Chapter 31: Mob

“Although this Bernadi red wine starts smooth, it has quite a kick. If you drink it like that, Your Lordship, you’ll likely suffer tomorrow morning…” a voice with a hint of childishness sounded from the side.

“This sour, weak stuff is nothing… I…” The big man wiped the wine stain from his mouth casually and replied in his habitual rough voice, but then his whole body stiffened slightly, probably remembering that his current setting wasn’t suitable for such behavior. He looked around nervously and finally noticed that the speaker was a child sitting at the table in front of him.

The other party’s tone wasn’t forceful, but his expression and demeanor showed unusual confidence. For some reason, this expression stirred a strange anger within him, making him swell up involuntarily.

He opened his mouth in fury, but a cautious look soon replaced it. Obviously, at such an event, anyone who could attend a noble banquet, even if just a seemingly wet-behind-the-ears kid, absolutely couldn’t be taken lightly.

Fortunately, his reaction wasn’t slow. He quickly performed a common noble greeting, hiding his expression as he bowed his head. But after a pause, he didn’t know what to say. He had no suitable connections to introduce the other’s identity, and the profound knowledge of heraldry was clearly beyond his systematic understanding. Therefore, he couldn’t decipher what the small emblem embroidered on the other’s collar represented.

“Pleased to meet you. I am Constantine di Friedrich Connarivis. And you are…?” Just as he was somewhat at a loss, the boy opposite him spoke with a smile.

“Pleased to meet you… Huh?” The big man finally remembered to put down the wine bottle in his hand, then realized the meaning implied by the other’s surname: “Well… um, I am Lord Zachias Gamber Swice. Pleased to meet you, Lord Constantine. I… I’ve long heard of your great name.”

The boy nodded with a smile. In just these few lines of dialogue, he had already spotted at least three etiquette mistakes from the other party, not counting the habitual actions. He could actually find faults in someone else’s noble mannerisms. This made Constantine feel a bit… proud?

The title of Lord wasn’t exactly part of the orthodox noble class. Tracing their origins, they were often nobles who fled from other countries during times of chaos. Once they left their homeland, their noble status was naturally not recognized. They could only be considered commoner nobles, without the right to a hereditary title. However, occasionally, some fleeing nobles were granted titles for special merits. Thus, this special group emerged; they could enjoy hereditary privileges, but they had to pay a large sum of tax to the King every year. This was obviously very beneficial to the royal family’s finances, so as long as they didn’t make major mistakes, most countries were willing to grant a few such titles.

But after centuries of existence, the nature of this class had changed somewhat. Local wealthy merchants, even underground bosses, could obtain the title of Lord through special donations, joining the ranks of the nobles. Although they lacked the deep heritage of the great nobles, if they were lucky enough to find a good patron, they could still carve out a path for themselves.

Although Constantine wasn’t in the habit of judging by appearances, from the glimpse of behavior he just saw, he guessed this man probably wasn’t a decent sort. However, in his memory, even those few figures with illegal backgrounds who managed to mix into high society were at least outwardly refined and wouldn’t have such obvious shortcomings in concealing their nature… Could this fellow before him have some special background?

But he remembered that when the Marquis introduced everyone earlier, he didn’t mention this guy. That meant, in the host’s eyes, this person was just an insignificant character. In fact, this was almost certain. If he really had any influence, he wouldn’t have been in that awkward, despised situation just now.

“Well… Lord Constantine, the mighty reputation of the Connallyvis Family, even a small person like me, holed up in Hayton without much worldly experience, is like… thunder to my ears. I think… you must be quite familiar with the regulations of the Griffin Knight Order?” Just as the boy took another small sip of wine, this Lord suddenly spoke again. Even though it was just a question to start a conversation, he stammered through it, clearly unused to noble vocabulary.

“Hmm? The regulations of the Griffin Knight Order? I wouldn’t say familiar, but I’ve heard a bit about them. Probably not much more than what you know.” The boy was slightly taken aback, not understanding why the other had chosen such a topic. But when his gaze swept over the other’s flush peeking through his thick stubble, he began to understand. This guy probably didn’t genuinely want to know anything but simply couldn’t find anything else to talk about.

