Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 248 Formation of the Knights

As the downpour subsided, the tolling of the capital's bells shattered the dawn.

The Knights of Sword and Fire of the Wolford family stood in formation in the morning light, their dark gold armor reflecting a cold gleam.

Bob stood at the very front of the formation, behind him were the family's three hundred most elite knights, each possessing the Storm Breath of the Wolf family, enough to rival an ordinary Grand Knight.

To their left, the sword and shield banner of the Rhine family fluttered high.

Emperor Rebaton's promise prompted this family, which had just suffered a major blow, to mobilize all its forces, even bringing back the last two legendary knights guarding their ancestral lands.

“Lord Nash.” Bob turned to look at the white-haired old knight.

The elderly Knight of Order wore a simple gray robe, with only the sword and fire emblem on his chest signifying his identity.

The most powerful member of the Wolford family in contemporary times, and also recognized as the "last conservative" in the royal capital's aristocratic circles.

The old knight did not respond, but silently wiped the longsword in his hand.

The sword was engraved with ancient dragon language runes; it was the "Dragon's Fury Blade" passed down through generations of the Wolford family.

"Solomon has arrived."

A deep voice came from behind.

Bob turned around and saw a tall man in a black cloak walking slowly towards him. Hanging at his waist was not a knight's sword, but a strangely shaped scimitar.

The blade was like a crescent moon, its edge gleaming with a dark red, blood-red light.

“A second-tier Order Knight, ‘Blood Moon’ Solomon.” Bob nodded slightly. “I didn’t expect you to be able to get me involved.”

Solomon grinned, revealing his gleaming white teeth: "The price the Emperor offered is worth the trip." He patted the scimitar at his waist, "Moreover, I am very interested in that Order Knight who could kill Horn."

Bob said no more and mounted his horse.

In the morning light, three armies converged into a mighty torrent, heading west: the Iron Knights of Sword and Fire, the Elite Swordsmen of Sword and Shield, and a hundred elite adventurers led by Solomon.

The setting sun bathed the walls of Viscount Wilke's territory in gold, and the newly paved stone slabs in front of the city gate still bore traces of undried blood, which had been trampled into messy footprints by the celebrating crowd.

In the center of the square, the ghost general removed his hideous mask, revealing a face pierced by scars.

At his feet knelt a dozen knights from the Rhineland, their armor still bearing the marks of anchors.

That was the mark the ghost general personally branded when we surrendered last night.

"My lord." The ghost general knelt on one knee, his voice hoarse but firm, "All two thousand three hundred and twenty-seven people have been settled."

Robin stood on the city wall, looking down at the revitalized city.

The newly arrived free citizens are receiving their land deeds under the guidance of soldiers, while the knightly families are being housed in the city's defenses.

The arrival of these people instantly elevated the combat strength of Wilke Territory to a new level.

"Why did they go with you?" Robin suddenly asked.

The ghost general was silent for a moment, then took out a rusty copper coin from his pocket: "Because I promised them." The faint anchor pattern on the coin gleamed in the setting sun, "...you will give them a better life."

The sound of children's laughter could be heard in the distance.

Several children from the Rhineland are practicing wooden swords with local children in the newly built training ground.

Their parents stood aside, their eyes no longer numb, but with a long-lost gleam.

As the night breeze swept across the city walls, Robin realized that he was no longer alone.

Before the morning mist had dissipated, the council chamber of Wilke Castle was already packed. Nine great knights stood on either side, their armor gleaming with a cold metallic sheen in the candlelight.

In the main seat, Viscount Wilke tapped his fingers lightly on the table, the rhythm as steady as a war drum.

Behind him, six hundred sets of brand-new knight armor were neatly arranged, each set engraved with the Wilke family's iconic anchor.

"Gentlemen," the Viscount's voice was not loud, but it instantly silenced the entire hall, "from this day forward, Lord Wilke will have his own order of knights."

His scepter tapped the ground lightly, and the servants lifted the velvet cloth covering the long table.

Six hundred silver badges gleamed in the morning light, their anchor patterns echoing the armor designs.

The ghost general stood by the window, his face etched with scars, the shadows obscuring his features.

Last night, he personally inspected the "gifts" from the Bauhinia organization.

Those warhorses were not ordinary military horses, but dragon-scaled steeds mixed with the blood of magical beasts, whose horseshoes would fly and sparks would fly when they ran.

"I will personally command the First Battalion." Viscount Wilke pointed his scepter to the west side of the sand table. "The Second Battalion..." His gaze swept over everyone present, finally settling on Robin, "...will be handed over to our future lord."

Robin fiddled with the silver badge, his fingertips tracing the anchor pattern on it—it felt icy cold. He looked at Viscount Wilke speechlessly. He was good at training ordinary infantry, but when it came to training knights, he was completely clueless.

In order not to damage his father's image, he could only change the subject.

“Father,” Robin suddenly spoke, his voice calm and incongruous with the somber atmosphere of the room, “the gears in the waterworks, are they made of refined iron or bronze?”

Viscount Wilke's grip on the scepter stiffened slightly.

He looked at his son, whom he understood less and less.

While all the generals were filled with excitement for the soon-to-be-formed knightly order, Robin's eyes gleamed with a light he could not comprehend.

“It should be refined iron,” the Viscount frowned, recalling the workshop’s report. “Go and check the northern suburban valley. Grand Knight Groot is in charge of the construction.”

Great Knight Groot is a territory knight who recently broke through to the Great Knight level after consuming the Power Fruit.

Robin nodded and casually placed the knight's badge on the edge of the sand table.

The silver medal, a symbol of honor, rested on the castle model, swaying slightly in the morning light.

The ghost general silently watched all of this.

He noticed that when his lord left, his gaze lingered on the six hundred sets of armor for less time than he did on a sample of a gear sent from the workshop.

After the council chamber doors closed, Viscount Wilke sighed and picked up the badge he had left behind.

Unbeknownst to him, at that moment, the water-powered forging hammers in the northern suburban valley were making a thunderous roar.

That was a steel rhythm completely different from the knight's charge.

"Then Ito will be in charge of the second team for now!" Viscount Wilke could only turn his gaze to Ito.

Ito readily accepted the task.

The roar of the river in the northern suburbs was deafening.

Robin stood on the cliff, looking down at the workshop complex stretching for half a mile. Twelve waterwheels were arranged in a steel array on the river, driving dozens of forging hammers up and down.

Amidst the rising steam, the craftsmen moved like busy ants, feeding red-hot iron billets into the "mouth" of the machines.

"Young Master!" Sir Groot, his face covered in soot, trotted over, his voice broken by the clanging of metal, "According to your blueprints, the gear set in Workshop Three was just tested yesterday!"

(End of this chapter)