Lord: I can see loyalty.

In the southern region, at the city of Portol.

The late autumn sun lazily shone on the streets of Bordeaux, turning the cobblestone streets into a warm gold.

Shops lined both sides of the street, their shelves overflowing with a dazzling array of goods, from magical mineral handicrafts from the South to seafood from the West, from furs imported from the North to medicinal herbs from the East—everything imaginable was available.

The shouts of vendors rose and fell, mingled with the laughter of children and the rumble of horse-drawn carriages, creating a lively symphony of the marketplace.

Vio's captain of the guard, Vincent, leaned against a pillar in a tavern on a street corner, a glass of ale in his hand, his gaze lazily sweeping over the bustling crowd.

He was dressed in casual clothes, his dark gray coat without any badges, and an inconspicuous longsword hanging at his waist, but his sharp eyes and straight back still gave away his identity as a knight.

Having served as the captain of the personal guard for so long, some things have become ingrained in his bones and cannot be hidden by changing clothes.

"Captain, over here!"

Russell Burke, Vincent's former subordinate and now captain of the Knights, poked his head out of the tavern and waved to him.

Even though Russell is now the captain of the Knights, he still habitually calls Vincent "captain".

Vincent looked away, picked up his wine glass, and went inside.

The tavern was bustling with noise, and several long tables were filled with customers, including local merchants, travelers from out of town, and a few mercenaries in leather armor, who were loudly boasting about their experiences in the North.

Russell sat at a table in the corner, with several plates of snacks and a freshly opened bottle of wine in front of him. When he saw Vincent come over, he quickly poured him a glass.

"It's a rare vacation, so don't put on a long face," Russell said with a smile, his young face full of energy.

He is one of the youngest knight captains in the Azure Peak Knights. At only twenty-something years old, he has already broken through the threshold of the advanced level of Serpent Eagle Swordsmanship.

You should know that not long ago he was just an ordinary knight, sweating profusely on the training field, and even dreaming about how to break through.

Now that his dream has come true, he feels like he's been reborn, and he walks with a confident stride.

Vincent sat down opposite him, picked up his glass, took a sip, and glanced around the tavern before relaxing a little.

"How's the Knights' training going lately?"

"It's great." Russell's eyes lit up, and he began to talk non-stop. "Chief Jimmy has recently been promoting a new training method, specifically for intermediate to advanced breakthroughs in knightly swordsmanship."

"Let me tell you, that method really works. I practiced for less than a month, and I felt my sword speed improve significantly..."

Vincent listened, a slight smile playing on his lips. He was a few years older than Russell, and Russell had been one of his soldiers back in the militia.

Back then, this kid had a strong competitive spirit. If others practiced for one hour, he would practice for two hours. While others rested, he would still be practicing his sword on the training ground.

Seeing him grow to this point now fills Vincent with indescribable joy.

"And you, Captain?" Russell changed the subject, "How's the SS?"

"The usual." Vincent put down his wine glass. "The Earl has been busy with his breakthrough lately, so we're mainly responsible for guarding and patrolling. Nothing major has happened, but we can't let our guard down."

As they chatted, the topic gradually shifted from training and missions to the changes in the southern border.

Russell looked out the window at the bustling street and couldn't help but sigh:

"I remember when I first joined the militia, Podol was just a dilapidated village with dirt roads and thatched huts everywhere, and not a single decent shop. In just a few years, it has become like this."

Vincent followed his gaze.

Outside the window, rows of newly built brick and stone buildings stand neatly, the streets are wide and flat, and trees are planted on both sides.

In the distance, the dock area is filled with masts, merchant ships come and go in a constant stream, and the shouts of loading and unloading cargo can be heard several streets away.

Further away, the sea shimmered, and several warships from the southern border patrolled, their white sails standing out brightly in the sunlight.

"The Earl said," Vincent's voice was soft, "that the Southern Territory has no shortage of land or resources, but it lacks only a stable environment. As long as no one causes trouble, the Southern Territory can develop on its own."

"But now someone's trying to cause trouble." Russell's tone turned serious. "The North..."

"Shh." Vincent raised his hand to interrupt him, his gaze sweeping around the room.

The tavern was still noisy, and no one paid attention to what they were saying. He lowered his voice and said, "Don't talk about these things in public."

Russell nodded and said nothing more.

The two were silent for a moment, then each picked up their wine glasses and slowly drank.

Just then, a commotion broke out outside the tavern.

"Get out of the way! Everyone get out of the way!"

"You dare hit me? Do you know who I am?!"

"I don't care who you are! If you're blocking my way, you deserve to be beaten!"

Vincent frowned.

He put down his wine glass, stood up, walked to the window and looked out. On the street, a group of people had formed a circle, and two people were wrestling in the center of the circle.

