The two armies faced each other on the plains.
On one side were Arthur's twenty light cavalrymen and over four hundred light infantry, their formation orderly, their killing intent palpable, and every soldier standing proudly.
On the other side.
It was a ragtag group forcibly assembled by Knight Terry, over four hundred farmers clutching pitchforks, hoes, and sickles, huddled together, their faces etched with fear, their eyes not even daring to look over.
Arthur saw the current situation; to be honest, he hadn't expected the opponent with such strength to want to fight him to the death.
Knight Terry, riding a tall horse, was about thirty-something, his face pale, and he hadn't expected the difference between farmers to be so vast.
According to noble warfare custom, the two commanders would meet before the battle. Arthur and Walker Terry, each with two guards, rode their horses to the center of the formation.
Walker Terry's eyes were bloodshot as he looked at Arthur, as if they were about to spew fire.
Arthur seemed oblivious to his mood, remaining calm: "Knight Walker Terry, this is your last chance."
"You have already committed grave crimes: refusing to swear fealty, seizing the liege lord's land, refusing to return the land, shaming the liege lord's honor, and now you even draw your sword against your liege lord."
Listening to Arthur's words, which sounded like a list, Walker Terry's face alternated between green and pale, and the words were stuck in his throat; he couldn't utter a single sound.
Arthur pointed at him with his hand, "Kneel now, bend your knee to me, and swear fealty, and I can still let you keep a village as a fief, allowing your and your House's bloodline to continue."
Knight Walker Terry, hearing this, seemed to have been subjected to immense insult, or perhaps it was the madness of despair, and he shrieked:
"Arthur Stinking Fort! Your House became nobility by wiping excrement! You don't understand what honor is at all! Don't think you can be proud for long!"
"My land is the land my House has cultivated for generations! No one gave any help! Why should it be yours?!"
"You will eventually be discarded like trash by Daedings Family! And meet the same fate as me! Perhaps even worse!"
"You little brat killed a few wildlings!! Do you really think you're a lion!!!"
"I curse Daedings Family! I also curse you!"
"If that's the case! I sentence you to death!" Arthur listened, his face calm. He didn't say another word; more words were useless. He rode his horse back to the formation.
The meeting concluded!
Arthur rode his horse to the front of the formation and raised his longsword high.
"Whoosh! ———————— Whoosh!!"
This was the horn of advance, and the soldiers let out earth-shattering roars, marching in neat formations, pushing forward like a flood.
The momentum, accompanied by battle cries, charging forward, was enough to break the weak's mental defenses with just the visual impact.
In Arthur's conservative view, one hundred of his soldiers would be enough to rout this serf army, causing them to scatter.
As expected, as soon as Arthur's army began to move, facing the dense, unstoppable oppressive force of the tightly formed army, the serf army behind Knight Terry began to scatter.
People retreated, at first only a few, then a dozen, then hundreds, scrambling to escape backward.
They had no will to fight, nor did they know what they were fighting for or why they should fight. They threw down their crude weapons, crying and turning to run, even breaking through the few House soldiers around Knight Terry.
Knight Terry tried to stop them, but it was futile. He cursed, despaired, and cut down a few serfs with his sword, but he could no longer salvage the rout.
In the chaos, he was thrown to the ground by his own horse, and before he could get up, several farmers who had just been "fighting" for him swarmed him, seizing him tightly.
These farmers had long hated him to the bone, having suffered oppression, and now they were forcibly conscripted into the army under threat to their families' lives, and he had even just killed a few of their forcibly conscripted brothers and friends.
Seeing him in such a sorry state amidst the chaos, they wouldn't let him off. The crowd swarmed him, directly escorting him to Arthur, hoping to exchange him for forgiveness and reward.
Knight Terry was disgracefully pressed down before Arthur's horse, covered in mud and dust. His earlier prestige and anger were completely gone, and he looked up at Arthur with a fawning smile.
He struggled a few times, finding he couldn't break free from the crowd pressing his body, "Lord Arthur! I am willing to bend my knee and pledge fealty! I am willing to bend my knee and pledge fealty!"
Arthur smiled curiously and said, "Didn't you just insult my House, curse me, and loudly sing about honor?"
Walker Terry's expression began to turn awkward, shameful, and fearful, with countless emotions flickering across his mud-stained face, changing rapidly.
But looking at Arthur's smile, he seemed to feel he had a chance to live, and with tears and snot streaming down his face, he pleaded:
"Lord Arthur! I am willing to bend my knee and submit! I am willing to offer everything I possess! My wealth! My land! My sword will fight for you!"
"You are a true lion! Please… please give me a chance, a chance to serve you!" He spoke with such sincerity, as if he could shed his head and blood for Arthur the next moment.
Arthur dismounted without looking at him.
He merely bent down and scooped up a handful of damp earth from the ground at his feet, weighing it in his hand.
He walked to the bound Knight Terry, spread his palm, letting the dirt slip through his fingers and fall onto Knight Terry's face.
"Knight Walker Terry, since you have offered me the dirt beneath your feet." Arthur's voice still held a hint of a smile and gentleness. "Naturally, I should return the favor."
The soldiers behind Arthur parted to either side, revealing a large pit that had already been prepared.
"You can't do this!" Knight Terry's face was pale, and he looked at Arthur in terror, his body trembling violently, continuously shouting, "You can't do this!"
He shook his head frantically, looking at Arthur and then at the deep pit, his body trembling violently, continuously letting out hoarse shouts: "You can't do this! I am a noble! I am a Knight! You cannot treat me this way! I want to see Lord Balon Dading!!"
Arthur's smile finally vanished. He lightly nodded his head towards the pit, signaling the soldiers.
The soldiers holding Walker Terry immediately dragged the wildly struggling and cursing Walker Terry to the edge of the pit, like dragging a livestock to be slaughtered.
"I demand trial by combat!!!" Walker Terry struggled with all his might, "I demand trial by combat!!!"
Seeing that Arthur ignored him, he shouted angrily, "I demand to wear the black robes!!!"
Walker Terry's hands and feet were tied behind his back by the soldiers, and no one paid him any attention. All that remained were his desperate roars and curses, and his wide-open eyes, filled with bloodshot veins and endless fear.
The soldiers looked back at Arthur, and seeing him nod his head lightly, they pushed Walker Terry into the pit.
"Brothers." Arthur turned to the surrounding soldiers. "Come, brothers, let's return the favor to the generous Lord Walker Terry, who gifted us land."
The soldiers lined up, each taking a handful of dirt, then another, and another, throwing it into the pit.
The dirt fell, covering Knight Terry's chest, then his neck… The angry curses and pleas grew fainter and more muffled.
Finally, Arthur stepped forward.
He took the last bit of dirt remaining in his hand.
And gently sprinkled it onto the new grave.
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