"Teach them a lesson. Don't kill anyone,"
"Yes, Your Highness." Pat and a dozen or so guards cracked their knuckles and stepped forward. A series of thuds and screams rang out in short order—the dozen-odd patrol officers who had charged at them were all sprawled on the ground, disarmed.
Pat pulled his longsword from the earth with one hand and grabbed the collar of the bearded patrol captain with the other, dragging him straight across the ground to Lorist. "Your Highness, it's done."
"Kneel properly!" Pat kicked the bearded man's thigh as he lay crumpled on the ground. Two guards came over and hauled him upright so he knelt properly before Lorist.
The bearded man struggled weakly, forcing words through his pain in broken stammers: "Who—who are you? How dare you defy His Majesty's decree, kill people on the streets, and resist arrest... I—I advise you to surrender at once and... and await His Majesty's judgment..."
Pat slapped the bearded man hard across the face. "Are you blind? Can't you see the Rage Bear emblem we're wearing? What colossal gall—threatening to kill our lord. Tired of living, are you?"
"The Rage Bear emblem... Rage Bear... You're from the
"I'm—I'm sorry, Your Highness Grand Duke Norton, it—it was our fault, we shouldn't have—we shouldn't have offended Your Highness, we—we deserve death... Please, please forgive us..." The bearded man kowtowed to the ground, trembling as he begged for mercy.
"Enough. Kneel properly. I just want to ask—when that steward distributed those ridiculous dance invitations to my ladies and drew a crowd to gawk, why didn't you patrol officers, whose job is to maintain order, step in and stop it?" Lorist asked expressionlessly.
"It—it's none of our business, Your Highness Grand Duke Norton," the bearded man said hurriedly. "His Majesty only ordered us to maintain order and prevent brawls. Sending dance invitations is noble society business—we have no authority to intervene. A-also, this man is Steward Ham, a steward of the Antario Trading Company, one of Count Viksas's people. We—we can't afford to offend him... A few days ago, Grand Duke Handra's daughter had the same encounter with the invitations, and in the end she had no choice but to accept one before she could leave..."
"Oh? So all she had to do was accept? What would happen if she simply didn't attend the dance?" Lorist's interest was piqued.
"I—I'm not entirely sure about that. But last time, Grand Duke Handra's daughter apparently didn't attend the dance either. The next day, Count Viksas paid a personal visit, and in the end Grand Duke Handra himself escorted the count out the door. I hear Grand Duke Handra thinks very highly of Count Viksas..." the bearded man replied.
"Heh heh..." Lorist let out a cold laugh. Now he understood why Count Viksas would resort to such a low trick as distributing invitations on the streets to harass
"Pat, return their weapons. We're leaving. As for how to handle this matter—I trust you know what to do?" This last question was directed at the bearded man. Though he was still somewhat annoyed, the fact was he had already beheaded the man who had harassed his wives on the street. Strictly speaking, Lorist was in the wrong—the other man had merely distributed invitations and opened his mouth, while Lorist had ordered violence and a public beheading. Forget it. The Second Prince's coronation was in three days; there was no need to cause trouble in the capital. He would give the Second Prince that much face.
"I understand, I understand. Thank you for your magnanimity, Grand Duke Norton. I'll handle the cleanup properly." The bearded man was overjoyed—an escape from the jaws of death. His back was already drenched in cold sweat, all from the terror of learning who Lorist really was.
Lorist nodded without replying and was about to leave with Princess Silivia and the others when a commotion rose in the distance. He looked up and saw a servant who had been standing behind the beheaded middle-aged steward—still holding several gift boxes—charging over with nearly a hundred similarly dressed guards, pointing at Lorist's group and shouting: "That's him! He ordered his guards to kill Steward Ham..."
Well, Steward Ham's headless corpse still lay in the middle of the street, so the evidence was quite literally right there for all to see.
A forty-or-fifty-year-old guard commander pushed through the crowd, pointed his sword at Lorist's group, and roared: "Kill these traitorous dogs! Leave those women for our lord the Count—you'll all be handsomely rewarded! Charge!"
The bearded man turned deathly pale. "Stop! Are you insane? He's Nor—"
No one listened. The charging guards were already clashing with Lorist's men, using lethal techniques. The guards didn't hold back either, dropping four or five opponents the moment they engaged. But the enemy had superior numbers—each of Lorist's men faced three or four opponents. And about twenty more guards circled around the fighting and charged straight at Lorist and the others.
Lorist's face darkened. He turned to Pat and ordered: "Kill every last one of these fools who don't know the value of their lives!"
