In the midst of battle, Anna fought valiantly at the rear.
With her shield, she deflected an enemy soldier’s slashing attack, then, following up with a forceful shield bash, she destabilized the soldier’s balance.
Seizing the opportunity, she swiftly ended his life with her single-handed sword.
Margaret, on the battlefield, seemed to perform a dance of death.
Her movements were ghostly, her presence spectral as she reaped the lives of enemy soldiers like a phantom of doom.
Resarite, caught in the thrill of battle, raised his sword and bellowed with exhilaration, “Forward! Charge, all of you!”
Spotting an opportunity, an enemy soldier lunged at Resarite, only to be intercepted by Bosiden, who deflected the blade.
Resarite then quickly dispatched his would-be assailant.
Vettel and Alonso, too, were not to be outdone.
They engaged fiercely with the enemy soldiers, matching their ferocity and determination.
Patch, witnessing the rapid collapse of his battle line, let out a heart-wrenching roar of fury, “Howard, you treacherous cur!”
Howard, mounted on his horse and wielding a lance, called out to Patch, who was also on horseback at a moderate distance, “Let us duel, Patch. The loser shall submit to the victor’s will. What say you?”
Patch, pondering Howard’s prowess in combat, hesitated in fear and retorted, “You sly rogue, you’ll just have someone shoot me with a cold arrow!”
Howard, poised and confident, guided his steed to a nearby hillock.
Pulling the reins tightly, his horse reared up, its forelegs kicking the air, letting out a majestic neigh.
Pointing his lance towards Patch, Howard declared, “I would never resort to such tactics. Look at the state of the battle, Patch. Consider the disparity in our forces. Do you really have a choice? If you’re not a coward, come forth!”
Gritting his teeth, Patch steered his horse to the top of the hillock, facing Howard in a tense standoff.
Patch and Howard engaged in a one-on-one martial display, their battle a dance of skill and bravery.
They locked eyes, gripping the reins tightly, their steeds gradually picking up speed.
Along the edge of the hillock, the horses quickened, moving swiftly to the left in what seemed like a mutual circling, but with each turn, the peril escalated.
As they drew closer, Patch, with his right hand, thrust his lance to the left, missing Howard by a hair’s breadth.
Howard, with deft control, maneuvered his mount, narrowly evading Patch’s strike.
He then rapidly turned his horse to the left, lunging with his lance towards Patch.
Patch raised his shield just in time, blocking Howard’s fierce jab.
Howard then pulled back, creating some distance between them, evaluating the gap.
Feeling the distance right, he urged his horse into a sprint – a knight’s charge!
Patch’s eyes sparkled with determination as he, too, launched into a charge, his horse galloping towards Howard.
A daunting knightly charge unfolded, the kind that could strike fear into the hearts of the bravest.
The victor would undoubtedly be the more superior combatant.
During the charge, Patch’s gaze was fixed on Howard’s eyes, noticing the calmness within, a serenity that seemed out of place on the battlefield.
Howard, on the other hand, kept his focus on Patch, his horse galloping forward, his lance gripped tightly, poised for a thunderous strike.
Patch, sensing the adequate distance but not seeing Howard make a move, grew increasingly nervous and fearful.
He couldn’t decipher Howard’s strategy, finding him utterly inscrutable.
Still, Howard did not strike.
Eventually, Patch could bear it no longer.
The psychological torment was unbearable.
He made his move, letting out a loud cry as he thrust his lance towards Howard.
A sly curve formed at the corner of Howard’s mouth as he awaited Patch’s hasty strike.
With a swift pull of the reins, his horse came to an abrupt halt, causing Patch’s intended lance thrust to miss its mark.
Howard then let out a fierce yell, his lance striking with precision, unseating Patch from his horse.
In the warfare of nobility, it was rare for a noble to be killed, primarily due to the thick and sturdy armor they adorned.
These armors were impervious to swords, spears, and lances, resulting in battles where enemy nobles were often captured or fled, but rarely did a noble die in combat.
Howard, pointing his lance at Patch, proclaimed, “Patch, you have lost!”
Howard’s soldiers triumphed over Patch’s army.
Anna and Margaret, reaching the top of the hill, restrained Patch by placing their weapons against his neck.
Thus, Howard emerged victorious from the battle, seizing Knight Patch’s Kenfa Village.
Patch, who had only Kenfa Village to his name, now found himself without a land, effectively stripped of his noble status.
