Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 209 Abandonment
“Lord Westin!” Andisu’s voice suddenly deepened. “You should be glad that the Lord did not order a pursuit. But White Poplar Valley is the commoners’ defense line, not the nobles’ escape route.” He raised his hand and waved it, and the warriors roared in unison, the rhythm of their spears striking their shields making the valley vibrate.

Westin stared at the insurmountable wall of people, and finally, trembling, lowered the curtains.

As the carriage slowly turned around, he heard the song of the warriors behind him. It was a song he had never heard before, and the lyrics were full of praise for anchors and longswords.

The family crest in his arms was gradually losing its luster as he was tossed about, like a faded old dream.

The late autumn mist, like thick honey, carried the scent of decaying leaves and wafted over the Westin's ankles.

He led his warhorse at the head of the procession, the wild berries crushed by his boots leaving dark red sap on the cobblestone path, much like the bloodstains on the Wilke Territory training grounds.

He discovered this narrow path hidden in the folds of the mountain rocks by chance ten years ago when he was chasing runaway slaves. The ivy covering the cliffs on both sides has now turned red, like two burning walls of blood flanking this mysterious group.

"My lord, the allied camp is only three miles away," came the adjutant Camille's voice from behind, tinged with suppressed excitement. "Once we present this secret passage to Viscount Rhine, we..."

"Shut up!" Westin whirled around, his armor shoulder blades scraping against the rock face with a screeching sound. He stared at the Wilke's insignia dangling from his adjutant's waist, then suddenly reached out and ripped it off. "From this day forward, we are Lord Rhine's vanguard."

He squeezed the metal badge until it was deformed, and the sap of the ivy dripped through his fingers, leaving dark red marks on the back of his hand.

As they rounded the last bend in the mountain, the torches of the Allied camp suddenly burst open in the fog.

Westin's pupils contracted sharply—Viscount Rhine had personally come out to greet them with twelve noble lords. Their armor gleamed with a cold silver light in the firelight, and the black bear banner at the front was stretched straight by the wind, with the knight's sword pattern clearly visible under the bear's claws.

"Your Excellency Westin, I've kept you waiting." Viscount Rhein's smile creased his plump face. He gestured, and behind him, a servant presented a silver tray bearing a brand-new set of bear-patterned armor. "I've heard you've brought a great gift for the allied forces?"

Westin knelt on one knee, the sheepskin map sweating in his palm.

When he unfolded the map, he deliberately positioned the vermilion dot marking the secret passage directly opposite the campfire, and the dot swelled into a hideous bloodstain in the firelight: "This is a 'path' that leads directly to the back of Wilke's territory. In its widest part, three riders can ride side by side, while in its narrowest part, only one person can pass at a time."

As he looked up, he caught the disdainful whispers of the nobles, and suddenly raised his voice, "Even Leo's iron cavalry couldn't find this road back then, but now..."

Viscount Rhein stopped Westin from continuing and took him to a banquet held in his honor.

The chandeliers cast dappled light into the banquet tent. Westin stared at the swirling red wine in his glass, listening to the flattery of the nobles around him, feeling that the praise was like a swarm of buzzing flies.

"Lord Westin's act of sending such a generous gift to the Allied forces in this dire situation truly makes him a model for the nobles of the West!" The speaker was Baron Rockefeller, whose diamond lapel pin dazzled in the candlelight. "The discipline and fighting prowess of the knights you trained in Wilke Territory back then were truly remarkable. If it weren't for the outrageous outburst from someone like Allen..."

Westin's fingers gripped the glass tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

He recalled the facts he had deliberately ignored: Robin's combat prowess in slaying the legendary knight of the Earl of Minnesota and fighting alongside the free knights of Wilke's territory far surpassed that of the elites he had "selected" using noble bloodlines.

But at this moment he could only show a reserved smile and let Rockefeller put a piece of roasted venison onto his plate.

"You flatter me, gentlemen." Westin's voice was deliberately hoarse, as if he had been through countless battles. "As long as it can help Viscount Rhine defeat the rebels, Westin will not hesitate to die for it." As he raised his cup, his gaze swept over the twelve nobles in the tent and found that their servants were all standing five steps away, except for his adjutant Camille, who was blocked outside the tent.

This was both a precaution and a warning. The banquet continued until late at night, and when the last nobleman left with a burp, only the flickering candlelight and Viscount Rhein's heavy breathing remained in the tent.

Westin pulled a parchment scroll from his inner pocket, his fingertips tracing the serrated edges. It was specially made to resemble the style of Wilke's dense scrolls, all for this "perfect presentation."

"This is Allen's defensive map of Viscount Wilke's territory." The moment the scroll unfurled, Westin heard his own heart pounding. "It appears impregnable, but in reality, it can be breached by just thirty elite knights if our main army passes through the narrow path."

“Very good, Lord Westin has certainly not disappointed me.” Viscount Rhein patted Westin on the shoulder with satisfaction.

Upon hearing the title of "Lord," Westin's anxiety subsided.

"Your subordinate will certainly not fail in your trust, sir." The Westin Alliance issued a declaration of loyalty.

“It’s getting late, Your Excellency should head to the vanguard camp to prepare.” Viscount Rhein patted his shoulder, his bear-paw-like hand applying considerable force this time, Westin even heard a soft crack from his collarbone. “Remember, the vanguard will depart at dawn and must capture Poplar Valley before noon.”

As I stepped out of the tent, the night wind whipped up sand and grit that stung my face.

Westin gazed at the flickering campfire in the direction of the vanguard camp, recalling Viscount Rhein's words, "Take Poplar Valley."

The area is now garrisoned by two thousand warriors from Andisu, whose new crossbows make him somewhat nervous.

He reached for the bear-patterned sword at his waist; a piece of the gilded bear head on the scabbard had been rubbed off, revealing the rough copper base underneath.

The sound of a night watchman striking the gong came from afar, startling a flock of owls.

Westin suddenly laughed, a laugh that surprised even himself with its madness.

After years of struggle, he finally rose from a knight to a true nobleman.

"Alan Wilke," he whispered to the night sky, his voice a mix of resentment and admiration, "will your head become the medal that elevates me to nobility?"

In the early hours of the morning, the group quietly entered the Shadow Path.

Westin rode at the front of the procession on the black horse bestowed upon him by Viscount Rhine, with the legendary knight Solo, sent by Viscount Rhine, beside him.

He suddenly remembered the spring planting ceremony in Wilke County, when he stood beside the Viscount and watched the slave soldiers sowing seeds in the mud, and thought that such an order would continue for thousands of years.

At this moment, however, he was leading a group of nobles who didn't even know the terrain of Poplar Valley to overthrow the territory he had once served.

As for whether his act of betrayal would be scorned by the nobles, he subconsciously ignored it.

In his eyes, he could give up everything else as long as he could become a nobleman.

(End of this chapter)