Arno swept a glance at Kent, a sneer playing at the corner of his mouth. The mockery and disdain in his eyes were so tangible that they seemed to pierce Kent like a physical blow. Kent, however, remained all smiles and nonchalant, bowing obsequiously as he stood to the side. “My lord, you’ve misjudged them! There were columns of smoke in the distance just now, and we suspected a bandit group might be robbing passersby. As you know, Pramisburg borders the Weimar Corridor, and the mountains are full of bandits who sometimes come out to attack villages and towns.”

  “That’s why I immediately ordered soldiers to defend the city and prepare for a possible siege. They were only following my instructions—I truly didn’t dare let those bandits in. If I had opened the city gates to them, my offense would have been unforgivable.”

  As he spoke, Kent gave a meaningful look to several soldiers, who were well accustomed to his signals and immediately took a few steps back, attempting to slip away.

  Arno, however, turned to Blair. “From the day your ancestor swore eternal loyalty to the Golden Thorn Family, he has never taken a step back—whether facing the Kedar people or the Holy Empire.”

  Blair’s body stiffened, and his eyes sharpened. In this world, ancestors and the divine were inviolable and beyond doubt. A person might have no faith, no moral constraints, and commit all manner of evil, but when swearing an oath in the name of their ancestor, that oath was trustworthy no matter how depraved they were.

  Blair’s ancestor had sworn eternal loyalty to the Golden Thorn Family, vowing to draw his sword against the divine for the family’s glory and to sacrifice his life to uphold that oath. Now that Arno had been insulted, Blair must abide by and fulfill the oath his ancestor had made.

  The smile on Kent’s face froze, a fierce look flashing in his eyes before being quickly hidden. He awkwardly touched his stomach and said sheepishly, “Is all this really necessary?”

  Arno let out a cold laugh. “What? Do you want a glove too?”

  Kent’s face instantly turned red, and he stammered, falling silent. As an officer of the city defense force, Kent had naturally read the Empire Code. According to the code, a duel challenge issued by a senior noble to a commoner could not be refused. In the Orlando Empire, Golden Nobles represented the highest rank among the ruling classes, enjoying the most privileges—they could easily send their retainers to fight on their behalf.

  Kent considered himself a warrior, but compared to a Level 5 knight, he was no different from a child.

  Several soldiers finally realized the gravity of the situation and shouted blusteringly, “We are soldiers of the empire! You have no right to do this!”

  Blair remained silent, swinging his sword to cut through three spears in one stroke, blood splattering across his face. He casually wiped it away and chased after the other two soldiers who had fled into the gateway arch. This was a completely unequal battle—almost over the moment it began.

  Five soldiers lay on the ground weakly, their faces pale and blood oozing from their wounds. Blair returned to Arno, knelt on one knee, and held his longsword. “Honor is my life!”

  Arno’s smile faded slightly, and he nodded. “Blair, what is the family motto of the Golden Thorn?”

  Every family, in addition to its emblem, had a motto that encapsulated the wisdom and courage of its ancestors and the true meaning of the family’s inheritance.

  Blair lowered his head and said loudly, “Only thorns watered with blood can make people stop in their tracks.”

  Arno chuckled and casually said, “Chop off their heads, hang them on the carriage, and let’s return home!” After speaking, Arno didn’t even glance at Kent and directly boarded the carriage. He glanced at a glob of phlegm on the carriage floor and sneered in silence. You spat it out today; tomorrow, I’ll make you lick it back!

  Outside the carriage, there were curses and screams. With Kent’s face turning livid, five heads were hung on the carriage. Blood flowing from the severed necks gave the Golden Thorn emblem an unusual air of nobility.

  At the city gate, many people of Pramisburg on the city wall were watching, their expressions varied—some silent, some jubilant, some indignant. But all of this was meaningless to Arno. Nobles were never meant to be respected by commoners; they were meant to be feared. A kind and excellent noble might earn the respect of commoners, but no noble standing at the pinnacle of the empire was merciful.

  In the political infighting filled with the clash of swords and the shadow of daggers, the wars and disputes among great nobles cost far more than just one or two lives.

  Today, the Golden Thorn finally revealed its true nature, letting people know that the dignity of a noble could not be defiled.

  After the assassination attempt, Arno was extremely mentally exhausted, and although Blair’s injuries were not severe, he still needed to rest. For safety, Arno asked the guild to send an additional fifty capable men to guard every corner of the city lord’s mansion. He felt that he had been too merciful, always trying to follow the plan, but these people had no intention of abiding by the rules. Well, then, let everyone rely on their own abilities—don’t blame him for being ruthless.

