Chapter 15 Chapter fifteen

Half an hour later, Kyle, who hadn't fallen asleep, was startled by the sound of the cell door opening.He sat up and saw Albin and Vipond coming in.Vipond looked at him sullenly. "Good evening, Lord Vipond," greeted Idris Puk cheerfully. "Shut up, Idris Puke." Viponder still looked at Kyle. "Now tell me the truth - don't hide anything, or I swear you will be handed over to His Majesty immediately. Tell me what happened. Who are you and why you were able to defeat Cohen Materaz and his friends so easily I will do what I say, I only listen to the truth, as long as there is a lie, I will never interfere in your affairs from now on."

Kyle certainly understands the seriousness of the problem. The only thing that makes him hesitate is how much truth must be told to Vipond to convince him that he is 100% honest. "I lost my temper and lost control. It happens to people, right?" "Why did you break that knife?" Kyle looked embarrassed. "That was a stupid thing - I lost my head. I will apologize to His Majesty." Albin laughed. "Well, as if your apology was of any use." "Where did you learn such a good martial art?" Vipond continued to ask. "In the Temple, my whole life was training, six days a week, twelve hours a day."

"You mean Henry and Kleist also have the same fighting power as you?" This question made Kyle a little embarrassed. "No. I mean, they did receive combat training. Special training. Kleist is a good guy." "Which aspect?" "Spear and bow." "Where's Henry?" "Support, map, scout." This is true, but not the whole truth. "Does that mean they can't do what you are doing today?" "It can't be done. I told you." "Is there anyone else in the temple like you?" "No." "So," Viponder asked, "what makes you so special?"

Kyle paused, trying to come across as reluctant to answer. "I was good at fighting when I was nine - but not like now." "Once, I was fighting a boy much older than me. It was training, but it wasn't finished. It was real weapons, but the blades and blades were blunt. I had the upper hand. , knocked him to the ground but I was so cocky I let my guard down and got dragged down by him. Then he threw a rock at my head. The redeemers held him so he didn't smash my head off I woke up two weeks later, and two weeks later, I recovered, but there was a dimple in my head." He raised his hand and tapped the lower left side of the back of his head with one finger.Then, he stopped again, as if unwilling to speak further.

"But you're business as usual?" "No, at first I didn't hit like I used to. The timing was always wrong, but after a while, no matter what happened after he smashed my head off, I got used to it." "Get used to what?" Albin asked. "Every time you take a shot, you've decided where you're going to land on your opponent. And you're always giving away your intentions—the look in your eyes, the way you turn your body, how your body moves when you strike. Angle bends to maintain balance. These will tell your opponent where you are going to strike, and if he gets it wrong, the attack will succeed; if he is right, he will block or dodge the attack."

"Anyone who knows how to fight knows that, without exception," Albin said. "A master can hide his attacking intentions." "But no matter what they do, they can't hide it from me now. I can guess the direction of anyone's next move." "Can you show us?" Viponder asked. "I mean, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone." "Then please ask Captain Albin to put his hands behind his back." Hearing this, Albin looked a little uncomfortable, and Idris Puke, who had been watching silently, noticed this. "If I were you, dear Captain Albin, I wouldn't believe him."

"Shut your mouth, Idris Puke." Albin kept his eyes on Kyle, and slowly put his hands behind his back. "All you have to do is decide which hand to point at me very quickly. You can do anything that misleads my judgment and try not to make me guess. It's—" Before he could finish, Albin swung his left hand quickly at Kyle, but Kyle caught it easily, like catching a three-year-old throwing a ball.Six more tries, and despite Albin's best efforts, the result was the same. "It's my turn," Kyle said to Albin, who was already pissed off, but had to give in.Kyle put his hands behind his back, and the two continued.Kyle made six shots, and Albin misjudged six times.

"I know what you're going to do next," Kyle said. "I knew when your body started to move. It was only a fraction of a second before the attack landed on you, but it was enough. On the other hand, no one could tell my movements, no matter how fast or how fast they were. What a wealth of experience." "That's all?" Albin asked. "Just hit it on the head?" "No," Kyle didn't know why he was angry when he heard the question. "I've been training to do this since I was a kid. Cohen Materaz is good, but I can beat him without that, it's just not as easy and I can't deal with the other four at the same time. So, Captain, this is not the only way to win."

