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153 Seeds of Dominion
The man was one of the people William had brought with him. He may only be a lowly squad leader, but if he traveled all the way here with him, he must be either a trusted subordinate or a close aide.
At the very least, he wouldn’t be some disposable pawn.
If Palmyr attempted to cut him down, William would surely intervene.
And once that happened, the power dynamic would shift—Palmyr would have forced William into a position where he owed him a favor. On top of that, he’d finally drag the young lord into a direct confrontation, preventing him from avoiding the meeting any longer.
A perfect twofold victory.
"A mere commoner dares to insult a knight? Under imperial law, I should cut you down where you stand! But…" He deliberately let his words hang before smirking. "If you kneel and beg for forgiveness, I might let this slide. Just this once."
Of course, he had no intention of sparing him. But it was necessary to at least appear merciful—to frame it as though the man had been given a chance.
Considering how arrogant this fool has been, he’ll definitely refuse. Then I’ll have—
"Tch. You’re really getting on my nerves," the squad leader interrupted, rubbing his ears as if Palmyr’s words were too grating to endure. "And here I thought knights were at least competent with their swords. Guess not."
Palmyr blinked.
For a brief moment, his mind went blank.
Then, as the words sank in, his face turned crimson with fury. His hands trembled at his sides.
"You—You insolent—!"
"Oh? You upset? Then go ahead, swing that sword. Not that you’ll manage to land a hit."
"You’ll regret this, you bastard!"
Palmyr could hold back no longer. With all his might, he swung his sword downward, aiming to sever the arrogant fool’s arm.
He wasn’t planning to kill him—he still needed to maintain the facade of civility for the negotiations. But taking an arm? That was an acceptable price to satisfy his rage.
The blade whistled through the air, descending in a precise arc—
Clang!
"—Guh!?"
A violent shock reverberated through his fingers. His grip nearly faltered. The impact sent him staggering backward, his balance momentarily lost.
Palmyr clenched his teeth and quickly regained his footing. His eyes darted around, searching for the one who had interfered.
Who got in my way?
For someone to match a knight’s strength, it had to be another knight. There was no way a mere soldier could have done this.
Yet, aside from the lowly squad leader and a few ordinary foot soldiers, the only other people present were distant onlookers, observing the spectacle from afar.
What the hell? Don’t tell me someone threw a weapon from a distance?
"Tsk. You really swung at me."
The squad leader’s voice reached his ears again, still carrying that insufferable amusement.
Palmyr was about to snap back when something caught his eye.
"…A sword?"
The squad leader smirked and twirled his blade in one hand. "Yep. As you can see."
Palmyr’s breath hitched.
"…Don’t tell me—it was you who parried my strike?"
"Unless you think a ghost did it."
"…You—unbelievable."
A mere squad leader had blocked his sword?
Palmyr, for all his political cunning, was still a knight. He wasn’t the strongest, but against a common soldier, he should have been overwhelming.
If he had been surrounded by enemies or under a rain of arrows, maybe—just maybe—he could have been at a disadvantage.
But in a one-on-one duel? Against a foot soldier?
It was absurd.
"What’s wrong?" The squad leader—Hugo—grinned, resting his sword casually against his shoulder. "You already drew your weapon. Are you backing out now?"
"…!"
"No way you’re scared after just one blocked attack, right? Because if you are, that really says a lot about House Calix’s knights…"
"Shut your damn mouth!"
Palmyr roared, glancing around quickly.
He had managed to cut the squad leader off before he said anything too incriminating, but the damage was already done. The crowd had grown even larger.
If he backed down now, he wouldn’t just be humiliating himself—he’d be tarnishing the reputation of House Calix as a whole.
Palmyr gritted his teeth.
"…Damn it all! Fine, then!" He pointed his sword at Hugo, his voice dripping with rage. "I’ll personally cut you down and restore order to this empire!"
"Now that’s more like it."
By now, the idea of negotiations had long since vanished from Palmyr’s mind.
His focus had narrowed to one thing—crushing this insolent wretch before more damage could be done.
Hugo merely chuckled, adjusting his grip on his sword.
"Well then… let’s see just how strong a knight of House Calix really is."
Meanwhile, inside the manor, William observed the commotion from a balcony, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Look at that," he mused. "The duel barely ended, and people are already scrambling to align themselves with me."
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Harald led William to one of the guest chambers in the lord’s manor and gestured toward the window.
As William followed his gaze, he could clearly see the knights who had been sent as observers all making their way toward the manor.
"A fortunate turn of events," William remarked. "Had the news reached them any later, House Calix might have made their move first."
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"Not that it would’ve made much difference," Harald scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Even if they claim to be uniting the North, the best position they can hope to claim is that of a representative. They have no authority to crown themselves king, nor do they have the right to command us."
He wasn’t wrong.
No matter how many lords House Calix gathered under its banner, it couldn’t exert full control over them. At most, it could act as the figurehead of a vast alliance.
If they overstepped—if they attempted to interfere in the internal affairs of other noble houses—support for them would crumble in an instant.
"But you are different."
Harald, who had been laughing heartily moments ago, now fixed William with a serious gaze.
"You proved yourself as a warrior today. Not only that, but you did so while honoring the traditions of the North, captivating everyone who witnessed it. Even those who weren’t present will soon hear of what transpired."
"…"