Your Majesty's money, why don't you engrave my name on it?

Raslaufer watched coldly as his opponent lunged at his weapon, showing no surprise whatsoever—it would have been strange if she hadn't. In terms of length, weight, and performance, the black flame greatsword forged by Vondar far surpassed his opponent's own weapon. This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision; he had noticed his opponent preparing for this move approximately seven to twelve moves prior.

But what could he do? He had promised Anne that he would die by the warhammer, and that he would never die by any other weapon.

However, appropriate assistance may be necessary.

Thinking this, as Blackhand abandoned her warhammer and struggled to pull out Raslaufer's two-handed greatsword, which had been given extra weight by von Dahl, Raslaufer kicked up her lance from the ground. Both charged at each other at the same time. But to Blackhand's surprise, who was already swinging her greatsword with all her might, the tip of Raslaufer's lance suddenly veered to the side just as it was about to hit her, embedding itself at an angle in the ground. At the same time, Doppler sidestepped past her, causing her all-out attack to miss.

But Raslaufer still held the warhammer in his hand. As the two passed each other, Doppler suddenly turned around and swung the hammer backhand, striking Bane Blackhand squarely on the forehead. The sudden, heavy blow sent her flying backward, and with a muffled thud, the counterweight protrusion at the end of the lance pierced through the thin back of her head and into her skull!

He had already calculated the angle of the lance!

Raslaufer's warhammer moved with lightning speed. Seeing that the first blow had landed, the owl-bear, with its steel head, was instantly swung around by its user, leaving a trail of afterimages as it swung repeatedly toward the still-not-quite-dead Black Hand. By the second blow, the end of the lance had already protruded from the front. But Doppler was not about to give up. The warhammer pounded down on the opponent's head from all directions. With a loud crash, the head exploded with the final blow, turning into countless flying fragments of bone and flesh that shot out in all directions. At the same time, the corpse, having lost its footing, could no longer stand upright and crashed to the ground.

A thunderous roar erupted from the mangled body of the Black Hand, carrying black mist that surged forth and transformed into a gigantic black hand. In mid-air, it pointed its index finger sharply at Leslaufer, then carried the souls of the believers back to the Kingdom of God and vanished without a trace.

War and duels are the proper things to do. Besides, in this world, the tyrant among tyrants has limited power and is not yet strong enough to punish Raslaufer—after penetrating barrier after barrier.

"Bane's follower, by Imperial law! Has been executed!" Raslaufer shouted, raising his arm. As pieces of flesh and blood fell from his body, a roar of cheers erupted from the army behind Felix. In contrast, the other Bane's followers looked ashen-faced. Dople kicked the headless, soulless corpse on the ground. "Looks like that's how you died—why did you think you could wield my sword?"

Angelita spurred her horse forward, while Felix followed behind, trailing by half a head. As she took the warhammer from Leslaufer, Anne returned the sword to him: "Thank you for your service. In this way, His Majesty Henry III's expectations can be fulfilled—the decrees of the 'good' emperor should not be abandoned."

The merits of Richard VII's reign are clearly controversial, but there is little to criticize about the character of the former emperor. Along with the policy of magical return, the expulsion and trial of these warlike deity followers also secured a relatively peaceful living environment for the inhabitants of the empire. Even the Inasas people across the Goringo Mountains benefited from this. The complete chaos that began in the decades since the empire's civil war can be counted from the end of the decades.

This girl, who clearly looks like an imperial, is quite understandable given her family and grandfather's background—she might be a nobleman carrying out the will of Henry III.

It couldn't possibly be referring to the emperor himself, could it?

As the announcement was made, the followers of Bane on the other side also became noisy. After a moment, a steel executive officer stepped out from the remnants of the denomination who had stopped arguing. He carried a folded cult battle flag and walked straight towards them:

"Lady Edith Blackhand has died in the line of duty, and we have no objection to her death. As there is currently no supreme commander, I, Enforcer Myr, hereby surrender to you in order of seniority—the Order's battle flag...is here."

The executor, his voice hoarse, though utterly unable to accept the outcome, still knelt down meticulously according to the rules, handing over the battle flag to the victors. However, he played a trick here; instead of explicitly handing the flag to any of the three, he waited for the leader sent by the other side to accept the surrender: "In accordance with the rules, please complete the ceremony under your flags. We will keep our promise, immediately withdraw from this war, compensate and provide relief to the victims, and depart immediately to return to Inasas, no longer interfering in any affairs here."

