"Mr. Seber, look at that." A mercenary leader nearby took off his brass telescope and looked at the spire, then quickly handed it to the noble lord beside him.
Lord Jin Guo sat steadily on his horse—an Eruein Anlek horse of excellent lineage, used by Eruein’s cavalry in battles once, though later replaced by Flying Dragons, nobles still rode horses to display their status—he took the telescope and glanced through it, then calmly handed it to his companion: the chubby industrialist, Burnley.
Lord Jin Guo wasn’t particularly nervous. Even if Count Dune died in their territory, it would merely tarnish their reputation; local nobles like them paid less attention to such matters and more to tangible benefits. Should Your Majesty assign blame, Luc Besson, the old scoundrel, would bear it, not the local gentry.
To be honest, he even hoped something would happen to Count Dune; but he dared not make it too obvious, he merely misjudged the situation deliberately, waited until his private soldiers assembled, and then launched an assault on the castle.
Yet he was determined to capture the person. Having them would give him an advantage; if the White Mane Legion captured them, the blame for falsifying military documents would fall on him.
Burnley smiled as he took the telescope and looked through it, then said, "There’s someone on the spire top."
"Makalu, bring me the archers. They must at least be of the upper stage White Rank, don’t bother with those not up to standard, the opponent is a Black Iron Swordsman." Lord Jin Guo pointed upwards, then turned to the mercenary leader and commanded.
"No problem, my lord, you just watch. Whether he’s a Black Iron Swordsman or a Highland Knight, I’ll turn him into a pincushion." The mercenary leader responded obediently and turned his horse to leave.
The noble private soldiers split into two columns behind, holding torches while the captain trotted towards them. Not far away, knights were noisily racing their horses on the riverbank, firelight causing havoc and chaos.
Lord Jin Guo furrowed his brows: "Such coarse fellows."
"They appear there, does that mean Count Dune has already—" Burnley smiled and made a gesture slashing across his neck.
"Hmph, just an offspring of the Lulesburman family. He won the king’s favor with mere flattery, thinking himself an important minister by the royal side, he treated the entire World with contempt. When favored, he was arrogant, but later he disgusted everyone. Dying a grisly death on the streets was only natural." Lord Jin Guo snorted from his nose.
"This witty person is actually a renowned naturalist and connoisseur in the court; Your Majesty values him for these traits." Burnley pointed out, intentionally or not correcting his companion’s flaws.
"A fool, that’s all."
During their conversation, a knight arrived hastily. His horse, panting heavily, halted before them, reporting: "My lord, the White-maned Corps has arrived."
"Oh? How many men?" Lord Jin Guo asked.
"Over twenty, they appear to be the vanguard."
"Block them outside." He pointed with his whip, commanding.
The knight had barely left when another arrived, reporting: "My lord, the archers are in position."
Lord Jin Guo nodded: "That’s sufficient, have Glanson press the attack on the castle. I suspected they had flying abilities, now it seems very likely, but this time I’ll make sure they can’t escape."
"Those are Highland Knights, how do you intend to deal with them?" Burnley inquired.
"Originally a tricky matter, but since he brazenly killed that fool, even if he’s a descendant of Highland Knights or an active White Knight member, no one can save them."
Lord Jin Guo looked up, seeing a dark figure landing on the spire top, carrying two men flying towards them. He urgently tightened his horse’s reins and looked back, just in time to see his archers drawing their longbows, with a sharp whistle signaling a barrage of arrows—
"Wow wow, my lord! They have archers!" Char struggled clumsily in the Stone Statue Ghost’s claws, screaming in fear.
"Nonsense, I saw them too!" Brand retorted bluntly. He reversed his sword, slicing an arrow into two, but the force almost numbed his hand—his heart sank, the opponents were at least Black Iron Level shooters—as the two of them were hooked by the Stone Statue Ghost’s claws and arrows flew from below, hitting the wings with loud thuds, although they weren’t injured yet, any closer and Brand felt he couldn’t manage.