TICK-TOCK!
A bead of cold sweat on his forehead joined a drop of blood from his neck, falling to the ground.
Even with the biting winter winds, Vincent, the Royal Hound, found his clothes soaked with a sudden cold sweat.
He had intended to marry the acclaid "Flower of the North," and thereby re-enter the ranks of the Great Nobles, so he had naturally co prepared.
He had already poured over every detail of Catherine’s Intelligence, carefully studying the past of the Countess.
Yet, aside from her early loss of relatives, being raised in the household of Prince Sorrenberg, and inheriting a vast fortune from the Grenville family, there was no ntion of her Supernatural Rank.
Clearly, Prince Sorrenberg and Lancaster had protected her well.
It was only then that Vincent’s eyes—previously blinded by wealth and power—finally saw the light once more.
It was the chilly glint of a Mithril Sword flashing.
"Let go!"
Vincent shivered and, subconsciously obeying the command, let go of the box held by the Maid.
The coldness in Catherine’s green eyes flickered before she ultimately sheathed her blade.
What had imprisoned her all this ti was not just the physical might of the guards, but the Authority usurped by the York Family.
The Transcendent Sequence of the Mithril Knight did not lend itself to evasion, escape, and hiding as easily as Byron could.
Even if she were to kill the guards, she couldn’t take her vast wealth, which was tied to her power. Nor could she run far before being overtaken by the enemy’s pervasive reach.
Facing an entire Kingdom’s pursuit, her fate could hardly be better than that of the crippled, disfigured Guardian Knight, Bruh.
She sighed deeply. I’ll wait for an opportunity in the colonies.
Vincent, released, staggered backward, clutching his neck.
CLATTERING...
A group of red-clad Army soldiers carrying firearms from the neighboring Escort Ship also started pouring in.
Yet Catherine’s rank as Countess and her sowhat dazzling beauty instinctively made the soldiers lower their weapons.
After all, Vincent held no military rank to begin with.
After being appointed by Edward IV as Catherine’s steward and Guardian Knight, he was, in na, a retainer of the Grenville family.
His entourage was treated accordingly.
But the Royal Hound, noble-born of the Court, clearly did not see it that way.
"I am the King’s Special Envoy, and it is within my authority to regulate your speech and conduct. Catherine, do you dare to defy His Majesty Edward’s command?!"
To soone with such a strong desire for control, not only was defiance not an option, but anything less than full compliance was unacceptable.
Moreover, he knew all too well the stance of Edward IV. Being reassigned to the Bantaan Archipelago was, in effect, exile in disguise.
The purpose was rely to appease the emotions of the nobles within the York Party.
Once there, far from the court’s reach, who would care about the well-being of an orphaned girl? This was the source of his confidence, emboldening his encroachnt.
He used to think that he wouldn’t expose his intentions so blatantly while still in the Old Continent, maintaining a civilized facade.
Now, he felt that he had given Catherine too much freedom!
His face set in a cold expression, he ordered his subordinates, "Co, bring the shackles of the Lawbreaker Stone. Let our Countess learn what York’s rules are."
The nurous soldiers by Vincent’s side emboldened him.
In contrast, Catherine’s party was evidently outnumbered.
Apart from several Maids, there were only ordinary sailors from two rchant ships.
Any soldier of the Grenville family capable of fighting had either escaped or been captured over the past month, leaving her completely stripped of support.
Who has ever seen a Lord set out to take charge of their land without any retinue at all?
It’s akin to a General going into battle without their personal guard. It might not be seeking death, but it’s not far off.
As the tension on the scene escalated, inching toward a point of no return, a steely voice suddenly resonated in their ears:
"Hmh, Mr. Vincent, correct? I’ve heard everything from the sidelines. No matter how noble your status in the Court was, since you’ve been assigned by our esteed monarch to this beautiful and charming Countess as her Guardian Knight, it ans you have beco a retainer of the Grenville family. Before you betray your own master, haven’t you heard of the terrifying, unstoppable monster prowling the North Sea, specifically hunting down traitors like yourself? As part of the escort Fleet for this journey to the Bantaan Archipelago, we certainly cannot turn a blind eye. You may wish for death yourself, but if you think to drag everyone down with you, we won’t stand for it!"
THUD, THUD, THUD...
The crowd parted, and a tall man wearing an old Navy uniform and a tricornered hat walked through, his hands clasped behind him.
Behind him, a large group of followers, each carrying a long firearm, marched with resolute steps, though their attire was not uniform.
The formidable aura of n accustod to killing was not one iota weaker than that of the soldiers; if anything, it surpassed them.
"Who?" Vincent abruptly looked up.
However, he encountered the overwhelming Divine Light in the other man’s eyes, from which a golden emblem flooded forth, coalescing into a brilliant badge within the ntal domain—a crowned golden lion cradling a set of pure gold scales.
This was the Executioner’s passive ability at the First Order Servant stage: "Law’s Majesty" / "Aura of Dignity."
The ability Byron imitated through Cognitive Revision and the Storm Sigil Ring was far more convincing than the Executioner’s original version.
Although Vincent was a Second Order Punitive Knight, he felt as though he had been punched in the nose. Slightly dizzied, he found himself unable to retort.
The soldiers by his side, originally ready to follow orders, were reminded by Byron and imdiately erupted into a commotion.
"He’s right, traitors really might end up dead!"