This expedition was a collective decision made by the high command based on the chaotic situation in Inasas. With the supreme commander and a large number of members killed, he wouldn't be held responsible. Therefore, although surrendering was shameful, Meyer wasn't particularly worried about it—Bane was at most a god of war, not a god of victory; wins and losses were normal. If they could win every battle, Corazond would have been unified into yet another smaller empire long ago.

The only problem is that losing inevitably breeds hatred, and knowing who to settle scores with in the future is more important—is the highest commander of the opposing side this count or this girl from the imperial nobility?

Felix frowned at the other's actions. Although he wasn't familiar with the logic of the Bane followers, the implication was clear enough. He raised his hand, preparing to order his men to raise his family and military banners. All of this was his doing, and he should naturally bear the responsibility for any consequences. However, before he could speak, Angelita raised her hand to stop him.

“My lord, the enemy commander was killed by Uncle Raslaufer. It might not be appropriate for you to come.”

“But…” “I’ll do it,” Raslaw interrupted Felix, looking at Meyer with a cold laugh. “Take a good look at me. Send someone even more capable when you get back.”

"If you keep me waiting, don't blame me for coming to find you."

Meyer's forehead veins twitched, but he still managed a forced smile: "But sir, as far as I know, you are neither a nobleman nor a leader of a warband—you don't even have a flag. If I may be so bold, you probably cannot accept our surrender on behalf of your employer."

“I don’t need to represent anyone, I represent myself,” Raslaw looked around, then went to the side and ripped the black pennant off his lance. “You want a flag? I’ll just draw one for you right now.”

Having said that, he dipped his fist into the still-wet bloodstains from Bane's black hand and casually smeared a solid blood-red circle on the flag. As if that wasn't enough, after examining it for a moment, Duple added two more circles of roughly the same size above the existing one, one on the left and one on the right.

"That works, doesn't it?"

With a casual flick of his wrist, Milton's eyes widened in shock. Cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he saw the three hastily drawn, blood-red circles on the flag come together...

It looked like a face screaming in agony.

Chapter 631 The Candidate for King

Similar patterns are easy to find in this basic design, but in Daisy's eyes, the imagery of this flag by Leslaufer might have a more...pure purpose.

At this point, Meyer could offer no other excuse, even though the victor's banner was the simplest he had ever seen.

That's also the most terrifying.

Bane's order left in disgrace, and with the winches behind the city gates turning "crackling," Talleyshel, this fortified city, accepted its conquerors without even experiencing the baptism of blood and fire.

Fachin's private army, which he secretly kept, was able to deal with Marseille, but after witnessing the battle of Raslaufer, if he were to have any further ambitions, he would be a more ruthless brute than his nephew.

But he wasn't worried, because all the evil deeds were committed by Marseille, and Felix's rebellion was also against the tyranny of the ruler. Marseille had no children or siblings, so according to noble etiquette—

He will be the one to inherit the throne, by law, not to mention that he just contributed to the fight against the tyrant by keeping him out.

“Count Felix,” Fassant warmly led his men to greet him, “you have made a tremendous sacrifice for the kingdom, maintaining your virtue even while bearing disgrace. On behalf of all the members of the royal family and the people of Talleycher, I express my gratitude for your heroic deeds!”

“Fashan.” Felix frowned immediately. He suddenly remembered this. Before this, he had never thought that he would be standing here today, under the gates of Talleycher.

This is an unparalleled victory, but at the same time, it is also an unparalleled problem.

According to the rules, he would have to support Fashan as the next king. He knew perfectly well how wicked this cunning old dog was, but he probably had no other choice.

They entered Talleyche in the name of justice, and Fachan was also greeted by the side of justice. If they wanted to abolish the other's inherited power, they would need to have conclusive and very destructive evidence.

The count glanced at Raslaufer instinctively. Doppler might be able to solve this problem simply and brutally, but in doing so, they would lose their position, and people would inevitably think that the one who overthrew one tyrant was just another tyrant.

Felix didn't mind, but the point was that it couldn't be so early.

