King of the North: My Lord's Diary Weekly Summary

"Speak, who sent you?"

The campfire crackled and popped in the snowy night, and a scarred man bound to a stake with a thick hemp rope knelt before Wayne.

Just now, Wayne suddenly organized the cavalry to unload the grain from the grain carts and ambush them outside the cold camp.

At first, even Ronald and Wright thought Wayne was being too paranoid—we were already quite close to Duke Quinto's estate, so there shouldn't have been any raiders attacking as he claimed.

But they did come.

Just as the silver book said, first came the sound of horses' hooves going down the slope, then flaming arrows began to burn the tents.

By the time the raiders realized something was wrong, it was too late; two cavalry units had already surrounded and annihilated them.

Among them, the scarred man in front of him named Kesha was the leader of the raiders—even when they were being counter-encircled, he fought his way out of the chaos and almost killed Wayne.

Wayne lost his iron sword in just two rounds.

Thanks to Ronald, who was also from a noble training camp, he was very strong. He not only returned in time to fight Ronald, but also successfully captured him with his swift swordsmanship.

The other raiders had all been dealt with by Wayne, leaving only this leader who clearly knew something to await interrogation.

Ksa was tied up like a dumpling, his face covered in bruises—Ronald had hit him hard.

Wayne sat opposite him, his right arm already bandaged. The herbal ointment Hank had prepared was burning, but at least he could move it.

Fortunately, they only lost two horses used as bait, and Wayne was the only injured person.

Ronald stood guard beside him, while the other cavalrymen, led by Wright and the veterans respectively, counted the spoils and rebuilt the supply wagons.

Kesa spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, his yellow eyes full of disdain: "The knives from the North, they just rob you because you're rich."

"This place is very close to the Duke of Quintu's territory—his estate is less than a day's journey from here."

Wayne said calmly, "You wouldn't have done this without the nobles' instructions."

"Damn it, the kid's pretty smart. No wonder he fell for your trick this time."

Knowing he was doomed, Kesa stopped wasting words: "Telling you would scare you to death! We're the old Kuntu faction!"

Upon hearing this, Wayne frowned.

Seeing Wayne's ugly expression, Kesha revealed a mouthful of yellow teeth: "Scared, huh? Don't think I'm faking it. The order and the reward are still in my pocket..."

Seeing that Wayne didn't seem inclined to come up and confirm, he spat out a mouthful of saliva and struggled to pull two things out of his pocket:

A letter folded several times, and a blue gem that looked quite valuable—it indeed bore the insignia of the Duke of Quintu.

"Damn it, old Kuntu has been fed up with you bunch of incompetent central government wastes for a long time. He told us to get rid of all the people who are just there to make up the numbers before we see him, so that the central government dukes will have to be replaced with more capable ones."

Unexpectedly, this time we've really run into a tough opponent.

Wayne's brow furrowed even deeper: "Stop acting, I know you were sent by Klaus."

Kesha's pupils contracted sharply, and for a moment he forgot to speak.

"You want me to hate Quinto when you're about to die—Klaus did you a favor, didn't he?"

Kesha stopped smiling and just stared at Wayne with a sinister look, remaining silent.

The snow fell on the campfire, making a soft sizzling sound.

He laughed, a hoarse and unpleasant laugh: "I don't know what you're talking about. We all know that I couldn't have done this without old Quinto's permission."

Wayne felt a chill, not from the wind and snow, but from the betrayal of his own blood relatives.

"You are a loyal person."

Wayne suddenly said, "At least be loyal to your employer. Come work for me; you've already repaid Klaus with your life."

Upon hearing this, Ronald, who was standing next to him, showed a surprised expression.

Kesha was taken aback for a moment, then burst into laughter: "Young Master, are you joking? I was just about to kill you!"

"You still have a choice."

Wayne said calmly, "I'm new here and need talent."

Kesha's laughter gradually subsided. He stared at Wayne, his gaze filled with suspicion: "Then how am I supposed to see you... Duke Quintu?"

