Chapter 180: Would You Like a Drink?
Borien glanced at the others.
"They contacted you as well?" Borien asked.
No one responded.
"…" Borien fell silent for a moment, then finally said, "I still choose to stay in the Church. As for you all, I won't stop anyone who wants to leave."
"I assure you, the Bishop will not hold you accountable for this."
"Borien, have you forgotten Lain’s death?" Bode said. "He carried your blood."
Lain had been born from a drunken night between Borien and his elder brother’s wife. By now, it was no longer much of a secret.
"…" Borien still shook his head, turning his back to the knights. "After Sir Helvin stripped me of my knighthood, I never imagined I could become a knight again."
"And now, all I wish is to protect Anli. She just gave birth, so I don’t want to fight up north with you all again—even if it means being stripped of my knighthood once more."
"I’ve been through it once already. If it happens again, there's nothing left to care about."
Anli was Lain’s mother, the Matron of the family.
Bode said, "I respect your decision. But if you ever decide to head north, you’ll always be welcome to catch up with us."
"I wish you all to attain Honor," Borien said without turning around.
Bode said nothing more and simply turned to leave. Borien listened to the clinking of armor and the fading footsteps.
Night’s silence slowly returned, until Borien spoke again, "You two aren’t going with them?"
Borien turned around to see the two still behind him.
They were the Knight Brand and Knight Geick, who had previously accompanied him to greet George.
"Compared to charging across the battlefield again, I’m quite satisfied with my current life," said Knight Brand.
"My son is about to be born," said Knight Geick.
Borien smiled and said, "Even though it’s already late in the night—would you like to go have a drink?"
…
The next day, after clearing away the lingering scent of rye beer from himself, Borien headed toward the Great Church.
However, the Bishop was not there.
"The Bishop now resides in the Clock Tower. The Great Church is currently overseen in rotation by us Priests," said Jeven Adams, who had rushed to the Great Church overnight and showed no signs of fatigue as he spoke to Borien.
"I see… I have matters regarding the knights that I need to report to the Bishop…" Borien said hesitantly.
"If it's about that, the Bishop asked me to relay his message to you," Jeven said.
Borien paused, then collected himself.
"The Bishop said that since all remaining Temple Warriors in the Church have been deployed, there’s no one left to patrol the Church grounds. If Knight Borien does not mind, he may take over this task," Jeven said.
Borien fell silent.
Have a knight handle patrols?
Such a luxurious task—surely even a Grand Duke wouldn’t assign a knight to that.
But seeing Jeven’s smiling face, looking as if there was nothing wrong with what he had just said, Borien could only smile back.
"Please leave the patrol duties to me. With us around, not a single thief or bandit will dare encroach upon the Church," he said with a forced smile.
"Then I leave this task to you," Jeven nodded slightly, then continued, "The Bishop also instructed that once you agreed, I am to hand these items over to you."
"Please follow me," he said, then led Borien out of the Great Church.
Borien felt a little puzzled but followed nonetheless.
The two went around to the back of the Great Church.
There, Borien saw three full sets of armor along with swords and shields, all polished to a fine sheen. He could tell that the craftsmanship was on par with that of Knight George.
Behind the three suits of armor stood a flag—a simple white banner with a striking red cross.
"This is…" Borien hesitated slightly.
"This is for the knights. Although there are only three sets, this was the Bishop’s intention," Jeven said with a hint of apology.
He had yet to realize that after last night, only three knights remained at Glory Fortress.
"…In fact, what I wanted to report to the Bishop was that only I, Knight Brand, and Knight Geick remain at Glory Fortress," Borien said.
"I see…" Jeven suddenly understood.
"This flag?" Borien’s gaze turned to the banner behind the armor.
"The Bishop said that since you’ll continue residing at Glory Fortress, you may now be called the Honorary Knights Order. This flag belongs to the Honorary Knights Order," Jeven said.
"…I see." Borien’s heart felt conflicted.
…
Baron Belair’s original territory had been to the north of the former barony, backed by mountain ranges.
However, under the assault of Werewolves, his original territory had fallen. Now he had been driven by the Werewolves to a place bordering the York Territory.
The Burke Family had originally pledged allegiance to Marquis Demitri, and their lands had been granted by him. From the perspective of a baron under Marquis Demitri, his rightful territory was only that now-lost piece of land.
The area he now occupied could, in legal terms, only be considered under occupation by Baron Belair—it could not be called his own domain.
Hence, Baron Belair wanted to become an independent noble, unaffiliated with either Marquis Demitri or the Principality of Patlin.
Only by becoming an independent noble could he declare his own title based on the land and bestow more Knightly Titles.
At the very least, the remaining land he held was barely sufficient to proclaim the title of Viscount.
A scholar serving him had told him that knights were the sharpest swords of a lord—but bestowing knighthood was also a burden.
When the number of knights exceeded what one’s title permitted, the land would be cursed: crops would fail to grow, beasts would perish, and the land would ultimately fall into decline.
"The true reason, in fact, lies with the Earth Vein. Each noble rank has a fixed domain size, and the corresponding Earth Vein Magic is limited. For a baron, six knights are the most balanced number to share the Earth Vein’s power. Any more than that, and it draws too much from the land’s Earth Vein."
Inside the fortress occupied by Baron Belair, Puniel sat sprawled in the Head Seat, eating meat and drinking loudly while discussing the matter of knighthood.
