Chapter 1247: The Heart of a Knight

Consciousness returned slowly, like a tide coming in against a cold shore.

His vision swam. His cheeks burned with the specific intensity of someone who had been struck repeatedly by someone who knew how to strike. Opening his eyes fully required effort he didn’t immediately have.

That brute broke the unwritten rule. Nobles did not hit each other in the face. It was a mark of what Kinley was, underneath the clothes.

Manfeld levered himself upright against the crate and sat for a moment letting the cabin stop tilting. Then he turned to the two women still pressed against the far wall. They hadn’t moved. Their hands were still bound.

“Don’t be afraid.” His voice came out rougher than intended. “I’ll have you free in a moment.”

They were too frightened to speak. They nodded.

He worked the knots until they came loose and removed the cloth from their mouths. “There. You’re free now. Don’t let him get near you again.” He believed that — once the ship was fully loaded, with a thousand witnesses on deck, Kinley would not risk another attempt in the open. The man was calculating, not reckless.

The two women rose carefully, watching him with the wariness of people who have learned that a hand extended can become a hand that closes. They edged past him toward the door. Their footsteps disappeared down the hallway without a word.

Not even thank you.

Manfeld leaned his head back against the crate and exhaled. He thought of White.

Don’t always try to be nice, son. Especially nowadays.

He shook his head and let it go. He was used to it. He only hoped he could get back to his cabin before the ship left so he wouldn’t spend the entire voyage sleeping on storage room planking.

Then: footsteps. Returning. The floor under him creaking with a careful, light-footed weight.

He looked up.

The door opened a crack first. One eye — then the door swung wider, and both women stood in the frame. The one at the rear was carrying a wooden bucket with both hands, her arms trembling with the weight of it.

She set it down in front of him.

Water. Full to the brim.

“You —” he started.

The other woman took a handkerchief from her sleeve, dipped it, and came forward to wipe the blood from his face. The second kept her eyes low. “S-sorry. It was our fault. We were too frightened to move, because — because you said you were a noble.”

Manfeld laughed. He could not help it. Even with the pain it kept happening — a helpless sound rising from somewhere that still found things genuinely funny despite the evidence.

“What is it?”

“What I told you still stands,” he said, when he had it under control. “The moment you stepped onto this ship, nobles and slaves became the same. The King of Graycastle abolished slavery. He also removed the nobles’ power. So.” He gestured between them. “We’re equal. You don’t owe me anything.”

Merchants from across the continent had spread that news through the Kingdom of Wolfheart months ago. Most nobles received it as confirmation that Roland Wimbledon was either mad or tyrannical, and probably both. Manfeld had found himself less certain than his peers about what to make of a king who dismantled the very system that produced kings.

After his family’s fortunes collapsed, he had begun asking himself a question that nobles were not supposed to ask: what actually was a knight? Not the title, not the land, not the grant of arms — but the thing itself, the origin of it.

He had found the answer in the old books. His ancestors, settling new territory, had selected the most capable person as their king, and that king had recognized the most exceptional among them — not the wealthiest or the best-born, but those of genuine gallantry and valor — and elevated them as knights. Their obligation was to the land and the people on it. Compassion for civilians. Honor made legible through deed.

A knight was noble because he possessed qualities the ordinary person did not. That was the ancient reason.

Then the land had changed hands, and changed again, and again. A limp could be a knight now if his family owned enough acres. A fool could be a knight. The title had become a label on an asset rather than a recognition of anything real. Manfeld had watched this and found that what he was left with — after the land was gone, after the title meant nothing except an entry in a registry nobody consulted — was the question itself. What remained of knighthood when you stripped away every external marker?

He was here, partly, to find out whether there was still an answer.

“Really?” The woman with the handkerchief had stopped dabbing at his face. “We’re the same?”

“Most nobles take it as proof Wimbledon is a demon from hell,” Manfeld said with a dry smile. “And yet here we are, seeking this particular demon’s protection.”

A pause. Then: “Why did you help us? Weren’t you afraid of what the noble might do?”

“He won’t kill me.” Manfeld shook his head. “I already put him on notice about the second screening. He’s calculating — he knows a dead noble leaves evidence, and a witch who detects lies is not something he can argue with. He’ll leave me alone.” He took a breath. “By the way. I’m Manfeld Castein. And you?”

This was the fourth time today he had given his name.

