Chapter 505 Edward's Counterattack
The prison in Thunder City, deep underground, still retains the chill of winter in its air, unlike the gentle spring breeze on the surface.
There are no instruments of torture here, only cold stone walls and dozens of bloodshot eyes.
Approximately fifty prisoners dressed in prison uniforms were gathered here.
Among them were hereditary knights, wealthy commoners eager to rise to the ranks of nobility through military merit, or mercenaries drawn in by the illusion of wealth.
During that winter catastrophe, it was these very people who, carrying torches borrowed from the Kingdom of Ryan, gave the northern vassals the courage to raise the banner of rebellion and brought the flames of war to the heart of the Duchy of Campbell.
Unfortunately, the sun of the Kingdom of Ryan never shone upon them. Theodore celebrated the "winter's victory" in a different way, while the defeat in the south was treated as if it never happened.
Those prisoners trapped in the enemy camp were naturally forgotten by this tyrant.
The prisoners were ashen-faced, awaiting their fate. They always felt that the Campbells couldn't support them forever, but none of them knew when they would be dragged out as a sacrifice.
Perhaps, it's right now.
Just as everyone was filled with unease, the heavy iron gate suddenly opened with a bang.
Edward Campbell, dressed in a dark blue outfit, strode in, surrounded by two rows of heavily armed guards.
His boots clattered on the dry stone floor, making a chilling sound as if they were pressing down on the prisoners' anxious hearts.
Reaching the prisoners, Edward glanced at them, his cold gaze sharp as a knife, causing almost everyone to guiltily look away.
It wasn't just the Grand Duke that they feared, but the gazes of the soldiers... those Campbellians practically wanted to tear them apart.
Without pausing, Edward spoke.
"Gentlemen."
“You all know me, but this is the first time I’m meeting you. I’m sure you have a lot to say to me, so you can speak now.”
The hall was deathly silent.
No one spoke; only those who had gambled and lost resigned themselves to their fate.
Seeing that no one spoke, Edward stopped wasting his precious time and said with a cold laugh.
"If you won't say it, I will."
“As soldiers of the Kingdom of Ryan, you crossed the border without authorization, interfered in the internal affairs of the Duchy of Campbell, and assisted the traitors in massacring my people without a declaration of war.”
"Whether according to the laws of the Empire or the Duchy of Campbell, you are not entitled to be exchanged back as prisoners of war. To put it nicely, you are war criminals; to put it bluntly, you are bandits. Even if I hang you, no one will shed a single tear for you."
His voice was so cold and devoid of warmth that it sounded as if he were reading a pre-determined death sentence.
The last sentence sent a chill down one's spine, from head to toe, and down to the ground.
"You all deserve to die."
The hall was deathly silent.
The knights standing in the front row straightened their backs, their faces pale, but their eyes remained defiant.
They were true nobles and indeed possessed chivalrous spirit. Since they had been captured, they were prepared to be killed or tortured at will.
This is the knight's destiny.
Even though no one acknowledges their glory.
As for the commoners who came for the knighthood, or the mercenaries who were bought off with money, they were not so tough.
Fear had long since broken their spines and crept onto their brows.
Some people even trembled with fear; if they hadn't been shackled, they probably would have collapsed to the ground long ago.
These spineless wimps have clearly not experienced the baptism of feudalism. Or perhaps they've forgotten where they belong now that they have a little money in their pockets.
Looking at the group of people waiting to die, Edward's lips curled into a cold smile, but that smile quickly turned into a dignified pity.
"but--"
He abruptly changed his tone, his previously cold and ruthless manner softening and even tinged with regret.
"I'm a sensible person."
“I know that you are not inherently evil; you have simply been blinded and become pitiful pawns on someone else’s chessboard, even believing that you are sacrificing yourselves. I am a devout believer, unlike your king. Since Saint Sith teaches us to forgive the folly of the ignorant, I am willing to give you that opportunity.”
He approached a young knight, stared into his eyes, and asked, "Tell me, what has your king promised you? A title? Land? Or glory?"
The knight gritted his teeth and remained silent, but the wavering in his eyes betrayed his restraint.
Edward smiled.
He knew exactly what Theodore would say.
They were all monarchs, and the cheapest promise they could make was land in someone else's hands.
"...He must have told you that the Duchy of Campbell is utterly vulnerable, that the Duke and Earl are only superficially united, like a dilapidated house on the verge of collapse. You could just kick it down and move in with your luggage."
