At night, the castle hall.

The fine whale oil candles from Windholm are lightly scented and illuminated by the ornate crystal lamps above the dining table.

The wood of the fireplace was burning, and the red flames were churning and dancing, like men and women singing and dancing in the beautiful music of the troubadour.

Lance picked up his glass and took a sip in silence from time to time, a little out of place with the joyful atmosphere around him.

He was sitting in the passenger seat at the moment, looking at the crowd of people singing and dancing in the hall, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the tabletop, and the uneasiness in his heart became stronger and stronger with the excitement of the notes.

What was the reason for the sudden visit of Count Carolus of Silverblade Castle?

Lance doesn't know.

But the seemingly dissolute knights on the dance floor, the occasional flash of metallic shine under the gown, made him clench his fists tightly.

"What does he want to do?"

Lance looked at the Earl, who was drinking happily above the main seat, and a cold light flashed in his eyes.

He beckoned to Walter, the butler who had arranged the dinner, to come over.

"Why, do our dear Lord Lance have any other entertainment scheduled?" Count Carolus, noticing his movements, looked at him with a playful look, and a sneer curled at the corners of his mouth.

"Your Excellency, Lord Count, is smiling. Lance had to respond respectfully.

In any case, before he completely tore his face, he had to maintain the dignity that should be among the nobles.

"Do you have any grievances about this dinner?" he said, raising his glass.

"Dissatisfied?" Count Carolus stood up, clapped his hands, motioned for the music to stop, and waited for everyone's eyes to gather before he said loudly, "Warriors of Silverblade Castle, Lord Lance of the Stoke family asks you, what else do you need?"

"Wine, wine, wine!"

"Pretty!"

"Another roast suckling pig!"

The knights shouted loudly, and the voices were noisy.

As if he had not received the answer he wanted, Count Carolus looked a little ugly, and he slammed the table a few times, making a 'bang' sound.

"Where are you from!" he roared.

"Northerners!"

"What do you crave?!"

"Glory?!"

"Then tell us, dear Lord Lance, what we want!"

"Fight!"

The Count of Carolus nodded in satisfaction, and a knight saw the opportunity to push away the woman in his arms and walked towards Reims.

"Lord Lance, I have long heard that the warriors of the Stoke family are brave and fearless, and are the mainstay of the Kingdom of Livingston, can you let me see your family heirloom skills?" he challenged Lance in a respectful tone.

"Oh!oh!duel!duel!" the rest of the knights shouted, their glasses slamming the table.

Lance frowned and looked around, usually at this time, there are always guards who are eager for glory to come forward and protect their faces, but when he looked around, the guards around him deliberately lowered their heads, not daring to look at him, and even the captain of the guard, who was dutiful in the past, was gone.

Walter, the only familiar old butler, covered his chest with one hand, and the silver threads that had been meticulously combed on his sideburns fell down wetly, and he was trembling and picking up a handkerchief to wipe the cold sweat that broke out from his forehead.

"How dare he?!!

With all sorts of thoughts tangled in his mind, Lance took a deep look at the knight and nodded.

"Oh!"

"him, Carlos!"

"Fuck him in the ass! I heard his mother was a ***! Maybe he's too!"

Receiving the long sword handed by the attendant amid foul language and laughter, the heavy feeling suddenly made Lance feel a lot more at ease.

"Carrolles, are you trying to betray Livingston and go to war with the Stokers?!"

He slowly drew his sword and pointed at the Count on the main seat.

"Oh, how could Master Lance think that? It's just a child hungry for honor asking you for advice. Count Carolus put down his glass with an innocent expression, raised his legs and rested on the table, and looked at Lance playfully: "Are you going to refuse a knight's challenge?"

"You!" Lance gritted his teeth and stared at him viciously.

The people of the North have always admired bravery, and the lords are mostly powerful warriors, and in Livingston, a country where even kings are at the front, refusing to challenge is a sign of cowardice, and a shame that cannot be washed away in a lifetime.

The other party didn't launch anything, just made reasonable use of the rules. Asking why the guards from the Stoke family didn't come forward? Isn't it a shame that even his own guards don't recognize him? Lance looked at the eager knights around him, and he didn't understand that he was in a desperate situation.

Dying in a fair duel will have no opinion, and will only disgrace the glory of the Stoke family.

Walter, the old butler, could attest to the fairness and openness of the duel, and the troubadour would compose a poem of what had happened tonight, which would be sung in the crowds and taverns.