“Thylane,” the one with the handkerchief said, her voice quiet but steadier now. Then she touched the other woman’s arm. “This is Momo.” A pause, something gathering. “That noble was right. We were sold to —”

“I told you that changed the moment you boarded.” He raised a hand, gentle. “Don’t say it. Whatever the old life was — this is the new one. My coachman said it this morning and he was right: whatever life you led before, the one ahead is different. I came here hoping for that. I assume you did too.”

A long whistle sounded from somewhere above them. Deep, rolling, final.

The ship was about to leave.

“Let’s go back,” Manfeld said, and pushed himself to his feet. The ache ran from his ribs to his jaw and back again, but he could stand. “I’d rather not spend the voyage on this floor.”

Thylane and Momo exchanged a look. Some silent conversation passed between them in the way of people who have spent a long time reading each other without words. Then Thylane reached into her pocket and held out a small white pill between her fingers.

“A painkiller,” she said, before he could ask. “Lick it, or take a small piece. Don’t take too much — it delays the pain rather than stopping it.”

He took it. Turned it over in his palm. The thing was white and smooth, and he studied it with the uncertainty of a man who had never been offered medicine he couldn’t identify.

Thylane and Momo said nothing more. They picked up the bucket between them and stepped back. At the door they paused, and both of them swept a low bow — not the cringing gesture of people obeying protocol, but something deliberate.

“Thank you, Mr. Castein.”

He watched them go. Stayed with the small white pill in his open palm, this impossible object — a painkiller that delayed rather than stopped, carried in a former slave’s pocket, offered to a man they had known for twenty minutes.

Not everyone takes advantage.

He had known this was true. It was good to be reminded.

He looked at the pill one more time, then licked it.

Sweet. Perhaps flour mixed with honey, the kind of thing you made when you had nothing else to offer but needed to offer something.

He had almost decided it was exactly that when the pain stopped.

All of it. Gone. As cleanly as a candle snuffed — as if the beating had never happened.

He sat for a moment in the silence of the storage room, the ship beginning to move under him, and found that he had absolutely nothing to say.