The knight's eyes widened as he stared at Edward in astonishment.
His Majesty...
That's exactly what I promised him.
Not a single word was different!
Edward chuckled coldly, looked up at the crowd behind him, and continued speaking in a completely emotionless voice.
"But what is the truth? You have rotted here from winter to spring, and has His Majesty Theodore, who promised you everything, sent any messengers to discuss your ransom with me?"
"He didn't!"
"I didn't even see an apology, only a letter that angered me!"
A disturbance began to break out in the crowd.
This is precisely the problem they fear most and dare not even think about.
"And I can tell you definitively, he never will! He'd rather use the money he paid to ransom you to celebrate a fire he set himself, and then use celebratory songs to adorn your funerals!"
Edward suddenly raised his voice, ruthlessly tearing down the walls the prisoners had built around their hearts, and hammering the cruelest truth into their minds like nails.
"That king has no intention of ransoming you. He won't give you a single coin, not even though neither he nor I care about that little bit of gold! Right now, he's sitting in his warm palace, drinking red wine, eagerly anticipating the angry Archduke Campbell chopping off your heads and throwing them to his citizens!"
“Impossible!” a knight instinctively retorted, but his voice lacked conviction, his shoulders trembling. “His Majesty will not abandon his knights…”
"You don't know?" Edward let out an undisguised sneer, his contemptuous gaze as if he were looking at a stupid donkey. "You don't understand your king at all, and you overestimate your own worth. Your corpses are far more valuable than you are alive!"
It is not only necromancers who can manipulate corpses.
Power can also be used.
“He will take your heads to your fathers, to your wives and children, and wrap your bodies in his robes. He will weep and accuse the Campbellians of cruelty, saying that I have violated the tacit agreement of ‘no killing’ among nobles, that I am a bloodthirsty tyrant, and that I will not say a word about who sent you here!”
"Then what?"
Edward looked around, his gaze still filled with pity, but the voice was like the whisper of a demon.
“Your children will hate me, and they will pledge allegiance to your king as you once pledged allegiance to him. When he needs them, just as he needed you to stand up, your sons will die again under my gun, just like you.”
“When all the men in your family are dead, when there is no one to inherit your wealth, he will devour all the wealth accumulated over generations and throw the scraps he doesn’t want to the next warrior he chooses… And all he has to do is shed a few tears at your funerals. I must say, your loyalty is incredibly cheap.”
The logic formed a closed loop, and the deathly silence in the hall was not due to magic, but rather to the coldness of human nature.
The knights' faces turned ashen, and the castle of their convictions slowly crumbled under the heavy hammer.
They couldn't believe their monarch could be so wicked, yet they couldn't find any reason to refute it.
They could only silently pray to Saint Sis in their hearts, trying to find answers in that nothingness—
Why did Your Majesty do this?
The officers from the middle class, however, were much more clear-headed.
They knew Theodore all too well; that was indeed something their emperor was capable of doing.
Why, you ask?
Because that's what "Your Majesty" is all about.
Morality and beliefs can restrain specific individuals, but they can never restrain abstract power. If Edward were His Majesty the King of Lane, he would have done the same thing.
Because he is also a smart person.
When the cattle and sheep in the pasture form a "mutually dependent and mutually destructive" pattern, the question is not who kills whom, but who doesn't kill.
Edward looked into their eyes, watched their faith crumble, and watched something new rise from the ruins.
A slight smile appeared on his lips.
The wildfire that had been brought to the Duchy of Campbell by the winter winds was eventually driven back by the warm spring breezes.
Hearing the increasingly heavy breathing, he extended the olive branch he had prepared long ago in a dignified voice.
“…Killing you would play right into Theodore’s hands, so I will not kill you, even though I have already mentally chopped your heads off a thousand times.”
"However, although I have pardoned your sins, you must wash away your shame with your own hands. Not only for yourselves, but also for your families, for the continuation of your lineage... and even more so for all the people of Ryan who have submitted to that tyrant, if you have any idea of that."
A brief silence fell over the hall.
Finally, the knight who had been the first to object raised his head.
His eyes no longer held the weakness of wishful thinking or the compromise of self-comfort; instead, they were filled with two raging flames of revenge.
“Duke of Campbell…” the knight’s voice was hoarse, “Since you know everything, please tell us. What… should we do?”
He knew he wouldn't be able to go home.
