Rose Empire

Chapter 20: Blood Feast (Part 2)

The thick scent of blood filled the entire hall, mingling with the aroma of spices and the smell of cooked meat, creating a nauseatingly complex odor.

The delicacies that the guests had eagerly anticipated in the afternoon, the most popular dishes at noble banquets, were now laid out before them, yet no one reached for their knives and forks.

Some of the slaughtered were their companions, some their friends, and some even their relatives. Just moments ago, they had been laughing and chatting together, mocking the poverty of the northern knights or the corruption of the southern knights, looking forward to the upcoming feast, and admiring the beauty of the new viscountess.

Now, their heads rolled at the foot of the table, their headless bodies sprawled haphazardly in the aisles between the dining tables. Their blood was splattered on the walls, the floor, the tablecloths, even on the luxurious attire of the southern knights and the armor of the northern knights.

Celine Adkins sat with her hands clenched into fists on her lap, her face pale.

Ed Adkins thought he could understand his daughter's feelings. To Celine's right, the young man who had just stood up was a neighbor from the same knight's territory as the Adkins family. The young man's grandfather had once been a one-winged swordsman, a glorious knight, but the younger generations of the family had not lived up to expectations. Neither his son, grandson, nor great-grandson had successfully awakened to become a transcendent. Thus, the young man's father had been forced to impersonate a transcendent and illegally inherit the knight's title.

Earlier, when the new viscountess's knight attendants had come to invite the vassals to the banquet, the young man's father had hesitated about whether to attend. Adkins had also advised them not to go, suggesting they pretend they didn't hold the knight's title. If the new viscountess investigated, they could return the sword and armor symbolizing the knight's title to her. After all, according to custom, if a knight had no transcendent descendants to inherit the title, the lord would only reclaim the title, not the land or manor, to ensure the livelihood of the loyal vassal's descendants.

However, after much deliberation, the young man's father had sent his youngest son to the banquet, while he himself feigned illness and stayed home.

Not only the Adkins' neighbor but all the "false knight" families from both the north and south had made the same choice.

Undoubtedly, Viscount Basilick Mellerfield had left a particularly "favorable" impression on these knights.

The viscount was a fool—stupid, lazy, and fond of comfort, often neglecting his duties. This belief had been deeply ingrained in their minds for decades.

Thus, they had developed a strong sense of complacency, convinced that they could easily get away with it this time as well.

Now, the corpses littering the floor were their fate.

No, this couldn't even be called their fate yet.

According to imperial law, commoners impersonating knights was an unforgivable crime. The offenders and their accomplices would be hanged, and their families would be enslaved. The new viscountess had already bared her fangs, and it was likely that these "false knight" families would soon be uprooted one by one.

Just moments ago, the neighbor's youngest son had cried and begged for mercy, even grabbing Celine's armor and pleading with the Adkins father and daughter to save him. Yet, he had been dragged from the table by the new viscountess's knights and slain with two strokes of a sword.

The first stroke, due to the young man's struggling and dodging, had only sheared off half his skull and half his face.

The second stroke had severed his neck.

Such a gruesome death occurring right beside them—Ed Adkins thought it was only natural for his daughter to be struggling to come to terms with it. Even the priest at the next table looked paler than Celine.

The most tragic and innocent person present was probably Chief Priest Fado. For a moment, he had thought Charlotte was truly going to kill everyone present who wasn't a knight but had taken a seat, nearly giving him a heart attack. Only later did he realize that Charlotte was merely purging the "false knights." However, even after understanding the situation, Fado couldn't feel any relief. He was seated in the corner of the northern knights' section—his relationship with the northern knights was merely cold, while with the southern knights, it was fraught with conflict—and yet, the two people sitting on either side of him had both been "false knights"! Now, their corpses lay at Fado's feet, one on each side.

It was truly a case of being caught in the crossfire!

All he had wanted was to enjoy a free meal!

Now, Fado only felt like vomiting, with no appetite left whatsoever.

The only person in the room still leisurely savoring her wine was Charlotte. She had even called for musicians to play the lyre to liven up the banquet.

The musician was an old woman, originally a worthless old slave in a slave trader's house, tasked with teaching young female slaves how to play the lyre. She had no surname or given name, and both the slave owner and the slaves simply called her "Lyre Granny." After hearing her play the lyre once by chance, Charlotte had been genuinely impressed by her skill and had bought her.

The drifting notes of the lyre made the already silent hall even quieter. The prolonged silence weighed heavily on everyone's hearts, making them afraid to move, to speak, even to breathe too loudly.

The more cautious they were, the longer time seemed to stretch. After what felt like an eternity, the old and ugly musician finally finished her damned song.

The satisfied viscountess put down her wine glass. "Let's discuss some trivial matters while we dine."

