Lord: I can see loyalty.

Vance was stunned when he heard Sir Leeson's words.

"Sir Leeson, you..." He instinctively reached out to grab Sir Leeson, but the man had already walked away.

Sir Leeson simply turned around and smiled slightly at him.

"Don't worry," he said in a low voice, so that only Vance could hear him, "trust me."

Before Vance could say anything more, the tall knight had already reacted.

"Huh?" He stared wide-eyed at first, then a look of surprise appeared on his rugged face. "What did you say? You want to duel me?"

He looked Sir Leeson up and down, from his slightly thin frame to his overly handsome face and the rapier at his waist.

Finally, he laughed, a hearty laugh that came from the heart as if his prey had delivered itself to his doorstep.

"Interesting." His smile faded, and he stepped forward, fully displaying his tall figure in the sunlight. "You've got guts, but..."

His smile turned sinister. "Since you said that, you'll have to pay the price."

Lison did not reply. He simply drew his rapier from his waist, the tip pointing diagonally at the ground, and then walked step by step to a relatively open space in the middle of the street.

His steps were steady, and he seemed to be one with the rapier.

After thinking it over, Vance finally stepped back, and the other two fraternity members also retreated to the side of the road and stood with the other onlookers.

The knights' squires also stepped back, but they did not remain silent. One of them shouted, "Sir Knight, let these commoners see what real swordsmanship is!"

Another chimed in, "One move is enough, sir!"

Upon hearing these words, the tall knight's smile grew even more arrogant. With a clang, he drew his sword, a broad and heavy blade that gleamed coldly in the sunlight, exuding an imposing aura.

He casually swung his sword a few times, the wind whistling through the air, showing off his muscles.

The crowd of onlookers grew larger and larger. Those who could come here were all of high status, including merchants in silk robes, horse-riding servants, and noblewomen sitting in carriages, lifting the curtains to watch the spectacle.

They whispered to each other, their faces showing the anticipation of watching a show.

The knight was pleased with the attention. He slung his sword over his shoulder and swaggered up to Risen.

Just as Lison was about to say a few polite words, "Then let's duel..."

Lison had just begun to speak.

"Begin!" The tall knight suddenly roared, charging forward like a wild bull!

The heavy sword came crashing down on his head without any strategy!

"!" Vance's pupils shrank sharply, and a chorus of exclamations arose around him.

But Sir Leeson moved. He was as light as a feather and drifted to the left a moment before the greatsword fell, the blade striking the stone slab on the ground and sending sparks flying.

The tall knight was taken aback, and before he could sheathe his sword, Risen's rapier had already arrived.

"laugh--"

The sword tip aimed precisely at his right armpit, exposed by the force of his swing! That was the seam of his armor, where there was no iron plate for protection.

The tall knight let out a strange cry, stumbled backward, and fell to the ground with a thud.

"Hahahaha!" The crowd burst into laughter.

But Leeson did not hesitate. He stepped forward quickly and thrust his rapier three times in quick succession—up, middle, and down—preventing his opponent from getting up.

The tall knight could only writhe on the ground like a maggot, desperately rolling around to avoid the sword tips.

His armor scraped against the stone pavement with a harsh sound, his helmet, which he had just put on, rolled to one side, his hair was disheveled, and his face was covered in dirt.

The laughter grew even louder.

The servants' expressions remained unchanged. They exchanged a glance and took two steps back in unison, seemingly completely unconcerned about their master.

Vance stared at the servants and knights, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper. Something was definitely off about these men.

The knight's swordsmanship was haphazard and disorganized; one could even say it was inferior to the three members of his brotherhood.

"Aaaaaah!!"

The tall knight finally struggled to his feet, his face flushed red, his eyes almost spitting fire. He gripped his sword with both hands and roared as he charged toward Lisson. His already chaotic swordsmanship was completely out of control, and he was just hacking around like a savage.

Lison simply turned slightly to the side, dodging the first sword strike, and then flicked the blade upwards.

The heavy sword flew out of his hand and clattered to the ground.

In the next instant, the tip of the rapier was already pressed against the tall knight's throat.

"You lost." Richon's voice remained calm.

After a brief pause, the onlookers erupted in cheers. Some whistled, some clapped. Although Sir Leeson's swordsmanship was not particularly powerful, it was certainly first-rate to watch.

