Heaven knows where Cumberland found such a suit of armor. It was slightly smaller than an adult, but it was exquisitely crafted and beautifully decorated. It didn't look like a protective suit for the battlefield at all; it looked more like a work of art in an exhibition hall.

Todd circled the armor several times, looking at the old man's hopeful face, and said hesitantly, "Do I really have to wear this?"

Cumberland stroked his beard: "What's wrong with this? The style and size are perfect! You're not planning to go to war in a cloth robe, are you?"

Todd glanced at the displeased old knight, then finally surrendered, raising his hands and, with the help of his squire, donned the armor.

Cumberland watched with delight as Todd, fully dressed, stood before him, patting his chest and laughing heartily, "That's more like it! What kind of commander goes to battle without armor?"

After knocking on the door, Huggins entered the headquarters' commander's office. He stared at Todd's armor for a moment, then quickly glanced at Cumberland and said, "Lord Todd, 30 'Lancers,' two companies of heavy infantry sergeants, plus a full-strength infantry regiment, totaling 520 men, the Twilight Knights' army is ready to go."

Todd took a step forward, the friction from the armor beneath him forcing him to adjust the straps and plates. Even so, the feeling of being completely encased in an iron canister made him incredibly uncomfortable and uneasy.

Cumberland walked over to him, helped Todd lift the armor plates to lighten the weight, and said seemingly casually, "This should be the largest expedition the Knights of Twilight have ever undertaken since their founding."

Todd looked at Cumberland, his voice tinged with worry: "Are our enemies very strong?"

"The garrison at Northstone Fortress numbers over seven hundred, making it the most elite force in the entire Northern Legion. Add to that the potential barbarian reinforcements, and the enemy's advantageous terrain..." Cumberland patted Todd on the back and said with a smile, "That's right, this enemy is very strong."

Cumberland approached Todd: "But as a commander, never fear the bitter fruit of defeat before the war begins; a qualified commander should have the ability to trust his soldiers, trust his judgment, and do everything in his power to find the path to victory in the midst of the battle."

Todd nodded, seemingly understanding.

Cumberland looked out the window and saw colorful flags waving and crowds of people gathered in the town square, watching the Twilight Knights awaiting inspection with fervent and envious eyes.

In their eyes, this was an army that had never suffered a defeat since its inception. Countless enemies—kingdoms, barbarians, pirates, and noble private soldiers—had fallen by their swords, and unimaginable wealth had been transported into Muxi Town. To the residents, this military parade was merely a prelude to an easy victory, and as for the knights' target, they wondered which unfortunate soul it would be this time.

Todd straightened his armor and nodded to Cumberland, who then pushed open the door to the Grand Master's office. Dazzling sunlight streamed in from the courtyard ceiling, reflecting off the armor and illuminating the entire room.

Watching the cheerful old knight walk down the corridor and into the hall, Huggins leaned close to Todd and whispered, "Grand Master, if I remember correctly, this armor you're wearing was originally worn by Knight Commander Herman when he was a squire, and it was personally crafted by Lord Cumberland over three months..."

Todd was taken aback, looked down at the gleaming armor on his body, and remained silent for a long time.

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North Stone Fortress, Dining Hall.

The hall was bustling with noise, and glasses clinked on the tables. Warriors, knights, and mercenaries sat together, tilting their heads back and gulping down ale, their knives slicing through roasted meat, the juices flying as they chewed. Prostitutes flitted among the tables, occasionally sitting on the men's laps, shamelessly indulging in primal desires, and recounting their lewd yet alluring escapades without restraint.

At the head of the long dining table sat three powerful figures dressed in different styles of clothing.

The man in the very center was dressed in a neatly pressed, close-fitting linen outfit. His goatee was meticulously trimmed, and his hair had a few silver strands, but his face was fair and rosy. He picked up a silver glass filled with red wine, swirled it gently, and slowly said, "Neither the east nor the west is at peace..."

The burly man sitting to his left had the physical characteristics of someone from the North Island. His right eye had been gouged out, leaving only a hollow in the eye socket. He grabbed a chicken leg and threw it into his mouth. The grating sound of meat and bone churning as his jaw opened and closed made the man sitting in the seat of honor frown and cough unnaturally.

“Count Hewlett! No matter who comes, my ‘Extermination Mercenary Group’ can send them to hell without lifting a finger!” The burly man spat out the bone fragments in his mouth, pinched them into the shape of coins with his index finger and thumb, and said to the count with a smile, “However, once a war breaks out, the mercenary group’s fees will naturally be different. I hope you can understand that, sir.”

Count Hewlett glanced at the mess at his feet, shifted his body in disgust, took out a handkerchief from his chest and dusted off his trousers, and said irritably, "Of course I know that, Tim."

Seated to the count's right was a tribal chief, in his prime, with light blond curly hair cascading over his shoulders. A long scar ran from the corner of his right eye to his ear. He spoke to the count in a somewhat broken Common tongue, "The kingdom has not yet paid the tribe the money it promised. My people are starving!"

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