Whoosh...

As soon as the viscountess spoke, the guests almost collectively exhaled. Dining was one thing, but the prolonged silence had been unbearable, as if Charlotte had deliberately left them all that time to savor the scent of their companions' blood.

"This afternoon, while strolling near the castle with my maid, I came across a patch of abandoned farmland behind the small grove to the southeast. According to the nearby farmers, that land hasn't been cultivated for at least two or three years. I'm curious, who does that land belong to?" The viscountess's question hung in the air as she scanned the room, but no one stepped forward to answer.

"Huh?" The viscountess blinked, then smiled. "Is it truly an unclaimed piece of land? But the nearby villagers said it belongs to a knight. Should I bring those villagers here to ask them in person?"

After a while,

Clang! The sound of cutlery and dishes colliding rang out. From the southern knights' section, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, a protruding belly, dressed in formal attire and wearing a gemstone ring—looking more like a merchant than a knight—stood up.

"R-reporting to the viscountess, that is my family's land. Oh, no, no... that is the viscountess's land!" the man stammered.

"What do you mean? Whose land is it?" Charlotte asked, confused.

"It is Viscount Basilick's land!" the man quickly explained. "It's just that Viscount Basilick had been away from the territory for a long time, so my family borrowed the land to cultivate for a few years... Now that you have arrived, my family naturally must return the land to you. It is now your land."

"Oh?" Charlotte's lips curled into a smile, finding this somewhat interesting.

Though the man had spoken euphemistically, Charlotte quickly grasped the underlying meaning. The talk of borrowing and returning was nonsense. In truth, this knight had seized Basilick's land, even daring to encroach on territory near the castle. Whether Basilick had been unaware or simply incapable of dealing with it, he had never addressed the issue.

"So, it was I who hadn't been cultivating the land," Charlotte said with a laugh, causing beads of sweat to form on the man's forehead.

"However, I've also heard that many surrounding fields have been abandoned. Why is that?" Charlotte asked again.

"Well... the viscountess may not be aware," the man replied, forcing himself to continue, "the land in the southern part of the viscount's territory isn't suitable for cultivation. Strong winds often blow when the millet and wheat are heading, and the southernmost fields are saline-alkali soil, making it even harder to grow crops."

The man's mention of "saline-alkali soil" referred to land with high salt content. His words weren't entirely false. In this world, there was no wheat resistant to lodging, and farmers lacked effective methods to improve saline-alkali soil. Thus, the agricultural conditions in the southern part of the viscount's territory were indeed far worse than in the north, closer to the Kanpei Mountains.

"I see. The southern land isn't good for growing crops—that's a significant problem," Charlotte said, as if she truly believed the man's lies. She tapped the table with her fingers, frowning in thought.

After a moment, Charlotte turned to Rainey and said, "Bring the map."

Rainey nodded and left, soon returning with a large map that she hung on the wall.

The map depicted the entire territory of Lanwan Viscounty, including the topography and the locations of the twenty-five knight's territories. This map was likely the only valuable item Basilick had left to Charlotte, though it wasn't even his creation. When Rainey had found it among his belongings, it was already yellowed and brittle, suggesting it had been drawn during the time of Basilick's father's rule. The original map was too fragile to use, so the one now hanging on the wall was a copy made by craftsmen under Charlotte's orders.

"My apologies, I forgot to ask earlier—how should I address you, Sir Knight?" Charlotte took the charcoal pencil Rainey handed her and asked the balding middle-aged man.

"I am Paul Martins. You may call me Paul, Viscountess," the man hurriedly replied.

"Sir Martins..." Charlotte scanned the map and quickly found the location. "Your fief is in this knight's territory, correct?"

"Yes," Paul Martins answered nervously.

Both Eric Scamario and Costa Scamario, brothers, also stared anxiously at the spot Charlotte's charcoal pencil pointed to on the map, as their fiefs were also part of that knight's territory. In fact, Paul Martins and the Scamario brothers were not only neighbors but also cousins.

Then, Charlotte's next action caused Paul Martins and the Scamario brothers to widen their eyes in shock—she drew a large "X" over the southern knight's territory.

"How about you relocate your knight's territory here?" Charlotte then drew a circle around an empty area in the northern part of the viscount's territory—at least, it was supposed to be empty according to the law. In reality, the land there had likely already been seized by the northern knights, but Charlotte didn't care. Any seized land would have to be returned to her.

"This area is far from the sea, with flat land and a water source. It should be excellent for farming," Charlotte said, quite pleased with her decision.

"No, you can't..." Paul Martins's voice trembled. "I have been loyal to the viscount. Please do not strip me of my fief."

"I'm not stripping you of your fief. I'm merely relocating your knight's territory," Charlotte replied.

