The Runesmith

Chapter 499: Unexpected Help.

The crowd was stunned into silence. Gerhard, once the proud and indomitable knight commander, now lay crumpled in the stands like a broken marionette, impaled by the mysterious spear. His spirit blade had long since fizzled out, and the orange glow that had once radiated from him like an aura of invincibility was nothing more than a memory.

Roland stood right next to the crash site, having witnessed the entire incident. His brother had nearly gotten himself killed after succumbing to something called blood crystal-induced madness. Though Gerhard had shown no initial side effects, it seemed that after suffering a crushing defeat and a severe injury, his mind had finally snapped. Just as he was about to deliver the killing blow, a spear was thrown.

The same spear collided with the magical barrier, a shield designed to withstand tier-3 strikes. Roland had managed to create a large hole on his side, but on the other side, where the spear came from, the barrier remained at full strength. Yet, the silvery mithril spear pierced through it with almost no resistance. The projectile struck Gerhard, sending him flying into the stands, where he now lay motionless, a giant pole protruding from his chest.

Roland's gaze shifted from Gerhard's broken body to the arena's entrance. There, a towering figure clad in gleaming silver armor strode forward with authority and confidence. The wolf emblem on his chest plate gleamed under the sunlight, and his armor shimmered with brilliance, unlike anything the audience had ever seen. His steps were slow, deliberate, and the powerful aura surrounding him was undeniable.

"That armor, that wolf emblem… Did that bastard actually come?"

Roland's heart began to pound as he recognized the man. There was no mistaking it—his father, Wentworth Arden, had arrived. For over ten years, Roland had managed to avoid him, hoping this day would never come. But here he was, wearing the fabled armor of the ‘Silver Wolf,’ a legend within the Kingdom’s military.

The arena fell into an even deeper silence as Wentworth Arden made his entrance, each step sending ripples of authority through the space. The barrier within the arena began to fizzle out as he moved through the stands. People started whispering, some recognizing the eye-catching armor he was famous for. Others glanced not at him, but at the figures behind him - heavily armored knights, all bearing the symbol of the crown.

The symbol of Caldris was also displayed on the silver wolf’s armor, indicating that all of them were dressed in their military uniforms. Each of these men, knights or nobility of some rank, would typically bear their own personal crests and symbols. Yet, they all wore the markings of the royal family, suggesting they were part of an official unit, possibly one returning from a border skirmish.

The royal crest of the Kingdom of Caldris features a fearsome golden dragon, its wings unfurled and flames curling from its open maw, symbolizing strength. The dragon stood proudly in front of a shield with its tail coiled protectively around a golden sword that ran vertically through the center. Flanking the dragon were two roaring griffins, their talons gripping the edges of the shield. Above the shield rested a regal crown encrusted with rubies and sapphires, signifying the royal lineage. Encircling the crest was a bouquet of golden oak leaves, intertwined with silvery thorns.

Roland’s mind raced as he realized his father hadn’t arrived alone. It was clear Wentworth had come with his own men, a contingent of knights now starting to file into the arena. Roland had anticipated some trouble, but due to the high concentration of mages at this event, he had been forced to pull back most of his golems, leaving only a few hidden in fringe areas of the estate, to be used once the duel was over. Somehow, though, his father had managed to arrive undetected, with reinforcements in tow.

"That armor... it's blocking my sensors. Is it generating some kind of magical jamming field?"

There had been some new dots appearing on the screen from some further away monitoring devices, but he was too focused on the duel to pay attention. Even with reduced external monitoring, Roland should have noticed more of them approaching. His system didn’t warn him about a large increase in tier 3 activity, which might have something to do with his father's armor.

This only confirmed that the magical technology they were using was beyond anything he had encountered before. It also meant that there were ways that could go around his runes which would need to be addressed in the future. However, now wasn’t the time for analysis. If he tried to investigate further, he was certain his father or one of the tier-3 knights in his entourage would notice.

Gerhard's lifeless body, impaled by the spear, still lay in a grotesque heap near the stands, but even that gruesome sight was overshadowed by the towering man advancing toward the balcony with Count Graham and Laurence. From the other side knights started pouring in, it seemed that even Graham was unaware of the arrival of his father, making it even more obvious that he had some sort of concealment device.

“What is the meaning of this? Who are you?”

