Chapter 164 Chapter 165 The Unwelcome Son
The day was getting late. As George rode with his troop, passing by the moldy wooden spectator stand in the forest, the scorching sun was already dipping toward the horizon. This troop, bearing the banner of the Dawn of the Sanctuary, caught the attention of the castle. A soldier rushed from the open gates on horseback.
George pulled the reins to a stop, and the farmers by the roadside looked curiously at the army, all armed with pitchforks and flails. In this era and country, farmers were not defenseless lambs; sometimes, they were even brought to the battlefield by their lords as cannon fodder.
George suddenly said, glancing at the castle gates about four hundred meters away, “Their vigilance is poor.”
Eve Frostleaf, who was sitting astride her steed without a skirt, asked, “What do you mean?”
“There are no watchtowers or guards set up farther from the castle, the gates are often open, and there’s a lot of foot traffic. If we were an enemy pretending to be a human army, then right now, a charge would likely catch the guards off guard.”
“That should be the average standard for a knight of Bartok.”
“No. He is not a true knight,” George replied. “Do you see that strangely large castle? The town was built around it because people hoped to receive protection from knights in this dark world, but he prefers to fulfill his duty with money.”
“Ugh~~.” The soldier had already ridden over and stopped in front of George, his eyes bulging as he looked at Eve Frostleaf’s long legs in high heels.
Eve Frostleaf just glanced at him, and the soldier shrunk back, asking, “The lord of this territory is Lord Virginia, the Warlord Earl. May I ask who you are and what your purpose is here?”
George paused for a moment, thinking of the weary soldiers, and said, “I am his second son—George the Warhammer. I serve the Sanctuary, fulfilling my duties on a mission. I hope to lodge in the castle for the night, and we will pay.”
The soldier was taken aback: “You are George, Saint George the Dragon Slayer? Please show me your insignia so I can report to the lord.”
George tossed his personal insignia, and the soldier caught it with uncontainable joy, spurring his horse back toward the castle.
“So your last name isn’t Warhammer?”
“When I filled out my name at the Sanctuary, I changed my last name.”
“Why? Warhammer sounds quite unusual.”
“But very down-to-earth,” George said. “And there’s one more thing. At that time, I thought that one day I would invite my father to come and request that I change my last name back to Warhammer.”
“What about the surname Frostleaf?”
George replied, “It fits well.”
“It was named by my father.”
“So that means you’re like me?” George exclaimed, “Also a bastard?”
Eve Frostleaf didn’t expect that George still didn’t know about this; she had hinted many times before and rolled her eyes at him.
“Short-lived scion!” the elven maid snapped, “Lord Frostleaf holds a noble identity, unlike you who is a mere bastard!”
Eve Frostleaf immediately turned her head, her cold gaze like a knife stabbing at the elven maid’s face, commanding, “Patrol!”
“Ah?”
“Watch for enemy attacks.” Eve Frostleaf pointed toward the forest in the distance, repeating her command, “Patrol.”
“Yes, my lady Frostleaf.”
The elven maid slung her silver bow over her shoulder, glanced at George with resentment, and walked away.
At this moment, several soldiers galloped over to George, saying, “The lord wishes to see you in the courtyard right now.”
“What about my soldiers?”
“They will be attended to.”
“Alright.” George spurred his horse, “Let’s move quickly.”
“Mo~~” The heavenly warhorse let out a low sound as it rushed toward the castle gates.
Eve Frostleaf pulled on her reins as well, her snow-white steed elegantly keeping pace with George.
George looked at Eve Frostleaf.
Eve Frostleaf said, “I’m just curious; I want to meet your—father.”
“Oh.”
A man and a woman rode through the muddy ground beneath the castle gate, entering behind the walls.
This castle—or rather, this city—was like many cities in the knightly realm of Bartok. It consisted of two parts: the castle and the city. The protective walls of the city spread out from the castle toward more habitable areas, but the walls were not connected to the castle; the castle and city were independent of each other.
Upon entering through the east gate, they walked directly up the drawbridge in front of the castle. Once inside, they were asked to dismount. Eve Frostleaf glanced at the filthy mud below and her thin-soled high heels that resembled sandals, and chose not to dismount.
The guards did not make things difficult for Eve Frostleaf; one merely said from behind, “Indeed, elves are all so proud.”
She just hoped that George’s father wouldn’t think so, so she chose to dismount before reaching the courtyard. Luckily, she didn’t walk far before encountering a stone path.
The stone path led to the courtyard near the red-brick building. As they passed by the tall and crude red-brick structure, a noblewoman angrily descended the stairs.
She wore a long trailing skirt, with two head-down maids holding the hem, and a beautifully crafted belt laced with gold and silver at her waist. Compared to her loose lower body, her green silk blouse was tightly fitted around her upper body, desperately pressing her chest to make it stand upright. A hand-width, shiny red gemstone brooch was pinned to her chest.
If George criticized Eve Frostleaf’s attire as simply inappropriate, then the noblewoman’s outfit could be considered a challenge to the weather.
If it weren’t for Frostleaf seeing beads of sweat rolling down the noblewoman’s neck, she might mistakenly believe that the other party was also an extraordinary being unafraid of the weather.
George halted and removed his helm, tucking it under his arm, and bowed slightly, saying, “I salute you, Lady Countess.”
She was George’s father’s legal wife.