A wail of anguish.
"At your command, Your Highness!" Pat raised his sword and charged forward with the two guards who had been holding the bearded man. Behind him, four guards laden with gift boxes were frantically dumping their burdens on the ground, quickly forming a sizable pile.
To Lorist's surprise, he had expected Pat at Gold rank to handle these guards with ease, but the enemy commander turned out to be Gold rank as well. With three additional guards backing him, the five of them were locked in a fierce stalemate. Fighting one against four, Pat was quickly losing ground. If his swordsmanship hadn't followed the shield-guard style, excelling in defense, he would have already taken injuries under the opponents' coordinated assault and relentless pressure.
The two guards who had charged in right after Pat were also surrounded and besieged. One of them took a sword strike to the ribs, but fortunately his armor held and he wasn't seriously wounded. Only when the four guards who had shed their gift boxes joined the fray did they barely manage to hold off the dozen-plus opponents. This was a large-scale brawl erupting on the Royal Avenue—the busiest and most prosperous thoroughfare in the imperial capital—with nearly a hundred combatants locked in a swirling fight. Over a dozen of the enemy's guards lay on the ground, their fates unknown, while seven or eight of the Norton Family's twenty-odd guards had also been wounded—even Pat had taken a sword strike to his left shoulder.
That stretch of street had become a full-fledged battlefield. In the distance at both ends, crowds had gathered so thick that not a drop of water could seep through. The guards of the Antario Trading Company, belonging to the capital's influential Count Viksas, had gotten into a deadly fight with the guards of some territorial lord who had come to attend the coronation ceremony. To everyone who knew of Count Viksas's reputation, it raised the question—who was this territorial lord? Didn't he understand that His Majesty the King stood behind Count Viksas? This poor, reckless lord was surely doomed. The king's thunderous wrath would descend soon, and no one could be allowed to disrupt His Majesty's coronation...
Lorist was also exasperated. If his guards had been wearing their old standardized armor, anyone would have recognized them as Norton Family men at a glance, and no one would have dared to offend them. But this time, Lorist had brought a hundred-man guard detail to the capital for two reasons. First, attending a grand ceremony didn't require full armament. Second, the weather was scorching, and wearing those can-like full-body standardized armors was a miserable ordeal for the guards—far too stifling and suffocating. So Lorist had his guards wear gray civilian clothes, with only a matching silver-gray lacework armor woven from gold thread draped over their upper bodies.
The problem was that with this outfit, no one recognized it as the Norton Family's new style of regular dress uniform. Even the small Rage Bear emblem worn on the chest was easily overlooked, because the silver-gray lacework armor was too dazzling and beautiful, drawing the eye and distracting from the emblem pinned to the left breast. Just as when Lorist had first arrived in the capital, the guards wore half-cloaks that concealed their half-plate armor. This had been Lorist's order—sunlight reflecting off armor during travel could blind the eyes. As a result, very few people knew that Lorist's guards had new uniforms. Duke Kemmis had even praised them a few times when he first saw them, but considering that half-plate offered limited protection to the limbs, head, and lower body, he dismissed it as mere showpiece armor and thought no more of it. And so, the very first time they appeared on the streets of the capital, no one knew they were Norton Family men—inviting trouble.
The guards following Princess Silivia were laden with gift boxes of various sizes, concealing the Rage Bear emblems on their chests. It was likely that Steward Ham of Count Viksas had taken them for the family of some unknown territorial lord. Upon seeing that Princess Silivia and her four companions were all stunningly beautiful women, he conceived the idea of rushing over with dance invitations, hoping to curry favor with Count Viksas.
But for Princess Silivia, an illegitimate count had no right to invite her to any dance, so she naturally ignored him completely. In response, Steward Ham resorted to his ultimate move—gathering a crowd to surround and block Princess Silivia's path. This happened to coincide with Lorist's arrival, and Pat, who had received word, also rushed over with men. Steward Ham was beheaded on the spot. The two servants with him were so terrified that they fled to report the incident, bringing back a large force of trading company guards. The confrontation was now inevitable.
Lorist had pieced together the entire chain of events in the blink of an eye. What puzzled him was that Count Viksas was merely the Second Prince's illegitimate son, and before being acknowledged, had reportedly spent his days loitering in the streets and markets. Put bluntly, he was a thug and a rascal—even being enfeoffed as a territorial count by the Second Prince hadn't stripped him of his street-hooligan habits. But where had such a nobody sourced so many formidable trading company guards? Captain of the Guard Pat was Gold rank. All twenty-odd guards had cultivation of Silver Two-Star or above in
They had now completely fallen into a disadvantageous position, reduced to nothing but defensive parries. If the fighting continued, they would likely die right there in the streets.