"You can't! You can't relocate the knight's territory!" Paul Martins suddenly fell to his knees.

"Why can't I, as the lord, relocate the knight's territory? Moreover, I've found you more fertile land."

Charlotte's tone was one of genuine confusion, but everyone present knew the issue wasn't about the fertility of the land.

That knight's territory was located at a crucial point along the southern trade route. Whether it was caravans traveling from the Sokya Peninsula to the Quirk Forest or those returning from the Quirk Forest to the Sokya Peninsula, eighty percent would pass through that knight's territory. As a result, Paul Martins and the Scamario brothers had amassed considerable wealth over the years, becoming among the wealthiest of the southern knights. Paul Martins had even invested most of his savings into forming his own caravan.

"You can't treat your knights this way! Doing so will only disillusion all your loyal followers... Viscountess..." Paul Martins began to wail.

"Loyalty? Viscount Basilick was still calling out your names on his deathbed, Sir Paul Martins," Charlotte said.

Paul Martins's wailing was abruptly cut off by these words. He looked up to see the mocking smile on Charlotte's face.

Paul Martins didn't know that Charlotte had never visited Basilick on his deathbed. He assumed that Basilick Mellerfield must have despised the southern knights, perhaps even harbored hatred toward them, and thus took Charlotte's words at face value.

"Revenge, this is revenge, yes..." Paul Martins muttered to himself.

The Mellerfield family must have been furious about Basilick's treatment. Charlotte's arrival surely carried a mission—to seek revenge and cleanse the humiliation the southern knights had brought upon the Mellerfield family!

Paul Martins felt he had uncovered the truth.

This was a common misconception among those unfamiliar with the inner workings of great noble families. In reality, families like the Mellerfields were nothing like ordinary households. The mistreatment of a marginal figure like Basilick would hardly be seen as a disgrace by the family head, Jose Mellerfield. No, he would likely view it as a joke.

Charlotte couldn't make out what Paul Martins was muttering, but she noticed his hands trembling and his eyes gradually turning red.

"The Mellerfields are all robbers, bandits, despicable bastards... You won't take my money!"

Paul Martins suddenly lunged forward with a speed belying his portly frame, his face twisted like a demon's, arms outstretched as if to strangle Charlotte.

Charlotte remained unmoved, but a burly figure behind her immediately stepped forward to intercept Paul Martins.

Thud!

Reynard Nazar swung his sword horizontally, sending Paul Martins flying. He crashed into the table where Eric and Costa Scamario were seated, toppling the dishes and drinks.

Charlotte paid no heed to the insults; to her, they were as insignificant as the wind. But Reynard Nazar took them seriously. He prided himself on having some Mellerfield blood, and for Paul Martins to insult the Mellerfield name was nothing short of suicidal!

"Uncle Paul!" Costa tried to stop Reynard as he advanced, but his brother Eric held him back.

"Guh..."

Paul Martins sat on the ground, leaning against the overturned round table, blood continuously bubbling from his mouth. It seemed the powerful sword strike had injured his internal organs. Yet, he still managed to grope for a dinner knife on the floor, slowly raising it and pointing it at Charlotte before hurling it with a bent right arm.

The throwing motion was slow and awkward, but the knife inexplicably flew faster and faster.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow in surprise. Though it was also a thrown dinner knife, this was quite different from Rainey's method of relying solely on hand speed. It seemed to be some kind of transcendent ability.

Was Paul Martins not trained in the most common "generic swordsmanship" of the Orlan Empire?

Seeing that Charlotte didn't dodge or evade, Paul Martins felt a glimmer of hope.

However, the next moment, that hope was ruthlessly crushed.

A gray light appeared out of thin air, effortlessly blocking the already weak throw.

The iron wall dissipated.

The sword swung down.

Reynard mercilessly severed Paul Martins's raised right arm.

Blood splattered.

Then, the left arm.

"Ahhh..."

Paul Martins writhed in agony on the ground.

Finally, the head.

The head rolled to the feet of Costa and Eric Scamario, its lifeless eyes staring at Costa, causing the young man to tremble uncontrollably.

Eric was momentarily stunned. Though Reynard had done the killing, Charlotte had had ample time to stop him. Yet, the viscountess had remained silent, clearly allowing Reynard to kill.

How could she dare to do this!

Eric couldn't understand. How could the viscountess employ such brutal methods without fearing the wrath of all the knights of Lanwan?

"Tsk, are there really people who value money over their lives?"

At that moment, Eric heard a mocking remark, spoken softly but clearly, coming from the northern knights' section.

Eric shuddered, suddenly realizing the truth.

Indeed, the viscountess had no reason to fear.

Why worry about something that didn't exist?

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