Medieval Gacha Lord

"It seems our esteemed Lord Chancellor hit a wall with the nobles and knights of Montreal, and instead decided to pick on me as a soft target?"

Lothar didn't feel much anger, but rather a sense of watching a buffoon. Although, his own actions of paying out of pocket to provide lodging for his soldiers and even covering the inn fees indeed made him look somewhat like a soft touch.

"Hans, put on your iron gauntlets and come with me."

A smile played on Hans's face. "Milord, are you sure you don't want to handle this personally? This is a great opportunity to gain prestige."

Instructing Hans to wear iron gauntlets had a simple reason: he intended to use a noble's most straightforward, crude, and also most effective method of resolving conflict—a duel.

Perhaps for others, a duel was still an extremely risky affair; even if one held the advantage in skill, no one could survive duels forever. A warhorse might stumble, an opponent might coincidentally pierce a weak point in one's defense, or one might fall from their horse and land headfirst, breaking their neck... there were too many accidental factors.

Moreover, no one could guarantee their opponent's skill was definitely inferior to their own. Thus, a knightly duel was often called a trial by God to judge who is right and who is wrong, because luck indeed played a very important role.

Lothar shook his head. "In terms of personal valor, I have already accumulated enough prestige. After all, the honor of slaying two werewolves has fallen to me alone. If I were to fight, they wouldn't dare accept the challenge."

Hans said fawningly, "Milord is amazing!"

Lothar couldn't help but chuckle. "Hans, your flattery is terrible."

***

A group of brightly dressed knights, surrounding Chancellor Amalric, stood outside the Oak and Hazel inn. They faced off at a distance against the fully armed Royal Knights and sergeants on the other side. Lothar's prestige within the Knightly Order was growing daily. The disdain shown by these newcomers in their words and actions towards their Grand Master had long since infuriated Lothar's men.

"Don't be rash! Everything will be decided by the Grand Master!" Pepin, who had already been promoted to "Knight Commander" and "Standard-bearer," held considerable sway among the knights. He spontaneously restrained the other knights, preventing them from acting as recklessly as before.

On Amalric's side, a few knights looked with apprehension at the agitated crowd opposite them. "This Baron Lothar is the Grand Master of the Royal Knights. Will he agree to your request?"

"What damned Grand Master! A young man who hasn't even fully grown his feathers! Lord Amalric demanding he vacate this inn is doing him a favor!" Guy of Lusignan said loudly.

"Exactly! This Lothar is inextricably linked to Sir Humphrey's death! As for the testimony of those local nobles and knights? Who knows if they didn't collude, wanting to take advantage of Count Raynald being too busy to attend to matters here, to seize the territory of Montreal?"

Guy was convinced that Baron Lothar would absolutely not dare to offend his high-ranking and powerful brother at this time. He even believed Lothar should be trying hard to curry favor with his brother, hoping he might put in a few good words for him.

"Are you saying I am still a criminal in your eyes?" The knights and sergeants blocking the inn's entrance slowly parted. Lothar strode out. He looked at this knight who, from his high horse, looked down upon him.

In the history of his previous life, this man had ascended to the throne of Jerusalem by marrying Sibylla, and later, by relying on Richard the Lionheart, became the ruler of Cyprus. A lucky, but foolish, fellow. For such a person to usurp a high position was a disaster for everyone.

He raised his voice and questioned, "Answer my question, Guy!"

Guy retorted, not to be outdone, "And are you not? Without a trial, no one can clear your suspicion in Sir Humphrey's death! As for the talk of an evil god's bewitchment? Utterly ridiculous! There is only one true God in this world, and that is the Heavenly Father! Where would any evil god come from?"

"In that case, let the Heavenly Father judge whether I am guilty or not." Lothar removed his gauntlet and threw it hard at the man opposite him.

'Thump—' Chancellor Amalric, caught off guard, was struck squarely in the face by the heavy chainmail gauntlet. He said in exasperation and fury, "Are you mad, Lothar?! I am the Chancellor! How dare you treat me so?"

