Clash

A familiar voice rang out. Brandon turned to look and saw one of his Guardian Knights being slain, his head flying high into the air.

The other men around him were gradually falling into a disadvantage. One of the enemy's knights was suppressing several of his own men at once.

Only now did he understand that the intelligence he had thought he had obtained was all fake, all false information released by the other side to mislead the Cadro Province nobles.

At that moment, Velin seized the opportunity, mobilizing the last of his Battle Qi and coating his Knight Longsword with it as he charged fiercely toward Brandon.

Several soldiers rushed forward and stood before their stunned lord, trying to block him, but they were cut in half at the waist.

The piercing screams brought Brandon back to his senses. He raised his sword and desperately tried to defend himself.

The longsword in his hand was knocked away, and his helmet fell to the ground. Half-kneeling on the ground, Brandon looked at the bloodied sword at his neck, then sat down in a daze and said unwillingly, "You won."

Velin lowered his visor and looked at the Bronze High-Tier Knight, who was nearing middle age. "Yes," he said calmly. "I won."

When the surrounding soldiers and knights saw their lord defeated and captured, they dropped their weapons and began to surrender.

Belder wiped the sticky blood from his face and loudly ordered, "Collect their weapons and tie all of them up."

Seeing that the situation was under control, Velin sheathed his Knight Longsword and had Brandon bound and taken back under heavy guard.

The battle had come quickly and ended just as quickly, lasting only an hour.

That night, inside a tent, Velin sat at the head of the table in casual clothes, looking at the seven knights who had taken part in the battle. Every one of them bore injuries of varying severity.

"My lord, thirty-seven men died in this battle, twelve were severely wounded, and forty-one suffered light injuries. Our losses were extremely heavy," Belder said with a bitter smile. His subordinates had lost nearly a third of their number this time.

"What were the enemy's losses?" Velin asked, his expression unchanged.

Another knight stood and reported, "My lord, preliminary estimates put the enemy's casualties at more than four hundred. We captured five hundred and thirty-one prisoners, including Sir Brandon, nine Bronze Knights, eighty-seven elite soldiers, and the rest are all serfs."

"Take the serfs back. Give some to the Half-elf Eunice to build the castle, and give the rest to Mike, who is in charge of the farmland, to tend the crops." Velin paused before continuing, "Release one soldier and tell whoever is now in charge of the Barony of Cleveland that I will allow them to pay a ransom to redeem their lord."

"Yes, my lord." The knight struck his chest in salute and answered loudly.

After the meeting ended, Velin walked out of the tent and headed to the camp where the severely wounded were being treated.

As he looked at the pale soldiers lying on the ground, barely clinging to life, even Velin's cold heart felt a sting.

He was not one of those nobles who treated human lives like grass. He still retained a basic conscience. Although he did not know when he might be assimilated, there were things he needed to do now.

"Bring me a basin of clean water."

The soldier standing guard beside him bowed, then turned and ran off.

Before long, a basin of water was brought over. Velin pulled a crystal vial filled with pale red liquid from his chest, crouched down, removed the wooden stopper, and poured it into the basin.

"Give this water to the severely wounded."

"Yes, my lord." The soldier replied quickly, his voice full of excitement.

Velin watched the busy tent for a while, then left.

By chance, Belder, who had come to visit the severely wounded, saw the scene. He said nothing and merely watched in silence.

Perhaps choosing Young Master Velin was the wisest decision of my life.

"My lord, the brothers are improving. Their breathing has stabilized," a military medic with some medical knowledge reported excitedly to Belder.

"I know. If there is any Life Potion left from what our lord gave you, send it to the lightly wounded."

"Yes, my lord."

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The next day, inside the castle of the Barony of Klevland, a young man listened to the reporting soldier with an expression of disbelief.

"How is that possible? Father took more than a thousand men with him. How could he have been defeated by just a hundred men?"

"Young Master, serfs have been escaping back one after another. I am afraid this is the truth," the old butler advised from the side.

The middle-aged noblewoman seated at the head of the table could not stop her hands from trembling, but she forced herself to remain calm and said in a low voice, "Old Burr, convey my orders. Place the entire castle under lockdown and summon the other four knights back."

"Yes, Madam."

After the Butler left,

she looked at the soldier and continued asking, "What conditions does the other side have before they will release my husband and the other knights?"

"Matriarch, they did not state any conditions. They only told me that negotiations would take place at the border on the morning of July 19."

"You may leave."

"Yes."

Two guards supported the injured soldier out of the hall, leaving only the middle-aged noblewoman and the young man behind.

The oil lamps flickered in the hall. Brandon's eldest son, Leobel, looked anxiously at the middle-aged noblewoman and could not help asking, "Mother, what should we do next?"

"For now, we must first redeem your father and the other knights. Otherwise, we cannot hold such a vast territory as the Barony of Klevland by ourselves."

Leobel was deeply puzzled after hearing this. "Mother, even if the surrounding lords covet it, according to the kingdom's laws, they..."

"Idiot. The danger comes from within the family."

The middle-aged noblewoman stared at her son, wondering how she had given birth to such a fool.

Afterward, she began making preparations for the negotiations two days later, striving to redeem the territory's main fighting force.

Meanwhile, because of the prisoners in the camp, the work of mining Mithril had to be suspended.

Thanks to the Life Potion Velin provided, the twelve severely wounded soldiers escaped the danger of death. Their strength also improved greatly, turning misfortune into a blessing.

The other lightly wounded soldiers received small amounts of diluted Life Potion, and their injuries also recovered significantly.

Inside a tent, Velin and Brandon sat facing each other, playing chess as they talked.

"Your strength is formidable. Why did you come here to become a Pioneer Knight?" Brandon asked as he placed a chess piece and looked at Velin.

"Perhaps for a dream. Or perhaps because I did not want to live an ordinary life."

Velin gave a simple reply and placed a piece.

"How much ransom do you intend to demand next?" Without the imposing aura he had shown on the battlefield, Brandon now seemed like an aging old man.

Looking at the middle-aged man past fifty, Velin answered directly, "That depends on the standing you and your subordinates hold in the territory. I have plenty of time to wear you down."

"Hahaha, I doubt that," Brandon replied with a laugh, as though he had seen through Velin's thoughts.

"Hehe. Who knows?"

Velin placed another piece and won the game. He stood, straightened his clothes, and then left the tent.

Watching the young man leave, then thinking of his own disappointing eldest son, Brandon revealed a bitter smile.

Perhaps that was why the Ex Family had risen from a baronial family to an earldom in just seven hundred years.

Imprisoned here with nothing to do, Brandon began recalling everything he had done over the years. It had been a long time since he had sat quietly and reflected on his life.

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