Margaret approached Howard, inquiring, “Lord Howard, what shall we do with Patch? He has lost his lands and is no longer a noble. No one would object if we were to execute him.”
Howard, smiling, rode into Kenfa Village.
Raising his hand, he casually remarked, “We shall decide on that matter later.”
Bosiden approached Margaret, signaling to take Patch to the prison, leaving his fate to be decided by Lord Howard at a later time.
Margaret personally escorted Patch to the dungeon of Kenfa Village.
Turning to Bosiden, she remarked, “Chancellor Bosiden, though you are not of noble birth, I still hold you in high regard. You instructed to imprison Patch here, and so I have. But this is the dungeon of Kenfa Village, Patch’s own dominion. Won’t the villagers possibly release him?” 𝑖.𝑐ℴ𝑚
Bosiden, with a smile, assured Margaret, “I appreciate your respect, Lady Margaret. Rest assured, the villagers will not free Patch. He has been brutal to them, and they would rather see him dead than liberated.”
Satisfied, Margaret left to meet with Howard.
In the lord’s hall of Kenfa Village, Howard hosted a modest banquet.
Beer and cheese graced the table, as those who had proven their mettle in battle gathered to revel in their victory.
Anna, holding a cup of beer, took a delicate sip, only to be teased by Howard who had just arrived, “Anna, do you even know how to drink beer? This isn’t wine. Who sips beer like that?”
Flustered and blushing, Anna stomped her foot, retorting, “What’s wrong with that? I like to savor it, none of your business!”
She quickly scurried away before Howard could reply.
Vettel approached Howard, proudly declaring, “My lord, I slew two enemies on the battlefield earlier!”
Howard encouraged him, “Well done, keep up the good work.”
Alonso then came forward, saying, “My lord, I too made an effort.
I killed two enemies myself, staining my clothes red with their blood.” .
Howard, with a smile, responded, “Ah, excellent, you too have shown great bravery.”
Resarite, with a laugh, addressed Howard, “My lord, with the addition of Kenfa Village, we now possess four villages. Under Baron Fernsouth, we are the most powerful vassals!”
Howard praised Resarite, “I’m delighted, Resarite. You are brave and wise. When I become a baron, I will knight you and grant you fertile land as a reward.”
The crowd erupted in cheers.
The smile on Resarite’s face deepened as he proposed to Howard, “My lord, we should capitalize on this victory and continue to expand our territory by challenging other vassals.”
Howard responded, “Good, I look forward to your continued excellence.”
Margaret entered the banquet hall, and Howard beckoned her to join the crowd, lavishly praising her valiant performance on the battlefield.
“Some of you might not have witnessed it,” Howard announced, “but my squire Margaret was truly formidable in battle.”
The crowd gave Margaret a resounding round of applause, causing her to blush with embarrassment.
Holding her cup of wine, she glanced shyly at the ground, her shoulders gently swaying, the very picture of a bashful woman.
As the banquet stretched into the night, many lay inebriated.
Howard instructed the maids to take good care of them before he made his way to the dungeon to see Patch.
Patch, both hungry and furious, lunged at the sight of Howard, desperately reaching through the bars, trying to clutch at Howard’s throat.
Howard’s eyes turned icy at this display.
He had intended to have a proper conversation with Patch, but seeing Patch’s demeanor, he now felt less inclined to engage.
Patch, seething with anger, hissed at Howard, “I wish I could tear your flesh and skin you alive!”
Howard replied calmly, “The battle is over, and the news has already spread throughout Baron Fernsouth’s territory. No one will recognize you as a noble anymore.”
This only increased Patch’s agitation, his hands stretching out desperately, trying to grasp Howard’s throat.
Howard, revealing his sword, spoke without a trace of personal emotion, “Patch, if you wish to die, I can grant that right now. But if you wish to live, you will have to listen to me.”
Patch, recalling their duel on the battlefield, collapsed to the ground, his eyes vacant and despairing, and murmured, “What do you want me to do?”
Howard smiled slightly, “That’s more like it. Listen closely.”
The next day, while others were still asleep, Patch stealthily left Kenfa Village alone, his path leading towards Knight Zoron’s village.
On the fourth day, Knight Zoron, puzzled, received Patch.
“Why are you here, Patch? And weren’t you defeated and imprisoned? How did you end up here?” he inquired.
Patch responded, “Howard let me go, on the condition that I persuade you to submit to him. But he’s a fool! Not only will I not urge you to submit to Howard, but I also advise you to declare war against him!”
𝘪𝑎.𝘤𝑜𝑚
