Chapter Thirty-One: The Noble's Decision

"Ha!"
"Ha!"
"Clang!"
The sharp, forceful shouts echoed continuously, and the sound of clubs colliding was even more grating and harsh. Less than ten miles from Brelly City, near the imperial family's summer hunting palace, at an estate nestled close by, two figures wrestled and rolled together on the snow-covered training ground. Dozens of bare-chested, tight-leather-trousered, barefoot, bald men stood solemnly by, shields and short swords in hand, watching the battle unfold.

Suddenly, a fierce shout rang out. Among the combatants, Black Horse Haus had his long staff flicked away by the other's spinning force, and then, with a rapid thrust, the ironwood staff was driven hard into his stomach. Haus cried out in pain, clutching his abdomen, falling to his knees, vomiting so violently that even bile spilled out.

"Useless!" Just like Black Horse Haus, Haulin wore nothing but a pair of leather briefs in this icy season. He snorted coldly, dropped the ironwood staff, took a long cloak from one of the men, wrapped it around himself, and strode over to Haus, kicking him to the ground.

"A descendant of the Bavier family, honed his body and trained in battle energy from childhood—you became a lowest-rank knight at thirteen. Father taught you tactics from the age of seven, using real examples from the Island War as your lessons."

"And yet you were defeated by a thug from a common family!"

Haulin's single eye twitched violently. If the kneeling, vomiting figure were not his younger brother, he would have killed him with his own hands—just as he had personally beheaded a cousin who deserted in battle.

"You've disgraced Father, shamed the entire family," Haulin said bluntly. "This has become a scandal not just in the military, but among the civil officials as well. Everyone knows: the youngest Bavier, beaten by a gang of hooligans in a student brawl. The impact is enormous—someone has already spoken to His Majesty, questioning Father's leadership."

Black Horse Haus lifted his head in fury, gritting his teeth as he roared, "This has nothing to do with Father!"

Haulin sneered, his face dark. "But in the eyes of Father's political enemies and the entire military, this has everything to do with him. The youngest Bavier, trained in orthodox military education, a future elite of the imperial army, beaten by a gang of thugs—do you understand what this means? It means Father's failure, the Bavier family's failure, even the failure of the entire military system."

Haulin took a deep breath, and with another kick sent Haus sprawling several meters away. He snorted coldly, "Remember these days of my beatings. Remember every bruise and scar on your body. Remember this humiliation—you were defeated without even seeing the enemy’s face."

Haus's teeth ground audibly. He slowly rubbed his abdomen, mottled with bruises of blue and purple. He nodded fiercely, gritting his teeth. "Brother, I remember. I will repay them for all of this."

Haulin nodded grimly and waved his hand. "Go wash up. Father wants to see you. Remember, these days, for your sake, Father and the entire family have endured immense pressure and paid a heavy price."

Haulin exhaled deeply, narrowed his single eye, and turned toward the direction of Brelly City.

At the center of the estate, within a small castle, a study faced the training ground. The room was spacious, but its furnishings were simple and solid; aside from thirteen sets of armor scarred by swords and dozens of ancient, colorful weapons hanging on the walls, there were no other decorations. A massive desk stood squarely at the center, with a military map of the area around "Norman Fortress" spread across it.

The wall facing the training ground had been knocked through, turned into a giant floor-to-ceiling window. Haus and Haulin's father, the current master of the Bavier family, Imperial Viscount and Major General Hausen, stood with his hands behind his back, gazing quietly at the falling snow outside.

Having changed into clean clothes, his face battered and bruised, Haus crept carefully through the door and silently approached Hausen from behind.

A full half hour passed in silence. Sweat poured from Haus's forehead, trickling down his cheeks and dripping steadily from his chin. Even as his own son, Haus felt a crushing pressure when facing Hausen—the source was the intense, almost tangible aura of death and bloodlust that clung to Hausen, accumulated from countless corpses and rivers of blood.

Not yet sixty, Hausen had entered the horrific Island War at fifteen, fighting in the carnage for years, forcibly elevating the Bavier family's rank from baron to viscount. The last decade of the century-long Island War was known as "the Meat Grinder," with millions of soldiers dead on the western continent, and casualties among the five islands' alien races exceeding a million.

Hausen had dyed his medals red with the blood of a million warriors. Even thirty years after the war ended, his murderous aura remained undiminished. Born in a peaceful era, never having truly seen a battlefield, Haus was nearly suffocated by the force of Hausen's killing intent.

Just as Haus was about to collapse under the weight of Hausen's presence, Hausen finally turned around, baring his teeth in an ugly smile. Like Sword Joe, the owner of Sword and Beauty Tavern, Hausen bore two scars across his face, almost cleaving his face off—his features were anything but pleasant. His twisted lips couldn't fully cover his teeth, and two rows of broken, yellowed teeth added to his frightening visage.

With a slight smile, Hausen spoke slowly: "Failure is not dreadful. I was defeated five times on the battlefield, each time losing entire legions under my command. The soldiers lost in those five defeats alone exceeded one hundred thousand."

Haus bowed his head respectfully, not daring to make a sound.

Hausen sighed, sneering coldly. "Failure is not the problem; the question is whether it was worth the price. Your failure this time has placed me, the family, and all our military allies in a passive position—and you were beaten by a gang of student thugs. That was not worth it."

He gripped Haus's shoulders tightly, his face dark. "You have no need yet to understand the storms among the empire's elite. Know this: your failure brought great losses to the family. You must make amends."

After a moment's thought, Hausen nodded slowly. "You have one year. Graduate from the Military Academy with the highest honors. I will assign you to the Northern Sea Border Army. Lost glory must be reclaimed on the battlefield."

He shook Haus hard, narrowing his eyes and speaking coldly. "As for the one who defeated you—"

"You must defeat him with your own strength. Kill him. Destroy his entire family. Only then can the family's honor be restored."