"How did the Redeemers react when they realized the change in you?" "Not them, but him—Bosco, military priest, in charge of all military training." "Military affairs, is it what we call martial arts?" "There's nothing artistic about what I do, just ask Cohen Materaz and his friends for that." Viponder dismissed his sarcastic tone. "This Father Bosco, what did he do after he found out?" "He spent months testing me and having me fight men who were much older and stronger than me. He even brought in five veterans who, he said, were retired from the Eastern Front and sentenced to death. guy."

"result?" "He made me fight them for four days in a row. 'Kill or be killed,' he said to all of us on both sides. Then, four days later, he ordered it to stop." "why," "He's already got a definite answer. Playing another day is a pointless risk." He smiled, but his expression was not pleasant. "Anyway, a sword has no eyes, anything can happen, right?" "and then?" "Then he tried to copy me." "What's the meaning?" "He spent a few days measuring the wound on my head and comparing it with a skull from a cemetery. He then made a model out of clay. He spent the next six months experimenting with making the wound appearing again."

"I don't understand. How?" "He found a dozen fellow monks who were about my age and build, tied them up, and drove chisels into their skulls, the exact shape and size of the wound on my head, and hammered the chisels into the same places. Hit hard at first, then lighten, lighten again." For a moment no one spoke. "What's the result?" Vipond asked softly. "Half died on the spot, and the rest weren't who they were before. And then they just disappeared." "Been taken elsewhere?" "Let's put it that way." "what's next?" "Then Bosco took over my training. He'd never done that before. Sometimes he'd make me train ten hours a day, find my faults, give me a whipping and order them to correct me if I made a mistake. Then he disappeared. Six months, when he came back, he brought seven redeemers, the best of the best, he said." "Which kind of expert?" "Murder mainly—armed men, unarmed men, men with clubs, men with swords, men with fists. They know how to organize a massacre..." Kyle fell silent. "Massacre prisoners?" "Not exactly prisoners, anyone. Two of them are commanders, one is in charge of macro-strategies such as offense and defense, and the other is directly leading operations: for example, fighting with small forces in enemy-occupied areas, organizing assassinations, and how to Deterring the natives helps them not the enemy." "What is this for?" "You know, I've never been stupid enough to ask Bosco that question." "Is it related to the Redeemer War in the East?" "I said I didn't ask." "You must have ideas of your own." "My own thoughts? Yes, I think it has something to do with the war in the east." Vipond stared at Kyle for a long time, and Kyle looked at him without hesitation.Then, as if the grown-up had made up his mind, he turned to Albin. "Bring the other two to me as soon as possible." Albin motioned for the jailer to come over, and the two left. Kyle sat on the bed.Idris Puke approached the railing. "Interesting experience," he told Kyle. "You should write a book." After talking with Vague Henry and Kleist, Vipond immediately went to the palace of Marshal Materaz, the supreme ruler of the empire. The Field Marshal had many advisors because he was a man who liked to consult others and spent a lot of time discussing issues in detail.But as to the fact that he took little advice from others, we might as well understand this fact as a characteristic of a man who is born into a position of power.The only exception to this practice is when he is with Vipond, because Lord Vipond also holds great power. The almost always right judgment of denial earns this status.The ballad goes like this: What Lord Vipond does not know is not worth knowing. Although there is no rhyme in this sentence, the truth is not bad.To be able to ascend to the highest position in the largest empire in history, the Marshal is by no means a good man or a faithful woman.To be able to rule the empire unchallenged for more than two years required military prowess, great political flair, and a good mind.However, the great marshal never quite understood how Vipond, who was at his side throughout his reign, came to have nearly as much power as he.One day in the third year of his reign, he suddenly realized a terrible truth: Vipond had become an indispensable figure in this empire.At first, he is hostile to the powerful Viponder—the existence of such a figure is intolerable, and it is tantamount to exposing himself to possible assassination, or worse, becoming a puppet.But Vipond clearly expressed his position, as long as the marshal does not interfere with his rights and status as a minister, he will always be loyal to him.After that, their relationship became very delicate, and they could not be said to be at odds. In the words of farmers in the suburbs of