chamber swung open with a bang, and a gust of cold wind swept in the lingering arguments. As Mrs. Aishar watched his departing figure, her smile grew even more amused.

This storm, started by a young man, is finally about to blow into a wider world.

Lady Aishar gently twirled the jade ring on her finger, a dangerous glint in her eyes. She swept her gaze over the astonished crowd, a cold smile playing on her lips.

"That old man Leo thinks he's upholding the so-called order, but he's just blinded by the dogmas of the royal family." Lady Aisha snorted contemptuously. "He thinks he can suppress Allen Wilke just because he's a knight. He's dreaming."

“However, Guild Master Leo’s strength should not be underestimated.” A young knight spoke with a trembling voice, his voice tinged with fear. “He is the guild master of the Knights’ Guild, possessing a powerful field of order and superb swordsmanship.”

(End of this chapter)