Volume One: The Forest Knight, Chapter 85: Planning Muula's Elimination (Part One)

Beside the bishop, however, the Count and Jessis felt quite differently, for both had already placed their faith in Berrion.

Moreover, they had no fondness for those two insolent wretches who had come to disrupt the banquet held in their own home. Now, seeing the holy knight being thoroughly thrashed by Berrion, they felt an inexpressible delight and satisfaction.

Just as Berrion was about to turn and leave, the dazed holy knight suddenly burst into wild laughter.

He wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve, then fixed Berrion with a glare blazing with fury. Grinding his teeth, he roared, “Berrion, you miserable bastard, today I am going to kill you no matter what!”

Insulting himself meant little, but saying such a thing about his mother was more than Berrion could endure. His expression immediately darkened, and killing intent rose within him.

The holy knight snatched a table knife from a nearby table and lunged at Berrion. It seemed he had truly lost his senses, willing to throw everything away in order to kill Berrion, just like Sir Sorg on that day.

Berrion, now intent on taking his life, no longer cared whether the man was armed. At such close quarters, in a hand-to-hand fight, weapons made little real difference to masters like them.

Berrion slipped past the knife thrusting in with the man’s right hand, stepped in close, and drove a heavy punch into his abdomen. Then he slammed his shoulder hard into the man’s chest. The tremendous force sent him staggering backward several steps before he could steady himself, whereupon he began coughing violently, coughing up blood as he did so.

It seemed the earlier side kick had already broken several ribs, and during that impact they had pierced his internal organs. Under present medical conditions, such grave internal injuries could not possibly be treated. This man was undoubtedly doomed.

Watching him cough and vomit blood, Berrion felt a trace of pity. The man was truly miserable, deceived by that hateful Sister Muira into coming here to provoke him.

After suffering such a blow, knowing full well that he was no match for his opponent, he still refused to accept defeat and withdraw. Berrion had no desire to take more lives than necessary.

Yet the man was both foolish and easy to manipulate, and even now, in such a sorry state, he still dared to provoke Berrion. He had only himself to blame for being beaten like this.

Just when Berrion thought it was all over, the holy knight, still able to stand, showed no sign of stopping. He kept hold of the table knife and charged at Berrion again.

As he rushed forward, he shouted, “You filthy beast bred from pigs and dogs, you disgusting creature raised on filth and urine—if I do not kill you, I cannot rest in death!”

Seeing that the man was bent entirely on dying, Berrion could only grant him that wish. The holy knight was already beyond saving; better to finish him in a single blow and spare him further suffering.

Berrion extended his left hand to forcefully deflect the holy knight’s right arm, which still gripped the knife. At the same time, his right fist came down hard upon the man’s throat.

Sure enough, the strike was devastatingly effective.

The holy knight’s throat bones shattered at once. He clutched his neck and collapsed to the floor, then began convulsing violently.

As his body twitched, blood froth poured from his mouth. Before long, he had fallen still, lying motionless. He was surely dead beyond all doubt.

At that moment, the nobles gathered in the banquet hall were all shocked by Berrion’s martial prowess.

During the trial by combat, most of them had already witnessed his skill, and now they had seen him beat a much larger holy knight to death with his bare hands. They could not help but admire him sincerely.

No one knew who began the applause first. From the very first claps, then the second, the third, and so on, thunderous applause soon swept through the banquet hall, accompanied by cheers from some of the younger noblemen.

“Brave Sir Berrion!”

“Invincible Knight, Berrion!”

“An unconquerable warrior!”

Amid the acclaim, Berrion bowed calmly to the assembly, striving to appear modest. After all, when one is in the flush of triumph, one must not become arrogant; to keep one’s tail tucked low is the wisest course.

Among the cheers, Sister Muira’s face turned so pale with rage that it seemed ready to drip with dark water, and it was a terrifying sight.

On that shadowed face, her beady eyes fixed venomously on Berrion. This young knight had humiliated her twice in succession, and not only that, had cost her a powerful ally.

Sir Sorg during the trial by combat, and this holy knight now, had both fallen because of her—one dead, one gravely wounded.

As Berrion acknowledged the crowd, he caught Sister Muira’s venomous stare and merely met it with a calm gaze of his own, seeing in her eyes the desire to tear him limb from limb a hundred times over.

Berrion knew that once you truly offended a person beyond repair, there were only two choices: either get as far away from that person as possible, because they would certainly spare no effort in seeking revenge on you and your family and friends, or, if escape was impossible, you had no choice but to remove that person so they would vanish forever from your world.

Sister Muira was backed by the king’s wife. Unless Berrion abandoned his faith and defected to the Tobar pirates, he could not escape the reach of this woman’s threat. Otherwise, he would have to sit and wait for Sister Muira’s relentless, frenzied retaliation.

Berrion could not betray his faith and drag his family and friends into hardship. That being the case, before Sister Muira could report to the king’s wife, he would have to eliminate the old nun. Of course, Berrion would not resort to assassination.