A fat man in a silk robe covered his nose, which was bleeding profusely, and pointed at a tall, thin man across from him, cursing loudly.

The tall, thin man wore a worn-out leather armor, a short sword hanging at his waist, and a disdainful sneer on his face.

"The Earl of the South? Who do you think you are! When I was in the North, even the Earl..." The tall, thin man stopped mid-sentence, realizing he had let something slip.

But Vincent had already heard it.

He narrowed his eyes slightly and winked at Russell. Russell understood and put down his glass. The two of them walked out of the tavern one after the other.

"Make way, make way." Vincent squeezed through the crowd, walked up to the two men, and looked at the tall, thin one.

He wore worn leather armor, a short sword hung at his waist, and his face was unfamiliar; his accent didn't sound like that of a native of the Southern Territory. "What's going on?"

The fat man, covering his nose, spoke first: "Sir, you must do me justice! This man bumped into me and wouldn't apologize, he even hit me!"

"Nonsense!" The tall, thin man glared at the fat man, then turned to Vincent, his gaze sweeping over him as if assessing his identity. "Who are you? What right do you have to meddle?"

Vincent didn't answer, he just looked at him quietly.

Those eyes were calm as still water, yet they made the tall, thin man involuntarily take a half step back. Russell, who was beside him, had already quietly circled around behind the tall, thin man, blocking his escape route.

"I'm asking you," Vincent began, his voice low but each word clear, "you just said that when you were in the North, even the Earl..."

The tall, thin man's expression changed. His eyes darted around, and he forced a smile: "Sir, you must have misheard me. I didn't say anything about the Northern Border..."

"Is that so?" Vincent took a step forward, and an invisible sense of oppression enveloped the tall, thin man.

The tall, thin man's face turned completely pale.

He realized that the person in front of him was not an ordinary guard, but a true strongman. He gritted his teeth, turned around abruptly, and tried to run away, only to find that Russell had already blocked his way behind him.

"Didn't do anything? So where do you want to go?" Russell drew his longsword, the blade gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

The tall, thin man's legs buckled, and he collapsed to his knees with a thud.

……

Fifteen minutes later, in the back alley of the tavern.

The tall, thin man was tied to a wooden post, his face covered in bruises, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Vincent stood before him, toying with a short sword in his hand—the weapon of the tall, thin man, the blade bearing the mark of a weapon workshop in the North.

"Speak," Vincent said calmly, "Who sent you?"

The tall, thin man kept his head down and didn't speak.

Russell stepped forward and punched him in the stomach. The tall, thin man grunted and arched his back, but still gritted his teeth and didn't say a word.

"Still being stubborn." Russell rubbed his fist, about to hit again, but Vincent raised his hand to stop him.

"What's your name?" Vincent asked.

"..." The tall, thin man was silent for a moment before finally speaking, "...Griff."

"Griff, who sent you?"

"Nobody sent me..." Griff's voice was soft. "I just came to the Southern Reach looking for work..."

"Looking for work?" Vincent sneered. "Would someone looking for work talk about 'the Earl of the North' on the street? There are plenty of earls in the North, which one are you talking about?"

Griff's expression changed; he opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say.

Vincent crouched down to look him in the eye.

"Listen carefully, I have a short patience. If you don't tell the truth, I'll hand you over to Lord Valentine."

"Lord Valentine, as our magician, is currently researching a new potion and is worried about not having any test subjects..."

Griff's face turned completely pale.

He had certainly heard of Valentine, the sorcerer from the South who was said to have invented many strange and wonderful things, and falling into his hands was worse than death.

"I'll talk...I'll talk!" Griff's voice trembled. "It was...it was the Golden Saddle Horse family who sent me!"

Vincent's eyes narrowed slightly. "Golden Saddle Horse? What are you here for?"

"Gathering intelligence..." Griff swallowed hard. "They sent us into the southern border to gather information on the Earl's troop deployments, food reserves, and... the Knights' training. It wasn't just me; several others infiltrated as well."

Vincent and Russell exchanged a glance, both seeing seriousness in each other's eyes.

"How many people are there?" Russell asked. "What are their names? Where are they?"

Griff gave out several names and addresses, all inns and rental houses in Portor. Vincent wrote them down, then stood up and looked at Russell.

"Go and inform Chief Jimmy to send men to arrest them. I will go back and report to the Earl."

"Understood!" Russell turned and ran, quickly disappearing into the alleyway.

Vincent glanced down at Griff, who was sprawled on the ground, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"So the Golden Saddle Horse family made the first move..." he murmured. "They couldn't sit still anymore?"

He turned around and strode toward the Earl's Castle. Behind him, Griff was slumped on the ground, trembling and ashen-faced.

In the distance, the streets of Portol were still bustling with activity, the shouts of vendors, the laughter of children, and the rumble of horse-drawn carriages blending together as if nothing had happened.