Arthur's question was so direct, so ill-timed. The Mull Family knight looked at Arthur as if he were an ignorant child.
He didn't recognize this young man, assuming he was merely one of the Black Lion's attendants.
A contemptuous smile appeared on his face, and he spoke in a mocking tone: "Release them?
3
He pointed his riding crop at the sky, then at his sword scabbard.
"Unless the Seven Gods perform a miracle, or…"
He drew out his words, looking around, enjoying the desperate gazes of everyone.
"A trial by combat!"
After he finished speaking, he laughed first, and the soldiers behind him joined in with jeers. A commoner, a group of runaway serfs, what right did they have to demand a trial by combat? Who would represent them in a trial by combat? It was as absurd as asking the King to polish their shoes.
However, Arthur listened, then nodded gently.
He spoke, his voice not loud, but it struck everyone's heart like a heavy hammer:
"Then let it be a trial by combat."
Laughter, cries, the sound of the wind—all sounds vanished in that instant.
The mountain road fell into a deathly silence. Everyone seemed to be under a stasis spell, looking at Arthur in disbelief, as if time had frozen.
The smile on the Mull Family knight's face froze.
He blinked, as if he hadn't heard clearly: "What did you say?"
Arthur drew his mier longsword, plunged it into the ground, and rested his hands on it, repeating clearly, word for word: "Then let it be a trial by combat."
The Mull Family knight's error only lasted a moment, then was replaced by astonishment. He laughed out loud as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world, bending over with laughter, and his soldiers also burst into laughter.
He pointed at Arthur, then at himself: "You? You want to fight me? Hahaha!"
"Are you a noble and a knight? You, a mere attendant! For a few runaway serfs? To have a trial by combat with me?"
The Black Lion's face could no longer be described as merely ashen. Had this boy forgotten that he was here to negotiate territory with the Mull Family? Was this the way to negotiate?
Arthur's riders did not laugh. They instantly tensed their bodies, gripped their weapons, and stared sharply at the Mull Family soldiers opposite them, waiting for Arthur to give the command to charge. A chilling air of hostility permeated the atmosphere.
And those refugees kneeling on the ground, they looked up blankly, tears still on their faces. Although they didn't recognize Arthur, they recognized Arthur's banner. A glimmer of hope, faint as a candle in the wind, yet truly present.
Especially as they looked at this young man who suddenly stepped forward to represent them, even though he didn't look like a mighty warrior, in that deathly despair, it was as if a faint spark had been ignited.
Brother Meribald was the first to react from his shock.
He stepped forward, standing between Arthur and the knight: "Lord Arthur, I thank you for your courage."
"But... you are not a knight, you are not qualified to represent the Church, to conduct a trial by combat in the name of the Church."
He thought Arthur wanted to represent himself, in the name of the Church of the Seven Gods. This was the only logical explanation. He had never seen a lord represent commoners in a trial by combat.
The knight's laughter lessened when he heard the Brother's words.
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Arthur: "Arthur?"
He chewed on the name, then suddenly remembered something, and the wild joy on his face receded into shock: "You are the Black Lion?"
At the mention of that title, the soldiers behind him also stopped their jeering, gripping their weapons tighter. In the Vale, that name resounded like thunder.
The knight's demeanor became calm.
He no longer regarded Arthur as a mere attendant, but as a lord of higher standing than himself: "Black Lion, the barefoot Brother is right, you are not a sworn knight, you cannot represent him, to conduct this trial by combat in the name of the Church of the Seven Gods."
To represent a Brother of the Seven Gods was tantamount to representing the Church. Only sworn knights could act as agents of the Church, or, more devoutly, the Sons of the Warrior, who fought for the Seven Gods and have disappeared into the annals of history.
Arthur, however, looked at the old Brother and the knight with a strange expression.
He calmly spoke: "When did I ever say I was representing the Church?"
These words stunned Brother Meribald, and also stunned the knight and the Black Lion.
Not for the Church, then for whom? Could he truly be representing these runaway farmers?
Arthur extended his hand, pointing to the kneeling crowd.
"I am representing these people."
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