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The line between life and death

“Ser Esebar, take a look at this.” The leader of the mercenaries handed the brass telescope over to the noble after using it.

The Golden Apple Lord sat steadily on an Arreck horse.

Aouine’s cavalry troops once used them as the main choice as war horses, but they eventually switched to the double-footed flying dragons. Despite the change, the nobles still used rode the horses to represent their status.

Esebar received the telescope and looked into the distance with it, then passed to his ally, the businessman Burnley with an impassive face.

The Golden Apple Lord was not too anxious. Even if Earl Dunn died on their territory, the only thing that would get affected was merely their reputation. The nobles in this area prized actual power over reputation, and if the king sought someone to blame, it was naturally the bastard Luc Beson who was at fault, not the gentlemen here.

In fact, he wanted the Earl to get into an accident, but he did not dare to do anything that was too obvious. Right now, he merely gathered his private army and prepared to attack the keep.

But he needed to capture the person who invaded the fortress. If White-Mane army captured the invader instead, and if they doctored the military records, the responsibility would fall onto him.

Burnley took the telescope with a smile, looked through it and said: “There are people on the tower’s peak.”

“Makavu, get some archers over. Their status must be at least a white rank because the opponent is a Iron-ranked swordsman.” The Golden Apple Lord pointed at the top of the tower as he instructed the leader of the mercenaries.

“Understood, Ser Esebar. Just wait and see. Regardless of whether he’s a Iron-ranked swordsman or a Highland Knight, we will definitely turn him into a body filled with arrows.” The mercenary leader answered and left immediately.

The nobles’ private armies split into two lines, allowing their leader to ride run over. Not far away the riders rode on their horses over from the river noisily, and the scenery was filled with chaotuc dancing light.

The Golden Apple Lord narrowed his eyes: “These riders are really crass.”

“If they appeared here, does that mean that Earl Dunn is—” Burnley gestured with his hand across his neck with a beaming face.

“Hmph. A second generation from the Les Brulais family. The king favors him because of his lips. Thanks to that, he thinks nothing of the other ministers and everyone hates him because of his arrogance. Dying in the streets is a very normal thing for him.” The Golden Apple Lord snorted from his nose.

“This man is a reputed archaeologist who can identify items. The king looks favorably on him because of this.” Burnley corrected his partner’s mistake.

“He’s nothing more than a fool.”

A scout reported in while the two men discussed. The rider came to them with a weary war horse and he spoke: “My lord, the White-Mane army is here.”

“Oh? H

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