Even if Grand Duke Edward releases them, His Majesty of the Kingdom of Ryan has a thousand ways to kill them on the way.
He heard that he had a group of assassins under his command who were dedicated to eliminating those he considered "unclean".
This dagger could certainly also be used to eliminate accidental "survivors" like them.
Edward looked at the knight who had abandoned his illusions and a satisfied smile appeared on his face.
Although his voice was as cold as ever, like the cold wind sweeping through the winter month.
"It's simple, just fight back."
"Take your swords and our guns, and go back to where you came from."
"That is your kingdom. You must go and demand the justice that is rightfully yours from the tyrant who betrayed you. Only you can do this."
This is a road of no return.
But everyone knew that it was their only option.
The knight took a deep breath, then suddenly knelt on one knee, the iron chains striking the ground with a crisp sound.
"I swear! My sword will be your sword, and I will use it to reclaim the justice that is rightfully mine."
Then, the second, the third... until all the prisoners knelt down.
I swear!
They were all young officers from the Kingdom of Ryan.
However, because the palace of the Kingdom of Ryan was too crowded and there were not enough vacancies to accommodate them, they traveled over mountains and valleys to their neighbor's house.
Whether they succeeded or failed, it wouldn't be a loss for King Ryan. However, he probably didn't consider another possibility: that they might lose but still survive.
They will go back.
As the sharp blade aimed at the throne.
Edward remained expressionless as he looked at the prisoners prostrate on the ground, but a surge of pleasure welled up inside him.
The crossbow bolts that the enemy shot at him were eventually forged by him into bullets that would be fired back at the enemy.
He said he would make that old guy pay the price.
This is just the beginning...
...
On the outskirts of Thunder City, the morning sun shines through the damp, chilly mist onto the banks of the bustling, flowing river.
Long before the rooster crowed, the melodious boat songs had already knocked on the gates of the river port, as people flocked to the bustling market.
The cries of vendors rose and fell, along with the clanging and banging of a repairman's hammer on a horse's hooves.
You can find everything here.
Whether it's Sarah's favorite dried fish or Eileen's favorite dried figs.
This place is a completely different scene from that cold and gloomy dungeon.
In the bustling market, a low-key yet clean black carriage quietly passed by without disturbing anyone, and finally stopped beside a stone bridge.
Baron Ellarik Valerius alighted hastily, his farewell to the coachman sounding somewhat awkward.
As the governor of Twilight City, leaving his territory without the king's permission was itself a betrayal, let alone coming to a neighboring country with a strained relationship with the king.
He practically risked his life for this secret visit.
Ellarik looked around, searching for the person he was supposed to meet, and soon his eyes lit up.
The Campbells were more punctual than he had imagined; Sir Wesley was already waiting there, approaching him with a smile.
"Your Excellency, welcome to Thunder City."
He was in his early thirties, well-dressed, with short brown hair that gleamed golden in the sunlight, and a confident and capable expression.
Although he came from a commoner background, he possessed a composed and measured demeanor that was in no way inferior to that of a member of a prestigious family.
Ellarick nodded, secretly amazed, while trying to remain calm and responding politely.
"Sir... It's a pleasure to see you here, but please understand my concerns; I don't want to stay here too long."
“Of course, your carriage has been waiting for a long time,” Sir Wesley nodded with pleasure and gestured for you to come this way.
A small carriage was parked by the roadside, driven by the Grand Duke's personal guards.
A servant opened the carriage door for the two of them, and Ellarrick hurriedly got in, while Sir Wesley followed calmly.
The carriage crossed the stone bridge, its wheels making a soothing, crisp sound as they rolled across the clean stone surface.
Its pace was neither too fast nor too slow, moving slowly along with the flow of people, as if it were deliberately letting the visitors from dusk see clearly the thunder that awakened at dawn.
Leaning back in the soft velvet seat, Ellarik finally relaxed his tense scalp and casually glanced at the streets on both sides of the car window, wanting to take a good look around.
Before arriving in Thunder City, I thought this city was no different from Twilight City, except that there were more wealthy nobles.
However, the moment his carriage entered the main road, he froze on the spot.
The wide brick road stretched straight ahead, wide enough for four carriages to pass side by side without obstruction!
What surprised him was not only the road, but also the buildings on both sides of the road.
Those were not the usual wooden sheds or dilapidated stone houses, but rows of three-story brick and tile buildings.