Just as Lorist's hand tightened on his sword hilt, a voice roared, "Your Highness, I'm here—" and Tiger Ross charged into the battlefield, sword in hand.
One strike, one kill. In the flicker of flashing steel, five guards sprayed blood from their throats and toppled to the ground. Tiger Ross charged straight toward the circle where Pat was fighting. None of the guards along his path were any match for his blade. A dozen guards couldn't even slow his stride—they were cut down by Tiger Ross instead, their screams deafening. The twenty-odd guards rallied with fresh spirit, immediately switching from defense to offense, driving the enemy back step by step.
The main factor was that Tiger Ross's entrance was simply too devastating. In just a few brief moments, some twenty guards had already become souls claimed by his blade. The guard commander—the Gold-rank swordsman who had been locked in combat with Pat—forced Pat back with a flurry of sharp strikes, then broke free and lunged at Tiger Ross. "How dare you, you traitors! Taste my sword!"
Tiger Ross drew his sword in a backhand slash. The guard commander raised his blade to block, only to be knocked back several stumbling steps. He froze on the spot. "A Great Swordmaster?"
"Very good," Tiger Ross gave a thumbs-up with his left hand. "This is the first time I've heard anyone call the Norton Family traitors. You've got guts. I just got promoted to Great Swordmaster, and you've delivered yourself to my doorstep. I'm delighted—I won't have to go looking for a sparring partner..."
The guard commander's face changed drastically. "The—the Norton Family... Stop! This is a misunderstanding..."
"Ah!" A scream of agony rang out. Without their Gold-rank commander, the remaining three guards were no match for Pat. Pat drove his sword into one guard's chest, then said in a cold, flat voice: "His Highness's orders—kill every last one of these fools who don't know the value of their lives..." He continued pursuing the remaining two opponents.
"Heh heh," Tiger Ross licked the corner of his mouth and grinned savagely. "I love the prince's orders. Kill all of you dogs who dared offend the Norton Family. Let's see who dares bare their claws at the Norton Family ever again..."
"No, no, no, this is a misunderstanding—we never meant to offend your noble family..." The Gold-rank guard commander was now drenched in sweat, trembling all over, backing away with eyes full of despair.
"Heh, I don't care whether it's a misunderstanding. All I know is—whoever offends the Norton Family, dies!" Tiger Ross's figure blurred as he charged forward.
"No—" the guard commander wailed. He managed to block only Tiger Ross's first strike; the second pierced straight through his mouth, silencing his wail in an instant.
With the guard commander dead, the remaining trading company guards couldn't begin to withstand Tiger Ross's slaughter—it was like chopping vegetables. They couldn't even flee, and were cut down one by one by the guards. Then, under Pat's command, the guards began the next, spine-chilling step—hacking off the heads of every trading company guard and stacking them into a small mound in the middle of the street.
"Your Highness, the mission is complete. Not a single enemy escaped." Pat reported, drenched in blood.
Though the sun blazed overhead, every spectator in the distant crowds felt an unnatural chill. Those at the front involuntarily retreated, and terrified wails and cries rose from the mass of people behind them...
"Locke, what happened?" Duke Kemmis finally pushed through the crowd with a dozen or so Snow Salt Trading Company guards and hurried over. He and Tiger Ross had been discussing the evening's planned dance when a steward from a nearby shop rushed in to report that the noble guest who had been with them earlier had gotten into a conflict on the street, drawn weapons, and killed someone...
Tiger Ross had immediately rushed out. Duke Kemmis lacked the physical ability to do the same and was trapped at the outermost edge of the crowd, unable to squeeze through. He could only hear people ahead saying that many had died. Then suddenly, silence fell ahead and the crowd began pressing backward, which was when he finally managed to push his way in.
The sight of those headless corpses strewn haphazardly across the ground left Duke Kemmis stunned. He naturally recognized the uniforms on the dead guards. "How did you end up killing so many Antario Trading Company guards? What happened?"
"The Antario Trading Company..." Lorist said. "I know—it's the trading company opened by that Count Viksas. By the way, where is his shop?"
"There—the biggest one up ahead. He occupies the best location with the largest storefront." Duke Kemmis pointed a short distance away.
"Tiger Ross, Pat. Take men and smash that trading company to rubble! Anyone who tries to stop you—kill them all."
"Yes, Your Highness," Tiger Ross and Pat answered in unison.
Duke Kemmis: "..."