Chapter 491: Disturbed Mind

The House of Carmen boasted two powerful figures.

The first was Placido, the master of the Watchtower, a long-renowned peak meteor knight.

The second was his sister, Melis, who possessed deep attainments in the mystical arts and had already become a magister.

It was precisely for this reason that Melis understood mages so well; the moment she saw the piece of paper drift over and hover right before them, she knew an archmage stood on the opposing side.

For only an archmage of the eighth rank could command physical objects through sheer mental force.

Hearing these words, Placido trembled all over, his expression stiffening.

This meant that the enemy possessed not only a blazing sun knight and a giant dragon, but also a mysterious archmage.

Heavens, for years the Watchtower had only been responsible for containing a single knight order; why must they suddenly face such immense pressure?

The House of Wushan—why would such a formidable vanguard choose this small place instead of marching upon the Red Pine Castle?

Placido gingerly took the letter, sensing the force controlling the parchment dissipate as he did so.

He slowly unfurled it, and read the script written upon it:

Respected Viscount Placido, I am Ronin Wushan, Guardian Knight of the Kingdom of Alduin, Marquis of Moonlight Valley, and Earl of Northern Wu. I come here today with no malice, but merely in the hope of having a friendly discourse with Your Excellency. If you share this desire, please step outside the castle to speak with me; to show my sincerity, I shall order my knights to withdraw several miles.

"This..."

Placido was stunned, his gaze instinctively drifting toward the slope outside the castle walls.

As if sensing his gaze, Ronin nodded to him in greeting, and the five men beside him wheeled their mounts around, retreating to a distance where they could barely be seen in the blink of an eye.

"Should I go?"

Placido hesitated slightly; though the enemy was but a single man, that man was a blazing sun knight, capable of rivaling ten thousand on his own.

"Go!"

Melis advised decisively. "A man of his stature values his honor; he would never openly commit so base an act as to lure you out of the city only to capture you."

Placido pondered in silence for a long moment.

Given the current disparity between their forces, the opposition held an absolute advantage; Ronin truly had no need to resort to such ignoble means to deal with him.

"Very well, I shall go!"

Placido was a man of courage after all; he thrust the letter into Melis's embrace. "Prepare yourselves. If Ronin truly abandons his honor, ignore my safety and defend the Watchtower to the end!"

Melis nodded. "Rest assured."

The northern gate of the Watchtower slowly ground open, and a warhorse galloped forth, bearing the imposing, tall figure of Placido.

Ronin was somewhat surprised; he had not requested that the other party come alone, and Placido could easily have brought a retinue.

From this, one could see that the master of the Watchtower possessed no small amount of daring.

The warhorse galloped up to Ronin, and Placido dismounted swiftly. "I did not expect to meet you here, respected Marquis Ronin. I have long heard of your glorious deeds. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Ronin likewise dismounted, stepping forward to shake the man's hand.

"Your courage commands my deepest respect. It is a pleasure to meet you as well."

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the two men got straight to the point.

"I wonder what Your Excellency wishes to discuss by summoning me here?"

Placido asked, "Is it to ask me to open the gates of the Watchtower and surrender my weapons?"

Though the atmosphere just moments ago resembled a meeting between friends, the air grew sharp once specific matters were touched upon.

No matter the civility, they stood on opposing sides of a conflict.

"Since you already know my intent, I shall not beat around the bush,"

Ronin said. "The House of Carmen found its fortune here; the Watchtower is undoubtedly your ancestral home. I know not if you possess other fiefs or estates within the Kingdom of Tricia, but at least you have this place."

"Once war breaks out, the foundation you have built at the Watchtower will be utterly destroyed. Even if you ultimately survive, your family will suffer a devastating blow."

Placido let out a cold laugh. "Though you are a blazing sun knight, and your ranks include a giant dragon and an archmage, the Watchtower is not entirely defenseless. To be frank, the Kingdom has already dispatched reinforcements to me, and they are capable of dealing with you and your dragon."

"Do not deceive yourself, Viscount."

Ronin smiled. "Do these reinforcements you speak of refer to the knight order, the mage squad, and the few mana cannons that arrived at the Watchtower not long ago?"

Placido, who had merely been trying to bolster his own resolve, finally lost his composure upon realizing that his secret defenses were entirely transparent to his opponent.

"How did you..."

Ronin chuckled softly. "I tracked their movements the very day they arrived. To be frank, such support is not enough. At the very least, the Kingdom of Tricia would need to send you a sufficient number of Dragon-Hawk Knights."

Placido fell silent.

He, too, desired a squad of Dragon-Hawk Knights, but circumstances did not allow it; the Kingdom's Dragon-Hawk Knight Order was likely still stationed near the Molten Duchy.

