Chapter 131: Too Barbaric!

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Hearing this, Ulyan dropped the pretense as well and asked in surprise, “Sir Nelson, what exactly do you mean?”

Nelson gave an enigmatic smile and declined to answer.

His attendant explained, “The honorable Sir Nelson has taken a liking to your land and is willing to pay the princely sum of fifty gold sollers for it.”

As he spoke, he pulled out a money pouch he had prepared in advance and tossed it onto the wooden table.

The drawstring came loose, revealing a glittering heap of gold coins.

Ulyan understood at once. From the moment they had entered Riverbend, they had been pointing fingers everywhere, finding fault with everything, and running the settlement down until it seemed worthless.

So that was their game: treat it as a commodity, drive down its value relentlessly, and only then haggle over the price.

Ulyan said angrily, “I’m sorry, but this is my frontier holding. It is absolutely not for sale.”

Nelson replied languidly, “You are mistaken. In theory, this is Count Frolov’s land. I am merely paying for peace of mind.”

His attendant chimed in, “You do not even possess a knightly title yet. Even if my lord does not buy this place, someone else will seize it sooner or later. Besides, there is nothing here—nothing at all. Just a wretched village. If I were you, I would take this fortune and become a minor landowner in Isenbourg.”

“My people are here!”

“What people? A bunch of serfs!”

Ulyan’s expression darkened. Unwilling to argue any further, he gestured for the Riverbend militia nearby to bring out the gifts prepared in advance.

They were a bundle of sable and fox pelts, all finely cured and of the finest quality—the furs most beloved by the Empire’s nobility.

Ulyan had originally intended to take them to Isenbourg for social dealings with the aristocracy. Now, he would use them to avert disaster.

“Riverbend is poor and backward, and we truly have nothing suitable for a distinguished guest. Please accept these furs as a small token of gratitude for your lordship’s arduous journey to Riverbend.”

“As for the question of Riverbend’s land, let us not speak of it again.”

Nelson had not yet spoken when his attendant could restrain himself no longer. He drew his steel sword and cleaved the neatly stacked bundle of more than a dozen pelts in half.

Furious, he shouted, “His lordship has taken an interest in Riverbend—that is an honor! And you try to fob him off with this trash?”

Leo, who had just finished inspecting the wildfolk camp, could not put Ulyan out of his mind and hurried back to the lord’s hall.

A man like Nelson reminded him of the petty officials of his former life—using an inspection as an excuse to extort and freeload. His kind wore several layers of skin, spoke in insinuating tones, and were not people a junior officer or village headman could easily handle.

Ulyan was merely a rough soldier by upbringing. Although he had gained some experience dealing with nobles through his recent social encounters, he was still hopelessly outmatched by a true aristocrat.

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Leo feared that Ulyan would be ensnared by the other man’s rhetoric, allowing someone to take an unjustly large bite out of the household’s hard-won wealth.

Leo himself did not have much experience either, but at least he had seen and endured enough to offer assistance from the sidelines and help calculate how to minimize their losses.

He had only just returned to Riverbend. As he passed the militia barracks in front of the lord’s hall, he heard the dull thud of fighting from within.

The next moment, the barracks door burst open and a blood-covered armed guard fled outside.

Leo had no time to think. He lashed out with one foot and kicked the man back inside.

Leo’s strength was now astonishing. The kick sent the guard flying three yards, leaving him sprawled on the ground, struggling helplessly and nearly unconscious.

Ivan rushed out of the barracks, planted a foot on the guard’s face, and drove a sword through his throat.

Nelson and his attendant had been invited into the lord’s hall, while the rest of the armed guards had been sent to rest in the militia barracks. No one had expected them to be attacked by the militiamen the moment they laid down their weapons.

Leo hurriedly asked, “What happened?”

Ivan gave him an innocent grin. As he dragged the dead guard back inside, he pointed toward the lord’s hall.

Leo hastened there and pushed open the door.

Inside the hall, faced with Nelson’s overbearing attendant, Ulyan gave a subtle signal.

The attendant was still hurling abuse when a thick arm suddenly hooked around his head from behind and locked him in place.

Before he could struggle, a sharp dagger was thrust into one side of his neck and emerged from the other.

He thrashed wildly, but the strength drained from his body even faster than the blood from his wound. Within three seconds, he had collapsed completely.

The nameless attendant had just displayed his swordsmanship and temper, only to be butchered by Vicky like a chicken.

Leo had just stepped through the door when he witnessed the scene.

Nelson had never imagined that they would suddenly kill someone. In his eyes, these commoners were lowly, cowardly, and timid—easy to manipulate.

He had brought a full escort of armed retainers, nearly enough to match a pennon’s strength. How could they possibly dare?

Besides, this was not how nobles played their games of intrigue. There should have been a long process before blood was shed.

First came bargaining, then open intimidation, then covert threats. Even when relations broke down completely, the families would measure their respective strength before seeking a mediator and negotiating a compromise.

At worst, one threw down a glove and arranged for one’s retainers to settle the matter in a duel.

Nelson’s paternal family, the Gladstones, was a banner-knight family of Isenbourg, possessing three fertile knightly holdings.

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But none of those holdings would ever belong to Nelson. His family still had two uncles, two elder brothers, and four cousins ahead of him.

After finally securing a knightly title, Nelson found himself with no knightly holding to inherit. The Frolov family was unwilling to hand over one of its villages to such a useless man and gave him only a colonization charter.

But colonizing a frontier was out of the question. It was too exhausting, too slow, and too troublesome.

So Nelson set his sights on the newly developed territories near Isenbourg, spending the past few years searching for a suitable knightly holding to claim for himself.

He had also coveted the fourth knightly holding being developed by House Petukhov, but after several rounds of negotiation, the matter had come to nothing.

The Petukhovs were likewise an old-established knightly family of Isenbourg. They possessed one banner knight, one extraordinary knight, two pennon knights, and Romon, a landless knight.

Five knights from a single house could easily raise an army of several hundred men. Even Tarik, the lord of Isenbourg, had to treat them with courtesy—let alone a landless knight like Nelson.

Nelson collapsed onto the wooden steps, pointing at Ulyan with a show of outrage that barely concealed his fear.

“I am the honorable Sir Nelson, nephew of Count Frolov! Third son of the banner-knight House Gladstone!”

“You insolent commoners! How dare you offend a nobleman!”

Ulyan instructed his men without expression, “See Sir Nelson home.”

Two militiamen came forward, hoisted the paralyzed Sir Nelson up, and dragged him out of the hall.

Ulyan made a slitting motion across his throat toward the militiamen, then stopped concerning himself with Nelson altogether and turned to scold Vicky.

“Just look at you! Why did you draw a blade? Couldn’t you simply have snapped his neck?”

Vicky lowered his head and slipped the dagger behind his back.

“Using a knife… seemed more convenient?”

“You got blood everywhere!”

Ulyan was heartsick. The wooden steps surrounding the hearth and table in the great hall were meant for sitting, and Olivia had carefully covered them with sheepskin and deerskin rugs.

Now several rugs and cushions, along with the wooden table and hearth, had been spattered with the attendant’s blood.

Even Olivia, who had watched the entire scene from inside the room, emerged and glared angrily at Vicky.

Vicky, feeling guilty, quickly hoisted the attendant’s corpse onto his shoulder, gathered up several soiled rugs, and went outside to wash them.

Leo entered the hall. He had never expected matters to develop this way, and he shouted, “That was barbaric! Absolutely bloodthirsty! How did a perfectly ordinary visit end with someone being killed?”