Brian woke up to a gray-white ceiling.

The sunlight streaming in from the window was somewhat dazzling. He closed his eyes slightly, then opened them again, and the scene before him remained unchanged.

It wasn't a dream, he thought. Am I... still alive? He tried to move his body, but found that he could only wiggle his fingers. All his strength seemed to have been drained away.

Then he heard someone shout, "He's awake! Quickly, inform His Highness."

His Highness? Brian felt like his brain was filled with paste, and his thoughts were much slower than usual. Right, how did he pass out? It seemed he was pierced through the chest by a poisonous snake, and was about to die. At the last moment, a ghostly woman suddenly appeared and unbelievably defeated all the enemies...

Soon, a maid reached out to help him sit up, leaning against the headboard. Another brought a basin of water and helped him wash his face. Brian had obviously never experienced such attentive and personal service, and coupled with the fact that he was surrounded by young maids, he felt a little flustered.

Fortunately, this awkwardness didn't last long. When the Fourth Prince walked into the room, everyone bowed.

Brian felt a surge of heat rising in his heart. He had so much to ask, but when he opened his mouth, he didn't know what to say first. Roland nodded and said, "I already know about your deeds, Brian. You are a hero worthy of the name."

As soon as the word "hero" was uttered, Brian felt his eyes sting and his voice choked with emotion. "No... Your Highness, my friend is the real..."

Roland patted him on the shoulder in consolation.

As Nightingale had predicted, Scarface was dragged to the execution chamber, and before the warden could even move, he confessed everything he knew like pouring beans from a bamboo tube.

The mastermind behind this team was not his royal brothers or sisters, but the Elk family of Longsong Stronghold. Earl Elk contacted Hills Medde, a distant relative, who was Scarface, and controlled most of the patrol team through enticement and division. In addition, he sent a skilled hand to replace a member of the team as insurance, in case of accidents during the operation. The purpose of these people was not to assassinate him, but to burn the pure grain, so that he would obediently roll back to the stronghold.

This conspiracy resulted in the death of an innocent man—Greyhound. He tried to stop Scarface's criminal attempt and was stabbed to death with a bishou by a patrolman. The patrolman who was replaced by the Snake was missing, probably because he realized that the plan had failed after discovering that the castle had not caught fire in the morning and that Scarface had not returned on time, and had fled directly.

When Brian's emotions stabilized, Roland said, "Your friend Greyhound will receive a funeral befitting his status. His family will also be taken care of properly, and they will no longer have to worry about food."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Brian took a deep breath. "May I ask, Scarface... is he dead too?"

"He's still alive for now."

The patrol captain painfully closed his eyes. He would rather not be rescued and drag the other party down to hell with him. But this hope had become slim... Undoubtedly, Scarface was guilty, but the crimes committed by nobles could be redeemed with money. As long as his uncle was willing to protect him, there was a good chance that Scarface would not die. He might not even go to prison.

Roland naturally guessed what he was thinking. "Hills Medde, also known as Scarface, is a member of the Elk family of Longsong Stronghold. The head of the family is called Locke Gin Medde, a count enfeoffed by Duke Ryan, and also his distant uncle..." He paused slightly. "But none of this will affect the final verdict. Scarface has been sentenced to hanging, to be carried out in three days. If your body can recover, you might as well go and see."

Brian's eyes widened. "But... but Your Highness, nobles can redeem their sins with gold royals. Won't you anger—"

Roland waved his hand, signaling him to be patient. "Nobles? Perhaps to you, he comes from the Elk family, and his status is vastly different from yours. But in fact, he has neither a title nor a fief, and he is not a noble at all. Secondly, even if he were a noble, invading a prince's palace, attempting to burn the grain reserves, and disregarding the lives of more than two thousand people in Border Town, these three heinous acts combined are unforgivable."

If Roland had any hesitation about the death of Tyr, Scarface was completely unforgivable. If he had succeeded, his foundation in Border Town would have been destroyed, and he would have had no chance to turn the tables. This was much more detestable than directly assassinating him.

As for whether this reaction would anger Longsong Stronghold, who cared? Since the other party was unwilling to do business with him properly and chose to use ruthless methods to harm Border Town, he certainly couldn't back down. This incident also gave Roland a warning—the political struggles of this world were not like those he was familiar with in the past, mostly concentrated on behind-the-scenes competition, but were more inclined to flipping the table, more primitive and bloody.

"Rest well. You've lost too much blood, so don't leave the castle. I've arranged for others to carry out the patrol team's work. When the Months of Demons ends, I will hold a knighting ceremony for you."

"Your Highness," Brian looked at the prince in disbelief when he heard the last sentence. "Do you mean..."

"Yes, you will become my knight, Mr. Brian," Roland replied with a smile.

*******************

"Ready—Thrust!"

Vanna gritted his teeth and thrust out the long wooden pole in his hand, with the same force and roughly the same angle as last time.

This was the hundredth thrust he had made.

His arm felt sore and numb. Vanna felt that he couldn't hold on any longer, even though he had thought so at the fiftieth thrust. But the conditioned reflex developed after a week of training still made him obey the command. Honestly, he was surprised that he could hold on until now.

"All—Rest!"

After Iron Axe shouted the order, there was a collective sigh of relief around him. Vanna also breathed a sigh of relief, put down the pole, and sat down directly on the ground.

Now, he finally understood that the militia team he was in was not a fish belly force responsible for running errands for the guards or knights. After a week of strange training, their practice items gradually became more like the real thing. For example, now, standing on the city wall and thrusting and retracting the long spear according to the hunter's commands—although these spears were replaced with wooden poles, Vanna could quickly associate it with the role he was taking on.

The logistics team would never do such exercises, which also meant that they would face the evil beasts head-on on the city wall. Just thinking about this was terrifying enough. Vanna originally planned to sneak away, but for some reason, when he saw the teammates training with him, and thought about the rich three meals a day and the considerable remuneration, he couldn't make up his mind.