  Holding a teacup and taking a sip of black tea, Arno let out a long sigh of relief. Celeste sat quietly beside him, engrossed in reading a huge book. Arno felt his fluctuating emotions gradually calm down. He closed his eyes, his breathing became long and even, and he slowly fell asleep.

  He slept until it was dark. When he opened his eyes, he was already in bed, and Celeste was lying beside him, her mouth slightly open, saliva wetting her arm without her knowledge.

  Seemingly awakened by Arno’s movements, Celeste slowly raised her head, her eyes gradually focusing. She stared blankly at the small wet patch on her arm and the bedsheet, her face instantly turning bright red. She was at a loss for words, wanting to say something but ultimately breaking into a soft cry. So embarrassing to have drooled so much in front of her husband! By the Bright God, she couldn’t bear the shame!

  Arno, however, found it amusing. He stroked Celeste’s head. “Who carried me here? You surely couldn’t have lifted me!”

  While wiping away her tears, Celeste choked out, “It was Fengkos…”

  Arno’s good mood was instantly ruined, and the corner of his eye twitched a few times. “Didn’t I say to send him to the stables to feed the horses?”

  “You were too heavy for me to carry. The chief maid said your body couldn’t be touched by those lowly servant women, and Mr. Blair was also resting, so I had no choice but to find Fengkos.” Celeste looked up, her eyes misty. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, it’s fine. Now, is it night or morning?”

  The sky outside the window was pitch-black, making it impossible to tell the time. Celeste didn’t know either. “I’ll go ask the maid,” she said, then lifted her skirt and ran out.

  It wasn’t long before the chief maid entered with a group of maids, carrying laundered clothes. Arno felt a headache just looking at them. “I’m not wearing formal attire. Just bring me any casual clothes.”

  The chief maid looked a bit embarrassed, but in the end, she obeyed. She had heard that Arno had killed five soldiers who had offended him at the city gate today and seemed to be in a bad mood, so it was better to comply with his wishes. Casual clothes were usually worn at home when not receiving guests, but this lord seemed to have a deep aversion to clothes, and she didn’t know why.

  After changing into a loose, comfortable, and at the same time very gorgeous nightgown, Arno nodded in satisfaction. “I think the clothes of those so-called holy men… the clerics, are quite nice—simple and lightweight. Have someone make a few sets for me later.”

  The chief maid could only nod silently in agreement. “Mr. Harvey has been waiting for you for a long time. Do you want to see him now or have dinner first?”

  Harvey is here?

  Arno thought for a moment. “Take him to the reception hall. I’ll go there right away.”

  When he saw Harvey, Harvey seemed to heave a sigh of relief. He carefully examined Arno, although this action was very rude, Arno didn’t mind.

  “I’m so glad to see that you’re safe and sound, praise the Old Ones!” he exclaimed, exaggeratingly spreading his hands and bowing. “When I saw the smoke, I didn’t think much of it at first, but later I thought I should go and check. I brought twenty Blackfire Warriors with me, but when we arrived, all we saw were blood and corpses. I’m truly sorry—I should have come earlier.”

  Harvey’s sudden change in attitude puzzled Arno. His sudden enthusiasm raised a flicker of vigilance in Arno. In fact, Arno didn’t know that Harvey had obtained some information from Alma. As a local power of the same level as Alma, Harvey also had his own aspirations and ideals. The explanation was simple: Alma had received Arno’s promise, but she also knew that one hero needed three helpers. If Arno’s camp only had her as an independent commoner force, her position would become awkward if Arno rose to power in the future.

  She was destined to form a sharp contrast with another group of nobles with excellent backgrounds. If she wasn’t strong enough, even if Arno fulfilled his promise, she would eventually be pushed out of Arno’s core circle due to severe ostracism.

  Therefore, she needed allies—reliable and capable ones. In Pramisburg, the people she was most familiar with were the likes of Hutt and Harvey. Such people were no different from Sarkomo; their ultimate goal was to acquire more wealth and a higher social status. Now that the opportunity was within reach, Alma and Harvey had formed a small offensive and defensive alliance. Alma had even contacted Sarkomo, trying to draw this giant merchant into their camp.

  After all, they all represented the power of the commoners.

  So, Harvey’s displayed enthusiasm was not hard to understand, but Arno had not yet thought of this.