Just as Thales and the others fled the gatehouse, a tense confrontation that was rarely seen since the founding of Eckstedt took place in front of the Hall of Heroes in Heroic Spirit Palace.
Under the flickering flames, the guards of the four archdukes and the attendants of a few special nobles — the other nobles were not allowed to bring their attendants into the banquet — stood together with the White Blade Guards and the palace guards. With the tacit understanding unique to Northlanders, they formed a battle formation. Bows were nocked, swords were unsheathed, and they stood in front of the Hall of Heroes with unpleasant expressions, protecting the nobles in the oval stone hall.
Opposite them were unfamiliar soldiers with unknown identities, who had the advantage in numbers. They guarded the corners and corridors.
They were all dressed in the uniform and equipment of the patrol team. They were so densely packed that they almost filled every doorway outside the hall. These soldiers stepped on the tiles that had a long history. Many of them could not help but size up the decorations around them with strange and reverent gazes. It seemed that it was their first time here, and they were not used to this palace, which was of great significance to Northland.
What was even stranger was that the leader of this group of uninvited guests was a short-haired swordswoman. Her gaze was indifferent and fearless, and the fingers of her right hand kept flicking on the hilt of her sword.
Under the illumination of the brazier, Archduke Roknee of the City of Faraway Prayers walked out of the dark Hall of Heroes with a cold and sullen expression. The guards and attendants on both sides made way for him, but they never let down their guard.
The long-haired archduke of the City of Faraway Prayers waved away an attendant who was about to put a cloak on him. He stared coldly at the uninvited guests in front of him, and his gaze lingered on their swords.
"Show yourself, there's no need to hide anymore."
Archduke Kulgon Roknee retracted his fierce gaze and said coldly, "We are separated by three stone steps, but we can still smell the disgusting scent unique to your territory. Although we are all from Northland, your soldiers are different."
The first row of 'patrol' soldiers exchanged a few glances, but they seemed to be well-trained and still did not say a word. They just stared coldly at the guards and guards guarding the Hall of Heroes.
"Where is the Fire Knight?" Archduke Roknee snorted coldly without looking at the female leader. "No matter what you want to do, whether it's besieging Heroic Spirit Palace or murdering the archduke, you don't have to let a weak woman lead the troops, do you?"
The short-haired swordswoman's face turned cold.
Her right hand no longer moved. Instead, she gripped the hilt of her sword tightly and took a provocative step forward.
"Be careful, Your Grace," she said in an unfriendly tone, her eyes filled with contempt and disdain. "Your life is in the hands of this weak woman."
"Little girl." Archduke Roknee shook his head in disdain. "Go home and weave. The longsword is very heavy."
Clang!
The swordswoman suddenly unsheathed her weapon.
Like a flock of birds startled by a bowstring, the guards beside the archduke, be it the White Blade Guards, the palace guards, or the attendants from the City of Faraway Prayers, all surged forward nervously!
But they stopped abruptly. Archduke Roknee raised his right palm and firmly stopped them by his side.
The swordswoman looked at the Archduke of the City of Faraway Prayers with a frosty expression. The tip of her sword stopped right in front of Archduke Roknee's throat.
The Grand Duke did not move from his eyes to his body. He stared at her without flinching, as if it was not a sword that was pressed against his throat.
"It's fine," Roknee said coldly. "Let's see if our little cutie really has the ability to hold a sword."
A cold glare flashed in his eyes. "And the courage to kill … to kill an archduke."
The swordswoman's gaze turned cold. The tip of her sword moved forward without hesitation and touched his skin.
Roknee's pupils shrank.
He felt a chill on his neck, and blood flowed down.
Behind the Grand Duke, the attendants' inhales could be heard clearly.
But there was still no expression on Roknee's resolute face.
At this moment, a deep and sonorous male voice came from the 'patrol team'.
"Be more polite, Kroesch." A middle-aged nobleman in armor with a weathered face and steady footsteps slowly walked out of the crowd. "We are not here to fight."
Behind him were two noblemen. One of them was dressed in plate armor and had an old-fashioned face, while the other was tall and thin with a sharp gaze.
The swordswoman, Kroesch, snorted softly. Then, she stepped back and sheathed her sword.
Roknee slowly lowered his head and extended his hand to wipe his neck. He stared at the blood on his hand with a subtle expression.
The soldiers in the 'patrol team' made way for the newcomers.
"There's no need to be so nervous, everyone." The tall and thin young noble smiled slightly and bowed politely at the guards. "We are not enemies. We should not point our swords at each other."
Roknee lowered his hand. His gaze swept over the three newcomers and he snorted softly without showing them any respect.
"As expected, surprises are never late." Archduke Roknee's expression grew colder. He fixed his gaze on the middle-aged noble.
"Chapman Lampard."
His attendants frowned in unison.
Archduke Lampard nodded imperceptibly.
The two archdukes' gazes met in the air. One was as cold as ice, while the other was calm.
In the next second, Roknee's gaze shifted back to the swordswoman.