But the tall knight's eyes showed no sign of defeat, only a more intense resentment.

He abruptly raised his hand, shoving the sword tip away from his neck, and roared at the servants, "What are you all standing there for?! Come and help me kill this fool who offended a knight!"

The servants didn't move, and the tall knight's face twisted even more: "You...you mustn't forget who sent you! That person..."

"That's enough!"

A servant suddenly interrupted him, drawing his sword and stepping forward. Three other servants also drew their swords at the same time, instantly surrounding Vance, Sir Lisson, and the others!

The laughter of the onlookers stopped abruptly.

Some, timid and afraid of getting into trouble, immediately turned and left, but others, bolder, retreated further away, continuing to crane their necks to watch the spectacle. Some even provocatively egged them on, saying, "Go ahead and fight! Don't stop!"

Vance's expression also changed, not because he was surrounded, but because he noticed the way the servants held their swords.

That's not the posture a "knight's squire" should have.

The men held their swords with unwavering steadiness, their feet planted perfectly in place, their eyes fixed on them without a trace of panic.

That's the attitude of someone who has experienced real battle.

He's better than him, better than everyone else present.

Sir Leeson's face also paled slightly. His gaze swept over the four swords and the positions of the men. They had blocked all escape routes and were working in perfect harmony. They were definitely not just a temporary group.

"As expected..." he said softly, "They were after us from the very beginning."

The tall knight scrambled to his feet, grabbed his helmet, and haphazardly shoved it onto his head, a smug look of triumph spreading across his face. "Too late to realize your tricks now! I'd like to see what you lot can do..."

"Hey, you guys!"

Before the words were finished, a loud shout came from the end of the street.

Then came the sound of rapid, orderly footsteps—the sound of iron boots on stone slabs—and everyone looked in the direction of the sound.

A knight in standard half-armor, accompanied by five fully armed guards, was jogging towards them in formation.

The knight's breastplate was engraved with a golden griffin, its mane as golden as a burning flame.

"They're knights of the Golden-Maned Griffin..." someone whispered.

The ruler of this area is one of the oldest and most powerful families in the capital, who control the security and taxation of this district.

The patrolling knight rushed forward, his eyes quickly scanning the scene: there were obvious signs of a struggle on the ground, two groups of people were facing off, and their swords were already drawn.

He finally looked at the tall knight, his brow furrowing.

There was even a knight on one side... It wasn't that he was afraid of being defeated, but if the other side was of the same status as him, it would be difficult for him to deal with the situation.

"Dare to cause trouble on the Golden Mane Griffin family's territory..." His voice was icy, "You lot don't need your heads anymore, do you?"

The tall knight's expression changed, but he quickly straightened his chest: "I am a knight! You, a patrolling knight, dare to..."

Before he could finish speaking, Sir Leeson had already stepped forward.

"Hadro," he said with a slight bow, his tone calm, "long time no see."

Hadroth turned his head and looked at Risen, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Sir Leeson?" His tone softened, clearly recognizing the other person. "It's you."

He glanced at the rapier in Sir Eyesun's hand, then at the swordsmen opposite him, and finally at the tall knight, a hint of unease in his eyes.

The conflict between the two knights... makes this even more difficult to handle.

Sir Leeson noticed his hesitation and, without further ado, spoke directly.

"That man is a fake knight." His voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear. "The emblem on his breastplate has never appeared in the records of any family in the capital, and as for his swordsmanship..."

He glanced at the broad, heavy sword on the ground.

"It's a complete mess."

The tall knight's face turned bright red, and he opened his mouth to curse, but Hadro raised his hand to stop him.

The patrolling knight walked up to the tall knight and carefully examined the pattern on his breastplate. The pattern was intricate and did indeed look like the emblem of a certain family, but he couldn't recognize it.

He turned to Risen.

Sir John Lysson is said to be very famous in the area for his expertise in heraldry.

"Sir Leeson, are you sure you haven't seen him?"

"Sure."

Hadrod was silent for a moment.

Then he turned around and waved to the guards behind him.

"Arrest him and take him away."

"Wait!" the tall knight shouted, "I am a knight! You cannot..."