The cheers of the crowd, mixed with Fashan's clearly obsequious flattery, reached Felix's ears, offering no joy whatsoever. He racked his brains trying to find a way to prevent the situation from getting too bad.

Delaying is a good idea, but Fashan certainly won't give him that chance.

“The kingdom cannot be without a king for a day, Your Excellency,” he said, his aggressive words hidden beneath a thick layer of honeyed sweetness. “You have surely seized the crown; now it is time to place it on the right head. Only in this way can we restore order to the kingdom as quickly as possible. You know, right now, everything is in ruins, and everything is waiting to get back on track.”

“Every day of delay brings more suffering to more people. Alas, the thought of this breaks my heart! The late king entrusted me with assisting Marseille before his death, and yet this is how things have turned out…”

"You're really putting on an act." Felix gave a cold snort, but this way of expressing dissatisfaction was like a gentle breeze to Fashan.

"Then, Your Excellency Fashan, who do you think should succeed to the throne? As far as I know, there are probably very few people in the royal family who are qualified." Felix was prepared to delay for a few more days as much as possible. Even if Fashan was eager, he couldn't be crowned now, since Marseille's body was still lying outside the city.

"What do you mean?" Fashan feigned surprise, but his eyes were actually shining. He pretended to decline, "No, I'm afraid that won't do. I don't even have the talent to assist the king, so how can I govern the kingdom well?"

“But you are the only heir,” Felix felt the warning glances from his allies, but he was helpless. “If you don’t come, then we’ll have to consider a successor from a collateral branch…”

As expected, upon hearing this, Fashan immediately became righteous again. He listed a long list of fallen or declining collateral relatives to prove that these choices were even more unacceptable. Finally, he sighed, "Alas, just as you said, if no one can shoulder this heavy responsibility, then I will have no choice but to reluctantly take on the task..."

"I'm afraid you can't bear the weight of the crown either, you treacherous minister!"

Just when Fashang thought the dust was about to settle, suddenly, a limping man rushed out from the crowd, waving a crystal that shimmered with magical light: "Count Felix, I beg you to allow me to reveal the truth to the public!"

The newcomer was an official of commoner origin, dressed in disheveled clothes, even missing one shoe. Despite this, he struggled to get through the crowd until he was stopped by Fassham's private soldiers, but he still shouted into the crowd, "Your Excellency, please hear me out!"

“Ettore!” Fachan recognized the man and immediately glared at him, giving him threatening glances. “Weren’t you recuperating at home? Well, don’t worry, your position in the court is unshakeable, both before and now, especially since you’re short-handed right now.”

If you can keep quiet, you might get a chance to get a promotion.

The civil official understood Fachin's implied meaning but ignored it, continuing to stubbornly call out to Felice, hoping to gain his permission. His appearance, however, undoubtedly provided a way out for the Count, who already disliked Fachin.

“Have your men let him in, Your Excellency Fashan,” Felix waved his hand. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

Fashan gritted his teeth, but had no choice but to obey. Just as he was about to instruct his men to cause an accident, at least to shatter the crystal that was definitely not good inside, an iron hand pressed down on his shoulder from behind. Turning around, he saw Raslaufer's smile, which was more terrifying than the most ferocious demon.

“Fashan, is that so? We should all be more cautious. After all, there are just too many unexpected things in this world. Don’t you think so?”

Fashan felt his soul might be preparing to escape: "Of course, let him come over."

The crowd, which had been barely a crack, parted in a chaotic rush, and Ettore walked smoothly to Felix, holding the crystal in both hands: "Your Excellency, I want to expose the crimes of Mr. Fachan during the reign of King Marseille. He cannot succeed to the throne. On the contrary, I want to accuse him of treason, murder, and twelve other crimes. The evidence is the information contained in this crystal. If you allow me, I will play it now!"

Chapter 632 The Living King, the Dead Traitor

"You must be joking!" Fashan shouted indignantly. "Lord Felix, are you saying that such tricks can be used to frame someone now? There can't possibly be any real information in it. You shouldn't have let him release it; it would be a heavy blow to the reputation of the royal family and the kingdom!"

"Oh, getting impatient?"

Just as Fasham was expressing his indignation with complex sentences, the poet lady's words made him choke, his face turning red as he glared at Daisy: "What kind of talk is that..."

