Unable to Care for the Viscount, but Able to Care for the Viscountess

Unable to Care for the Viscount, but Able to Care for the Viscountess

Hearing Ryan's words, Viscount Whitman flew into a rage.

Among nobles, there was an unspoken rule: calling a noble destitute meant declaring that their family was no longer part of the nobility, but had become Wandering Nobles.

What were Wandering Nobles? Aside from the ancient nobility in their bloodline, they had nothing. They could only drift from place to place, relying on their noble status to sponge food and drink off other nobles' territories, waiting for the day they might have a chance to gain land of their own.

Viscount Whitman could not accept that fate more than anything. He would never allow his family to decline in his generation.

Otherwise, he would become the family's laughingstock, the most incompetent master in the history of the Whitman Family.

"How dare you insult a Viscount!!!"

Killing intent filled Whitman's eyes. Just as he was about to order everyone to swarm forward, kill Ryan's soldiers, and subdue Ryan, Ryan spoke again.

"Perhaps I wasn't insulting you. A noble, a Viscount, actually fighting Goblins for a Cave. If word of that got out..."

Ryan's words made Whitman's face burn. His rage had reached its limit.

"However, I can take you away, to a relatively warmer place. At the very least, the snow there won't rise above your knees, and every year there are three to five months without Fierce Winter's freezing winds."

"There, you can survive."

"Ryan, how dare you insult me..."

Whitman's roar abruptly stopped in the dim Cave.

His eyes locked onto Ryan. Not just him—everyone in the Cave was staring at Ryan.

"The snow won't rise above the knees, and there are three to five months every year without wind and snow?"

"Does such a place really exist?"

Many people whispered among themselves, while Viscount Whitman stared at Ryan.

"Is what you said true?"

"Of course it's true."

Ryan nodded, but he was not about to do a noble a favor for nothing.

"I can take you away from here, but on one condition: all these slaves of yours will belong to me, including the soldiers at your side."

"The only things that will still be yours are yourself, the Viscountess beside you, and your child."

Viscount Whitman gritted his teeth. If that happened, he truly would become one of the Wandering Nobles.

Negotiation and compromise were fine traditions among nobles. Viscount Whitman was unwilling to lose everything like this.

"Leave me three hundred slaves. You can have the soldiers. Then give me a piece of land to establish myself. No, it doesn't need to be large. One manor with fertile fields will do."

Ryan refused.

"Viscount, I have already stated my terms. You may either accept them or refuse."

"I am a Viscount, a Viscount! You are merely a Baron!"

"Precisely because you are a Viscount, I am willing to take you away for free. That is respect between nobles."

"Hmph!"

"You want to turn me into a Wandering Noble, make me a sinner of the Whitman Family, and you call that respect?"

"Baron Ryan, I only want one hundred slaves and one manor. That is my bottom line."

"A manor..."

Ryan sighed. He did not even have a manor himself.

"It seems Viscount Whitman intends to refuse, then? To keep barely surviving alone in this Goblin Cave?"

"Hmph. Baron, this is my territory. Leave."

He could not possibly give up his property.

Whitman looked down at Ryan from above. The soldiers at his side stepped forward again, preparing to drive Ryan away.

"Viscount, the only one who can save you now is me."

As Ryan spoke, he glanced at Brandt.

The latter stepped forward. In his pupils, a stag roared.

"A Knight?!"

Viscount Whitman shouted in shock.

"How can Aixnier still have Knights?"

"Knights cannot exist on the Axeniel Continent, but I am an exception. I can grant you a Knight's blessing and allow you to give birth to Life Seeds."

Ryan looked at the others. Perhaps some of them had once been Freemen, but under Viscount Whitman, they had gradually all become slaves.

"You should also know the legend of the Deer Spirit. And I am now the only one who can grant you the Deer Spirit's Blessing."

"Are you willing to become subjects of Baron Ryan?"

As Ryan's words fell, the Cave became completely silent. Only after a moment did Ryan realize why.

It was simple. These people were all slaves, Viscount Whitman's slaves, his private property. They did not dare make decisions for themselves.

Moreover, nobles in any realm would never trust those who betrayed their masters. Under normal circumstances, only Freemen had some right to choose.

If slaves abandoned their master and joined another noble, they would still only be slaves. Their treatment would not change in any way, and they would completely lose any chance of escaping slavery.

"Hmph. Baron, you think too highly of yourself."

Whitman looked at Ryan coldly.

Ryan looked back at him.

"It seems there is only one way for us to settle this: the way of nobles."

Ryan's expression turned solemn. "Since you want war, then I will give you war."

"From this moment onward, the Ryan Barony declares war upon Viscount Whitman, until the gods bring it to an end."

The instant his oath fell, Brandt and the eight Knight Retainers charged out. A squad of well-fed soldiers crushed Viscount Whitman's slaves and soldiers almost effortlessly.

Boom!

The longsword struck a transparent barrier, and only then did Ryan understand how that Earth Goblin had died.

That made sense. The Axeniel Continent could no longer cultivate the Deer Spirit Knight Breathing Technique. The only path left to preserve extraordinary power was magic.

"But, Viscount, it seems you are only a Mage Apprentice."

After Ryan spoke, Brandt's longsword came down once more. The magic barrier shattered in an instant, and the sword stopped before Viscount Whitman's eyes.

At last, the Viscount was afraid. Trembling slightly, he said, "Baron Ryan, everything will be as you say. All these slaves are yours."

Ryan walked up to Whitman, took Brandt's longsword, and thrust it forward without hesitation, piercing the Viscount's throat.

Blood sprayed out, splashing across Ryan's face and Deerskin Cloak.

"What a pity, Viscount. After speaking with you again and again, I found you far too greedy."

"You seem to have forgotten that you are a Viscount who needs to fight Goblins for territory. You have no right to negotiate with me."

Ryan murmured softly. Then he flicked his wrist, and a youth about his own age collapsed into a pool of blood beside him.

When the longsword swung toward the shapely woman, it was blocked by a magic barrier once more.

"I... I am Viscountess Whitman. No, I am Baron Azur's daughter."

"I am also a Mage Apprentice. I study Magic Weaving. I can help you."

"He was my husband, but this child was born to him and his former wife."

Sarah Azur, the Viscountess, had gone pale with fright. Her voice trembled as she spoke. Afterward, she stiffly pushed out her chest and arranged her naturally beautiful face, her meaning clear.

Viscountess, please show some restraint. I'm still a child.

Ryan withdrew his longsword and reached toward the area below the Viscountess's chest.

At that moment, the Viscountess's body trembled faintly once again.