"Shut up," Hadro interrupted coldly. "Whether he's a knight or not, we'll find out when we get back. Take him away."

The knights and squires exchanged glances, seemingly prepared, and almost simultaneously lowered their weapons and raised their hands.

"Sir, we are only following orders." One of the squires bowed his head and said earnestly, "We didn't know he was a fake knight; we were just hired."

"That's right, we were forced," another quickly chimed in. "We didn't do anything; we just stood by the side the whole time. Adults, please see this clearly."

Hadroye glanced at Risen.

He understood that Sir Leeson certainly wanted to arrest these men as well, but he also understood that these "servants" hadn't actually done anything from beginning to end, and there wasn't enough reason to arrest them.

However, he didn't want to miss this good opportunity to do someone a favor, as Sir Leeson was known for his wealth.

"Take them all away." He waved his hand. "Interrogate them first."

"We'll do as you say, Sir Knight." The attendants immediately sheathed their swords and obediently walked up to the guards, their obedience bordering on the subservient.

The tall knight was being held up by two guards, still struggling and shouting. The servants followed behind with their heads down, their steps in unison, offering no resistance whatsoever.

As Vance watched their retreating figures, his unease grew heavier.

"Mr. Gilbert."

Leeson's voice brought him back to reality. The jazz had already sheathed his sword and walked to his side, looking perfectly normal.

"Let's go, the tavern I mentioned is just ahead."

Hadlow then walked over, his face showing some politeness: "Sir Leeson, you have always been discreet in your actions. We can communicate more in the future to avoid misunderstandings."

Lison nodded without saying anything more and led Vance and the other two forward.

As I turned the corner, the figures of the servants had disappeared into the crowd. The street returned to its usual bustling state, as if the farce had never happened.

Vance finally couldn't help but speak up: "Sir Leeson, those servants just now..."

"I know," Sir Leeson interrupted him, without stopping. "They are far stronger than that fake knight, and besides, they didn't really make a move the whole time."

"We need to be more careful from now on."

……

Royal Capital, the Golden-Maned Griffin Family Residence.

Deep in the garden, sunlight filters through the neatly trimmed hedges, casting dappled shadows on the gravel path.

A young girl in a glossy black satin dress is standing in front of a cluster of white roses, bending slightly and gently touching the petals with her fingertips.

Her profile was soft, and her skin was so fair it was almost translucent.

Very beautiful.

But there was a distance in his expression that made people hesitant to approach him.

Footsteps came from behind her, but she didn't turn around, still focused on the rose bush.

A robust old man with a short white beard stopped five steps away and bowed slightly.

He was around fifty years old, with an upright posture. Even in his casual home clothes, it was clear that he must have been a martial artist in his youth.

"Miss," his voice was deep and respectful, "Sir Lisson and those men from the South encountered trouble on the road, but they have been dealt with by the patrolling knight Hadroh."

The girl's fingertips paused on the petal for a moment.

"I know."

Her voice was very soft, as if she were afraid of disturbing the flowers.

The old man didn't ask "How did you know?" and the young woman didn't explain.

"It's not just that 'fake knight' who's eyeing them." The girl said, finally straightening up and turning her head.

In the sunlight, her face was fully revealed, her features so exquisite they looked as if they had been painted, but her eyes were too calm to reveal any emotion.

She smiled slightly, a smile that was elegant and impeccable.

The old man's brows furrowed slightly. Even after following the young lady for so many years, he still couldn't understand the meaning behind that smile.

"They've escaped this hurdle, but they're not safe at all. They've probably taken the bait."

She turned around and continued walking forward, the hem of her long dress brushing against the gravel path, making a soft rustling sound.

The old man followed behind, always keeping a distance of three steps.

"So, Miss, what's next...?"

"No rush."

The girl didn't turn around. She stood in front of another clump of flowers, bent down and gently sniffed them, then closed her eyes, as if savoring something.

A moment later, she opened her eyes, but still did not turn around.

"It seems our savior of the South," she paused, "is in trouble, Count Vio."

Sunlight fell on her pale face, and that smile reappeared.

The old man stood silently behind him, asking no further questions. He simply bowed slightly and quietly withdrew from the garden.

The girl was left alone, standing in the blooming flowerbed, continuing to tend to the white roses.