Chapter 2: New Century (Epilogue)
“So, the King of Winter has decided to lock horns with Medon Second Prince Howard?” Duke Bristol’s expression turned serious. His lips curled downwards, and his azure eyes, like the sea, froze at this moment, a hint of dimness appearing, like a snow-capped mountain on a winter night.
“At the banquet, Prince Howard explicitly expressed his hostility towards you and Grand Duke Corvet, as well as Duke Reinman and Duke Mashen. He intends to use the King of Winter’s power to suppress all dukes who oppose him or are undecided, thereby consolidating his claim to the throne.”
Marques also looked anxious. The King of Winter was, after all, a Champion Knight, a pressure that felt like a mountain on their hearts.
If Duke Bristol beside him fell, what would be their fate? He would die in battle against the King of Winter’s soldiers, and Sani, the girl he loved the most, would either be executed by Howard or captured and forced into military prostitution, eventually dying tragically in the camp. This was something he absolutely could not accept.
“Your Grace…”
Marques gritted his teeth, his hands clenched tightly.
“Why don’t we leave Buvin Territory… We still have so many troops, we can completely secede from the Medon Empire. We can take large ships and head to the South Continent…”
“Marques!” the old Duke glared at the Great Knight, his imposing gaze like that of an old dragon in its twilight years.
“Do you know what you’re saying?” he reprimanded.
Marques lowered his head, remaining silent.
His eyes were filled with shame and darkness.
“Do you think supporting Howard will avert this disaster? No, it won’t. Howard is a vindictive person. We caused him quite a bit of trouble when we supported the First Prince before. Now, we are already thorns in his side, and no matter what, we will be targeted by him.”
The old Duke took Marques’s arm and led him to a hillside in front of the castle.
“The Buvin family has established themselves here for hundreds of years to achieve what they have today. Every inch of this land was earned with the blood and lives of the Buvin family’s ancestors.” The old Duke’s voice was calm, possessing a magical power that gradually soothed Marques’s agitation and worry.
Buvin Castle was built on a towering cliff.
Looking down from above, they could see the cities and villages surrounding Buvin City.
They resembled irregular quadrilaterals or pentagons encircling Buvin City. People crawled like ants on the wide, noodle-like streets. The river was an azure vein, the forests and wilderness were green flesh and blood, and he and the Duke stood high above the clouds, as if standing on the heads of their ancestors.
Pet falcons circled overhead.
Marques could hear the rustling sound of the Buvin family’s banners flapping in the strong wind.
“My grandfather, Mario Buvin, was carried back riddled with elven arrows… He was shot to death by ambushing elves while commanding the retreat…”
As the old Duke narrated, Marques’s mind gradually conjured the image of the large oil painting on the central wall of the castle hall, depicting Mario Buvin.
He was a stern-looking old man.
Every deep wrinkle on his face seemed to be made for the word “sternness.” His lips were pursed, giving him an unsmiling appearance. He was clad in heavy armor, holding a blood-stained horse-chopping saber in his hand.
Behind him was a murderous army.
His azure pupils were stained red by the bloody battlefield, reflecting mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
“It was night at the time, and the north wind chilled one to the bone. In the Emerald Frontier, blizzards always struck without warning,” the old Duke said with a reminiscent expression.
He was just a naive child then and couldn’t recall the specific details, only remembering a bloodied figure lying on a stretcher, even his white beard stained red.
The rest of the story came from his father’s account.
“The elves hid in snowdrifts, unafraid of the cold, having waited for a long time. Faced with such an attack, he had to stand at a high place, holding a torch to direct the battle. However, the night did not weaken the elves’ combat effectiveness. Those long-eared monkeys had vision as clear as daylight at night. Due to his effective command, the army reacted quickly and launched a counterattack. Faced with the charge of the cavalry, the elves had to retreat, but he was struck by a total of 192 arrows. When he died, he knelt there, propped up by his horse-chopping saber, his eyes wide with fury. In fact, he had already died, but the elves kept thinking he was still alive and continued to send arrows into him until he was shot into a hedgehog.”
The old Duke took a deep breath.
As he exhaled, it turned into ephemeral steam in the cold morning air.
“Most of King Medon’s army was preserved. If not for the command of the first Duke, the consequences would have been unimaginable. Those long-eared monkeys would have extinguished all light sources, and then it would have been a one-sided slaughter!”
“What happened next?” Marques asked, pursing his lips.
“Later, King Medon ennobled the Buvin family as dukes. As my father was still young and lacking in strength, the position of Duke was taken by my uncle, Sky Knight Blanche Buvin. He went to Emerald Fortress a year later. In the same year, on a rainy night, he was assassinated by an Elf Sword Dance Master who infiltrated Emerald Fortress. Three Sky Knights from the Kolon Empire and an Archmage from Karari were also assassinated at the same time.”
“What about the elves? What were their losses?” Marques inquired.
“They lost one. Those cunning long-eared monkeys are skilled in assassination. However, after this assassination, Emerald Fortress also strengthened its nocturnal defenses. Although soldiers were still assassinated later, the elves dared not be too reckless.”
Marques gasped in disbelief.
He had never fought against elves, but based on the old Duke’s stories, he had a rough understanding of their combat prowess.
Yet, these powerful elves were driven back by the King of Winter.
And he even resolved an Undead Calamity?
What kind of monsters were the King of Winter and his army…
No wonder the old Duke had always asked him to ascertain whether the King of Winter’s strength had reached legendary status.
“After my uncle’s death, my young father succeeded to the position of Duke. At that time, he was only a Great Knight. By rights, such strength should not have allowed him to hold a Duchy, but there was no other way. King Medon could not demote the Buvin family, which led to the surrounding lords constantly coveting Buvin Territory.”
“Father spent thirty years governing Buvin Territory. He worked day and night, and looked like an eighty-year-old man in his forties. Later, he toiled himself to death in his study, with a pile of unfinished documents on his desk.”
The old Duke turned, gazing at the stunned young Great Knight:
“Marques, I’m telling you these things today so you’ll understand that without the Buvin family’s ancestors’ contributions, I wouldn’t be here today, nor would there be this glorious Buvin Duchy. I will not hand over the territory to others, and I certainly won’t give it to Howard, that idiot whose mind is full of only muscles. If they insist on taking it, they will have to pay for it with their blood and flesh!”
Marques looked into the old Duke’s eyes. He seemed to see a blazing fire within them. Those eyes gradually overlapped with the image of the old knight in the oil painting in the castle hall.