"You don't need to see them anymore."

Wayne had already processed his emotions: "From today onwards, Kesha is dead, killed in tonight's attack."

Kesa remained silent.

After a long ten seconds, he finally spoke, his voice somewhat hoarse: "Baron of Lancaster, your father shouldn't have chosen to throw you to the north."

"so?"

"Sorry, I never intended to go back alive."

The initial arrogance and mockery in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a complex respect.

"That's a pity."

Wayne stood up: "Ronald, give him a quick death, then burn him and that letter together."

Wayne stomped the exquisite gem into the snow and watched as Kesha was beheaded.

The surrender rhetoric just now was partly due to Wayne's appreciation of talent, and partly a way to test his ability to judge people by observing the other party's flexibility.

As it turned out, his judgment was indeed correct; the other party was not the kind of person who would give in just to save his life, but unfortunately, he was too stubborn.

Faced with the bloody scene before him, Wayne was suppressing the churning in his stomach.

Reason told him that he needed to adapt to these things.

"You can't sleep, can you? Let's set off as soon as we've finished checking the supplies."

Wayne stood up and brushed the snow off his clothes: "We'll travel through the night and arrive at Duke Quintu's manor before dawn."

He didn't explain why he burned the letter and threw away the jewels, and Ronald didn't ask.

He merely gave the seemingly suddenly awakened nobleman a deep look before turning to carry out his orders.

Wright had already tallied up his spoils: a dozen or so poorly made ironware items, and some personal belongings.

Wayne walked toward his horse, his pocket watch trembling slightly, his palms burning again.

He raised his hand, and the phantom of the silver notebook unfolded in his vision, its pages flipping rapidly before finally stopping.

August 22nd, Arthurian calendar 324

Lord's Notes - Week 1 Summary

[Personal Attributes]

Name: Wayne Lancaster

Strength Level: Tier 1

Physical condition: 8

Agility: 6

Spirit: 9

(5 for the average adult male)

Specialties: Ballroom dancing, basic horseback riding.

Skills: None.

Weapons: None.

Bloodline: Lancaster family: Slightly enhanced physique. (1/3)

[Power Assessment]

Faction Name: None

Troop strength: f

Resources: N/A

Economy: f-

Stability: f

Culture: N/A

Overall rating: f- (unknown)

[This Week's Rating]

Survival points: 13

Power Points: 0

Reputation points: 0

Rating: f- (Survives for a week)

Evaluation: Within seven days, you went from a noble young master flirting by the fireplace to a prospective baron wielding a sword and fighting for your life in the snowy night.

The dead have no fame, but the living have endless possibilities.

Reward: 1 Crystal Blue-level resource lottery draw

Please select the reward type: Weapon/Bloodline/Follower

Wayne stared blankly at the scene.

"arms."

He has no shortage of followers, but there seems to be a limit to the number of bloodlines he can choose, so there's no rush.

As the pages turned, three cards gleaming with a crystal-blue luster spun and appeared in view:

【Frostbite Blade (Fine)】: A straight-bladed blade forged from Northern Cold Iron, with frost patterns engraved on the blade. It inflicts a slight frostbite effect when it hits a target.

【Bear Hunting Longbow (Fine)】: A longbow made of hardwood and animal sinew, with strong draw weight, and comes with a quiver of armor-piercing arrows.

【Red Pulse (Fine)】: A pickaxe inlaid with rubies that can illuminate mineral deposits within a ten-meter radius.

Wayne's gaze shifted between the three.

He had a sword; but he couldn't use a bow well.

Choose the economy without thinking.

His finger gestured towards the third card.

The card shattered into points of light, which then merged into the palm of the hand.

The next second, Wayne felt a weight on his left hand—a fine pickaxe fell into his grasp, its ruby ​​dull yet captivating.

He stroked the pickaxe face blankly, feeling the coolness of the metal and the faint warmth emanating from the gemstone, and smiled.

He finally understood the function of the cheat code:

As long as he lives, he will grow stronger and stronger.