The Earl, fearing Bruce might not take it seriously enough, imdiately emphasized his point.
"Back then, we were the challengers. It was only by dividing Hamlet that we created today's Bastia. Likewise, if Hamlet were to rise again, it would be a life-or-death struggle between us!"
When the Earl said these words, his tone was so firm there was simply no room for argunt.
The Earl's obsession was understandable. As he was not the Heir, he initially lacked a complete noble education. His true growth was forged during his service to Hamlet, making that period exceptionally significant.
He had witnessed Hamlet's pri, contributed to its glory, and bled for its cause.
His feelings toward Hamlet were complex. It was like a chanic facing a world-class sports car. He would feel compelled to bathe and burn incense before daring to touch it, a kind of reverent awe akin to religious faith. Even a re touch could thrill him for ages, leaving him unable to calm down, ticulously maintaining it for fear of the slightest scratch.
But the car's owner drove it recklessly, scraping and bumping it, and even got into several serious crashes. The owner survived only thanks to the car's protection, but the vehicle itself was left scarred.
Ultimately, the owner dismantled the car and sold its parts cheaply. This naturally caused the chanic's faith to crumble.
If it were , I would never let Hamlet co to such a state...
I will create a world where Hamlet returns to its peak!
Bruce did not understand these emotions and naturally did not comprehend why his father was so obsessed. But he could hear that this indeed presented an opportunity for Bastia to advance further, a very rare one at that.
"Let Alvin co back. He's not suited for this. I will bring Hamlet under Bastia's protection."
Bruce's words weren't truly aid at Alvin; rather, they were ant to protect his younger brother. The greatest difficulty lay not in other matters, but in breaking new ground.
Though only half-brothers, Bruce had watched Alvin grow up and felt a sense of responsibility towards him.
"n of the Bastia Family require no protection. If he can't even handle this, then he shouldn't bother returning!"
At that mont, a knock at the study door suddenly interrupted their conversation.
When the Butler entered, his ticulous deanor remained, yet a discernible worry clouded his eyes.
"Speak." The Earl knew the Butler wouldn't disturb them at this hour without a serious reason; sothing must have happened.
"Lord Earl, news has arrived from Alvin's side," the Butler began, his expression growing graver. "Of the entire Order of Knights, including one Eagle Flock squad, only one has returned."
The Earl, a man of experience, didn't erupt in anger. He rely furrowed his brow and nonchalantly waved his hand. "Bring the person here."
But Bruce was still too young; his stiff expression revealed he was forcibly suppressing his emotions. A ruler must keep their feelings hidden. It was a lesson he still had much to learn.
Soon, Laura, wrapped in a green robe that made her stature seem sowhat odd, was brought into the study.
This was her first ti here, summoned not for comndation but because...
"Tell us everything," the Earl commanded. His expression was indifferent, but his tone carried an overwhelming pressure.
This intensified the spiritual crisis Laura was already enduring, the mounting pressure nearly suffocating her.
But she had to speak. She recounted everything from the Order of Knights' departure from Bastia, the pursuit, up to the point where the ten-person Eagle Flock squad was ambushed in a trap set by Warwolf. She alone survived because she had been sent to deliver a ssage.
"The new leader of the Fang Tribe, this Warwolf, is hailed as the chosen Champion of their tribal god. It seems his strength is truly extraordinary. No wonder he can stir up such trouble in the Mountains—I underestimated him."
"Why engage those Barbarian Tribes in the dense forest? It's practically their ho ground! Alvin might not know better, lacking actual combat experience, but Lawrence? Had he forgotten as well?"
Bruce, too, could hardly contain himself. Alvin had never actually participated in wars against the Barbarian Tribes and was ignorant of the specifics.
But what truly left him speechless was Lawrence—one of Bastia's four Barons. A veteran with countless military victories against the Barbarian Tribes, yet he had been so arrogant as to fall to them.
Bastia possessed only eight hundred Knights in total; the loss of these fifty was a grievous price.
Upon hearing this, both the Earl and Bruce essentially assud Alvin's Order of Knights had fallen to Warwolf.
Laura seed to sense their assumption and quickly offered an explanation.
"Ah... the Order of Knights and the Fang Tribe's troops had no contact whatsoever along the way," she said.
At her words, the Earl's pupils contracted instantly. His eyes narrowed for a mont before quickly returning to normal.
But Bruce, a realization dawning on him, wondered: in that place... besides Warwolf, the Champion Transcendent, what else could possibly annihilate an entire Order of Knights?
He couldn't help but ask sternly, "Then what exactly happened?"
The Earl, however, remained calm. He too was very curious about what had transpired in Hamlet.
What else could Laura do but continue her story?
However, she had been separated from the Order of Knights for most of the ti and thus knew little. Her direct knowledge ended after witnessing the Heretics' attack; she hadn't even seen how the Order of Knights was captured, as she herself had been taken prisoner then.
Instead, she had witnessed the barbarian invasion, Hamlet's response, and even the great battle between Warwolf and Lance.
She couldn't disclose these details, however. If she did, her own account wouldn't add up.
Lance hadn't pressured her, yet she found herself involuntarily concealing the truth for him.
"At that ti, I was ordered to track the warriors from the Fang Tribe. I was injured in a skirmish with a Fang Tribe sentinel and forced to hide and recuperate," she said.
As she spoke, Laura lifted her green robe, revealing bandages wrapped around her waist, traces of blood still seeping through.
No wonder her movents had seed so strange when she entered—she was injured.
Only, there had been no such wound during her ti in Hamlet...
Indeed, this was the solution Laura had devised—startled awake by a wild gunshot on the road—to account for the missing period in her story.
It was simple: an injury would provide an alibi. After all, everyone from the Fang Tribe was dead; no one could verify her story.
That was why she dared to co here, even to lie before the legendary Earl.
Laura let her robe fall, hastily covering the wound, terrified of exposing herself. Her haggard, bloodless face took the opportunity to lower, hiding her expression.
"By the next morning, having recovered slightly, I realized that, injured as I was, I could no longer catch up with those from the Fang Tribe. I intended to rejoin the main party for further instructions, but I'd lost their trail.
"Fortunately, the Hawk I had released before my injury was summoned back. Guided by it, I found their tracks, eventually leading to a town. There, I discovered they had all been captured—at least thirty-four of them, judging by the tents in their encampnt."
"Captured? Thirty-four of them? How is that possible?" Bruce's mind reeled.
Defeating an Order of Knights wasn't surprising. He could even accept them all being killed. But captured?
For thirty-four out of a fifty-strong Order of Knights to be captured... he truly couldn't comprehend how it had happened.
"During the day, with soldiers on guard, I couldn't get close. However, I observed from the outskirts for so ti and confird it was indeed our Knights.
"I saw Bastia's distinctively styled horses being continuously led into the town, and the Knights' armor and equipnt stripped off and carelessly piled aside.
"Only late at night did I risk sneaking in. Due to my injury, I didn't dare venture too deep, but I did overhear so idle chatter from the guards—they called the place Hamlet."
"What did you say!" Even the Earl could no longer maintain his composure.
Laura slowly lifted her head to et his gaze. "They called themselves Hamlet."
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