Frostleaf hesitated, wondering whether she should bow out of courtesy when the Countess coldly snorted, “You still know to come back. What perfect timing; the whole world is praising you for slaying the dragon. The beastmen just arrived, and here you are.”
George straightened up and said, “My lady, I am here merely because of my mission. I only hope the castle can provide shelter and hot water for my soldiers.”
“Very well, you know how to bring your troops back,” the Countess replied. “You should have been kicked out long ago. Who would have known you are a white-eyed wolf, eyeing someone else’s rightful property as you grew up?”
“I have no interest in the Earl Warhammer’s rightful property.”
The Countess stared at the round pauldron plates at George’s armpits; these plates provided protection for the armpits and later also served decorative purposes. Noble knights liked to have their family crest imprinted on the plates, but George’s plates bore the insignia of the God of Dawn—the rising sun.
“I know,” the Countess stated. “In a while, you will seize your inheritance for your god and offer it to the Sanctuary.”
With that, she raised her chin and looked at Eve Frostleaf, opening her mouth to say something sharp, but she was silenced by Eve Frostleaf’s glare.
The Countess huffed, “High elf.”
Having said that, she turned and walked up the stairs while saying, “Don’t think you can get away with this. My son is back, he is the firstborn and the rightful heir to this land.”
The two maids followed her, holding her trailing skirt as they ascended the stairs.
“Uncultured rustic woman,” Eve Frostleaf said, “Just like a dog by the roadside, barking at passing knights, fearing they might steal her doghouse.”
“She’s very frightened,” George said. “Because I’m older than her eldest son by more than half a year.”
With that, George continued on, clutching his helm and heading toward the courtyard.
The so-called courtyard was merely a pitiful little garden. Eve Frostleaf felt as though she had walked into a vegetable garden built by rural farmers themselves.
The soldier at the entrance blocked their way, demanding they hand over their weapons.
George drew his dagger and handed over the double-handed golden sword on his shoulder to the soldier, who cradled it in both hands, saying, “It’s really heavy. Anything else? You don’t just have these two weapons on you, do you?”
“Nothing else.”
“Put your helm up too; that looks like it could knock someone out.”
Reluctantly, George placed his helm down as well.
The soldier looked at Eve Frostleaf’s high heels and said, “Pretty elven beauty, your high heels are so excessive they could serve as a hammer.”
Eve Frostleaf replied coldly, “I could kick in your chest with one foot; do you want me to tie your legs up?”
The soldier laughed, “I wouldn’t say no; I just happen to have some rope.”
Before he finished speaking, “Bang,” George’s fist smashed into the wall beside the soldier’s head, leaving a dent and spiderweb-like cracks spreading over the wall.
The soldier’s smile froze on his face, and he became much more coherent, saying, “Right, right, I’m just following the lord’s orders.”
“Is it fine now?”
“Of course.”
Frostleaf had a feeling that this father-son meeting wouldn’t be so warm.
She felt she wasn’t mistaken.
The two entered the courtyard, and George hoped Frostleaf would stay behind; she understood and nodded, watching George leave.
George approached the pavilion and saw his biological father. He was not wearing armor; his body was a bit plump, and he had a knight’s sword at his waist, dressed in the latest court fashion—scarlet fitted trousers and a snug short-sleeve shirt, with golden whiskers, looking like a lion—yet his attire was really different from that of a lion.
George still placed a hand on his chest to greet him, “Hello, Lord Earl Virginia.”
Earl Virginia asked, “Let’s get straight to the point, how many soldiers do you have? How well trained are they?”
“One hundred thirty-two well-trained soldiers, and three combat priests.”
“Very good.” Earl Virginia took out a shepherd’s whip and said, “Take this sheepherding whip and go herd sheep in the forest.”
“Herd sheep?”
Earl Virginia pounded the table and said, “Yes, go help me herd sheep. Of course, there will always be some dangers in the forest that you’ll need to deal with.”
“In other words, you want me to take the soldiers to perform your duty and eradicate the beastmen in the forest?”
To circumvent the restrictions of chivalry, knightly lords who were unwilling to take troops themselves often hired a group of heavily armed mercenaries to clean out greenskins, beastmen, or bandits in the forests, under the pretense of hiring them to herd sheep.
Earl Virginia remained silent, indicating his acquiescence.
“I must prioritize completing my mission for the Sanctuary,” George stated. “I simply hope to allow my soldiers to rest here for one night.”
“If you don’t go herd sheep, there’s no place to rest here.”
“My soldiers are not shepherds.”
“That guy Gregory, the cardinal of the Sanctuary, isn’t he just a dirty shepherd boy with a high status at the Sanctuary?”
“His name is Gregory,” George emphasized again. “We must complete the mission, and I do not wish to see my soldiers die for a knightly lord who does not fulfill his own duties.”
Earl Virginia slammed the sheephand whip on the table and asked, “Will you herd or not?”
George turned to leave.
“How much?”
George did not stop.
“Perhaps, when there’s no one else around, I could allow you to call me father.”
George paused; long ago, he had been warned never to call Virginia ‘dad.’
“No, Lord Earl Virginia.”
George firmly resumed his steps away.
Eve Frostleaf walked beside him, sharing a sense of camaraderie in their misfortune.
Before long, a command rang out behind George: “Hey! Pass my orders to expel the Sanctuary’s army from the castle!”
