Medieval Knight System: Building the Strongest Empire Ever!-Chapter 86: I’ll Take Your Head

While Count Euz and my father-in-law were busy drawing up battle plans, someone approached Michael and me as we stood around like spare parts. It was the heir, who’d been glued to Count Euz’s side the whole time. Perhaps because his father wielded so much authority, he hadn’t said a single word during the entire audience.

"Guess this is our first proper introduction. I’m Fried von Euznirk, heir to Euz."

"Wolfgang Ritter von Streit. Sorry it took so long to meet you properly."

"Your exploits had Father in high spirits for the first time in ages, so really, I should be thanking you."

He said he’d felt a surge of satisfaction when I reported burning down the supply base. Fighting Burgundy was always a grind. Whether it was a major war or just a border skirmish, the frontier lords always bore the brunt of Burgundy’s seemingly endless resources.

Euz had clashed with Épinay more than anyone.

So Euz’s heir seemed to be living vicariously through my war stories. Fried was a pretty decent noble. He felt bad that I’d been cut out of the operation because of Euz’s nobles. Though honestly, it wasn’t just Euz’s nobles—there’d been plenty of grumbling within the duchy forces too.

"How’s Ulrich doing these days?"

"He’s doing well, staying healthy."

Fried seemed closer to Ulrich than Michael was. Ulrich was Michael’s brother—I’d met him once when I went to my father-in-law’s estate to ask for Hilda’s hand, but I hadn’t seen him since. He was managing the border garrison and had been deployed out east.

I would’ve liked to get to know Ulrich better, so that was a bit disappointing. The same went for Hilda’s older sisters, Margareta and Flora—I’d never met them either. All I knew was that Margareta had married into the Duke of Radensdorf’s family and Flora had married into the Marquis of Offenburg’s family up north.

Her sisters had married into royal and top-tier noble families, while Hilda had married down to a lower-ranked noble like me. The gap was so vast I almost felt guilty about it. From what I’d heard from Michael, their father’s blatant favoritism toward his youngest daughter had caused a rift between Hilda and her sisters.

I didn’t know much beyond that, but I was mostly worried that Hilda might be looked down on by her sisters because of my lower status. They’d married into different territories, so they probably wouldn’t see each other often, but there were still letters—just as Count Épinay had sent Count Euz a letter.

"Report! An envoy from Burgundy has arrived!"

The messenger’s announcement brought dead silence to the audience hall.

The atmosphere was the same as when the Crown Prince had welcomed me back.

In any case, considering it was completely dark out—late at night—the fact that Count Épinay’s envoy had shown up meant the count was furious, didn’t it? Count Euz gave an intrigued look and granted the envoy an audience. The French noble with the impressive mustache, meanwhile, had gone completely rigid.

"Seeing you twice in one day."

"I didn’t expect to see Count Euz twice in a single day either."

"So, what letter has the invasion commander sent this time?"

Count Euz, being a lord on the French border, spoke fluent French. The Crown Prince was fairly fluent in French too, and my father-in-law said he knew some. Michael only knew the basics, so he couldn’t follow high-level French conversation. But for me, it sounded as clear as my native language.

When the French noble held out the letter, an attendant who’d been waiting respectfully received it and presented it to Count Euz. Count Euz read through the unfolded letter calmly. The Crown Prince and my father-in-law were genuinely curious about its contents. Since this was Euz territory, it was only natural for Count Euz to read it first.

"Heh heh heh, I’ve never seen such an entertaining letter in my life. That man who always acted so high and mighty, sending a letter full of such raw insults—he must have been bottling up all that rage behind that mask of his."

Count Euz passed the letter to the Crown Prince, barely suppressing his laughter.

The Crown Prince’s eyes, which had been full of curiosity, widened.

"Is this really a letter written by the same person?"

"Isn’t it amusing? The handwriting is definitely Count Épinay’s."

"It seems like he’s angrier about the stolen horse than the burned supply bases."

My father-in-law, who received the letter last, burst out laughing openly. My eyes went straight to the French envoy, whose face was contorting more by the second. His face was turning red and blotchy—quite a sight. He looked about to explode but barely managed to hold himself together before speaking.

"The count has promised to show mercy if you return his prized horse."

"Why should we return legitimate spoils of war? Aren’t we in the middle of a war?"

"He said he’s willing to pay a ransom. How much do you want?"

A ransom for a horse? That made me even less willing to give it back.

Didn’t that just prove it was an exceptionally fine horse?

"So what do you think, Sir Streit?"

When Count Euz mentioned me, the French noble’s piercing glare locked onto me. His eyes said it all: So you’re the one who burned down the supply bases and stole the horse? I stood firm under that stare. And honestly, I had nothing to fear from some French noble glaring at me. If anything, the French should be the ones fearing me.

"I’m grateful Count Épinay gave me such a wonderful horse. I’ll take good care of Mont Blanc, so tell him not to worry."

"You speak French, so I thought you were a proper knight, but you’re nothing but a thief!"

"A thief for taking legitimate spoils of war? If you’re so confident, come and try to take it back."

Anyway, hypocrisy seemed to be a national trait of the French. They ran raiding parties themselves, but when the count’s horse got taken, suddenly we were thieves. What contemptible people. It made me want to keep the horse even more. My father-in-law handed the letter to an attendant and addressed the French noble.

"Surely you didn’t send an envoy just to get back one horse?"

"Tomorrow, the Burgundian army will begin its advance to burn Euz to the ground. If you’re confident, meet us in open battle. If you plan to hole up in the castle and waste time, we’ll burn every village in Euz."

"Ha! We have no intention of sitting through a siege either. Come at us all you want!"

"Yeah! Come if you dare! We’ll kill you all!"

"We will never bow to Burgundy!"

The nobles fervently rallied behind my father-in-law’s declaration.

Some even hurled insults at the French envoy.

The French noble turned on his heel, clearly not wanting to waste any more time.

Just as he was about to leave, he turned to me and said:

"Streit, was it? I’ll report everything in detail to the count. Mark my words—you’ll regret this. Ransom or not, I’ll take your head. If you want to run, now’s your chance."

"I’ll be waiting, Lord Burgundian Noble."

After glaring at me for a moment, the French noble left the audience hall. But through my Manager Scouter, I could check his history and status. He was a noble from Épinay and also a cavalry commander. He had to be the superior officer of that knight we’d captured, Clodis.

Gabriel de Bayon. An ambitious 25-year-old knight.

But his psychology clearly indicated deception. Not anger—deception? Something was off. When someone’s exterior didn’t match their interior, they definitely had some ulterior motive. What could that motive be? I focused on the fact that this knight was Épinay’s cavalry commander.

Fried filled me in on the French noble.

"That’s Gabriel de Bayon. Third commander of Épinay’s cavalry."

"Is he famous? I’ve never heard of him."

"Pretty well-known in these parts. He’s the enemy, but he’s a skilled knight."

As heir to Euz, Fried had experienced many border skirmishes and had fought Bayon’s cavalry several times. He described a scene where Bayon had faced three of Fried’s knights simultaneously without giving an inch.

Plessis, whom we’d captured as a prisoner at Feuzen, had shown considerable martial prowess against Eisenach and four other royal guards. We’d only caught him so easily because Fiel and I had worked together—in a one-on-one fight, I couldn’t have guaranteed victory against such a skilled knight. Were French knights simply more capable than those of Beren?