They were all neatly arranged, with clean-painted window frames and door numbers and owners' names on the signs—this alone was remarkable.
And this doesn't seem to be the city center of Thunder City yet!
Ellaric had only ever seen similar landscapes in church murals.
He remembered that the mural depicted the streets of the Holy City, and the wealth here was already comparable to that of the dreamland in the hearts of countless residents of the Old World!
He couldn't describe the astonishment in his heart, especially since he was at the edge of his field of vision and actually saw something that wasn't even in the church murals!
It was a huge clock, or more accurately, a clock tower.
The outline of a four-sided clock is embedded in the top of the tower, and it is surrounded by steel scaffolding!
Ellarik couldn't help but swallow, his deep voice trembling slightly.
"This is... Thunder City?"
What he really wanted to ask was whether this was the city center or the suburbs, but his pride prevented him from asking too many questions.
Wesley smiled slightly, not grasping the deeper meaning of those words, after all, everything here was all too familiar to him.
"Of course, Your Excellency, this is Thunder City. We have come to the right place."
Ellarick finally couldn't resist and turned his gaze to the huge tower in the distance to ask a question.
"What is that thing under construction?"
Sir Wesley explained with a smile.
"Its name is Clock Tower, and it seems to belong to a bank. I don't know the specifics, but I heard that once it's completed, the whole city will be able to hear it chiming the time."
Ellarick's face was full of confusion.
What's the point of this?
He knew about banks. Although Twilight City was backward, it was not a primitive society. It had everything it needed, including kerosene lamps, steam engines, and factories.
He just couldn't understand why the bank wanted to take over the church's business. Ringing the bell at the appointed time was always the church's job. What was the point of taking over something that wasn't profitable?
Sir Wesley shrugged slightly.
"I don't know either, Your Excellency. I am a soldier and don't understand the designer's mind. But I think... the person who built it must have thought about its purpose, so let's not worry about it for them."
That makes sense.
Governor Eralik, accustomed to planning everything, nodded with relief, withdrawing his restless curiosity from the clock tower standing in the morning mist.
He soon discovered that even without looking towards that distant place, he could feel the incredible nature of the city up close.
The carriage continued its journey, and the streets became increasingly busy and crowded, filled with the lively atmosphere of daily life.
Pedestrians come and go, and the most eye-catching people here are the well-dressed gentlemen and ladies, but most of them are still ordinary people.
Their complexions were rosy, their spirits were high, and although their clothes were not luxurious, they were generally clean... at least in the eyes of Baron Eralic, who was a bit of a clean freak, they were clean enough.
Several coachmen sat by the roadside, their dirty hands clutching bread and sausages, paper cups of black tea resting on their rolled-up trouser legs. They chatted and laughed, seemingly replenishing their energy for the new day to begin.
Ellarik remained expressionless, but was inwardly deeply shocked.
In Twilight City, even small vendors have to be careful with their water, and drinking tea is a refined pastime for nobles. As for coachmen, being able to drink a bowl of hot porridge is a stroke of luck they dare not even dream of, and soft, freshly baked bread is a luxury that even respectable citizens would find hard to resist.
Saint Sith, they can even drink black tea!
Who gave them this as charity?!
What shocked the governor even more was that a gentleman standing at the public bus stop waiting for his ride actually pulled out a bronze pocket watch from his cashmere coat and glanced at the time.
From the way the man took out his pocket watch, Ellarik could tell at a glance that he was a commoner.
However, it was precisely because of this that he unconsciously widened his eyes.
In the Kingdom of Ryan, clocks are toys for nobles. No commoner would pay two or three years' salary just to tell time, simply to satisfy an unrealistic and pretentious desire.
However, in Thunder City, commoners can actually afford the punctuality that was once reserved for nobles!
That's incredible!
Before Ellarick could recover from his surprise, he soon saw a coachman sitting in a carriage reading a newspaper and waiting for passengers.
This guy is actually reading the newspaper by himself!
He felt like he was about to be completely shocked...
Wesley glanced at the Baron beside him, seemingly knowing what he was thinking, and said with a smile.
"We still need to look at watches now, but I think soon we won't even need pocket watches anymore."
Baron Ellarrick was puzzled.
Why is that?
Sir Wesley said with a smile.
"Because once the clock tower is built, we will only need to look up to see the time."