"Hey, Kroesch, is it?" Archduke Roknee's tone changed. He raised his eyebrows in interest and a different expression appeared in his eyes. "Your sword is very steady."
He stared at Kroesch's longsword, felt the pain on his neck, and nodded in approval. "You have guts."
But Kroesch only stared at him coldly and did not speak.
Archduke Roknee's gaze flickered.
"My wife passed away a year ago."
"The Roknee Family and the City of Faraway Prayers both lack an archduchess." Archduke Roknee's gaze was unrestrained as he sized up Kroesch from head to toe. He then said sternly, "Are you interested?"
Lampard watched their interaction and frowned slightly.
Kroesch also narrowed her eyes.
"Go find an obedient female worker who only knows how to weave, Your Grace." She sheathed her longsword. Her words were cold and fierce. "So that on our wedding night, I won't …"
Kroesch openly glanced at the archduke's crotch. "Cut off your two balls."
Archduke Roknee laughed boldly, but his gaze on Kroesch became more and more subtle.
Beside him, Archduke Lampard said flatly, "I'm afraid it's not appropriate to openly poach my subordinates, right?"
Archduke Roknee turned to Lampard. The smile on his resolute face was now devoid of warmth. "You won't get hurt even if you ask."
Lampard raised his eyebrows.
The tall noble next to him, Viscount Kentvida, whispered a few words in the archduke's ear.
Archduke Roknee pulled his long hair to the back of his neck and said coldly, "Why? If I don't take this stab, will you never appear again?"
"Of course not." Lampard's expression did not change. "I just want to wait for everyone to arrive."
At this moment, another voice cut into the conversation.
"Don't worry." A smooth and experienced voice cleverly appeared in the gap between the two men's conversation. "We're all waiting for your arrival."
A man with a bowl cut walked out from behind Archduke Roknee. He was the Archduke of Reformation Tower, Porpheus Trentida of the Trentida Family. He had a playful smile on his face, but his eyes were filled with wariness and coldness.
"When was the last time we met, Chapman?" Trentida said with a grin. "Twelve years ago?"
Lampard stared at his neighbor of Reformation Tower, who was also in the south of Eckstedt and adjacent to Black Sand Region. There was wariness and contemplation in his eyes.
"Five years ago," he said flatly, "when Constellation was at war with the orcs, the three southern archdukes held an emergency meeting."
"Oh? Is that so? "Trentida patted his bowl cut head and said in sudden realization," That's right. You wouldn't appear without benefits. That's you. "
He snickered.
"The Archduke of Black Sand Region — the one who ignored the king's invitation, but only brought a thousand men to force their way into Heroic Spirit Palace when the king disappeared and Dragon Clouds City was in chaos?" Archduke Trentida's protruding chin moved slightly. He stared at the soldiers beside Lampard and asked meaningfully.
"This is why I'm here to look for all of you." Archduke Lampard said slowly, "We are facing an unusual situation that concerns everyone's vital interests."
Archduke Roknee tilted his head and sneered disdainfully.
"An unusual situation?" Another deep voice entered the conversation between the three men. "What do you mean?"
The boorish Reybien Olsius, who was dressed in classic attire, also appeared at the entrance of the Hall of Heroes. The Archduke of Prestige Orchid's full beard was extremely eye-catching and memorable.
At this moment, he stared coldly at Lampard. His eyes were filled with suspicion and wariness.
Lampard's gaze swept across the three archdukes.
"The king passed away last night," Chapman Lampard said flatly, as though he was talking about a trivial matter. "We need to talk about Eckstedt's future."
The moment he said that, there was quite a commotion on both Black Sand Region's and Heroic Spirit Palace's side.
Viscount Kentvida and Kroesch suppressed their subordinates in dissatisfaction.
However, Lampard's eyebrows were furrowed tightly.
Because he clearly saw that the three archdukes before him were still as calm and composed as ever.
It was as though they already knew everything.
'Hmm.
Looks like it's going to be more difficult than I thought. '
Lampard thought to himself.
'But so what?
It's just another hurdle I have to cross.
But the other Nuven … '
"Oh?"
Finally, an aged voice rang out from behind the three archdukes. It was the most senior archduke of Defense City, the bald Rogers Lecco. He coughed as he slowly walked out, "That's unfortunate."
The old archduke sighed and said, "I think, regarding the king's death, you, Chapman, who suddenly appeared here, have some important news to tell us?"
"As you said, Rogers," the Archduke of Black Sand Region said solemnly, "I'm here to tell you something."
Archduke Lecco laughed. Staring at the floor tiles of Heroic Spirit Palace, he said thoughtfully, "Then why don't we … talk about it in the Hall of Heroes?"
He raised his eyebrows slightly, turned sideways, and revealed the flickering light from the brazier. "It's just the five of us. That's enough.
We don't need so many pawns. "
The moment he said that, the three archdukes from Heroic Spirit Palace looked at Lampard in unison. Their gazes were different.
But all of them were filled with deep suspicion and wariness.
'This is Eckstedt.'
Lampard sighed softly in his heart, then snorted softly.