Graham shouted as he rose from his seat, and the Grand Commander of his knights, Leopold, stepped forward to protect his master. Roland’s heart raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. Judging by the spear throw, it seemed he was here to rescue Robert to some degree, yet he hadn’t informed his sister or stepmother of his presence. The men accompanying him quickly moved to surround the area, taking control of the situation. It was clear they were not passive observers but were ready, if necessary, to confront Count Graham’s soldiers. The crowd, which had been roaring with excitement over Robert’s victory moments before, fell silent, holding its collective breath in anticipation of what might unfold.

“What is the meaning of this?! Who are you to interrupt my event?!”

Graham’s voice, filled with false bravado, boomed through the arena as he asked the approaching man about his identity again. Wentworth, however, remained unfazed. His icy blue eyes scanned the battlefield below, lingering for a moment on Gerhard’s lifeless form before moving to his son, Robert, who was in the process of removing the helmet from his armor. The suit was devoid of magical energy but his tier 2 strength was enough to still be able to move around in it. Graham’s face contorted into a mixture of frustration as he noticed the man ignoring his calls as if he were the one in power here.

“My lord, this is Wentworth Arden… we must tread carefully.”

Before Graham could continue with the question, Leopold stepped in. Thanks to Roland’s enhanced hearing and the help of his suit he could hear the whispers between the two.

“He commands a regiment in the royal army, his rank a Grand Knight Commander…”

“It’s Marshal now, Leopold. Maybe if you didn’t choose to leave the royal army… you might have reached this position as well and not stagnated here… a shame.”

While listening, Roland learned new details about his father’s achievements. He knew that strength didn’t always dictate rank, and some nobles despised his father for his strong reputation. When he left the Arden estate, Wentwort had held the rank of Grand Knight Commander—a position that granted him command over a regiment of up to five thousand soldiers.

The rank of Grand Knight Commander was the highest a knight could achieve in their lifetime, a pinnacle of success, but still not the top of the hierarchy. Upon receiving a noble title, a knight could rise higher, attaining the rank of Marshal. A Marshal commanded a division of three regiments, or about fifteen thousand soldiers. Beyond that were the positions of High Marshal and Grand Marshal, ranks that required the bearer to be at least a viscount.

"Oh dear, this doesn’t look good at all."

"No, it does not... but I think he’s on our side, at least for now. Let’s just wait and watch. I doubt they’ll escalate it much further."

As Roland eavesdropped on the nobles, his friend Arion finally made his presence known. The small black feline had been hiding in the stands, pretending to be nothing more than a pet. Roland knew that Graham wouldn’t allow another Tier 3 mage to oversee the duel, so they had agreed to keep Arion’s true identity concealed as he still wanted to witness the prototype in action. Now that the duel was over, there was no longer any need for him to remain hidden.

“Marshal… no Baron Arden, don’t you think that you’ve gone too far, what gives you the right to come to my house, uninvited and unannounced, baron? Are those soldiers of yours supposed to intimidate me? “

People began to slowly back away as the two nobles continued their conversation, sensing that a battle could erupt at any moment. Wentworth was pushing his luck by secretly bringing a large number of his own soldiers into another noble's territory - an act that could easily be interpreted as a declaration of war, something permissible among nobility.

The crown allowed nobles to settle disputes through battle, even to the point of seizing each other’s lands and titles if they had a justifiable cause. The kingdom operated under a feudal system, with nobles serving as feudal lords and the king as their only superior. While they were obligated to answer the crown’s call and mobilize during times of need, most of the time, they were left to govern their lands independently.

“I apologize for my sudden arrival, Count. However, some information had reached my ears that involved my son and how well you’ve been taking care of him…”

Wentworth finally came to a stop, his men fanning out behind him while Count Graham’s knights moved forward to protect their leader. They all remained tense, hands hovering over their weapons. The tension was palpable and the words were laced with hidden threats.

“What you’re implying is that I have somehow wronged your son, Baron? Me? After what he did to my daughter? I assure you, I had reasonable grounds to punish him and he was a willing participant in this duel, I gave him a chance to prove himself!”

“Prove himself against that coward? Who would backstab him, once he lost an honorable duel? Are those sorts of men that you bring up, Count?”

“You should watch your tone, Baron!”

The two men stared daggers into each other, even though Wentworth was much fiercer than Graham, the count did not relent. Both were old masters of their own trade, versed in how this world operated. They were still aware that if a battle broke out, it could spiral out of control, dragging them and their houses into a conflict both would suffer in. Spectators swallowed hard while trying to leave but all the exits were closed of by knights.

“Gentlemen, please calm yourselves!”

Before the conversation could continue anymore, Count Laurence finally intervened. He was in a more neutral position not really on the side of either of these two. From his perspective this was unbecoming of nobility and he had decided to stop them before things got out of hand.

