Duel

"This is my new squire. Say hello to everyone, Males!"

Lothar stepped out of the manor's main building and addressed the group.

Then, as if a dark cloud had descended from above.

That massive body, as imposing as Mars, the god of war from ancient Greek myth, instantly seized everyone's attention with an overwhelming sense of oppression.

Heavenly Father above!

Ryan and Moder instinctively swallowed.

This terrifying, giant-like brute stood over two meters tall, his muscles as hard as granite.

If he put on heavy armor and took to the battlefield, they could not imagine anyone capable of stopping him.

Ryan exclaimed, "If he were a knight, I can't imagine what sort of mighty horse could carry such a towering body."

Moder put it succinctly. "He should be in the Eastern Empire's Varangian Guard!"

The Eastern Empire's Varangian Guard was the finest infantry force in the world.

"Heh, Males may be a bit strong, but he's actually a blacksmith—the best kind. He won't be going to war."

Although Males's base attributes were high, his stamina was only twice that of an ordinary person. Lothar was reluctant to send such valuable technical talent onto the battlefield.

Still, one could imagine that if Males appeared on a battlefield, he would undoubtedly be a god of war no less formidable than the ancient E Lai.

Hans stared at Males's face and suddenly realized something. He stammered, "Y-you're that master craftsman from the Polis Federation?"

Males lowered his head slightly and looked at the familiar black cross on white. A rare hint of disgust appeared on his face. "To think I'd run into one of the Knightly Order's little whelps here."

Ryan and Moder exchanged looks. They had no idea what the "Polis Federation" Hans mentioned or the "Knightly Order" Males spoke of were.

But the factions those two belonged to clearly had some history between them.

"Males."

There was a warning note in Lothar's voice.

"Remember, this is Jerusalem. The lord you serve is me, not some Federation or Knightly Order."

Prajna silently stepped forward. Her barely perceptible aura immediately dispersed the oppressive presence Males had brought upon the others.

She did not know who Males was. In the end, he was merely a mortal craftsman, incapable of forging a divine artifact like her Ghost Face Shield.

Fringilla, who had been about to step out, quietly stopped and muttered, "That big lug reacted pretty quickly."

Males fell silent for a moment, then gave a deep bow. "My lord, everything shall follow your will."

"All right. I'll take you to see the manor's forge. Make a list of anything we need to purchase as soon as possible. We must leave for the fief no later than tomorrow morning."

Ryan muttered quietly, "Why does it feel like every so often, my lord manages to dig up one or two incredible talents from who knows where?"

"Could my lord actually not be the count's son, but the Hohenstaufen Emperor's illegitimate son?"

"Watch your tongue. Do not speak carelessly of your lord."

Though Moder said that, he too felt somewhat uncertain. If Lothar did not have a powerful background, how could a mere landless knight have won the favor of two Witches in succession?

"In any case, this is definitely a good thing!"

"It is all the will of the Heavenly Father!"

Moder devoutly made the sign of the cross before his chest.

"Yes, the will of the Heavenly Father!"

Ryan wholeheartedly agreed with this sort of statement that would make the Pope want to hit someone.

Knightly duels were nothing unusual in Jerusalem.

Too many knights had gathered in this city. Those landless knights from across Europe always came with dreams of striking it rich in the Holy Land.

But when the duel involved the esteemed Princess Sibylla of Jerusalem, people could not help paying it more attention.

By afternoon, the area around the dueling ground was packed with spectators.

Wandering knights, pilgrims who had not yet joined the Crusaders, nobles, and monks filled the streets to the brim.

The guards loudly berated the commoners blocking the road, using their halberds to force open a space for their lord.

Balian licked his cracked Lips. Beneath his Bucket Helm, his expression was somewhat tense. He had arrived earlier than Guy of Lusignan.

He had drunk that bottle of Dragon Blood Potion!

At that moment, he felt his body brimming with terrifying power.

Yet at the same time, he felt uneasy.

He did not know whether using a power clearly not bestowed by the Heavenly Father to fulfill a sacred duel was an act of blasphemy.

At that moment, waves of startled cries rang out.

"My God, is that a giant from Rhodes?"

"Whose force is this? How can they be so elite?"

The nobles and noble ladies who had already taken their places in the stands around the dueling ground all rose to their feet, expressions of disbelief on their faces.

A towering giant of a man forced his way through the crowd, carving out a path with an air of looking down upon all around him.

Behind him, a column of heavily armed soldiers marched forward in neat formation, their eyes fixed straight ahead.

They all wore white surcoats emblazoned with a red rampant lion crest. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, and at a glance, they exuded a fierce, battle-hardened aura.

Knights whose warhorses were clad in black leather armor brought up the rear.

"Is that Lothar of the Habsburg family?"

"He's returned to the Holy City?"

"I heard that Your Majesty actually elevated him to baron?"

"Where is his fief? How could Your Majesty make such a major decision so casually, bypassing the council?"

"They say it's a private royal domain—some remote place called Yoglusburg."

The crowd buzzed with discussion. Balian, who had been at the center of the storm only moments ago, seemed to have been instantly replaced by the kingdom's rising new star, Baron Lothar.

At that moment, Count Raymond, Regent of Jerusalem, slowly ascended from beneath the grandstand, dressed in a blue surcoat.

Close behind him came the Count of Jordan—Reynald. The tall, lean man with a head of red hair had undergone a meticulous grooming today, and looked surprisingly handsome and imposing.

Baron Godfrey also slowly stepped onto the platform at this time.

At a glance, he spotted Lothar's troop among the crowd.

That unit's presence was so intimidating that it stood distinctly apart from everyone around it.

He beckoned, signaling for Lothar to come forward.

Lothar ascended the platform with Prajna, Fringilla, and Hans.

Originally, he had wanted to leave Prajna and Fringilla at home.

But the former insisted that she had to remain at his side at all times to protect him, while Fringilla loved excitement as well. The moment she heard about it, she clung to him and demanded to come along.

Baron Godfrey teased, "Quite an impressive display. This army really only trained for half a month?"

Seeing how relaxed he looked, Lothar felt somewhat puzzled, but he still nodded. "They truly have only trained for half a month. At present, they can only be said to possess the beginnings of combat capability. They cannot compare with veterans."

"You've certainly drawn plenty of attention. Didn't you see the changes in Raymond and Reynald's expressions?"

Lothar gave a slight nod. "It is time for me to step forward and share some of your burden."

Today was the day Lothar formally announced his entry onto the kingdom's political stage.

At that moment, Guy of Lusignan arrived as well.

The young knight from Gaul approached slowly, full of pride, one hand gripping his sword.

"Holy duels are a right granted to nobles by the Heavenly Father. Everyone must abide by this law. However, Balian, you did not pick up the glove Guy de Lusignan threw at you that day. Therefore, you have the right to refuse the duel and send your attendants or subordinates to fulfill the obligation in your place."

William, the kingdom's chancellor and Archbishop of Tyre, dressed in judicial robes with one hand resting on his sword, made the announcement in a ringing, emphatic voice.

Balian shook his head. "Lord Bishop, I am willing to honor the agreement of the duel. I cannot give up my pursuit of Lady Sibylla, regardless of whether she bears a noble title."

"Neither can I, Lord Bishop."

Guy of Lusignan wore an amused expression.

He raised his head, gazing at Princess Sibylla behind her veil, though it was impossible to tell which of the two men she was looking at, and shouted, "Let the Heavenly Father decide which of us is truly worthy of such an honor."