“Frankly speaking, I have a little bit of confidence in martial arts… I’ve always wanted to serve the country… but the Griffin Knight Order’s recruitment quota is really… However, I’ve heard the Griffin Vanguard Battalion doesn’t restrict numbers much, is that true?”

“You’re not joking, are you? Oh, see, I just said this wine has a strong kick…”

The boy smiled, then felt somewhat speechless. Although he had only seen seven Griffin Knights, he had heard from the Old Steward that every year, some talented youths of the Empire, dedicated to military exploits, applied for internships on the Western Frontier battlefield, fueled by arrogant passion. But most of their goals were just to try their luck in making a name on the battlefield, something to boast about. So, for many reasons, the Griffin Knight Order had raised the standards for such internship opportunities to an extremely strict level. Only a few elites truly interested in warfare could get such chances. Those unlucky little guys full of heroic dreams, with delicate skin and flesh, were usually just put through harsh training, then mercilessly labeled unqualified and kicked back to their noble nests.

“Actually, if it weren’t for saving face for those so-called important people, we’d usually consider throwing all those guys into the Vanguard Battalion!” Whenever he heard the Old Steward mention these things in a flat tone, Constantine would laugh heartily. The so-called Vanguard Battalion was another name for the cannon fodder regiment, the suicide squad… Except for those who committed major mistakes or certain prisoners, no one would want to go there.

…He never thought he’d run into someone today who actively wanted to join… Should he call that brave or foolhardy?

Shaking his head, Constantine wanted to warn this foolishly cute fellow… But before he could speak, a strange commotion reached his ears.

“Who are you people? How did you get in! Get back… Agh!”

“Form up, block them, don’t let these rioters disturb the guests!…”

The chaotic sounds seemed to come from the corridor connecting to the side courtyard. This wasn’t noise from among the guests. Constantine frowned. Perhaps thanks to that glass of wine, his hearing had become unusually sharp, allowing him to notice that the sounds were very strange. It was as if it were a small marketplace after city guards had passed through. Shouts, probably from Household Knights or bodyguards, rose and fell, but often, mid-shout, the sound would turn into a series of shrill, miserable screams!

This ominous noise immediately broke the elegant atmosphere. All the guests stopped their merrymaking, asking the surrounding servants in surprise. But before anyone could go out to find out what exactly was happening, a pair of carved doors suddenly emitted a strange creaking sound, and then the two wooden doors flew open to both sides with a dull bang! Twisted into an angle they could never normally achieve!

The clamor instantly increased by an order of magnitude! With the sound, a group of shouting, yelling guys burst into the party hall from the main entrance! There were maybe several dozen of them, but they really didn’t look like the enemies the Household Knights were shouting about. They wore clothes of burlap, commonly seen on commoners, but were emitting strange roars!

But there was no doubt, they were not here as party guests.

“No way… What’s going on? Violent criminals disturbing public order, storming government offices? Does this era have such things too?”

Constantine jumped onto a table. The wider view let him notice these guys held various strange weapons in their hands… steel forks, giant scythes, morning stars, and flails…

They looked quite intimidating, but if one looked closely, the parallel prongs on the steel fork didn’t seem shaped for use as weapons. The giant scythe, while possessing a dark, heavy aura, had straw and stubble caught in several serrations on the blade. Some of the crooked nails on the morning star were already covered in rust, but one could still see traces of its original use for pounding grain. Only the headed flail was of a standard pattern, aside from lacking iron spikes… Paired with their attire, they looked more like farmers who had just harvested the last batch of grain and were on their way home.

“Who are you people? Leave here immediately, do you know…” Servants shouted loudly, trying to stop their advance, but before those inferior weapons, they could only retreat. Meanwhile, the nobles completely forgot their elegant manners. Whether it was dignified ladies and young misses, or self-proclaimed gentlemen, old and young, they all screamed, retreating to corners as if avoiding the plague. The scene became chaotic to the extreme in an instant!

These guys ignored the servants’ questioning, showing no intention to answer. They just looked around, seemingly searching for someone. But in such a chaotic situation, this was clearly not a suitable task to carry out.

A loud clang of metal on metal rang out, followed by a drawn-out shriek!

A warrior responsible for guarding the hall had struck. Apparently trying to intimidate these foolhardy commoners, a swing of his longsword shattered the fork in one guy’s hand, and the wielder was sent staggering back by the great force!