“Both of you, this is unbecoming of your positions, you should discuss this like men, not like uncivilized brutes! This is a place for honor and tradition, not petty squabbles!”

The two man looked at the rotund Count Laurance who was trying to meditate and nodded begrudgingly. It was clear that they had differences with each other but this didn’t mean that they needed to go to war. Instead, it was better to take care of it like nobles and deliberate on a solution that would allow both sides to maintain their honor.

“Let us step back and consider a better solution, why don’t we retreat and converse first, before you let yourselves be dragged into a conflict that could have dire consequences for all involved?”

Wentworth remained silent, and so did Graham. Both of them were looking at each other, though Roland’s father’s face was concealed with the helmet that was shaped like a wolves head. Eventually, the large man of over two meters of height nodded in approval.

“Count Laurence of Lothston is right, perhaps we should discuss this issue… in private?”

“... Very well.”

Graham scratched his chin while nodding thoughtfully. He had underestimated what he was dealing with and had lost himself in anger, but now his mind was starting to work clearly. The man he was up against was not so simple. If he had known his new position, he might have simply asked for gold and for Robert to be stripped of his title. Now that he was here and the duel was lost, the deal he could negotiate would be much worse.

“Everyone, I must apologize for these circumstances, but I ask that you remain in the arena for now. Once the baron and I have cleared up this issue, you will be allowed to leave.”

The people present were Graham’s guests, but there was no one above him in rank except Laurance. If he told them to remain, they would have no choice but to comply. He was painfully aware that he had been made to look a fool. His knight had lost and even attempted to dishonor him by trying to kill Robert after Laurance’s

Announcement

. If Wentworth hadn’t arrived, things would have been much simpler; now, Robert was still alive, and the duel had ended. It would be best if no one here was granted the freedom to announce anything that transpired. He glanced at one of his mages, signaling for him to accompany them for this delicate conversation.

‘It would probably be unwise to eavesdrop this time…’

Roland was forced to watch as his father left with the counts, heading toward a nearby side chamber behind the balcony. Just before disappearing from view, his father glanced directly in Roland’s direction. His face was concealed by a specially crafted helmet resembling a wolf, but through the narrow slits, Roland could see his eyes. Though the gaze lingered for only a fraction of a second, it felt as though a mountain was bearing down on him.

The moment passed quickly, and his father vanished into the chamber beyond the balcony. The room was well beyond Roland’s reach, protected by powerful magical enchantments that blocked any attempt at eavesdropping. Activating his golems now would be far too risky as there were too many soldiers nearby, and he still had to keep his identity hidden.

“Madam, please calm down.”

“You want me to calm down now? My son had almost gotten himself killed! Now let me through this instant!”

His gaze shifted to some shouts coming from the audience. While most people just whispered between each other, one particular woman was screaming at one of the count’s knights. To make things worse, a few knights from Wentworth’s faction approached her with an intent to support her claim.

“Back away from the Madam.”

This was, of course, his stepmother, Francine. She, along with Lucienne, had seen Wentworth make his entrance and were now clamoring for answers. However, the order to remain was clear, and defying it would only cause more trouble. Roland could tell that Francine was more interested in her son than in her husband, and he was capable of providing her with some peace.

“Arion, it would be better if you didn’t involve yourself in this.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice but what are you going to do?”

“It’s too late for now, I’m going to see how the prototype is holding out and get Robert out of it.”

Roland had already presented himself as a haughty mage from the institute, so he saw no issue in continuing that persona. He rose gently into the air with the help of a levitation spell and propelled himself slowly into the arena. The other mages and soldiers watched him move, but no one stopped him as he assumed the role of Robert’s squire.

He descended gracefully into the arena, his cloak floating slightly behind him. Some glanced in his direction but did not react. Even the ones who had arrived with Wentworth remained still, as if they knew he was aligned with Robert and meant no harm. They had likely been briefed on the situation before the duel, aware that Wayland the mage stood with Lucienne and Robert.

As Roland approached, he noticed the strain etched on his brother's face. Moving around in the heavy, depowered dark power armor was no easy task. Robert had managed to dislodge the large helmet but couldn’t free himself from the rest of the suit without assistance. Only after Roland channeled some of his mana into the magical machine did the clasps unbind, allowing the back of the armor to open and release Robert. The battle was over, and the duel won, yet the air hung thick with tension. More trouble was brewing, and Roland wasn’t certain what the near future held.

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