"I read the newspaper yesterday; that ’Calamity’ is still roaming the seas. It devoured a Navy Cruiser..."
They unanimously distanced themselves from Vincent, looking at him as if he were an on of disaster.
Break your word, face punishnt!
After so many days, few along the North Sea coast hadn’t heard of that legend.
Moreover, ti and again, reports of people perishing at sea, their remains lost forever, further fueled the being’s vicious reputation.
Sotis it was a lone individual, drifting off to sleep and never awakening. Other tis, an entire ship would quietly vanish from the sea’s surface.
It was said that the deeper the treachery, the greater the likelihood of an attack!
Although these were but rumors, most believed them fervently.
Unlike the Navy, which was considered free from the original sin of treachery from the start, this group of Army soldiers, who were to be stationed with Vincent in Grenville territory, faced a risk. If they were implicated by Vincent, wouldn’t that be a grave injustice?
It had to be said, the "Touch of the Kraken" now hung over everyone’s heads like a Sword of Damocles.
It made a significant contribution to upholding morality and order along the North Sea coast.
A cause for celebration, indeed.
Life at sea wasn’t just about fighting and killing. There were also rules of conduct within the system.
During the docking process of the Golden Deer, Byron had clearly overheard the conversation between Catherine and the Royal Hound.
He also realized the difficult situation Catherine faced.
Nearby stood a group of formidable Judgnt Knights.
He did not draw his blade or firearm, nor did he stir up trouble unnecessarily.
Using the reputation of the "Touch of the Kraken," he not only extricated Catherine from her predicant with a few words but even managed to sway the soldiers Vincent had brought to his side.
It was a verbal duel that drew no blood yet was deadly.
This was just the beginning. On the long journey to the Bantaan Archipelago, this man was bound to be ostracized by the others.
His likelihood of an "accidental death" would skyrocket.
Only children insist on figuring out right from wrong on the spot. Adults smile while hiding daggers, then find an opportunity to... ruin him in secret!
As if dismissing a bug that had landed at his feet, Byron didn’t spare Vincent another glance.
He turned to Catherine, the highest-ranking person present, and, in keeping with the ticulously rule-bound persona of an "Executioner," bowed formally.
"Miss Catherine, your beauty shines even brighter than your wealth. I believe one day the riches of the Grenville family will rival those of the Ferdinand Family from The Holy Silver Empire. You will turn your territory in Banta’an into another resplendent jewel on the Sapphire Sea."
For the Gold Sequence, money was strength, authority, and everything.
The Holy Silver Empire was a loose political alliance of hundreds of small principalities, sotis called a fragnted empire.
The Ferdinands, a renowned Kinquan Family, were rulers of the cultural heartland of the entire continent, boasting the most Hall Sequence Transcendents in Peridot.
They sponsored a vast array of thriving artistic endeavors and nurtured many great artists of the Hall Sequence.
Their family motto was the suprely proud: "Ferdinand gives to the world!"
One could imagine just how wealthy they were.
To praise soone’s wealth as rivaling that of the Ferdinands was indeed the highest of complints.
The added ntion of "beauty outshining wealth" made his ulterior motive glaringly obvious to the other onlookers.
"Ha! So you’re not here on so Heavenly Justice mission after all, but you also want to compete for the Countess’s favor?!"
A Judgnt Knight, who had activated Spirit Vision and was watching carefully, also sighed in relief.
It was one of the duties of the Tribunal to escort Catherine back to the Royal Capital on their return.
Now that York’s naval forces were stretched thin, they even had to make use of allied troops.
Byron, fully aware of all this yet seemingly unaffected, seized the mont to extend an invitation to the Countess.
"Miss Catherine, perhaps truly guided by the Lord, I too have been called upon by His Majesty, and I am about to join the escort Fleet bound for the Bantaan Archipelago. How about we et up in Kingston with the Fleet together? Oh, we haven’t t before. I’m Bill, a Captain of a Privateer Ship under the York banner."
Catherine stared into his eyes for a mont before retracting her Mithril Hand and, with a graceful curtsy, lifted her skirt slightly to return the gesture.
"I’d be delighted, Mister Bill! I am very pleased to make your acquaintance today."
Perhaps a speck of dust had flown into her eye, for she gently wiped at a slight redness in its corner as she rose.
Her rose-colored lips then blossod into a dazzlingly beautiful smile.
It srized the onlookers, who were also secretly envious of this man’s luck, regretting that it wasn’t they who had stepped up to help the beauty.
What they didn’t realize was that for these two, whose relationship was so familiar they could discuss anything—except borrowing money—an incredibly complex exchange had occurred in that single eting of their eyes.
They had even managed to ask if the other had eaten yet.
The two of them walked side by side to their respective ships, feigning modesty, putting on a show.
Such dismissive attitudes left Vincent, who had just regained his senses, fuming with rage.
Yet he made no other associations, rely cursing to himself:
I knew I should have locked Catherine up earlier! Damn competitors, popping up so quickly! How dare he use as a stepping stone to gain Catherine’s favor? Just you wait! Once we’re with the Fleet, I’ll deal with him!
Naturally, Byron sensed the hate-filled gaze.
But it hardly bothered him.
Hate all you want. You’re hating Bill; what does that have to do with , Byron Tudor? Besides, does a re bug like him really think he can poach from our family? Just wait until we’re alone; I’ll drown him!
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