Chapter 1247 - The Heart of A

Knight Translator: Transn Editor: Transn It took Manfeld a while to regain his consciousness. His vision blurred, and he felt a searing pain through his cheeks. It was pretty hard for him to open his eyes. Damn it. That brute had broken the unwritten rule that nobles should not hit each other in the face. He struggled to sit up, slowly shuffled toward the two frightened ladies and ungagged them. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll release you just in a moment.” The two ladies were too scared to speak, so they simply nodded. Manfeld untied them after taking a long rest and said, “There you go. You’re free now. Don’t get caught by that person again…” Manfeld believed that Mick Kinley would not have such a chance. Once everyone got on the ship, he would be under the watch of all the refugees. He did not think Mick would risk himself with so many people around him. The women set free avoided him gingerly and immediately left the room at a trot. Their footsteps finally died away. They did not say anything to Manfeld, not even a “thank you”. Manfeld leaned against the wall and heaved a deep sigh. Somehow, he thought of what White had told him. “Young man, don’t always try to be nice, especially nowadays… Otherwise, people will take advange of you.” He shook his head and put these thoughts behind. He was used to that. He only hoped that he could return to his cabin before the ship set off so that at least, he could still have a bed. Suddenly, Manfeld heard patterings of footsteps again, as the floor beneath him started to squeak. What the hell? He wished it was not Mick Kinley coming back again. The footsteps stopped abruptly at the door, and he saw a sliver of a woman looking out at him from behind the door. Momentarily stunned, Manfeld recognized that the woman was one of the ladies he had helped set free. After the door was pushed open, Manfeld found both two ladies were there. The one behind was carrying an extremely heavy wooden bucket that almost cost all her strength. She placed the bucket in front of Manfeld. At that moment, Manfeld noticed that the bucket was full of water. “You… ” One of the ladies took out a handkerchief and dipped it into the water before she came up to wipe the blood off Manfeld’s face. The other kept apologizing, “S-sorry, it was all our fault. We were too scared to speak, because, because you said… you’re also a noble.” Manfeld burst into a laugh. Even though he was so sore, he could not help it. “Er, what’s the matter?” “Didn’t I tell you?” Manfeld interrupted the lady. “The moment you boarded this ship, nobles and slaves became equal, because the King of Graycastle not only abolished slavery but also took away nobles’ power. In other words, we’re the same.” Manfeld actually knew that there was no knight in Graycastle, as merchants from all parts of the world had spread the news throughout the Kingdom of Wolfheart. Most nobles believed that King Roland’s behavior was outrageous, but he was very interested in Wimbledon. After his family’s fortunes declined, Manfeld had been always thinking about one particular question, that was, what was a knight? He had never thought about this question when his father had been still alive, as he had believed that he would eventually inherit his father’s title. However, when his family gradually lost their domains to other nobles, Manfeld found that things slowly get out of his control. The new lord did not acklowledge him, and those who were not qualified to manage the land became the ruler. He literally had nothing but a prominent surname. According to the ancient books he had read, his ancestors who had established on this land had selected the most outstanding person as their king. The king then granted titles to those possessed of exceptional gallantry and valor and asked them to help him protect the land and his subjects. This was the origin of the nobility. A knight, as the noble of the lowest rank, should have compassion and sympathy for civilians. They should be men of honor and help their territories prosper. Because knight possessed qualities that normal people did not, they were noble. This was also what kind of person Manfeld wanted to be. However, he did not see any difference between a knight and civilian after a knight lost his land. What was nobility then? A spirit or a deed? Lords were replaced constantly as the fierce competition between nobles continued. A limp could be a knight, and a fool could be a knight as well, as long as they had land in their hands. This reality made Manfeld start to question the true nature of knightage. Although misfortune had weighed upon him, Manfeld had never abandoned his dream. He had been thinking about traveling to Graycastle for a long time, but he could not afford the trip. Nevertheless, the evacuation of local towns and cities in the Kingdom of Wolfheart provided him with a good opportunity to visit Graycastle. Manfeld wanted to know whether he could still be a true knight in a country without a noble. After hearing that “we’re the same”, the two women were profoundly relieved. “Really?” “All the nobles have received the news. They view Wimbledon as the demon from hell,” Manfeld said as he summoned a bitter smile. “But now, we probably have to seek this horrible demon for help.” The woman who was wiping Manfeld’s face asked after a moment of silence, “Why did you help us? Aren’t you worried that the noble…” “He won’t kill me because I already reminded him, “Manfeld replied while shaking his head. “I don’t know what the second screening will look like, but I’ve heard that a witch will be there to detect lies. Even if he doesn’t think abusing you is a crime, he knows he can’t kill a noble.” Manfeld took a breath and then went on, “By the way, I’m Manfeld Castein. What about you?” This was the fourth time he had reported his name today. “I’m Thylane,” one of the ladies said in a low voice. “She’s Momo.” Then she paused for a second and said resolutely, “That noble was right. We were sold to — ” U.p. dated by b o x n o v e l. com “I told you that everything changed the moment you got on this ship. Please don’t say that again,” Manfeld said while waving his hand. “Like my coachman said, whatever life you used to live, the new life ahead of us will be completely different. I decided to leave the Kingdom of Wolfheart for a foreign country because of the potential change. Aren’t you the same?” There was a long whistle. It was deep and low. The ship was about to set off. “Let’s go back. I don’t want anyone to take my bed,” Manfeld said as he rose with some difficulties. He still felt sore, but he managed to walk. “I don’t want to sleep in this storage room all the way there.” The two ladies exchanged looks. After a moment of hesitation, Thylane produced a white pill from her pocket and handed it to Manfeld. “This is…” “A painkiller,” Thylane said. “If you can’t bear the pain, lick it or take a small piece of it. But make sure that you don’t take too much, as it only delays the pain. It can’t stop it.” Manfeld took the pill in confusion. What an amazing pill this was? It could only delay instead of stopping pain? Thylane and Momo did not give further explanation. They carried the bucket and withdrew from the storage room This time, the two ladies stopped at the doorstep and swept a low bow at Manfeld. “Thank you, Mr. Castein.” Manfeld heaved a deep sigh. It seemed that not everyone took advantage of others. This was enough for him. He studied the pill in his hand for quite a while before he licked it. It was sweet. Perhaps, the pill was made of flour, mixed with a little bit of honey. Manfeld gathered that they had probably stolen the pill from the noble who had bought them. Just at that moment, something incredible happened. In an instant, his pain was gone as if he had never been beaten before.