Baron Belair’s expression was extremely unpleasant, but he could only endure it and sit at the guest seat in silence.
He had greeted Puniel with a smile, for he needed Puniel’s warriors to help him make his declaration as an independent noble.
In the early days, with a common enemy, the two naturally got along harmoniously.
However, on the following day, nine knights arrived from the York Territory.
They were fully armed and brought their own squires, totaling nearly forty men.
All of them joined under Puniel’s banner.
Thus, the previously harmonious atmosphere changed.
Puniel initiated a massacre. The Local Gentry who had previously tormented Baron Belair were met with the boots of Puniel’s knights kicking open their doors. Regardless of the gentry’s curses or pleas for mercy, they were slaughtered to the last.
Besides the gentry, some of the military officers with whom Belair had drunk also had their camps stormed by the knights. They were dragged out and executed right on the training grounds.
After killing those Local Gentry, Puniel also tore off the mask of friendliness and had Baron Belair seized. He opened the vault and distributed the gold, silver, and jewels to the knights and warriors.
"I need more knights, so I’ll help you become an independent noble. But I need the Knightly Titles you gain after becoming one," Puniel said as he wiped his mouth, speaking to Belair.
"A baron can confer six knights—it’s not enough. So I’ll help you become an independent viscount."
Belair dared not show any dissatisfaction. He said, "Why don’t you choose to become an independent noble yourself here?"
"With the number of knights you have, combined with my warriors and knights, even if we can’t completely drive out the Werewolves, it’s enough to carve out a viscounty."
"Then you can become an independent count, and I’ll willingly pledge allegiance to you."
Belair stood up and bowed to Puniel. Hidden from sight in the angle of his lowered head, his face twisted with fury.
"Hahahaha, I must say, your suggestion is quite tempting." Puniel looked at the bowing Belair with a mocking smile.
"More than ten knights, over a thousand brave warriors—oh, according to the Monastery's classification, that’s at least over a thousand Lower Warriors. That’s a force far beyond that of a viscounty."
As he spoke, he stood up and walked to Belair, suddenly grabbing his head and lifting him up.
The knight-level strength in Puniel’s grip made Belair’s skull creak. His face twisted in pain, his mouth opened as if to scream, but all he felt was a retching in his throat, managing only clicking noises. His limbs flailed and gradually went numb.
"But do you really take me for a fool blinded by greed?" Puniel said, baring his teeth.
"That many Werewolves, and they dare to build a Nation of Werewolves? They must possess powerful Holy Relics. Otherwise, even if Marquis Demitri had taken the elite forces of the territory, the remaining nobles would have easily wiped them out."
"Only with Holy Relics—and powerful ones at that—could these dumb dogs gain a foothold here and dare to plot nationhood."
"Against such a Nation of Werewolves, without Holy Relics or Mystery, even if I become an independent noble and establish a county, I’d still end up like you—a fool forced to beg the York Territory for help."
"Power is something I desire, but before that, I need to make sure I survive first."
Having said that, he casually tossed Belair aside, clapping his hands like brushing off filth.
"When you have time, read the Holy Scriptures more. I know you treat them as bedtime joke books too, but I must admit, it was the Holy Scriptures that taught me restraint." Puniel sat back down.
Belair struggled on the ground for a moment, unable to stand. His head felt like it would burst; the skull at the back of his head seemed to have cracked.
Dizzy and disoriented, Belair’s eyes rolled before settling on Knight Julian.
Two other knights stood beside him.
Belair’s gaze trembled, but Knight Julian merely looked back indifferently.
"Truly pathetic. Can’t even stand up now," Puniel said with dissatisfaction, then looked toward Julian, his tone softening greatly. "Knight Julian, your lord is asking for help. Aren’t you going to aid him?"
Julian glanced at Puniel, then walked over and helped Belair onto a chair.
Tears flowed from Belair’s eyes. His open mouth quivered, unable to produce any sound.
"Baron Belair’s physical condition is poor—he can’t withstand your torment," Julian said.
Julian’s address caused Belair’s pupils to contract violently. Then he heard the conversation that nearly shattered him.
"Hahahaha, Knight Julian truly is loyal. Even in this situation, you haven’t fled," Puniel laughed heartily.
"All I want now is to kill Werewolves. Everything else means nothing to me," Julian said after helping Belair sit upright.
"Ah, as expected. Truly worthy of being Knight Julian," Puniel applauded and said, "I heard about Knight Julian’s tales long ago."
"Back when I had just inherited my title, you wandered into my territory as a squire."
"I heard that with only a sharp sword in hand, and not even wearing armor, you single-handedly wiped out a bandit camp hiding on the outskirts of the Northwind Mountains. That camp housed at least eight humans, plus three Dark Creatures allied with them."
"Back then I wanted you to be my knight, but by the time I’d secured my authority, you were already gone. But it’s not too late now."
Puniel made no attempt to hide his admiration and openly extended an invitation.
"Can you still confer knighthood, sir?" Julian asked, glancing at the two knights who had once again returned to stand behind him.
"There are nine knights in total. As you just said, this exceeds the number a baron can confer."
Puniel leaned back slightly, resting on the Chair Back. "Such things are minor issues. But this reply from Knight Julian is a rejection."
"I said it before. All I want now is to kill Werewolves. Everything else means nothing to me," Knight Julian repeated once more.