'My Eckstedt.'
His gaze gradually focused.
Under the gazes of the four archdukes of Eckstedt, who held high positions of power and were on equal footing with him, Chapman Lampard calmly extended his hand and stopped Count Levan and Viscount Kentvida behind him, who were about to speak.
"Of course." His gaze became solemn. He swept his gaze over his four colleagues, as well as the White Blade Guards and palace guards who were standing in a semicircle formation and firmly guarding the entrance of the Hall of Heroes. He nodded and said, "These words and this matter can only be spread among the five of us."
Kroesch cast Lampard a questioning look, but Archduke Lampard only extended his palm and made a downward gesture.
In the next second, Chapman Lampard strode forward without hesitation. Under countless gazes, he left the encirclement of the Black Sand Region soldiers alone.
He walked past the countless shining blades and walked towards the stone door of the Hall of Heroes.
He walked into the impenetrable formation of the Heroic Spirit Palace soldiers, leaving them staring at each other in dismay.
He walked past Roknee, who was at the forefront, and received a surprised and admiring gaze from the latter.
He walked past Archduke Olsius. The bearded archduke furrowed his brows, his thoughts unclear.
He walked past Trentida and Lecco. The two of them exchanged glances, revealing worry and apprehension.
He walked past Trentida and Lecco. The iron fist pattern that represented the Lampard Family could be vaguely seen on the Archduke of Black Sand Region's cloak.
The four archdukes only snapped out of their daze when he walked completely into the darkness of the Hall of Heroes. They exchanged glances.
Kentvida and Count Levan glared at them fiercely. Kroesch even tapped the hilt of her sword in her hand. Her threat was self-evident.
"What do you say?" Trentida's eyes darted around.
Olsius and Lecco furrowed their brows and did not speak.
"No." Roknee looked at the dark hall and said coldly, "Let's see what he has to say."
Chapman Lampard stood quietly in the Hall of Heroes. He stood beside the long, brownish-black table. The braziers on the six metal racks illuminated his face, causing it to flicker between light and darkness. His imposing manner was unstable.
He knew that the young Archduke Conkray Poffret's neck was broken by King Nuven just two steps away from him last night.
However, at this moment, Lampard only stared ahead quietly at the seat of honor at the innermost part of the long table.
He remembered that his father and mother had brought him and Harold here countless times during the first half of his life to bow before the seat of honor.
Nuven Walton the Seventh sat there, at the seat of honor, giving orders to the Eckstedtian citizens, from the archdukes to the officials, from the nobles to the commoners.
The common-elected king sat there and controlled the entire Northland — no, more than half of Northland. After all, Constellation's Northern Territory was not yet in Eckstedt's hands.
His gaze swept around the stone hall and paused briefly on the Cloud Dragon Spear flag that could be seen everywhere.
On the innermost shelf, the Soul Slayer Pike should have been placed there, but it was now empty.
Just like the Walton Family, who was once like the sun in the sky, and the Cloud Dragon Spear that intimidated Northland.
'Cloud Dragon Spear.'
At that moment, Lampard actually wanted to laugh.
"Alright," Archduke Olsius' voice came from behind him in a rude manner. "We will not invite you to sit down."
"Speak," the bearded man said coldly.
Lampard closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Then, he slowly opened his eyes.
"Constellation." Chapman Lampard slowly turned around and faced the four archdukes. His gaze was sharp. "That Prince of Constellation and their Secret Intelligence Department plotted a conspiracy against Eckstedt."
Archduke Roknee frowned slightly.
"They even used the calamities," Lampard said flatly. "Unfortunately, King Nuven died in the conspiracy."
Lecco and Trentida looked at each other, their gazes seemingly meaningful.
Lampard took a step forward and clenched his fists.
"The Kingdom of the Great Dragon is facing an unprecedented crisis," the Archduke of Black Sand Region said coldly. There was an unquestionable tone in his voice. "It is time for us to unite."
Lampard's voice faded away.
The four archdukes looked at each other.
No one made a sound.
No one moved.
No one reacted.
After a few seconds, the four archdukes chuckled at the same time.
The chuckles turned into laughter.
The laughter turned into sneers.
And the sneers lasted for almost a minute.
Archduke Lampard looked at the archdukes' sneers and could not help but frown.
There was a deep chill in Olsius' smile. Trentida's smile had a profound meaning that was worth pondering. Lecco's smile was very forced. Perhaps he did not want to laugh at all.
Only Archduke Roknee's laughter was the loudest, longest, and coldest. The family emblem of the Canon of Knights from the City of Faraway Prayers shone brightly on his shoulder.
Lampard's expression also turned cold.
Finally, the archdukes stopped laughing.
In the next second, Archduke Roknee took a step forward and met Lampard's gaze without flinching.
Kulgon Roknee said coldly and rudely in his unique bold voice, "That's right.
"Go home and f * ck yourself, Chapman Lampard."
He spat harshly. His eyes were filled with disdain and contempt, as if they contained ten-thousand-year-old ice.
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