As a young and talented reformist, his intention was to show off the achievements of the Campbells to this nobleman from the feudal era, but to be honest, his attempt to show off was a bit too deliberate.
Technological innovation may change people's lives, but it cannot change their spirit.
Even if one day in the future, Thunder City has a taller and bigger clock tower, gentlemen will still take out their pocket watches to check the time when they are on a date with ladies.
They would even have diamonds set into them, just like the nobles.
However, even though Sir Wesley's boasting had an element of deliberate ostentation, his words still deeply shocked the Baron sitting next to him.
Ellarik was speechless for a moment.
He thought of his city.
Although Twilight City legally belongs to King Ryan, he has lived there for so many years that his affection for it has surpassed his affection for his own territory.
The streets there were dilapidated, the houses were old, only the mansions of nobles stood out from the crowd, while commoners lived next to rats.
The citizens, dressed in rags, lined up in long queues in front of the church to receive the grain that the court had looted from the countryside. And while enduring this handout, they had to give thanks to the theologians with pious hearts, treating the porridge in their bowls as a gift from God.
That's clearly from another commoner race!
Eralik suddenly understood why the Greenwood Army, which the nobles could not defeat, was so easily defeated by the Northern Rescue Army.
That's not a difference in training, but a generational gap between eras!
Standing before the commoners of Thunder City, the commoners of Twilight Province looked like beggars.
They could certainly defeat the feudal lords, for the lords' forces were also a group of beggars, and angry beggars at that. Their lofty banners were naturally no match for the beggars' fury.
However, when the opponent becomes the lord of a neighboring country, the situation changes—why would they fight so hard for land that has never belonged to them?
Just as his thoughts were churning, a deafening siren came from ahead.
In an instant, a colossal beast forged from steel roared deafeningly, and the long carriage roared in with the force of thunder.
It carried a cannon-like chimney on its back, from which steam billowed into the air. The wheels rubbed against the rails with a thunderous roar, as if even the distant mountains trembled under its majesty.
Passersby seemed to be used to it, but Ellarik was so startled that he jumped up from his seat.
"Then...what is that?!"
As he watched the train rushing towards him, Sir Wesley's eyes flashed with undisguised pride.
"This is a train, Your Excellency. It's a new tool we just imported from our allies. It can transport the goods of hundreds of wagons from the south to the north of Thundershire at once, and then bring back the produce produced by the people here."
Ellarik opened his mouth wide and remained silent for a long time.
"You...have so many goods to transport?"
Sir Wesley's smile was gentle yet confident.
"Of course, our factories are resource-devouring monsters; they eat up a lot of things every day."
Ellarick stared blankly at the knight.
Compared to the roaring trains and the factories that consumed countless things every day, he suddenly realized that the truly terrifying thing about the Principality of Campbell was sitting right next to him.
If he remembered correctly, this Sir Wesley had earned his knighthood through his military achievements; in other words, he had neither land nor money, and was merely a commoner who had just received noble honors.
Neither the clock tower, nor the train, nor the factory that consumes so much food every day belong to him, yet he can proudly stand tall for all of it.
He was genuinely proud of the principality's wealth and willingly contributed his strength to his Grand Duke.
If he were just a fool, being deceived would suffice, but it's clear that he wasn't, given that he led civilians to defeat the Trident Knights.
In contrast, his emperor was surrounded by a bunch of treacherous scoundrels, including himself, who had appeared here behind the emperor's back.
Ellarik was ashamed, but he had a clear understanding of himself, except for one thing.
why is that?
Seeing that Ellarrick had suddenly stopped talking and was staring intently at him, Sir Wesley coughed lightly.
"What is it, Your Excellency?"
Baron Eralic snapped out of his daze and gave a somewhat awkward smile.
"It's nothing... I was just thinking about some things, you don't need to worry about it."
His family had a long history and considerable wealth. Yet, in the presence of this nobleman, he felt like a beggar, unable to stand tall.
The carriage continued on its way.
However, during the latter part of the journey, the governor from Twilight City became taciturn, as if he had many worries weighing on his mind.
Sir Wesley pondered whether he should say something to comfort his friend who had come from afar.
However, just as he was about to speak, Baron Eralic raised his head and spoke first.
"Sir Wesley, I want to know what exactly happened here? Why have you changed so much in just a few years?"
He paused for a moment, then continued.
“I’ve heard a lot of rumors, and at first I thought they were exaggerations. But now it seems that the Campbell merchant who came from afar was just being considerate of my feelings. He was being too tactful in his attempt to take the gold coins from my pocket.”