No one will remember what happened to the loser, people will only praise the strength of the winner!

"Is that the only way to win?" or—" Lance's brain was overloaded, trying to make sense of the current complexity.

"Hey, dear Lord Lance, are you scared?" said Count Carolus mockingly, "but also, they all say that the warriors of the Stoke family are brave and fearless, but you... Lance Ilketlin, just an illegitimate child!"

"Hahaha!" the knights echoed and laughed.

"Carolus, I don't know what gave you the courage to face the Stoke family, or even whether you are the beneficiary or victim of the conspiracy, what I want to tell you is..."Lance ignored those vicious words and cried out in grief: "While we are still fighting fearlessly here for some benefit, the army of Misty Mountain, led by the 'Omenwolf of Omens', has most likely bloodied the town of Lane and is rushing towards here!"

His eyes looked around like an eagle's owl: "As knights guarding the kingdom, you should fight for honor on the battlefield, not against your own people here!

"Coward!" a cold snort interrupted Lance's passionate speech.

Count Carolus stood up, his burly figure cast a huge shadow in the candlelight, enveloping Lance.

"Coward!" he shouted.

"What right do you have to shout here, tear open your magnificent gown and show us the wound on your back, run away from the battlefield and run back to the castle with the men who trust you, is this how you fight for honor?" the Count of Carolus kicked the table open with a 'bang' and pressed towards Lance with an astonishing momentum.

"Misty Mountain, how long are you going to deceive Lance of Ilcutrin?" he approached Lance's eyes, looking down at him condescendingly, his chin thick beard almost piercing Lance's eyes.

"You are accused of treason, of betraying the people of the kingdom, and of desertion! I hereby declare in the name of the Commander of the Legion that you are relieved of your position as commander of the garrison of Irketrin!" Count Carolus, with a pale face, commanded the knights beside him, "Since our dear Lord Lance is as afraid of a duel as a woman, then take him for me!"

"Boom!" a sword was drawn.

The knights sneered and looked at Lance, pushing away the woman in their arms, unbuttoning their robes no longer hidden, revealing the delicate chain mail inside.

Fortunately, as the castle guard arranged by the family, the price of betraying Stoke is not something that everyone can afford, and at this moment, even if these guards look down on their own adults for escaping on the battlefield, they still have to draw their swords to fight for him.

"Hmm..."

Suddenly, a few muffled snorts came, but it was some betrayers who took the opportunity to control their former companions, and the long sword pierced through the chest decisively and fiercely.

Blood fell to the ground along the blade of the sword, and the innocent guards' eyes widened, and they looked at the tip of the sword emerging from their chests in disbelief, and then they were pushed to the ground unwillingly, and their bodies twitched because of the severe pain.

"Bastard, what do you want!" shouted one of the guards in horror.

The remaining castle guards were stunned, and they distanced themselves from the robes around them, and they became wary of each other, after all, no one could guarantee that there would be no betrayers lurking in the background.

The scene was a little out of control for a while.

Although he doesn't know why, Earl Carolus is deeply pleased with the infighting between the Stoke family's guards, but that doesn't mean he's a fool.

"Take Lance Ilcutrin!" the betrayers pounced with their swords waving.

"Protect Lance Ilketelin!" the Count decisively changed his order.

Once Lance is killed here without the judgment of the kingdom, he will not be able to get out of it anyway, and the Stoke family will not care about any justification, whether it is political quarrels or infighting between families, it will be a big trouble, and if it is serious, it may even lead to a civil war!

The Stoke family has this qualification!

As Ravenston's second most powerful existence to the king, even if he died only as an illegitimate child, the honor and dignity of the family could not tolerate any form of violation.

The Count grabbed a traitor by the throat and lifted him into the air and slammed him to the ground with a loud thud!

"Spare a few alive!" he roared.

The betrayers decisively pulled out a few delicate crossbows and pulled the trigger.

"Puff puff!"

The muffled sound of bolts nailed to the wooden table.

Fortunately, the Earl was standing next to Reims at this moment, and after noticing the movements of those people, he instantly resisted a table, and his tall and burly figure just blocked it from the back. Otherwise, under such a close shot, Lance would have turned into a corpse.

"Boy, it seems that you really have a good ability to get into trouble!" The Count stared at the crossbow arrows that pierced through a thick layer of wood, and said with some fear, "This is Sarion's military crossbow!"