Chapter 179: 179 Opposition

Chapter 179: Opposition

A single sentence stunned the hall.

All the nobles turned their gazes toward the dissenter—not another, but Orson Hyde, Border Earl of Wushan.

Instantly, murmurs rose like waves.

Viscount Marvin sneered, “Orson, your lands border neither Ubeil nor do you trade or clash with them—on what grounds do you object?”

“Yes, if anyone should object, it should be Marvin—he’s the one whose Ironhoof lands adjoin Ubeil.”

“No, no, no!” Marvin waved his hands frantically. “Gelman, don’t go saying things like that—I have no objection whatsoever to the Marquis’s decree.”

Gelman spread his hands. “Neither do I.”

The two closest to Ubeil had voiced no opposition; anyone else wishing to object would need to offer a valid reason.

Rulans remained impassive. “Orson, explain your reasoning.”

All eyes turned to Orson.

“My Lord Marquis,” Orson said slowly, “as you’ve said, Ronin did indeed render great service in rescuing Princess Brandi. But the key to repelling that Gold-rank assassin lay not in Ronin himself, but in the Level-Six spell scroll you granted him.”

He laid out his objection plainly: “Ronin has earned merit, but not merit sufficient to make him lord over the entirety of Ubeil.”

“That is not correct, Orson Earl,” said Kabir, Ronin’s brother-in-law. “Though spell scrolls are potent, their power depends entirely on the wielder seizing the moment. Countless souls walk this earth clutching powerful scrolls, yet die without ever finding the chance to use them.”

“Kabir speaks truth,” said Viggins, who held strong views on the matter. “When I was assassinated last time, the attacker moved too swiftly, struck too decisively—I never even had time to activate my defensive scroll.”

Orson cast a sidelong glance at his son-in-law.

Had it been another, he might have suspected bias toward Ronin. But Viggins was different—Viggins spoke only of what lay before his eyes.

Yet Viggins’s words won nods of agreement from other nobles.

After all, a spell scroll was merely a tool—its true power depended on the hand that wielded it.

Brandi watched the nobles exchange words, eager to speak for Ronin. But matters of land and titles were not for her to voice in such a gathering.

Still, from her vantage, stating facts remained permissible.

“All eyes are fixed on the Gold-rank assassin,” she said, “but before he struck, two other assassins nearly killed me. Had it not been for Ronin, I would already lie dead in my own blood—long before the Gold-rank even raised his blade.”

She drew a deep breath. Such occasions were rare for her; years of slander had made her timid. To stand here, unflinching, speaking so much—this was already remarkable.

Orson bowed slightly to the Princess. “Perhaps I did not make myself clear. Ronin’s role in rescuing Your Highness is undeniable. But that merit alone does not justify granting him dominion over all of Ubeil.”

He held firm.

“Wushan currently faces threats from the Black Gold Brotherhood and the Polant Raiders. To eradicate these border threats, countless nobles and knights have shed their blood and laid down their lives upon the field.”

“Many knights and barons have accumulated deeds no lesser than Ronin’s—some over years, their merits rivaling his single act.”

Orson shifted tone. “Yet their rewards remain ungranted, while Ronin’s is so magnificently bestowed—is this not inappropriate?”

“That’s not right, Orson,” said Marvin, voice sharp. “I recall every campaign against the Black Gold Brotherhood rewarded outstanding nobles with land or gifts. And from what I know, you’re the one who gains the most each time. We haven’t objected—and yet you’re the first to raise your voice?”

Orson sneered. “Should we reward those who never lift a sword, rather than those who fight?”

“You speak filth! Who never fights? Have my Ironhoof knights ever not led the charge?”

What began as reasoned debate soon curdled into open hostility. Marvin, quick-tempered, erupted into curses.

Ronin, the subject of it all, remained silent. He simply observed.

Most nobles acknowledged his merit—but disagreed on the scale of reward.

For instance, Baron Corien Hanson of Stonecliff in the southwest felt Orson’s argument held weight.

The southwestern nobles had battled the Polant Raiders for years, yet few had been granted land or titles.

Even Corien Hanson himself remained merely a baron.

“Enough.”

The prolonged argument finally drew Rulans’s voice. He silenced the hall.

“I have heard your opinions. But I do not agree with them.”

“For years I have withdrawn from affairs, paying little heed to the lands. Yet I know well the Black Gold Brotherhood to the southeast, and the Polant Raiders to the southwest.”

Rulans’s gaze settled on Baron Corien Hanson. “Corien, what did I tell you then?”

Corien straightened. “My Lord commanded me to eradicate the Polant Raiders without delay.”

“Have you done so?”

“No… not yet.”

Rulans chuckled. “Over the years, Wushan Castle has sent you grain, horses, supplies—yet you’ve not only failed to crush the enemy, you’ve not even reclaimed two parcels of land. With such a record, what right have you to speak of rewards?”

Corien bowed his head. “My Lord is right.”

“And as for the Black Gold Brotherhood.”

Rulans turned to Orson. “The same logic applies. Until the enemy is destroyed, no great reward is warranted. Yet because some nobles and knights have reclaimed scattered lands, Wushan Castle has granted them due honors—this has been sufficient.”

“Now, back to Ronin.”

Rulans paused, drawing every eye back to him. “His merit lies not only in saving Princess Brandi, but in averting a great disaster for Wushan.”

Had Brandi perished, someone would have seized the moment to inflame tensions between the Crown and Wushan. The realm would have plunged into chaos—harmful to all.

Thus, Rulans’s claim that Ronin had averted a great calamity was not untrue.

“You speak wisely,” Orson conceded, partial agreement in his tone. “But I still believe granting Ronin the title of Viscount and the land of Sain is sufficient.”

He emphasized: “Ubeil is too vast. To bestow it all upon Ronin seems inappropriate.”

Rulans shook his head. “Ubeil is vast, yes—but mostly barren, riddled with peril. When Shannlin Village was still unclaimed, even the bravest frontier knights chose other manors over becoming its lord.”

“Very well,” Orson sighed, resignation in his voice. “My Lord remains as he always was—we cannot sway your decision.”

“Then why not settle it through trial?”

Hesus, Earl, seated beside Brandi, had remained silent since entering. Yet now he spoke.

A sly smile played on his lips as his eyes flickered between Rulans and Orson.

“Orson, wasn’t it through a duel you first lost to Rulans—and thus pledged your loyalty? And I’ve heard, on several occasions since, when you disagreed, you settled it the same way—whoever won, the other obeyed.”

Hesus smiled. “After all these years, you’ve a rare chance. Why not duel again? And Orson—I’ve heard your strength has advanced further?”

A hush fell over the hall.

Orson had long been a Gold-rank knight. To advance further—did that mean he’d reached Star-rank?

Many frowned inwardly. This was no welcome development.

Ronin’s expression darkened.

Hesus had come here to provoke.

Rulans had lived in seclusion for years, and due to his injuries, he had never publicly wielded his strength—this was common knowledge.

Now to ask him to spar with Ausen was clearly to put him in an impossible position.

This sparring match must not be accepted.

(End of chapter)