Memphis, they were relatively fragile. After being brought before the Marshal, Vipond nodded and saluted, and was then invited to take a seat. "How are you feeling, Vipond?" "Excellent, Your Majesty. How about you?" "not bad." The conversation between the two then turned embarrassingly cold.In other words, it was His Majesty who was embarrassed, because Vipond sat in his seat and gave him a kind smile with a calm demeanor. "As far as I know, you met with a Norwegian delegation today." "yes." The Norwegians were one of the frontier peoples conquered by Materaz's army fifteen years ago, and while they enthusiastically embraced the benefits of their conquerors—roads, centrally heated palaces, and lavish imports—they also He did not give up his heroic and aggressive nature.Five years ago, the Marshal, struggling to maintain his vast empire, was tired of years of fighting and decided to stop expanding.The Norwegians, though impressively loyal to their conquerors, were always provocative, taking every opportunity to extend their territory northward.The marshal ordered many times to ban it, but the greedy Norwegians continued to harass their neighbors, and argued in every possible way, saying that they were the one being attacked, and there was no other way to protect themselves except to turn defense into offense and take the initiative to attack.Of course, this kind of trick can't be fooled by Vipond. He clearly knows that these so-called attacks are carried out by Norwegian soldiers pretending to be their neighbors. It seems that except for them, everyone else is born to like to rob. "What did they say this time?" "Oh," replied Vipond, "it's the same old saying that they are the victims, and peace-loving victims at that, and that all they did was defend themselves and the Empire to which they served." "What did you say?" "I told them, I'm not a three-year-old, and if they don't withdraw, we might consider letting them go on their own." "How did they react to that?" "The six people immediately turned pale and promised to withdraw their troops within a week." The marshal carefully observed Vipond's expression. "Maybe we should just leave them alone, and a few others. It's too expensive to control and govern. Our taxes won't plug this hole, can we?" "Pretty much. But if you let them be independent, you either disarm and let a bunch of idle, grumpy soldiers roam around and pick trouble, or you pay to keep them." The marshal grunted. "There are wolves in front and tigers in back." "Yes, Your Majesty. But if you will allow me to make a thorough investigation..." "Why did you take away the boy who broke my sword?" Changing the subject suddenly is His Majesty's old method of disrupting other people's thinking, which also shows his dissatisfaction with the person he is talking to. "I am responsible for the security of the city." "You are responsible for things related to the rebellion, and you are not a policeman, so you can't control everything. This matter has nothing to do with you. He broke my knife - which is a priceless treasure, and seriously injured my Nephew and son of four nobles. Only his blood can appease the wrath of all, I can tell you that." Vipond looked thoughtful. "Sharp might be fixable." "You don't know that knife at all, don't pretend to know everything." "I really don't know, but someone does. Ambassador Walter Gurney has returned from Lebanon." "Why doesn't he come to see me?" "He's not in good health—I'm afraid he won't survive this year." "What does that have to do with my knife?" "His report described the metal work of Li Ben at length. According to him, the workmanship there is breathtaking. I had a brief conversation with him. He said that if you want to repair the sharp point, only Li Ben Only Ben's swordsmith can do it." He paused. "Of course, I will keep it safe and bear all costs." "Why?" The marshal expressed doubts. "Who is this boy to you, worthy of your money and effort?" "Your loved ones were damaged, and your nephew was injured. Your anger is completely understandable. But with all due respect, have you overlooked an important fact? That is, a fourteen-year-old child defeated Five of the most promising warriors of the Materaz clan, including one recognized as the best of his generation. You don't care about that at all?" "Hmph, this further shows that it is necessary to get rid of him." "Aren't you interested in how he mastered such a skill?" "Okay, tell me." "This young man, Kyle, was trained by the Redeemers of the Temple." "They never got us into trouble." "Not in the past—but according to the boy, life and training in the Temple have changed dramatically over the past seven years. They're training more warriors, and the training itself has become more rigorous." "Are you worried that they will attack us? It would be foolish of them if they did." "First of all, it is my duty to worry about such things happening. Second, how many kings and emperors had the same attitude towards you thirty years ago?"