But before the somewhat smug Household Knight could shout any words to stop them, he became the first casualty everyone witnessed!

…His swordsmanship actually seemed quite good. But when facing over a dozen long and short weapons thrusting at him simultaneously, the effectiveness of individual swordsmanship was drastically reduced! Even worse, as an inner hall guard for the ball, their armor, though shiny, was just for show, with thin iron plates sewn onto vital parts like the chest…

So, with a sickening squelch, a steel fork directly pierced his lower abdomen. Those flimsy armors provided no protection at all, being pierced through in seven or eight large holes!

“Nobody move without permission! Everyone shut up! Stop wailing!”

A voice bellowed. With the voice, the forty-plus people began to move. They started shouting in unison following this voice! Although they didn’t look the part, their imposing manner was clearly not something ordinary farmers could match. The huge, unified roar echoed in the ballroom, making everyone’s ears itch. At the same time, dozens of them began taking turns grabbing unlucky individuals from the pushed-aside crowd. Most were young Ladies, with a few older men in particularly luxurious attire, but without exception, all were people with little ability to resist. Clearly, this wasn’t a disorganized, sudden action; they likely had some plan beforehand.

“Who are you people! What do you want exactly? Illegally intruding into a noble’s residence, taking hostages – such atrocities are enough to get you torn apart by birds on the gallows!”

A sturdy noble stepped forward several paces and shouted loudly. Clearly, this was someone proud of his martial prowess. He held the longsword from that unfortunate Household Knight, and several Household Knights who had rushed in were also sheltered behind him.

“Stop trying to scare us with talk of death! If we dared barge in here today, we don’t care how we die!”

Such ordinary threatening language had no effect. Several of the hostage-takers yelled wildly, simultaneously waving small knives, scissors, ice picks, or similar items near the faces of their hostages!

“Back off! Back off! Take one more step, and we’ll make these women’s faces bloom! Put down your weapons and kick them over here!”

The surrounding noise became even more chaotic and shrill. Women’s screams always had strong piercing power, and this made the Household Knights completely cease their activities.

The Household Knights looked at each other and could only retreat as told.

In truth, the weapons held by these farmer-dressed fellows weren’t sharp. If they launched a forced charge, with the cooperation of a dozen or so Household Knights, there was a sixty to seventy percent chance of subduing them without causing fatal injuries. But the current situation wasn’t one where the Household Knights could take risks lightly. Maybe they were confident in saving the women’s lives, but if there was a single mishap causing death or injury… One must remember, resurrection magic wasn’t a treatment just anyone could afford. But even the wrath of a third-rate noble wasn’t something these Household Knights could bear.

The leading noble hesitated. Although he didn’t throw down his longsword, he also began to retreat. Clearly, no one here had experience handling such a crisis. Taking advantage of the initial chaos during the intrusion, at least a dozen or so noblewomen or young ladies had become hostages in the hands of this group. Fearing to hurt the hostages, the noble lords similarly lacked the courage to take risks.

“Minister of Internal Affairs, Marquis Paul! Do you think hiding in your manor means you can escape justice? Today, we shall deliver the judgment of the God of Justice for you!”

After the situation stabilized slightly, a big man stepped out from the crowd and shouted coldly with a sneer.

He seemed to be the leader of this group, because only he held a decent-looking longsword. However, Constantine’s superhuman vision immediately let him notice the several fearsome notches on the blade of that weapon, ones that careful grinding couldn’t remove. It could be said that with just a slightly strong impact, it would be enough to shatter it.

“Paul, come out and face us! If you’re still a man, don’t hide behind others!” The group of farmers shouted in unison.

“Who are you people… If you want someone to come out, you should first state your purpose!”

A voice cut through these shouts. The owner of the voice then stepped out from the crowd. He was an old man, probably close to sixty, with a serene yet proud attitude. He had a face like an exquisitely painted mask—pale, transparent skin with distinct contours, wearing only one fixed expression. His attire was equally meticulous. A true gentleman, perhaps a bit stubborn and dogmatic. That was the impression his appearance gave. Even in this chaotic scene, he seemed just as calm and confident. There wasn’t even a ripple in his voice.