HTLCCBFT Chapter 203

Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 203

Rayper had never suffered such a humiliating disgrace.

As the son of a sheriff—albeit a former one—he was actually arrested by a group of lowly guards of slave origin, treated with the rough attitude reserved for criminals, and paraded through the streets under the pointing fingers of onlookers, all the way to the prison like livestock!

What he didn’t know was that this wasn’t an official prison, but rather some relatively well-conditioned rooms specially arranged by sheriff Noel to temporarily detain suspects awaiting interrogation and investigation.

Furious, his eyes burning red, from the moment the hand tightly covering his mouth was released, a stream of foul language—so vile that even the lowliest slave under his command would feel ashamed—hardly ceased.

However, the one he cursed the most wasn’t the squad leader—perhaps realizing that the other wasn’t intimidated by his noble status, his rage naturally shifted to Fuyero, the despicable lackey who should have obeyed his commands but instead submitted to these slaves.

“What an energetic young master.”

Having made up their minds to act, the guards were no longer troubled and were actually in quite good spirits.

Having just completed their patrol duty, they were supposed to rest until dawn before switching shifts with another squad.

Yet, they all tacitly chose not to return to their dormitories to rest. Instead, they leisurely sat on a long wooden bench nearby, watching the estranged master and servant pair with the same curious eyes one would reserve for a troubadour’s performance.

“Are we just going to leave them like this?”

Someone felt slightly uneasy.

“There’s no other way. As temporary guards, we only have the authority to arrest suspects, not to conduct interrogations. That has to be done by a formal guard captain,” the squad leader replied matter-of-factly. “I assume none of you want to deal with that… snarling creature.”

Without knowing whether this noble son, who had long wantonly bullied girls from the slums, would receive due punishment, it was only reasonable and lawful to let him endure the discomfort of the temporary cell for as long as possible.

The others exchanged knowing smiles.

But soon, one of them stopped smiling.

“Wait,” he suddenly reminded, his face turning pale. “If I’m not mistaken, Sir Loyel and the others returned at dusk, right? Tomorrow’s training should be…” led by Sir Loyel or the knights under his direct command!

At these words, the temporary guards, who had been smiling just moments before, all lost the color in their faces.

Compared to the more approachable Knight Captain and sheriff Noel and the other knights, who occasionally joked with them, the one they feared the most was undoubtedly Sir Loyel!

The vice-captain, whom the temporary guards dreaded, was still in the conference hall at that moment.

After listening to the vice-captain’s general account, Oliver fell into thought, his long, fair index finger unconsciously tapping lightly on the table.

After a long while, he finally spoke with a sigh, “I thought Welph was shrewd and calm, but it turns out he was busy scheming behind the scenes.”

The Knight Order, which had spent over half a month completely clearing out the bandit group ravaging the trade route, brought back not only a satisfactory answer, but also brilliantly completed an additional task that Oliver hadn’t anticipated.

Some were indeed long-active bandits in that area, but others were actually soldiers from Riche city in disguise.

While pretending not to obstruct merchants heading to Gregor city, they secretly dispatched soldiers disguised as bandits to plunder merchant caravans – even eliminating them completely to prevent information leaks. How could poor merchants possibly escape this double-layered trap?

No wonder only a handful of lucky ones ever reached Gregor.

Those survivors, upon learning about the safety and convenience of trade between the three cities, were determined to shift their business focus.

Truly a despicable and dirty, crude and shadowy, yet in some ways highly effective method of economic sanctions.

“I’m rather curious,” Oliver couldn’t help but look at Fosse, genuinely puzzled: “Does Welph believe he’s covered his tracks so perfectly that I could never discover it, or does he genuinely think that even if I found out, I wouldn’t do anything to him? After all, I just killed a Count.”

Fosse bowed slightly: “According to previous intelligence, young McKenna holds a strong desire for revenge and has repeatedly requested Welph to send troops to Gregor. However, Welph neither wants to appear as someone who coldly ignores his poor relative’s pleas, nor does he hypocritically wish to completely offend Your Grace, hence he adopted this roundabout method of retaliation.”

As for what Welph truly thinks, and what role the royal capital plays in this, remains unknown.

Oliver nodded, then turned his gaze to Loyel.

Meeting his young master’s gaze, Loyel immediately understood and softly offered his answer: “Welph’s thoughts are not important, Your Grace. Only your wishes are of paramount importance.”

Fosse also spoke, echoing Loyel’s words: “Daring to deceive the noble Duke and harm Your Grace’s interests, Welph must pay a heavy price for his foolish audacity.”

“There will inevitably be a battle between Welph and me,” Oliver said calmly: “But not now. At the earliest, it will be next autumn, when the first and second batches of slave soldiers are trained. I must admit, he found a rather good timing – at least he clearly understands I won’t choose to go to war with him now.”

“As for the trade routes, we certainly can’t just let them cause trouble unchecked.”

Economy and transportation are this city’s lifelines – even partial losses are unacceptable, and he cannot retreat.

After brief contemplation, Oliver made his decision: “Wasn’t it agreed that I would be the one to demolish the old stone wall? This way we can free up a group of personnel. Just like when Laina dealt with Gregor, we’ll only build half the road, deploy patrols, but we must establish guard posts – build them large and well. Once war breaks out, they’ll become optimal resource supply points. Also, promote this among merchants, letting them know that once they enter the section under Gregor’s jurisdiction, they’ll receive protection from patrol soldiers.”

“If Welph dares to openly obstruct my protection of northern merchants coming to trade in Gregor,” Oliver smiled lightly.Dan wrote: “Then I have no choice but to disrupt the plan and pray for the glory of god to descend upon me, offering protection… so that I may possess sufficient energy to engage them in battle immediately.”