The gauntlet slipped from his face and fell to the ground. Yet he absolutely dared not reach out to pick it up, because doing so would mean accepting Lothar's challenge. He, who had lived a pampered life in the court, had not a shred of confidence in his own valor.

Guy's face flushed red, and he cursed, "You bastard! A barbarian who ran out of the German mountain forests! You rely on your valor to despise the law! This is a blasphemous act, using a sacred duel to absolve yourself of your crimes!"

Lothar found this somewhat amusing. "If I recall correctly, the one who usually relies on his rich dueling experience and throws gauntlets at others at the slightest provocation is you, isn't it? I am also very curious, how does one break this nasty habit of constantly throwing gauntlets at others? You should be experienced; can you teach me?"

Guy's lungs were about to explode with rage. Ever since being cleanly defeated by that blacksmith from Gaul, his reputation for valor seemed to have been trampled under countless feet. Some of his former defeated opponents had even begun to mock him for not even being a match for a blacksmith.

Lothar was practically tearing open the scar buried deep in his heart and rubbing salt into it.

"Enough, Lothar!" Chancellor Amalric felt he was now in a rather difficult predicament.

The gazes from all around, those knights who in the past had been awed by his title of Chancellor and looked at him with flattery and reverence, now looked at him as if he were a clown.

He was quite certain that if he were to retreat now, the morale of his contingent would completely disintegrate. Thereafter, how many of these knights would remain under his command was anyone's guess.

He had intended to achieve some merit in this campaign; even some insignificant merit could be spun by Queen Mother Agnes to grant him a proper fief. If the knights all dispersed, whom could he rely on? Those conscripts who were mostly ruffians and hooligans before, and couldn't even be fully equipped with military gear?

"If you don't dare to accept the challenge, so be it. I know asking you to duel me is asking too much of you. Hans, it's your turn to throw your gauntlet at our Lord Chancellor of the Court."

'Smack—' This time, Amalric was prepared and subconsciously turned his head, but a heavy iron gauntlet still struck him squarely on the face, impartially.

"Bastard! You are simply taking this too far!"

"Lord Chancellor, am I bullying you?" Lothar's voice held a trace of cold severity. The immense pressure from his Dragonborn bloodline swept out like a storm. He advanced step by step. The knights opposite him all showed slight changes in expression, their mounts uncontrollably backing away.

"You wish to forcibly occupy the inn I rented at great expense, the resting place I prepared for my Crusader warriors under my command who have just been through a bloody battle and slain hundreds of Mamluk cavalry."

"I will duel you!" Guy, unable to bear it any longer, shouted.

"So those few heavy punches didn't completely cripple you after all," Lothar said, his tone ambiguous, whether in praise or mockery.

Chancellor Amalric quickly interjected, "The date of the duel should be set by us! We have traveled far, our men and horses are weary! To duel now is too unfair to us!"

"When do you want it?"

Amalric pondered briefly, then said, "At least a week later." This was clearly a stalling tactic. A week later, the grand army would likely be arrayed before Kerak Castle against the Saracens; where would there be time for a duel?

But Lothar did not refuse. He merely nodded. "Fine. However, esteemed Lord Chancellor, I must warn you about one thing: restrain your subordinates. Do not let them clash with my Knightly Order, and more importantly, do not let me see you forcibly occupying civilian residences, even those of infidels."

Chancellor Amalric's face changed slightly. He couldn't imagine how Lothar had even thought of this.

"Are infidel civilians even human? We warriors fighting for God don't even have the right to occupy infidel houses? Baron Lothar, do you fancy yourself the supreme King whose word is law? By what right do you command me?"

Lothar smiled. "You can certainly try. I don't mind using your rabble as a warm-up before we fight the Saracens to the death. My Lord Chancellor, you embezzled so much money from the city defense; are you still unwilling to spend some of it on your ill-clothed and poorly-fed soldiers? I find it truly hard to imagine that the once-valiant Frankish knights have so quickly become as greedy and stingy as moneylenders."

"You... this is slander!"

In the end, Amalric retreated in disgrace. He was like a clown brought by a Gipsy caravan, or a court jester meant to amuse nobles, having successively staged a comical farce, first at the city gate and then before the inn.