They all call me Great Master

Hearing Arthur's words, Edwin made a hand gesture to one of his squad leaders.

Immediately, the squad leader jumped onto a cart prepared for this very purpose—the horse had already been unbridled, and the cart, balanced on a wooden box underneath, was similarly stacked with wooden boxes in a bottom-three, middle-two, top-one arrangement.

A temporary watchtower was thus formed.

And the squad leader's eyesight was sufficiently sharp; in just a few seconds of looking, he made everything out clearly.

"It's the nobles, those bastards from the houses of West Berlin and Ainhars!"

The squad leader reported in a low voice.

Arthur clearly heard the squad leader's reference to the Marquess of West Berlin and the Marquess of Ainhars—bereft of any honorifics or titles, and with a tone rich in disdain and insult.

Although the nobility's authority had greatly diminished since the 'Pioneer Era', such a reference was still incredibly bold—in public settings, including in South Los, nobles were still to be addressed with respect as prescribed by the new laws, with violators subject to flogging.

Of course, most of the time, people's references to nobles were no longer so rigid, a mere formality.

But as for such irreverence as exhibited by this squad leader, most people did not dare.

After all, a whipping would be painful.

And the squad leader's disregard naturally stemmed from the so-called 'Lady of the Long Night'.

Arthur could easily imagine how Marinda, who had recently been harassed by the West Berlin and Ainhars families, must have been cursing them in private.

Unfortunately, he hadn't witnessed it.

Otherwise, he would certainly take the opportunity to tease her a bit and give Marinda's nerves a little jolt.

Just pure banter between friends, surely not because Marinda had stated that the 'Kledos Family' couldn't possibly be without their muggles and certainly had their weaknesses.

He, Arthur Kledos, as a young, upright, naive, and kind 'Spirit Medium', how could he ever be so petty?

It was all misconception, pure misconception.

Arthur thought this with absolute certainty, and at the same time, began to adjust himself.

Compared to the light appetizers that had come before, the group arriving now was the main course.

He needed to muster all of his energy to face them.

Perhaps, the nobility were annoying.

But, they were also powerful.
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With their Bloodline Talents and years of accumulated knowledge and wealth, whether others acknowledged it or not, these people were the high-rankers of the current world.

Even with the advent of gunpowder in the 'Pioneer Era', it was still the same.

Moreover, this status quo would persist for a long time to come.

The rise of gunpowder?

With the presence of the 'Mystic Side', it was destined to be suppressed.

Unless...

A war swept the world, leaving all the nobles exhausted and forced to enlist more commoners.

Only then would gunpowder truly rise and unleash a power so unexpected to those nobles.

Now?

One must play by the rules.

Standing before the mountain stream, Arthur watched the two groups of cavalry, moving in parallel yet starkly distinct from each other—each group comprised thirty-one horsemen, with the leading rider in each bearing a Swallowtail Flag.

The blue Swallowtail Flag depicted a spread-winged eagle, its eyes sharp as knives.

The red Swallowtail Flag displayed two crossed Longswords, their edges manifest and formidable.

The former represented the Marquess of West Berlin.

The latter represented the Marquess of Ainhars.

Clop clop clop!

The uniform beat of horseshoes and the friction of armor created a unique rhythm; under the slanted sunlight, the armor reflected a blinding brilliance.

The radiance shone upon everyone present.

Except for myself, within the armor.

Edwin, one step behind, took his place behind Arthur. The coachman squinted his eyes to observe the two squads of cavalry with a clearer gaze while his right hand, hidden behind his back, continuously gestured.

Immediately, aside from the twenty people who had left to purchase provisions and supplies, the remaining one hundred and thirty swiftly sprang into action.

The one hundred and thirty people pushed the carts to form two parallel rows, less than two meters apart, after which fifty of them began to mount their horses.

The remaining eighty stood in left, center, and right formations.

The thirty in the middle, with twenty-five on each side, led by their respective captains, knelt in the front row, half-knelt in the second, and stood upright in the last, uniformly raising the firearms in their hands.

Among those who mounted their horses from the fifty members of the caravan, five elites had already charged out.

Not to break the formation.

But for reconnaissance.

Their mission was to scout the surroundings for any ambush or traps.

If there were any, they would report back.

If not, they would send out a signal, and the following cavalry would then make a detour to encircle from behind or cut in at an angle.

As the caravan members formed a barricade with their carts, the cavalry of the Marquesses of Seberlin and Ainhars continued to advance.

When the caravan members arranged a line of battle formation, the cavalry of the Marquesses of Seberlin and Ainhars slowed their advance.

As the caravan's cavalry dispatched scout riders, the cavalry of the Marquesses of Seberlin and Ainhars halted their march.

It wasn't out of fear!

We did not come for war!

Kalal, the envoy of the Marquess of Ainhars, assured himself, but his gaze, fixed on the 'Lady of the Long Night's' caravan, was that of a wild beast ready to pick its prey.

Kalal swore on his noble honor that the so-called merchant escort in front of him was an army!

Moreover, it was an army consisting of veterans who had trained exclusively in the elite military fashion and participated in more than one battle!

Look at their skilled horsemanship, the composure they show in the face of approaching cavalry, and the way the commander responds; they've already surpassed the private armies of most nobles.

"Damn it!

What does she want to do?

She's raised an army!"

Unable to contain himself, Kalal cursed without regard for decorum.

Jimte, on the other hand, watched this 'army' with great interest. To his knowledge, the 'Lady of the Long Night' had nearly a thousand people guarding her caravan. Of course, it was declared outwardly to protect the growing business of the caravan. If all thousand of them were the level of veterans seen here, it would be enough to give any local lord a headache.

Right, this lady also owns four private islands near the Nearshore Islands of South Los.

She claims they are for cultivating sugarcane.

While sugarcane is indeed produced there, it does not impede the likelihood that similar escort teams exist on the islands.

More importantly, this lady has the 'Long Night' as her flagship, made up of three fleets with thirty-seven large vessels each.

This three-fleet venture probably staffs about five thousand people…

As he pondered the secret intel passed within his family, Jimte couldn't help but click his tongue and mutter.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, what a terrifying woman!

South Los is truly a fearsome place!

One Mother Tigress was already daunting enough, and now here comes another…

It's truly perilous!"

While Jimte said this, his gaze passed over the members of the caravan, focusing on the conspicuous black figure in the crowd, his eyes lightening with excitement—

'Arthur, huh?

I've finally seen you!'