“Since there’s nothing wrong, let’s put it aside for now,” Felix interrupted him. “Mr. Ettore, please begin.”

The civil official nodded, then pressed a button, and the crystal immediately floated up, spinning as it drew out the recorded audio.

“'...If Your Majesty's reputation for bravery only spreads within the court, don't you think it's a great pity? It's precisely because you haven't taken action that an unknown nobody like Leslaufer has been allowed to act so arrogantly!'”

"'...You've seen it all? These cowardly cowards exaggerate the smallest setback as if the sky is falling. Isn't that the most ridiculous thing?'"

"...Even if that Leslaufer is incredibly brave, could he possibly be more than a fraction of His Majesty's little finger?"

With each sentence played, Fassham's face paled further, because at the same time, Marseille's voice was also being recorded, proving that the evidence was not fabricated. What terrified him even more was that the iron clamps on his shoulders were slowly tightening, making his bones creak.

“…Nephew, I have already drawn up the design plans for the palace's renovation. The long side is approximately nineteen kilometers long, and the wide side is ten kilometers long. In order to complete it before your next tenth birthday, I believe we should conscript commoners and slaves from all over the land to jointly accomplish this magnificent undertaking…”

The magical items in Ettore's hands were played in order from newest to oldest. Upon hearing this, Felix and his son both turned their gazes to Fashan.

"This is your suggestion?!" Hunter gripped the hilt of his sword, his eyes practically spitting fire. "Do you know that because of just one sentence you said—"

“It’s fake, yes, it’s fake!” Fassant protested in vain. “Please, I’m a member of the royal family! Marseille’s uncle, the former king’s brother! You don’t believe me, but you believe a commoner?!”

“I mean, is it possible that we believe the truth?” Felix sat upright on his horse, giving Ettore an approving look before coldly looking down at the flustered Fashan. “You probably didn’t expect that someone would actually go to the trouble of keeping track of your debts, one by one.”

"Mr. Ettore, is there more?"

"That's all!" Fassham waved his hand hastily. This was nothing! He hadn't started by urging Marseille to build a new palace!

“Furthermore,” Ettore said, looking at Fassham, whose eyes were practically spitting fire but who was utterly helpless, “Your Excellency, you can at least rest assured that I did not record that part before I was nearly executed by Marseille.”

"Why didn't you die back then?!" Hearing his own voice echoing in his mind, Fashan completely gave up struggling. He frantically tried to break free from Raslaufer's grasp, though it was futile. "Felix! Fine, I admit I did it! So what? Are you going to kill me in public too? Go ahead and kill my whole family, then become king yourself! I'll see what you can do next!"

"You'll never be able to shake off the title of 'traitor'!"

Felix looked at him, his eyes seeming to hold something he couldn't decipher. "Do you think I care about that? I stand here for the benefit of everyone in the kingdom, for the restoration of peace to this land!"

“Yes, I am a traitor, but I am a traitor to your family, because I am not loyal to a family, a tyrant, or a crown! If the count oppresses my people, then I will overthrow the count; if the king seizes my land, then I will overthrow the king! As long as I, Felix, stand here, I will not tolerate anyone’s recklessness! Fashan, understand your place, you are not the king yet, and you never will be!”

"I declare that all charges against Ettore are valid. Seize him!"

"There's no need for that."

Before Felix could finish speaking, Raslaufer had already made his move, tearing off Fashan's head: "The war is not over yet, there is no time for imprisonment and trial!"

"And you," Dubler sternly swept his gaze across the private soldiers around him, who, though possessing some fighting ability, were like chickens and dogs compared to the Bann Order, "Those who know what's good for them, get out of here. If anyone dares to draw their weapon, they will all be executed!"

"roll!"

Dubler's voice boomed like thunder, crushing everyone's hearts. Even the private soldiers who had once been most protected by Fashan lowered their hands from their weapons—their master was dead, and it was not worth dying for a dead man, fighting a battle with no hope of victory.

Loyalty alone is far from enough, especially since many of these people have found clues about their past experiences in the quotes of Fasch, which are still playing in Ettore's room.

Fashan had once saved them from dire straits, which made them willing to serve him. But why were they now in dire straits?

They wouldn't have asked when the law was still in effect, but things are different now.