If he simply sent a killer to deal with this old nun who hated him so fiercely, that would be letting her off far too easily. Berrion did not merely want her gone; he wanted to strike at both body and soul.

As for how he would do it, he had already devised a plan and intended to act once tonight’s banquet was over.

At the same time, Sister Muira was also plotting how to kill Berrion. She had no intention of merely sending someone to do it. Indeed, she probably already knew that a common assassin would not be able to defeat Berrion.

Her thoughts matched Berrion’s: she wanted not only his death, but also his complete ruin, to make him a laughingstock throughout the Duchy of Brik.

But just as the already unlucky Sister Muira was standing in the banquet hall, staring at Berrion while hatching venomous schemes, Count Gri stood up to speak after the applause and cheers had died away.

With a cold look at Sister Muira, the count said in a very unfriendly tone, “Men, quickly drag out the corpse of this holy knight, and send word to the church in Yantvicks to come and collect it.”

Then he turned to the bishop. Seeing the bishop silent with his head lowered, he gave a faint smile and turned back to Sister Muira, snapping, “And this woman who disturbed my feast in honor of the warriors—throw her out as well!”

Sister Muira glared at Count Gri in outrage, never expecting that he would publicly humiliate her, a senior religious woman who had educated his daughter for so many years.

Seeing her stare at him like that, Count Gri’s lips curved in disdain, and he added yet another remark that made her lose even more face. “From now on, that woman is not to set foot in my banquet hall again. Whoever lets her in, I’ll break both their legs!”

By then, the surrounding nobles had also taken the opportunity to look on her with contempt. Hearing the count’s words and seeing the way everyone looked at her, Sister Muira trembled with fury.

She turned to the bishop, hoping for support, but the man in blue simply kept his head down and drank, offering her no opening whatsoever.

Heartbroken and defeated, Sister Muira let out a sigh and turned away in disgrace. She knew well enough that it was all because she had been rude from the start. To behave that way toward his guest at Count Gri’s banquet was no different from striking the count across the face.

Still, it was too late for regret now. She had only herself to blame for misjudging the situation.

After Sister Muira left and the holy knight’s corpse had been carried away, the servants quickly came forward, cleaned up the bloodstains and signs of the fight from the floor, removed the cold dishes, and reset the table with fresh food.

Watching their efficient, practiced manner, Berrion could not help but think that the life of the highest nobility was ever one of luxury and extravagance. Of course, it rested upon the exploitation of the common people, and that had never changed.

While Berrion was drifting in thought, he heard Count Gri’s voice from the platform. The count, in the prime of his strength, said in a calm tone, “Ladies and gentlemen, though we have had an unpleasant interruption, our banquet must continue.

“Our warrior, Sir Berrion, has once again shown us his extraordinary skill. By the fire god, I have never seen such clean and decisive hand-to-hand combat.

“Now that the troublesome guests have been driven off, let us raise our cups and toast our brave and invincible Sir Berrion!”

By then, the servants had already poured the wine into cups and carried them to the guests on trays. Everyone took up a cup, lifted it high, and drank together in homage to Berrion’s remarkable prowess.

Berrion likewise raised his cup toward Count Gri in thanks for his protection and praise. After all, for a great nobleman like Count Gri to show such respect to a low-ranking knight like him was truly rare.

Thereafter, everyone resumed their seats, the banquet began anew, food and wine filled the tables, and the embroidered tablecloths were replaced once more.

How wealthy they are, Berrion thought with a quiet sigh. In his own residence in Norland Keep, he did not even have tablecloths. When he returned this time, he would have to improve things.

The guests had not come for food and drink, especially not after witnessing such a splendid duel. These nobles, who enjoyed fine food and wine every day, had even less desire to sit and dine.

Count Gri timely announced the beginning of the dance. To the elegant music of the band, men and women paired off and began to dance, while Berrion “by chance” was paired with Lady Jessis.

As the two danced, Lady Jessis whispered excitedly to Berrion, “Just now, I never once worried for your safety. Do you know why?”

Berrion smiled at the lovely girl and answered softly, “Because you have complete faith in my strength. Defeating him was nothing difficult.”

“Mm-hm, yes! You really are my warrior,” Lady Jessis said, a little shyly.

Seeing Lady Jessis’s bashful and lovely expression as they danced close together, Berrion suddenly wished the world could stop at that moment, so that the two of them might keep dancing happily like this forever.

But he quickly collected himself. To keep staring at her would be terribly rude, and though both understood one another’s feelings, there were many others here.

By then, Berrion had already planned how to deal with Sister Muira, and he quietly told Lady Jessis his scheme.

At first, Jessis frowned, but as she listened, her brows gradually relaxed, and she gave Berrion a brilliant smile. As she turned in his arms and rose from a deep bend into an upright posture, she whispered, “You really are something. I’ll cooperate with you, so don’t worry!”