I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Chapter 147: Drive out Sigismund's henchmen, leaving none behind.

Hearing that a guest of great status was passing through his territory, he sent a bailiff to the tavern to ask the guest to move to the castle.

In his mind, the person who came was probably the illegitimate son of some noble family, or a messenger of some important figure, or at most a young knight who was passing by.

He had even prepared a set of polite but distant remarks, intending to just give a few perfunctory answers and send the person away.

However, when Zig stepped into the firelight and Radji saw the emblem on the young man's chest, his previously upright posture suddenly froze.

The next moment, the seasoned veteran suddenly stood up. His movement was so sudden that the wine glass at his feet was knocked over by the hem of his coat, making a soft "clattering" sound.

The guards and bailiffs in the hall were stunned; they had never seen the usually composed Lord Radji so out of control.

But Radji paid no attention to the gazes of his subordinates.

His eyes were fixed on the understated yet extremely noble emblem on Zieg's chest—a shield that had been cut in two, with a roaring Bohemian silver lion with two tails on the upper scarlet side and a cold, pure silver background on the lower side.

That is the coat of arms of the Duchy of Görlitz.

That was the mark of John, the youngest and most beloved son of the late King Charles IV.

In this turbulent Bohemia, in an era of king confinement and warring princes, this coat of arms signified that he was a core member of the Luxembourg family and a top nobleman with a right to the throne.

The air seemed to freeze.

Radji's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty, his usually dignified voice now dry and trembling. Almost instinctively, he lowered his head, performing a bow far more solemn than that given to an ordinary lord: "Your Highness, Duke?"

Radji's voice was dry, but he quickly regained his composure, though his tone still carried an unsettling shock and tension.

"It is my—no, the castle's—great honor to have the privilege of hosting the Luxembourg family in Skarlitz."

.

He bowed deeply, remaining in a bowing posture without rising, his speech slightly hurried due to his trepidation: "Please forgive my poor eyesight, and even more so my negligence—if I had known Your Highness had arrived, I should have personally led people out of the city to greet you, and I would never have dared to let you enter Skarlitz like an ordinary traveler."

The bailiff standing at the entrance of the hall finally reacted like a frozen quail.

His face, which had been flushed by the cold wind, turned deathly pale in an instant, and a fine layer of cold sweat even seeped out from his forehead.

Throughout the journey, although he maintained the proper respect, he only treated the person in front of him as an ordinary "wealthy nobleman," and even complained in his heart that the two were too difficult to serve.

And now, the chilling truth has come crashing down on him. The person who had been walking alongside him all this way, and even dared to walk ahead of him, was actually the real Duke.

A top-tier figure with royal blood flowing through his veins, who, if he doesn't want to walk, can even have bailiffs lie on the ground as chairs.

The bailiff's legs began to tremble uncontrollably. He subconsciously made the sign of the cross on his chest, desperately trying to recall every word and every look he had given along the way.

God above, I was just in the tavern—did I not urge Your Highness to leave quickly?

Zieg nodded slightly, the emblem representing the Duchy of Görlitz gleaming in the firelight, and gestured for the burger of Skalitz to rise.

"Get up, Lord Radzi. Red tape should be left to the courts of Prague, not to this frontier castle in the biting wind."

"I crossed the border this time without the Duke's regalia in order to avoid those spies belonging to Sigismund lurking in the shadows."

Radji then slowly straightened up, his hands, weathered by war, still maintaining a humble posture.

He stood to the side and led Zieg to the far end of the hall, to the lord's high-backed chair covered with a thick bearskin.

"Your Highness, please take this seat."

Zieg did not refuse.

He gripped the hilt of the "Langriza" sword at his waist, a weapon powerful enough to cut through plate armor, and sat down in the chair that symbolized power.

Haitar silently stepped back half a step behind Sieg, his hands hanging naturally at his sides, his posture respectful and restrained, quietly guarding his master.

Radji took his seat at the head of the long table, his back as straight as a javelin even in private conversation.

He waved away the trembling bailiffs, leaving only a few trusted men guarding the heavy oak gate.

"May this cup of hot mead dispel the chill of your journey, Your Highness." Radji personally filled Sieg's cup and presented it with both hands.

His tone carried a religious reverence unique to those addressing members of the royal family: "Although Skalitz produces silver dust, it is ultimately a rough mining area. Please forgive me if there has been any inadequacy in our hospitality."

Zig took the ceramic cup and took a small sip.

The warm aroma of honey and spices bursts on the tongue and sinks down the throat into the stomach.

This wine was far clearer than the watered-down stuff in the tavern; it was a rare find only in the lord's private cellar.

"Skaritz is more robust than I imagined, Lord Raddy." Sieg put down his wine glass, his gaze sweeping over the chainmail and well-maintained heraldic shield hanging on the wall.

"Especially the silver mines here. Skarlitz is an indispensable pearl in the crown of Bohemia. The fact that you were able to protect this treasure in this turbulent world is enough to prove your loyalty and iron fist."

Radji's eye twitched uncontrollably with excitement.

"Your Highness—this is my duty." He let out a heavy sigh, his usually stern face appearing particularly weary in the firelight.

"Every ounce of silver I have guarded is the foundation of His Majesty's rule. But now—the King is imprisoned, and the iron hooves of Sigismund the Red Fox are already echoing along the banks of the Vltava. To maintain justice on this land has become a luxurious dream."

The air in the hall seemed to thicken with the name "Red Fox".

Zieg captured the almost desperate seriousness in Raddy's voice when he mentioned Wenceslaus IV.

In an era where princes turned against their rulers and even the church was torn apart, old-fashioned nobles like Radji, who still upheld their oaths as subjects and refused to yield to invaders, were precisely the cornerstones that Sieg needed most.

"Lord Radji"

Sieg leaned forward slightly, looking over the flickering firelight, his eyes fixed on the other man. "Since you are unwilling to bow to Sigismund and acknowledge my status as Duke of Gehrlitz, then there is no need for us to use diplomatic language to test each other."

Radji's expression hardened, and he instinctively gripped the edge of the table.

"Please speak, Your Highness."

"I am crossing the border not to seek refuge, but to hunt."

Sieg's voice was deep and powerful, echoing in the empty hall. "I want you to contact all the forces you can reach that remain loyal to the crown and refuse to kneel before Sigismund. We must gather these scattered sparks together to fight against Sigismund's ambitions."