Bear School Astartes-Chapter 602 - 605. I do not admit it

Heraldry is a discipline of considerable weight within Western nobility and national systems. A small heraldic symbol may be filled with intricate bloodlines, kinship, and territorial relationships.

Hacksaw is the Royal Steward of Sintra, diligently serving since the era of Queen Calanthe. In the field of heraldry in Sintra, there is no one more professional than him.

Even all the royal letters were previously drafted by him.

Therefore, the heraldry on this letter and the final appendix of the notebook are all documents adhering to regulations, law, and tradition. There’s hardly a need to organize them before they could be directly archived in any country’s records room.

He already thought of the common perception and discrimination against Demon Hunters on the continent.

He thought of the possible difficulties when a Demon Hunter crawls out of a pile of dead bodies, carrying this notebook and seeking out various kings.

"Demon Hunters are not trustworthy; they are heartless monsters," "Everyone is dead except for them; can the words of those who survive by any means be trusted?" "It’s better to trust the civilization of the Niflgaard people than to trust Demon Hunters," and such.

He paved the way for the Demon Hunters through his meticulous preparation before any of these possibilities could occur.

Heraldry is the proof of his identity and knowledge. Now, he handed this proof to the three Demon Hunters.

After the letter was read, there was a dead silence around, with no one speaking and not even a loud breath to be heard.

Then, Lann carefully folded the letter in his hand and placed it back into the large notebook.

"Now, am I a knight?"

His voice was calm and without emotion.

Lincoln, who finally held back tears on one side, wiped his face with his sleeve and nodded with a choke.

"Yes, Sir Lann. According to Queen Calanthe of Sintra’s directive, your fief will be..."

"No, there’s no need to say these meaningless words anymore."

Lann snapped the massive volume shut.

This is not a notebook; it’s a war record from Hacksaw’s perspective, documenting the deeds of the Niflgaard invaders on this land.

His large hand handed the war record back to Lincoln.

"Hold onto it, scribe."

The young boy took it back blankly but his face changed drastically immediately after.

The bewildered look turned sharp and serious, the boy not even reaching Lann’s chest in height stared back at the giant with unyielding questioning eyes.

"Sir Lann, what are you trying to do?" 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

Without waiting for Lann to respond, he raised the war record in his hand, holding it towards Lann’s face with both hands.

"This is everything Hacksaw had! He staked his life, his children’s lives, and hundreds of refugees’ lives! You’re asking me to calm down!!!"

The boy, with red, angry eyes, yelled at the calm-faced giant, telling him to calm down.

The scene was dramatically intense.

Yet everyone present, even Dandelion, the most sensitive to dramatic elements, simply bowed his head, burying his face in the shadow of his hat.

After shouting, Lincoln tightly clutched the war record to his chest, his body hunched over, his tone low.

"Don’t go throwing your life away... don’t go... our lives aren’t only our own... there are more important things to do."

"...I beg you, Sir. I beg you."

"And the ennoblement! If you insist on going, I’ll tear your ennoblement apart! Tear away your noble status!"

At the end of his words, Lincoln’s eyes became dull as he clutched the final page of the ennoblement in his hand, threatening Lann... like a drowning person gripping a final straw.

Madness and helplessness.

And Lann watched the boy quietly all along.

He should have been in middle school at this age.

Lann thought inexplicably at this moment.

"Then tear it."

He said undisturbed, as if not speaking of an ennoblement recognized by nations but a scrapped piece of draft paper. The indifference from the depths of his heart stunned the frantic boy.

"Wha... this is..."

’Noble status’ had yet to escape his lips when the giant before the boy shook his head.

"I am different from you, or from all of you, Lincoln. I don’t find this status noble or special. To me, this piece of paper is less noble than those few words on the letter."

After he finished speaking, Lann turned decisively and without hesitation under everyone’s gaze, walking back in the direction he came from.

He spoke as he walked.

"Geralt, take them away and fulfill Hacksaw’s... last wishes. Don’t worry, the Niflgaard people will soon be unable to notice you all."

"And don’t follow."

His last half-sentence was so resolute, leaving no room for discussion.

"I am different from all of you, dear sirs."

He reiterated again.

With almost audible intense heartbeats, wisps of white smoke began to escape from the corners of Lann’s mouth, and a heavy, inexplicable pressure started to spread.

The forest, full of dead branches and leaves, seemingly lifeless, suddenly made rustling sounds.

Some small animals that remained active in winter started to flee in panic.

"You all keep saying ’the army is the greatest force’."

"All of you think this statement is so reasonable, it’s an irrefutable truth. However..."

"I do not acknowledge this commonsense."

At the last moment before leaving, Lann glanced back.

And just with that glance, everyone felt like they lost a breath.

Those were not eyes similar to a cat or snake.

Geralt sharply noticed the difference, as he had seen such eyes before... in a dragon!

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Ged also began to pack up, and with the way he packed, everyone present knew what he was going to do.

In any case, it wasn’t about fleeing.

"He told us not to follow."

Geralt spoke softly.

"He named you," Ged calmly responded amidst buckling his armor as he rebutted. "He didn’t say I couldn’t follow, so it’s none of my business. That’s that."

Geralt’s mouth twitched, and after a while, he blurted out: "...Damn it, every single one of you is like this."

Since coming into contact with Lann, Geralt always vaguely felt that this guy was a bit different from himself.

Not a physical difference, which was too obvious, and only an idiot would fail to notice. But a difference in ideology.

And today, this feeling of difference reached its clearest... most distinct...

I’m going to do something I believe is right and must be done, and you’re telling me how many people want to block me, to kill me on this necessary path... does that have the slightest thing to do with me?

It was clearly that Niflgaardian legion that swept aside the entire Sintra military force.

But in Lann, he still couldn’t see a trace of hesitation born from this.

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