"Surrender,"

Ronin said plainly. "I admire your courage and strength, and I value the elites within the Watchtower. Swear fealty to me, and you and your House of Carmen shall achieve even greater glory."

"Impossible!"

Placido refused outright. "You are asking me to treason. I will never agree to this!"

"A country?"

Ronin shook his head. "As far as I know, the Kingdom of Tricia has already allied with the Sacred Storm organization that occupies the Molten Duchy. Do you know anything about this organization?"

Placido hesitated for a moment. "Do you?"

"Of course I do,"

Ronin said with a smile. "If you are willing to listen, I am prepared to share this classified intelligence with you."

"Speak, then."

In truth, Placido was immensely curious about this organization that had risen so abruptly; before the fall of the Duke of Molten, he had never even heard the name.

Ronin hid nothing, recounting the entire history of the Sacred Storm organization and Mephisto.

"Your king has allied with an alien race and has already stood against humanity. If you continue your allegiance to such a kingdom, you will eventually become an alien yourself, just like Earl Jesus on our side."

"Imagine it—your parents, your wife, your children, your relatives and friends all losing their sense of self, turned into the minions and puppets of a demon god. What would that feel like?"

Placido could not help but take a few steps back, thoroughly shaken by Ronin's words.

"No, impossible! This is all mere speculation on your part!"

This subversive information left Placido's mind reeling; how could the royal family have allied with an alien race?

Ronin did not argue; this information had been brought back by Hamon, and its authenticity was beyond doubt.

Placido likely knew that the royal family had allied with the Sacred Storm in the Molten Duchy, but they remained ignorant of the truth—ignorant that this organization consisted of alien demon gods from another continent.

He vaulted back onto his horse. "The war has not yet begun. You still have time to investigate, to confirm, and to think."

"Yet the conflict draws near, and the time left for your deliberation is short. Think on it carefully, Placido: to choose battle against me, or to choose submission. These are two vastly different paths."

Placido watched Ronin's retreating figure, feeling as though a massive boulder were pressing down upon his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Honor and fealty were of paramount importance to a border viscount.

Yet the future of his house and the safety of his kin were weights he could equally ill afford to ignore.

“What if—what if, by some terrible chance, the royal family has truly become the claws of the demon god, as Ronin claimed? Then to whom does my loyalty belong—to the Teresia bloodline, or to the demon god itself?”

In Pracido’s mind, the shocking secrets about the Holy Storm Organization’s alliance with the Kingdom of Teresia echoed ceaselessly.

“The truth must be uncovered swiftly.”

He turned his horse and rode back toward Watchtower Keep.

On the battlements, Merys let out a breath once she saw Ronin depart. As expected, he still had pride—he wouldn’t resort to such dishonorable tactics after all.

She hurried down from the wall, eager to learn what had been said.

At Redpine Castle, Matt, who had just returned from Goldenfeather Palace, handed the king’s letter to Garrett.

Garrett, already in a foul mood, twisted his face upon reading the message.

His teeth clenched. His fists tightened. He struggled to contain the fury boiling within.

“Why? Why would Father treat me like this?”

His eyes bore into the words on the page. Though Bruno’s tone was carefully veiled in diplomacy, every line screamed distrust to Garrett’s wounded heart.

Again and again, he demanded inwardly: “Is it because Ronin is the Knight of the Blazing Sun—because he can help you build your empire—that you favor him so openly?”

“Because he is strong, you strip me of my command, pull me from the frontlines, and summon me back to Goldenfeather City?”

Though Bruno had granted him authority over appointments at Gushan and Ronin, sparing him total humiliation, Garrett cared little for such gestures.

To be recalled to Goldenfeather City on the eve of war—that was disgrace. That was shame.

He could not—would not—accept it!

“Your Highness, are you well?”

Matt asked cautiously, disturbed by the violent aura radiating from Garrett.

“I’m fine,”

Garrett replied, drawing a deep breath to steady himself. “I’m simply… stirred by the King’s approval to begin our campaign.”

“Truly?”

Matt’s eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful news! After years of stalemate at the border, we can finally strike!”

“Heh… yes.”

Garrett waved a hand. “You’ve done enough for today. Rest now. And keep this quiet—for now. Come to me again tomorrow morning. I’ll have tasks for you.”

Matt bowed respectfully and withdrew.

The door closed softly behind him. Alone in the chamber, Garrett looked once more upon the letter, his gaze shadowed with complex emotion.

“Father, though you no longer trust my ability, I will prove you wrong with the victory that lies ahead.”

“You’re growing old. Your judgment is no longer as sharp as it once was.”

Softly, he whispered: “Don’t blame me…” (End of Chapter)