Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 241 Past Events

The reeds along the Emerald River were trampled into mud by iron hooves, and the ghost general's bone armor was covered with congealed blood beads.

The blood-stained ledger in his hand recorded alarming figures, with each page categorized by "granaries, mines, and population," and the last line of ink showing a total exceeding 40,000.

"Clear out three more manors!" The Ghost General's roar startled the water birds on the riverbank. "We don't want the old or the children, we only want those who can work!"

Will stood on the high ground on the riverbank, watching the swarm of slaves pouring in from the opposite bank like ants.

His warriors were divided into three steel gates: the first to check physical strength, the second to distribute iron anchor emblems, and the third to directly brand slaves with their numbers.

To recruit a member of the spearmen and crossbowmen, these new slaves need to perform well.

The makeshift pontoon bridge on the river groaned under the strain, with pieces of wood falling into the rapids each time it was laid.

"This is the third batch." Will wiped the sweat from his brow and roared at the messenger, "Tell the Viscount to prepare shelters for another five thousand people!"

On the castle's watchtower, Viscount Wilke's telescope suddenly slipped from his hand.

In the few seconds it took for the telescope to roll down the city wall, he saw that a new urban area consisting of tattered tents had formed on the outskirts of the town—a “slave camp” that hadn’t existed three days earlier.

"Ito," the old lord's voice trembled slightly, "I remember Robin only mentioned looting?"

Ito's sword hilt was wrapped in newly changed bandages, a souvenir from the suppression of a rebellious manor: "That demon general said, 'Those who live are also spoils of war.'" He pointed to the black smoke still rising in the southwest, "There are still 20,000 people on the road over there."

As the setting sun cast the ghost general's shadow long across the castle walls, the general was polishing a gilded dagger, which had been pulled from the throat of a viscount.

His visor turned toward his former fiefdom—the Baron Rhine.

On the fifth day, the ghost general crushed a piece of jadeite rough with his bony fingers. "Give me five more days, and I'll even take away all the earthworms in the ground for you."

As the morning mist of the tenth day dissipated, the Lorraine family's scout captain reined in his horse. His gloves were covered in ash from touching the fence.

The entire border fence of Crawford Territory was evenly coated with a mixture of ashes and tar.

"My lord, something's wrong here." The adjutant's voice trembled. His horse's hoof hadn't kicked a pebble, but an old man's tooth, with half a flower petal still stuck to it.

When the investigation team stormed into the Earl's mansion, the bronze gate collapsed with a crash.

After the dust settled, people saw a map drawn in blood on the walls of the hall—each looted location was marked with the exact time of the raid, eventually converging into a thick red line pointing towards the Emerald River.

In the underground wine cellar, the corpses of the Crawford family members were arranged in a kneeling posture, with nooses around their necks.

"Investigate! Investigate thoroughly!" Duke Lorraine's roar shattered the remaining stained glass windows.

The legendary power of this expert leaked out of control, freezing the vegetation within a hundred meters into ice sculptures. "Sixty thousand people couldn't have evaporated into thin air!"

No one dared to remind the Duke that his nephew—the young viscount who had brought three thousand private soldiers to "mediate the dispute"—was currently hanging on the gate tower to dry in the wind.

The broken sword in the corpse's hand bore its clan emblem, as if mocking the dullness of the entire Middle-earth nobility.

This was specially retrieved from the battlefield with the barbarians and hung up by the ghost general.

The night wind swept withered leaves across the barren wheat field, and the ghost general's bone boots crushed a thorny vine half-buried in the soil.

Those were the boundary markers of his territory that he had planted himself years ago. The thatched roof of the shack rustled, and four figures draped in coarse hemp cloaks appeared as if they had grown out of the ground.

“My lord.” Mad’s voice was much older than a year ago, but a sharp glint shone beneath his drooping eyelids. “I knew you would come back.” The old knight’s right hand was still in the sword-holding position, their old code.

The mask of the Ghost General—or rather, Baron Rhine—slowly rose, revealing a face that had been disfigured and then healed. His fingertips lightly touched the faded family crest on Mad's shoulder: "Come with me, and the Lord will grant you the power of a great knight." His promise was exceptionally clear amidst the hooting of the night owl, "Perhaps you...can become a legend one day."

Ghost General couldn't help but think of the power fruit's effects. He knew very well that Viscount Wilke and Chief Knight Ito were able to break through to the legendary level entirely thanks to that mysterious power fruit.

Mad's calloused hands suddenly trembled violently.

This veteran, who once single-handedly repelled a pack of wolves, now had tears in his eyes because of a promise that he could "break through the legend."

He turned to look at the three people behind him. Of the twelve knights who came with him back then, only these few were still barely clinging to life.

"Your subordinates!" The four men simultaneously slammed one knee into the ground, startling a swarm of hibernating insects. "We swear to follow you to the death!"

Just as the ghost general was about to help them up, he suddenly caught the sound of bells from the distant manor.

Mad followed his gaze and his expression changed drastically: "Your younger brother."

The old knight uttered the word as if spewing venom, "He's arrived with the family's decree."

Under the moonlight, the demon general's mask closed again, emitting a sickening metallic scraping sound: "Take me to see him." His voice suddenly became unusually calm, "And while you're at it, see what my dear brother has done to the manor I left behind."

The night fog spread out, engulfing the five figures moving towards the manor.

Further away, newly planted golden grapevines are growing wildly under the moonlight. It is the current lord's favorite variety, and it is said that each vine has been watered with the blood of slaves. Grapes grown from this variety are extremely delicious when made into wine.

The ghost general suddenly recalled the past.

Twelve-year-old Rhine huddled in a haystack in the castle cellar, counting the new whip marks on his ribs.

Moonlight streamed in through the skylight, illuminating the broken sword in his arms—the only keepsake his mother had left him when she died in battle.

The word "guard" was crookedly and clumsily carved on the hilt of the sword. She carved it with an arrow before she died, hoping that her husband would use it to protect her child.

Unfortunately it backfired.

"You bastard, you've stolen bread from the kitchen again!" A shrill laugh from his half-brother suddenly came from above, followed by a bucket of swill being poured down through the skylight.

Rhine bit her lip tightly and didn't make a sound, listening to the young master in his fine clothes skipping away into the distance: "Father said he's taking me to ride a thoroughbred tonight!"

The mold in the cellar formed grotesque patterns on the walls, just like that snowy night last winter when his father and ten-year-old brother were unwrapping their name birthday presents in the banquet hall, while he was punished by being forced to kneel in the courtyard to clean his armor.

The icy water cracked his fingernails, and drops of blood fell on the snow like a string of tiny red snowflakes.

“Your mother was just a lowly freeman.” Every time his father said this, he would use his sword to lift his chin. “It is already a great blessing that you can bear the Rhine surname.”

The hilt of that sword was inlaid with a ruby ​​that he received when his younger brother turned one year old.

(End of this chapter)