Hearing this seemingly lighthearted teasing remark, Sir Wesley chuckled and said in a friendly tone.
"Thank you for your high praise of us, but I must say that Thunder City was not built in the last few years. It is only in the last few years that we have completed the transformation from quantity to quality... And all of this is thanks to the wisdom of our Grand Duke and Princess Eileen."
Baron Eralic immediately spoke, straightening his body.
"That's exactly what I want to ask: what makes you... so united? Is it money?"
Sir Wesley grinned.
“Some people may think that way, but others have a different understanding. For example, my understanding is that...wealth is a result, not a cause.”
Ellarick looked at him questioningly.
However, Sir Wesley shrugged, indicating that he didn't know how to explain it either.
"I am but a soldier, Your Excellency. Please leave your question to our Grand Duke; with his wisdom, he may know why."
He didn't have many thoughts when fighting the Demon King, and the same was true when fighting the rebels.
This is his home, and he is the master of this home. If someone wants to turn him from a citizen into a slave, he naturally has to stand up and fight that guy to show him that he has to beat him first.
He probably doesn't know if Ryan has been shot, but he and his neighbors haven't.
This probably has little to do with whether or not there is a Grand Duke.
After all, when fighting the rebels, he was thinking more about his wife and children than about His Majesty the Grand Duke.
The person who bestowed the title upon him was not Edward at all, but the late King Aaron Campbell... who was also the father of the rebel leader Jerok Campbell.
Ellarick stared at the young knight for a long time, then turned his gaze to the distant rushing river and murmured to himself.
"Do you think... that Twilight Province could ever have such a day?"
That land is now scarred and ravaged.
The successive arrivals of bandits and the tribunal have destroyed the accumulated wealth of generations, turning the Duskwood into a hell more cruel than the battlefield.
The accumulation of power in Thunder City would require more than ten generations to complete, and they don't know how long it will take, or perhaps they will never be able to complete it.
As long as the king is still there.
Wesley, however, was not as pessimistic as him and nodded without hesitation.
"I think you can do it."
Ellarik looked at him in surprise.
"Why?"
Sir Wesley smiled, his gaze drifting towards the river where Baron Ellarrick had been looking, and then floating away with the rushing water.
“Because a thousand years ago, our ancestors traveled down the flowing river, and you were our dreamland, while this place was just a barren swamp. Now the situation is reversed, and it is our turn to help you.”
Ellarik's expression shifted slightly.
He thought about it for a long time, and now he finally understood why he, as a "temporary official," had such deep feelings for that land.
Perhaps it was because, like the people who lived there, he had sown his sweat there, only to have it all burned to ashes by a foolish fire.
That was his life's work.
He lived a life of constant anxiety, only to be branded as an incompetent man in the end, and perhaps even be judged by a "merciful" king.
That will definitely happen after the judges leave.
The responsibility for this fire has not yet been settled, so how can the king judge himself?
He had only one choice: to plunder the last bit of wealth from the serfs of the Twilight Province, abandon his territory and title, and become a rich man in the New World.
That was actually a reward the king gave him, with one side turning a blind eye—
If you don't want to be tried alive, then take your money and your infamy and get out of here. Or be hanged and die a shameful death amidst the scorn of the people.
By the time Ellarick realized it, he had gone from a diligent provincial governor to what he himself called a "worm."
His real purpose for this trip was to establish a "Twilight Province Parliament".
This was Edward Campbell's proposal; in order to transform the Twilight Province into the Duchy of Twilight, he intended to replicate the model of the Duchy of Campbell.
Before establishing this parliament, he had to unite the local figures who truly held power, especially those persecuted by the king, to create a "shadow cabinet" capable of countering Theodore's rule.
He once doubted whether Edward's ambitions would succeed.
After all, the Lionheart Knights stationed in the Twilight Province are the most elite force in the entire kingdom, and the leader of the Lionheart Knights even possesses demigod-level strength!
But now he has no doubt that Campbell is not without the ability to fight.
Ellarick took a deep breath, as if refilling his chest with courage that had been dormant for many years.
“Sir Wesley,” he whispered, “I look forward to seeing His Majesty the Grand Duke.”
Sir Wesley nodded with pleasure.
"I believe that His Majesty also eagerly awaits your arrival."
(End of this chapter)
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