Upon hearing this, Fosse and Loyel exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with intense fighting spirit.

“For now, Loyel, your return is most timely.”

Oliver smiled as he looked at the slightly stunned Loyel. “I suspect you’ve already noticed some of the changes I’ve made to this city. I originally expected opposition to emerge sooner, but they’ve proven more patient than I anticipated. However, beneath calm waters often run dangerous undercurrents, and I don’t want to give them the advantage of surprise. Fosse needs to handle other matters for me, and the most suitable candidate I can think of—the most meticulous yet loyal and reliable person—is you.”

“Your Highness.”

Loyel’s eyes shone brightly as he knelt on one knee after a moment of disbelief. “Your command.”

“I need you to dispatch suitable personnel to investigate whether there are any conspiracies underway in the city—whether specifically targeting me or not. But do not abruptly interrupt them. Focus particularly on those physicians who have visited the castle and haven’t left Gregor city since, as well as those stewards and minor nobles who failed the review and lost their positions.” Oliver spoke gently. “Report all findings to me immediately. Can you do this?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Loyel bowed deeply, gently kissing the edge of the hanging white robe as he devoutly pledged: “Your faithful servant will spare no effort and will not disappoint you.”

The next morning dawned bright and sunny.

For most residents of Gregor city, this was undoubtedly a hopeful, brand new day.

But for Rayper, locked in the temporary cell with a voice hoarse from shouting all night, it was nothing short of a nightmare morning.

He had initially believed his father would quickly notice his disappearance and send rescue, so he had expended what could be called abundant energy continuously cursing the damned followers or threatening and shouting at the slave guards.

But when his throat became parched from shouting and no rescue came, he finally began to feel afraid.

…Had father abandoned him?

Never having been in such a desperate situation before, he actually entertained this absurd thought for a moment.

No, impossible.

Father only had him as his son!

The guards who had captured him had long grown tired of his futile rage. After taking a short rest, they had gone out for their new patrol duties in the morning.

Fuyero, though not bound by ropes, wasn’t permitted to leave the room either. Throughout, he showed no expression and paid no attention to Rayper.

Just as Rayper was nearly exhausted enough to fall asleep, the long-closed door suddenly opened.

He snapped his eyes open, though his sluggish mind took a while to process what was happening.

He eagerly sat up and looked toward the door, thinking it must be—

“Rayper Klimb[mfn]瑞普尔·克莱姆(Ruì pǔ’ěr·kè lái mǔ)[/mfn].”

A man of such towering stature that it made him gasp, with undeniably handsome features that seemed covered by a light snow—devoid of any emotion—was reciting his name in a flat, slightly husky voice.

Those utterly placid eyes swept over him with equal tranquility.

“……That’s me.”

Struggling to sit up, he thought to himself, this must be a high-ranking knight.

Under normal circumstances, driven by his innate tendency to bully the weak and fear the strong, he would have been more polite and respectful.

But having been roughly captured by a group of crude and lowly slaves, treated like a fool all night, and unprecedentedly starving for an entire night, he was now dizzy and even experiencing physiological nausea.

He momentarily lost the rationality he should have maintained under normal conditions and angrily shouted at the knight, “Since you are also a knight and have spoken my surname, you should know very well who my father is!”

The other slightly lowered his eyelids and replied succinctly, “Gad Klimb.”

After answering Rayper’s question, he merely ordered someone to unlock the prison door and gestured for Rayper to come out.

Unaware that the witnesses had already gathered in the adjacent room and that he was about to enter the investigation and trial process, Rayper, fully convinced he was about to be released, instantly regained his arrogance.

He sneered, his slightly narrowed eyes gleaming with cruelty as he maliciously stared at the guard who was holding the knot restraining his hands, seemingly about to untie it: “Do you think doing this can completely erase the insults and offenses you inflicted on me last night? It’s too late! Those lowly slaves, and that foolish master who indulged them—”

In truth, even if Rayper had ten times the courage, he would never dare to insult a duke—especially the lord of the very land he was standing on.

The “master” he referred to in his words was actually the squad leader who had ordered his subordinates to capture him and lock him up in this wretched place.

But no one was interested in hearing his excuse-like explanation.

Almost the moment he uttered the words “foolish master,” the guard holding the knot and the expressionless high-ranking knight both had a shift in their eyes.

“Release him.”

Loyel suddenly spoke.

“Yes.”

The guard stepped aside without hesitation.

Before the stunned Rayper could speak again, a long and powerfully built leg, clad in lightweight greaves, swiftly and fiercely shot toward his face in the blink of an eye.

“Ahhh!!!”

Never in his wildest dreams did he expect this noble and dignified knight to kick him over without batting an eye and promptly press the sole of his boot against his face.

His mouth, unable to close in time, was brutally crushed with a force laden with violence. Rayper, as if clearly hearing the sound of his front teeth breaking, widened his eyes and could no longer endure the terrifying pain, letting out a wretched scream!

He—he was actually being trampled on the ground mercilessly by this detestable knight as if he were filth!

“This is just a warning.”

For Loyel, however, this was merely a measured response.

He calmly withdrew the boot that had just been pressed against the other’s face, leaving Rayper trembling on the ground, wailing in agony as he spat out several knocked-out teeth and mouthfuls of blood.

He paid no attention to Fuyero’s horrified gaze beside him.

His tone remained even, yet his eyes brimmed with killing intent: “Son of a knight. If words insulting His Noble Highness ever escape your mouth again…. I, Loyel, hereby swear upon my honor as a knight that before this day ends, I will make you witness your father’s blood spilled three feet high and his head rolling on the ground.

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