59 Take a Step Back... The More You Think About It, the Angrier You Get

At first, the assassins hadn’t realized they had become the hunted. When they saw Derek charging forward, the leader even revealed a cruel smile. Many nobles had fallen to assassination attempts. While such methods might lack honor, they were highly effective. For the assassin leader, solving problems physically left no need for the concept of "honor."

However, the smile faded quickly as he witnessed Derek’s brutally efficient and artful killing techniques. Even the carefully chosen swordsmen could not last a single strike against him. More terrifying still, Derek's followers were like raging bulls, effortlessly overpowering the assassins' ranks. The archers on the rooftops, having abandoned their bows to join the melee, could only watch as the front line crumbled.

The assassin leader tried to salvage the situation but was swiftly overpowered by Derek's elite retainers, whose strength was augmented by the half-plate armor they wore. The difference between armor and bare flesh was palpable. Resigned to his fate, the assassin leader regretted not completing his mission. He had been ready for death. Yet, in the next moment, a deerskin boot pressed down on his head.

"Here's a tip for next time: hide the poison in your collar, so you can escape the pain now," Derek taunted.

The assassin leader, though, was defiant. "Hmph, if you’re going to kill me, get it over with. I won't reveal anything," he spat back. Derek was furious; he had never been so close to death. If it weren’t for the attackers' sloppy tactics, a stray arrow could have killed him.

In his rage, Derek kicked the assassin in the face, causing several teeth to fly out along with a spurt of blood. "Take the ones still breathing and follow me," he ordered. There was no need for interrogation. Anyone even slightly suspected was now considered guilty. Cooling down slightly, Derek knew exactly who he needed to unleash his wrath upon.

Information about Derek’s arrival wasn’t hard to come by, but there was no way mere remnants of the Holy Cross would have access to it. Whether intentional or not, someone among the northern or royal nobility had leaked this intelligence. His anger needed an outlet, and this incident was the perfect opportunity to remind everyone just how sharp his sword was.

Meanwhile, the guards at the city gates had already noticed the attack on Derek. Some rushed to assist, while others sped off to report the news. At that moment, in a hall filled with northern and royal nobles, everyone was waiting for Derek's arrival. The division of Saint Milla Province’s resources couldn't proceed without him.

When word of the assassination attempt reached the gathering, reactions were mixed. The royal nobles smirked, while the northern ones were visibly angered and worried. The old Count remained calm, eyeing Hussein, the Marquis from the capital, who wore a cryptic smile.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“Send my personal guards to assist immediately,” the Count commanded. Marquis Hussein offered, “Do you need my help?” feigning concern. “No need; Derek won’t go down that easily,” replied the Count confidently. He knew just how formidable Derek's retinue was. The capital’s nobles, on the other hand, were incredulous. To them, even the strongest knight could fall to a well-executed assassination attempt, especially one orchestrated by Holy Cross operatives.

But before they could voice their skepticism, news arrived that Derek had defeated the attackers and was on his way. Silence fell over the room. A royal officer blurted out, “How is that possible? Was he forewarned?” Without prior knowledge, how could he have dispatched the attackers so quickly?

This insinuation did not sit well with the local soldiers, who had little respect for the capital’s pompous officers. One couldn’t help but retort, “Derek only had about ten retainers, but every one of them is a northern knight. It only took a few heartbeats to wipe out the attackers.”

“Haha!” Count Pereira laughed, turning to the now-flustered nobles from the capital. “Our northern knights are quite capable, though it’s understandable that the capital’s knights might struggle to imagine such things.” His words left the royal nobles red-faced. Marquis Hussein, ever the snake, wore a false smile and reprimanded his subordinate for speaking out of turn. Then he offered a half-hearted apology to the Count, “Apologies, my lord. These young ones lack battlefield experience.”

“If they lack experience, let them come with me and witness real knights in action,” Count Pereira offered smugly. Hussein kept up his polite demeanor, but the Count knew the marquis was a venomous serpent. Anyone who managed to claw their way to power in the capital was dangerous. Beneath the seemingly cordial exchange, the two were constantly clashing, each hoping to dominate the other in the coming struggle over the province's spoils.

Instead of Derek himself, several Augusta family knights entered, dragging the captured assassins. “Where is your lord?” Count Pereira asked, growing anxious. Had Derek been injured or, even worse, killed? A knight replied, “The viscount will arrive shortly.”

As for Derek, his rage only grew as he rode toward his meeting. It was bad enough enduring such disrespect when he was weaker. But now, on his own turf, someone dared to pull this? He already had a list of suspects, and his anger festered. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks. “Damn it, better to act impulsively than get taken advantage of. Our northern knights already have a reputation for being rash.”

Fuming, Derek sent his retainers to spread out and execute his orders. He decided to delay his appearance, planning to confront his enemies on his terms. His knights were not chosen just for their skills; loyalty and pedigree were more important. Some even shared blood ties with the Pereira family, having climbed the social ladder alongside Derek. Their very lives were tied to his fate.

Hatred for the assassins burned in each of them, and Derek's orders had them spring into action. Their first task: call for reinforcements. Nearby, the Augusta family’s personal cavalry was camped outside the city, and many local powers were allied with them. The knights split into two groups, some enlisting the help of sympathetic nobles, others charging straight into Plann City.