Chapter 128: 128 Daggers Drawn

Chapter 128 128. Daggers Drawn

Before the duel commenced, no one from the Sain Fiefdom could have ever anticipated such an outcome—that their lord, the bronze-tier Baron Rayson, would actually fall at the hands of an unknown nobody.

When Rayson's pauldrons were stained crimson, and when Ridar’s longsword was pressed against the man's neck, only then did Pheliton and Joffrey snap out of their daze as if waking from a dream.

They raised their longswords high, shouting, and surged forward in a chaotic rush, bringing a dozen professional knights and thirty-six cavalrymen along with them.

They were all retainers dependent on the Sain Fiefdom; if Baron Rayson were to be slain, their status would suffer a tremendous blow, and there was even a high probability they would lose everything they currently possessed.

Therefore, they would absolutely not sit by and watch this happen.

Roning, naturally, would not allow Ridar to be surrounded by enemies.

"Charge!"

The Cloud-Treading Steed bolted forward like a flash, and he led McCann and the rest of his men into the fray.

The forces of both sides instantly surrounded Ridar and Rayson, who lay upon the ground, yet the slaughter did not begin, for Rayson was held firmly under Ridar’s control.

"Baron Roning, rashly murdering a nobleman is a violation of the kingdom's laws!"

Pheliton bellowed, "Even the Black Mountain Castle would find it difficult to shield you from the consequences!"

Roning had never once contemplated killing Rayson here; doing so would yield no benefit other than ridding himself of an enemy he had already bested.

Rayson had an heir, and even if he perished in the duel, the Sain Fiefdom would not become a lordless land; his son, Moravi, would become the new Baron of Sain.

Roning would gain no territory, but instead draw a mountain of trouble upon himself.

"Pheliton, there is no need to be so tense."

Roning flashed a warm, genial smile, but in Pheliton's eyes, this young baron appeared far more dangerous than when they had last met.

Pheliton recalled the first time he had seen Roning, on the day Primst died.

At that time, he could never have imagined that this young baron would one day pose a threat to the Sain Fiefdom; he had even assumed the boy would not survive the winter.

Yet he could never have foreseen that, in a mere three months, the baron to whom he swore fealty would be lying beneath the blade of the other man's retainer.

Roning motioned for Ridar to sheathe his longsword, making his stance clear:

"The duel signed between Ridar and Baron Rayson was a standard one, not a match to the death. I have never once desired your master's life."

As he spoke, he dismounted and approached Baron Rayson, "Baron, how fare you? Can you still stand?"

Rayson let out a muffled groan, his eyes filled with pain and deep-seated animosity, offering no reply.

Seeing that the situation would not deteriorate further, Pheliton immediately signaled his men to step forward; one supported Rayson into a sitting position, while two others frantically set to work dismantling Rayson's armor.

Soon enough, the wound beneath was revealed.

Ridar’s strike had been exceptionally sharp, slipping past the seams of the spaulder to slice directly through a large patch of flesh upon the shoulder.

Had it not been for the robust defensive power of a bronze knight, coupled with the armor snagging the blade's momentum, Rayson's arm might very well have been severed cleanly off.

If that had happened, the Black Mountain Fiefdom would likely have gained a second one-armed lone wolf, alongside Baron German of Lake Town.

"The injury is rather severe."

Watching them clumsily apply bandages to stem the bleeding, Roning could not help but offer a reminder:

"Baron Rayson, I happen to have a light-attribute mage in my ranks. If you require it, I can have him cast a healing spell to alleviate your injuries."

Rayson looked toward Roning, his eyes flashing with a sudden spark.

Yet he heard Roning continue, "However, Elrond's aptitude is modest, and the speed at which he refines mana is somewhat slow. Casting a healing spell is quite taxing for him. If you wish to be treated, you must pay a fee."

He extended a single finger, "One hundred gold coins per cast, and if..."

"Treat it!"

Rayson spat out the word through gritted teeth; whether from excessive blood loss or pure fury, his countenance had turned quite pale.

Roning gave Elrond a meaningful glance, and the latter stepped out of the ranks with a beaming smile, offering a respectful bow to Rayson.

"Greetings, Baron. Elrond is most delighted to be of service to you."

With that, he began to trace the magical circuits of the healing spell. His speed was slightly slower than usual, but after a mere five or six seconds, a brilliant radiance burst forth from the arcane lines, cascading over Rayson's wound.

The effect of the healing spell was instantaneous; the rate of bleeding diminished at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"My lord, your injury is quite grievous. A single healing spell will not suffice."

As the magical circuits of the spell dissolved into the air, Elrond advised, "It would be best to perform two more treatments."

Rayson stared intently at Elrond, remaining silent.

Roning spoke up, "Treat him! Would Lord Rayson ever be short of such pocket change?"

"Very well~"

Elrond said as he commenced casting once more.

Following the two successive healing spells, the wound had completely ceased bleeding and had already begun to scab over.

Elrond offered a friendly warning, "Your lordship's injury is rather deep; a healing spell can only achieve so much. I must ask that you continue to bandage it, and refrain from any strenuous movement for some time after you return, lest the wound burst open again."

This piece of advice was genuine; the mage had not skimped on the efficacy of the healing magic.

After being bandaged by his subordinates, Rayson was helped to his feet.

This battle was his defeat; to be bested head-on by someone of a lower rank, and right in front of his own knight squad, filled Rayson with an overwhelming sense of shame.

He glared at the seemingly harmless youth before him, the fury in his heart surging to an absolute pinnacle of hatred, yet he no longer possessed the strength to fight.

Roning knew the man hated him, so he had felt no qualms about offending him from the very beginning.

"Rayson, according to our agreement, since you have failed, your men shall not cross the midline between Silt Village and the Black Fiefdom Tribe from this day forth. Concurrently, you must pay one hundred gold coins to ransom Fenris and the others."

"Oh, and by the way, those three healing spells just now come to a total of three hundred gold coins. Please see to that payment as well."

"Hmph, the integrity of the Sain Fiefdom remains intact!"

Rayson spoke in a cold tone, though compared to his prior clamor, he sounded somewhat weak from losing so much blood.

"Within five days, I shall have Pheliton deliver the gold coins to the Silt Tribe."

Having uttered these words, he cast a glance to his left and right, "We leave!"

Watching Rayson being assisted onto his mount as the Sain Fiefdom's procession slowly departed, the men on Roning's side finally erupted into a crescendo of cheers.

"We have triumphed!"

"The Commander is truly magnificent!"

"As expected of the Commander!"

...

Roning likewise flashed a thumbs-up to Ridar, "Splendidly done, Commander!"

At the same time, he inquired with concern, "You were sent flying several times by his battle techniques. How do you feel? Do you need Elrond to treat you?"

Ridar’s current state was not particularly ideal either.

Though the Fiery Whirlwind was an area-of-effect battle technique, being blasted away so many times had rattled his internal organs, causing him to cough up several mouthfuls of fresh blood.

"The efficacy of a healing spell is not quite ideal for internal injuries."

Ridal shook his head. “This time back, I’ll need several days of rest—no more fighting.”

“Then rest well. The Sain Domain won’t dare strike again anytime soon.”

The mountain forest town’s contingent also slowly began their return.

They had won this battle. Amid cheers and joy, the people now regarded Ridal with greater reverence.

The commander of mountain forest town was no longer merely a high-ranking knight—he was a man who had defeated and slain a Bronze Knight across ranks.

That was authority.

But Luo Ning knew this victory was only temporary. This duel was merely the beginning of his conflict with the Sain Domain.

(End of Chapter)