"Disperse, all of you," Felix waved his hand, joining Leslaufer in a "good judge, bad judge" act. "Go home, pretend nothing happened. The kingdom will need you again, and you will stand in the sunlight once more, ready for a new life. Whatever you did in the past, whatever you planned to do, now that the chief culprit has been eliminated, it's all in the past."

The private soldiers responded noisily, some of them gratefully stepping forward to immediately pledge allegiance to their new master, but most hurriedly headed outside, not wanting others to see their faces—so that they might one day truly be able to embrace a different life, just as Felix had said.

Mixed in with the chaotic crowd were two people who kept their heads down and tried even harder to avoid being noticed. As the city gate moved further and further away from them, one of the middle-aged men slightly raised his head—it was Verveti.

"Did you see them clearly? What do they look like?"

Beside him, the thin "private soldier" trembled slightly: "...Yes, I saw everything clearly."

“Very well, then let’s leave here as soon as possible. Next, we need to make a good plan. This is for your own good, and also for the sake of your grandfather’s revenge… Your Highness.”

As the final sound faded, the person next to the leader of the September Mercenary Group raised his face. Under the helmet, which was a size too big, the face bore a striking resemblance to Angarita Matt, about seven or eight points!

Chapter 633 Reislaufer's Coins

Fashan's deathbed threat had its effect, but it wasn't Felix and his men who were alerted; rather, it was his family and extended family. Within half a day, all of them in Talleyche had gathered before Felix, first declaring that they had no ambition for the throne, and then urging him that he alone should be the next king of the kingdom.

Although the count refused righteously, his face was already full of smiles—especially when Ettore gathered all the civil officials of sufficient rank to persuade him.

If he hadn't made five or six excuses, to the point that the impatient Doble was ready to carry him directly to the throne, Felix probably could have kept putting it off until next year.

"You've really put me through a lot!" Soon, Felix, no longer just an earl, leaned back on the throne where no one else would sit, slightly tipsy, raising his glass to those below. "I'm not young anymore. I have a wife and children. How I long to spend more time with them!"

“Do you know what I was at the beginning? A knight! My fief was my manor, and my manor was my fief. All I ever wanted was for my people to live a good life. Yes, my family was once the Earl of Moser, but they abandoned almost everything. How can I take it back?”

His servant, who had been through thick and thin with him, pressed down on his wine glass: "But you still did it, didn't you? You've had too much to drink."

Although the price for all this was not Felix's family, but his servant—it was Felix's fault, but not entirely his.

Perhaps this is what bewilders the servant the most. His son is dead, and his homeland has been scorched to death, but he doesn't even know who to seek revenge against. Perhaps the only targets for his venting are the dead, such as Philia, Marseille, and Fachan.

However, his slight confusion was quickly overwhelmed by the jubilant atmosphere of the banquet.

“No, I’m fine. Pour me another glass of wine. I want to toast—Lord Raslaufer,” Felix patted the servant’s hand, making him put down the glass. As the last drop of wine was poured back into the glass, he stood up, raised his glass, and gestured to Raslaufer. “Many of you here are people I know, but there are also those who don’t know my background! Here, I must recount my life story again.”

"Do you really think I got to this point solely through my own hard work and sweat? Perhaps a tiny bit, but that's not the most important thing! By that alone, I would have died in the castle of Morsel, in my own manor! Or even in Western Inathas! It was Lord Raslaufer, the most powerful Dople in all of Inathas, no, in the whole world! The enemy of demons! The trampler of tyranny! The destroyer of conspiracy!"

“He saved me, like an angel descended to earth… But you know, angels rarely actually appear, but Lord Raslaufer is truly sitting here! If you ask me, he should be the Earl of Moser, or this king’s seat here! Raslaufer… Your Excellency,” Felix tilted his head back and downed his drink, swaying as he looked at Doble, “If, if you were king, would you let me return to my manor to retire?”

"My lord!" Upon hearing this, everyone at the banquet broke out in a cold sweat—this was no joke. "My lord, you're drunk..."

"Hmm!" Felix waved his hand vigorously, pushing away the person who was about to help him up. "I... I know! This won't do... but I have to repay you, old Ray, I absolutely have to! I'm going to crown you 'Kingmaker'! As long as you're with me, you'll have the same treatment as me! You can even sit in this position for a while if you want!"