Chapter 20: The Knight of Roman

Leo sent the little mouse to notify Ulyan, while he stood on the pier, waiting for the fishing boat to approach.

Catching the rope tossed from the boat, Leo pulled it close to the pier and secured it. He smiled at the people aboard, saying, "Welcome!"

The first to disembark was a young knight, tall and slender, with golden hair and blue eyes, his sharply defined features marking him as a true Northerner.

He was called a knight because he wore a fitted suit of thin steel plate armor. Unlike the heavy medieval plate armor Leo remembered, this armor was crafted by embedding large pieces of thin steel onto black hardened leather, with gleaming steel plates and edges lined with delicate soft leather. The glossy black bearskin pauldrons protected his neck and shoulders completely, and the fine wool cuffs were embroidered with golden patterns.

On his back, he carried a broad-bladed knight's sword of the North’s simple, robust style, suitable for wielding with both hands, and a dagger was strapped to his thigh.

Leo stared enviously at the knight’s gear, whose craftsmanship was exquisite and lightweight—nothing like medieval armor, almost futuristic in design.

Leo himself wore a ragged patchwork armor of mismatched furs, resembling a bandit from a primitive age, or worse, a cheap web series extra. Though his pauldrons were made of bearskin, their crude stitching made them look like a wildling’s cloak.

When the knight’s thick leather boots, reinforced with thin steel, touched the pier, the boards trembled. He looked around, his gaze settling on the rudimentary camp, and frowned.

He nodded to Leo, ignoring his impolite stare, and walked directly toward the approaching Ulyan.

"Upstream on the Ethanpol, the waters are calm, but the riverbed is full of rocks, making it hard for ships to pass. Larger cargo vessels dare not enter, so I managed to bring a few small fishing boats," the young knight explained respectfully to Ulyan, nodding simply.

"No matter, as long as the people arrive. I’ve only just settled here myself; it’s still quite rough..."

"That’s fine, I’m no nobleman," the young knight replied with a smile, shaking his head. "I’ve slept in tents plenty of times, following the captain."

"Haha, good lad, you’re one of my men!" Ulyan laughed, his earlier stiffness vanishing. As he led the young knight toward the camp, he introduced him to the others.

"This is Knight Romon Petukhov of the Petukhov family, my comrade in arms."

The Petukhovs were an old knightly family of Ethanpol. When Ulyan served as a scout at the western watchtower, he was under Romon’s father, Sir Rigolaf Petukhov.

Afterward, Ulyan was conscripted and became a squad leader of the Heavy Infantry Regiment at Wind God Fortress, and Romon, arranged by his father, became Ulyan’s subordinate.

Though the knightly class of the North inherited titles like the nobility, their lands were not family property but granted by the Northern Count. Unlike the counts, they lacked large clans and armies to secure their inheritance.

A knightly lord could only rely on his own valor to maintain his status. Weaker descendants were often stripped of their title by the count in the name of the war god Tyr, replaced by stronger warriors.

Of course, the laws of the Atlantis Empire did not specify hereditary nobility. In theory, the Northern Grand Duke could strip counts of their titles in the same way—though he’d first have to contend with the count’s thousands of lordly soldiers, tens of thousands of conscripts, and dozens of allied families.

The Petukhovs, as old vassal knights of the Forrelov family, had guarded their estate for generations, each producing sons who joined the army and earned merit, gaining the count’s favor through martial prowess.

Now, the Petukhovs held four knight’s fiefs near Ethanpol, a prominent family in the region.

"This is my daughter, Olivia," Ulyan said, indicating the girl beside him.

The young knight’s gaze had already settled on Olivia. Amidst the villagers, shabby as beggars or wildlings, Olivia seemed a newly-bloomed orchid in his eyes.

"Good day, my lady," Knight Romon placed his right hand over his heart and bowed slightly.

Olivia, startled like a rabbit, bowed in return, nodding twice, then hesitated and extended her right hand.

Romon smiled, not correcting her breach of etiquette.

He was elegant, composed, and full of noble bearing.

Olivia quickly withdrew her hand and hid behind Leo.

"This is my nephew, Leo Mondo."

"Hello, Sir Romon!" Leo called eagerly.

Romon glanced at Leo, nodding in reply.

A rude gaze, lacking courtesy, an uncultured commoner boy—easily ignored.

After a brief tour of the camp, they sat in Ulyan’s large tent. Knight Romon frowned: "Captain, is this your frontier fief?"

"Yes. What do you think, Romon?" Ulyan watched him hopefully.

"It’s not quite what I imagined. You wrote in your letter that nearly a thousand settlers would make their home here, and the militia was well-trained, fit to repel the local tribes and beasts," Romon said, frowning. "But from what I see, there seem to be some discrepancies..."

"That’s true. Many are reluctant to leave their homeland; I couldn’t force them," Ulyan explained awkwardly, then waved grandly. "But don’t worry! Once I establish myself, the second and third waves of settlers will arrive, and we’ll easily reach a thousand!"

"In a few years, the Riverbend Frontier will be the largest knight’s fief in Ethanpol. Your father’s investment will return tenfold, a hundredfold!"

His words were pure bravado. If not for the beastfolk invasion, who would want to pioneer in such dangerous wilds? Even Ethanpol’s refugees would shake their heads.

"But my father won’t be swayed by such words," Romon said helplessly.

"Of course, I trust you, Captain. Besides our agreed deal for food and farming tools, I’ve personally sponsored twenty steel swords—my savings for two years."

"Good lad! I didn’t care for you in vain!" Ulyan was delighted, clapping his hands and urging, "You must put in a good word for me to your father. Tell him my troops are strong, everything is in order, just a bit short on funds. A son’s little lies to his father, some pleading—it’s nothing!"

Romon looked slightly embarrassed, reluctantly agreeing: "I’ll speak well, but my father isn’t so easily fooled. He always sends someone to investigate."

"Isn’t that why he sent you? Rigolaf only has one precious son—if he doesn’t trust you, who will?"

Ulyan slung his arm around Romon’s shoulder, his face greasy and ingratiating, then looked at his daughter: "See my girl? You two should get to know each other!"

His gaze landed on Leo, who stood nearby with disdain. Ulyan immediately glared and barked, "You little brat, what are you standing there for? Go unload the cargo!"