Before the ambushers can react, they are shattered by the disciplined cavalry charge, lances leveled. After eliminating the thirty-plus foes, the cavalry slows its pace. As they approach Henwell and his companions, the formation becos orderly once more.
The leading cavalry officer looks at Henwell and says, "Our lord ntioned that if you ever wish to join the army, he'll have a suitable position waiting for you."
Henwell removes his helt, blood covering most of his face. He raises his lance and taps it against his chest plate in salute, "Thank you... Lord Fabio, for your assistance!"
The officer nods slightly and leads his troops back towards Fabio’s formation. As Henwell watches the distant banners and the orderly ranks, he remains silent for a long ti.
Rawkins, still shaken from their narrow escape, struggles to ask, "Master, whose army is this? Is it the duchy's corps? Why don't they have any insignia?"
Henwell replies calmly, "Iron Wall! This is the Iron Wall Legion!"
The two attendants are taken aback, not expecting that their saviors would be the renowned Iron Wall Legion.
This legion is renowned throughout the duchy, and its tales have spread even to other countries.
A fully staffed super legion of thirty thousand, it excels in long-distance raids and maintains unwavering resolve in battle, mastering tactical skirmishes on the battlefield. From its humble beginnings as a fleeing army to the formidable Iron Wall Legion, it has proven its worth ti and again.
Its leader, Fabio, is a legendary figure. Despite being the heir to an earldom, he ventured to the duchy's western frontier, practically carving out his own dominion. Rumor has it that the Kingdom of Ika has attempted to claim multiple tis, offering additional territories if he would accept a title as their grand duke, combining the duchy's western lands with Ika's own.
Fabio's military prowess is undeniable, but he also governs his lands impeccably. What was once a barren western frontier has now thrived economically, multiplying its prosperity several tis over the past few years.
Yet, despite his real power, Fabio remains a knight—a title that makes him the most influential knight among all nations. One might think Fabio would have grown dissatisfied by now, but he still returns to the duchy's capital every sumr festival, partly to visit his mother and partly to answer the summons of his uncle, Grand Duke Amir.
Rawkins and his companion aren't the only ones surprised by Fabio's sudden intervention. Even Henwell is taken aback, never imagining that he would receive Fabio's aid in his lifeti. Years ago, Henwell saved Fabio, and now, Fabio has returned the favor. What a strange and damn twist of fate!
Ayla speaks up, "The ones targeting us are from the Noble Alliance. Everyone knows how much Lord Fabio despises them, so I guess that's why he stepped in."
Henwell glances at the two of them, "Stop thinking about that now! Get off your horses and let see if I can pull you back from the underworld!"
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Only then do the two realize the danger has passed. As their last bit of resolve fades, they collapse from their horses. Quick as a flash, Henwell grabs them and dismounts, starting to administer the remaining few secret redies.
Henwell has no intention of seeking out Fabio. Over the years, he has faced nurous hardships and, at tis, harbored resentnt towards Fabio. But he's an adult now, at least in spirit, and understands that his relationship with Fabio was rely a survival pact.
He knows Fabio never ant him harm. Even Count Obiken had no ill intentions, and the damn shadow guard who sold him to slavers was more mischievous than malicious. That guard knew Henwell could escape on his own.
So, through a series of fateful twists, Henwell ended up in his current predicant. Blaming others is pointless; it’s just an excuse for the weak. The recent rescue by the Iron Wall Legion has erased Henwell's last bit of resentnt towards Fabio. Watching Fabio's troops in the distance, Henwell silently vows, "We're even now."
Henwell doesn't want to seek out Fabio; he wants to carve out his own path. He doesn't realize that if he returned to Fabio, he would be granted imnse power. But after all he's been through, Henwell finds it hard to trust anyone. Depending on others is less reliable than relying on himself. He no longer wishes to pledge allegiance to anyone, for loyalty to others feels like a betrayal of himself.
Half a month later, Henwell and his group arrive at a small town, not far from the capital. After dealing with the cavalry that ambushed him last ti, Henwell managed to sell their equipnt for over twenty thousand gold coins. Since then, no one has dared to make another attempt on his life. Henwell understands why.
Fabio's unexpected intervention has made the Noble Alliance wary. Fabio has clashed with them more than once, often leading the Iron Wall Legion to hamr their forces. Now, they're wondering if Fabio has struck so kind of deal with the Phoenix family or even the Grand Duke. After all, Arius, who is supposedly Fabio's cousin, has enough reason to act.
With everyone focused on probing Fabio's intentions, Henwell enjoys a peaceful half-month. Only one final hurdle remains before he can truly break free. Henwell's path to nobility requires collecting one last emblem. It belongs to Marcus, one of the leaders of the Noble Alliance and one of the few counts in the duchy who isn't of royal blood.
This family has endured for centuries, existing since the duchy's founding. Despite wars and upheavals, they have remained unshaken, a testant to their formidable power.
Henwell isn't worried about whether the mastermind behind the Path of Honor will make things difficult for him. Reaching Marcus would already signify the completion of the Path of Honor. Such an established and powerful noble wouldn't shy away from acknowledging this, likely granting the emblem without further tests.
Henwell plans to rest for a couple of days, gather his strength, and then et Count Marcus.
Two days later, as Henwell approaches the count's territory, he spots another assassination squad in a small town. Instead of launching an imdiate attack, he watches as they browse a market stall, confirming his suspicions after observing them for a while.
Timing his move carefully, Henwell waits until the group nears an assassin. Suddenly, he springs into action, drawing his sword and leaping from his horse. His blade pierces the chest of the stunned assassin, causing the hidden weapon to clatter on the ground.
Positioning himself in front of a young girl, Henwell declares with righteous conviction, "Miss, don't worry! I won't let anyone harm you! As long as I'm here, these assassins won't get near you!"
The blonde girl curiously examines Henwell, while the tall knight beside her, with a grim expression, retorts, "They're here to kill you! What does this have to do with us?"
Witnessing Henwell's antics, Tansentia, who had been secretly observing, nearly spits out his drink. Others watching from the shadows also exchange puzzled looks.
The reason is simple: the girl is lissa, the youngest daughter of Count Marcus. And those assassins? They were arranged by Count Marcus himself!
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