Rosso Brun gasped for breath, watching several burly men step forward to help the fallen Colin.
He turned to Arthur, his voice filled with incredulous shock: "My Lord... these... these people are... who are they?"
He truly believed that these forty men were all ordinary soldiers, and that an ordinary soldier under Arthur's command possessed such terrifying strength. He had won with great difficulty.
Arthur smiled. He pointed at the recently defeated Colin and introduced him to Rosso: "His name is Colin."
"He always charged at the forefront when fighting for me on House Ryger land, with five records of being the first to scale city walls, and personally beheaded over twenty enemy heads."
Colin, who had been helped up, picked up his sword from the ground, bowed respectfully to Arthur, then silently retreated to the back of the line with his head down, sneaking to the very end of the formation while everyone's attention was elsewhere. It was too embarrassing.
Arthur then pointed to a burly man with a longbow on his back, holding a training sword, and a smile on his face. He was also one of Brin's ten brothers: "His name is Anguy, a Longbowman."
"He has shot down thirty-seven enemies for me."
As Arthur's words fell, Anguy seemed to hear a summons.
He put down his training sword, smiled, took the longbow from his back, drew an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, aimed, and the feathered arrow flew.
Rosso Brun's eyes widened as he watched the arrow slice through the air with a whistle, precisely embedding itself in a branch of a large tree two hundred paces away. The fletching was still trembling slightly.
He couldn't help but swallow. Hitting a target two hundred paces away—this was a distance only an archer could achieve.
Rosso Brun pointed to two clearly seventeen or eighteen-year-old youths in the surrounding crowd: "What about them?"
Arthur's gaze fell on the two young squires he pointed to, who looked only seventeen or eighteen years old.
His smile vanished, and his tone became solemn: "The fathers of these two, though born farmers, fought bravely and achieved outstanding military merits. Each of them claimed over a dozen enemy heads for me, earning land for their families."
"Now, their sons have joined my retinue of Knights, and will inherit their fathers' duties and glory, serving me."
Upon hearing their lord's praise, the two young squires immediately placed their right fists on their left chests, bowing deeply to Arthur, their eyes filled with reverence and fanaticism.
At this, Rosso Brun fell completely silent. He looked around, at the determined, sweat-soaked, murderous, muscular men.
He remembered that he seemed to have forgotten a crucial detail: these soldiers had just returned from the battlefield. To become a lord's retinue, they must be the elite of the elite. He had underestimated them too much.
Rosso Brun suddenly realized how ridiculous his previous proposal had been. Forget one-on-three; even one-on-two, aside from the two undeveloped children, his chances of winning were slim.
Every person here was a survivor of the battlefield, forged in blood and fire.
Arthur watched the changing expressions on his face and regained his smile: "Sir Rosso, now, do you still want to fight one-on-three?"
Just as Arthur thought he would give up, he heard words that astonished and surprised him.
Rosso Brun took a deep breath, as if he had thought of something, and the fighting spirit he had somewhat lost reignited in his eyes.
He took a clean linen cloth from his horse, wiped the blood from his chest, his voice hoarse but full of power: "My Lord, did you just say they were Knights?"
Arthur didn't know what he was going to do and nodded silently.
"I demand to continue the duel! And!!! One-on-three!!!"
The Knight's words shocked the entire field. The surrounding burly men began to shout angrily. Arthur raised his hand, and the surging shouts ceased abruptly.
Rosso Brun clenched his fists, ignoring the shouts around him, and looked at Arthur.
"But not on foot! On horseback!"
A hint of surprise flashed in Arthur's eyes. He hadn't expected this man, after witnessing the strength of his soldiers, to still dare to propose a one-on-three challenge, merely disagreeing with the method of combat.
Unless... he was truly confident in his horsemanship.
However... he liked this courage and spirit.
He looked at Rosso Brun and nodded in agreement: "Very well, Sir."
"I will grant your wish."
A short time later, three burly men, who had quickly donned their chainmail and were ready for battle, led out their warhorses.
Arthur watched them, thinking it was a good opportunity to see for himself. These forty-odd men were his future Knight force, and their horsemanship was already skilled, but he didn't know their level of mounted combat.
He wanted to see the gap between them and a wandering Knight like Rosso Brun, who made his living this way.
But ultimately, he was very confident in his forty-plus Knights.
Rosso Brun swung onto his warhorse, a fiery red steed. He took the lance Arthur had a soldier hand him, and his entire aura instantly changed, as if he had merged with the warhorse beneath him.
This time, Arthur did not give an order.
The three Knights were actually already eager to give this arrogant bastard a piece of their mind. After some polite deference,
one Knight suddenly galloped fiercely forward, to the angry expressions of the other two still deferring Knights.
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