The road from Moonlight City to Deepwater Keep was, to put it mildly, a battered and uneven mess. It was no wonder that, apart from Baron Adam's personal convoy tasked with delivering Clobber's training resources, no other merchant caravans dared to venture toward Deepwater Keep.
Ironically, the region's poverty meant that even bandits were a rare sight on this route. Those few who did appear were generally weak and poorly armed. Lacking access to iron tools, most bandits wielded wooden clubs and spears, though a lucky few might stumble across iron tools or weapons. Clobber himself had once confiscated an iron dagger during a bandit raid—a prize that had fetched him a small fortune when sold.
Sunlight streamed down, highlighting Clobber's resolute features and proud posture as he rode atop his warhorse. The reins were firm in his grasp, his sharp gaze scanning the horizon. His mount moved with a confident stride, its rider cutting an imposing figure among the convoy.
Behind him rode Foster, the ever-loyal old knight. Though his age was evident in the lines etched across his face, his spirit remained unbroken. Dressed in a polished set of armor engraved with the Golden Rose family crest, Foster was a living testament to past battles fought and honors earned.
Clobber himself wore something more unique: a set of beast-hide armor gifted by Baron Adam. While the armor was merely transitional equipment meant for a knight-in-training, it provided decent protection and symbolized Adam's belief in Clobber's potential. Full knights typically donned iron armor, which offered far superior defense.
The hierarchy of armor was clear:
No Armor < Beast Hide < Iron Armor < Enchanted Armor < Dragonhide Armor.
Thanks to their steady pace and a lack of trouble along the way, the group arrived at Deepwater Keep nearly two hours ahead of schedule. After ensuring that the servants and guards were properly settled, Baron Adam wasted no time leading Clobber and Foster toward Baron Klarl's chambers.
The scene was almost comical in its irony. Baron Adam, an outsider to the Oat family, strode through Oat Keep like it was his own domain, encountering no resistance. Meanwhile, Clobber, a blood member of the Oat family, had spent most of his life confined to his quarters, unable to roam the castle freely.
With Baron Adam at the helm, followed by a stoic Clobber and the steadfast Foster, they marched through the castle. Servants scattered like leaves in the wind, wisely avoiding the trio. Everyone knew the infamous Baron Adam had a penchant for stirring trouble with Klarll, and few dared stand in his way—especially after his soldiers had savagely beaten the last batch of loyal servants who tried to intervene.
Even himself hadn't dared retaliate after hearing of the incident. If the lord of the castle wouldn't act, what hope did the servants have? Their only option was to stay out of the way.
At this moment, Klarll was in his study, engrossed in paperwork—or so he wanted others to think. Baron Adam knew better. Wasting no time, he headed straight for the study.
Without a shred of noble decorum, Adam planted a boot against the sturdy wooden door and unleashed a powerful kick, enhanced with knightly aura. The door splintered into fragments under the force, leaving nothing but wreckage in its wake.
"Klarll Oat, you dragon-forsaken swine! It's time to settle the score!" Adam roared, his voice filled with unrestrained fury. His eyes burned with rage as he stormed into the room, scanning for Klarll like a predator seeking its prey.
Seated in his chair, Klarll froze, a book still open in his hands. For a moment, his brain struggled to process the scene.
Dragons above! he thought. I was just getting to the good part of this novel, and now someone's smashed my door and is threatening me? Do they think the baron of Deepwater Keep has no dignity?
With a loud slap on his desk, Klarll rose to his feet, his portly frame trembling with indignation. He resembled nothing so much as an enraged boar.
"Outrageous! Who dares disrespect the baron of Deepwater Keep? Are you tired of living?"
But his fury evaporated the moment he saw Adam. The scowl froze on his face, morphing into an awkward grimace.
Klarll opened his mouth, seemingly ready to respond, but quickly shut it again. Memories of last month's thrashing at Adam's hands resurfaced, and he could still feel the occasional twinge in his belly—a painful reminder of their last encounter.
Letting Adam's provocation slide was simply not an option for Klarll. He was a noble, after all, and deserved basic respect. Even if Adam's backing was a count's household, Klarll knew he had the moral high ground.
This thought gave him some measure of courage.
"Adam, you're not a child anymore," Klarll said, straightening himself and speaking with forced authority. "You're a baron now. Your actions should reflect more maturity. Even if I've indulged you before, that doesn't give you the right to act so rudely in someone else's castle. If your sister were still alive, she'd agree with me."
The mention of his late sister made Adam's barely diminished anger flare anew. His fists clenched as his golden aura reignited with intensity.
"Klarll Oat! You've crossed the line!"
Before Klarll could react, a fist wrapped in golden energy crashed into his face. The sheer force of the blow distorted his features, leaving behind an expression of disbelief even as his body crumpled to the ground.
Klarll had spent his younger years on the battlefield, following the old baron. But those days were long behind him. For years, bandit raids and territory inspections had been left to his eldest son and his knights, leaving Klarll complacent and unprepared. This punch—delivered with the might of a seasoned knight—left him dazed and sprawled on the floor.
He instinctively touched his throbbing cheek. The pain was sharp, but thanks to the layers of fat cushioning his face, the impact wasn't as devastating as it could have been. Still, his fury flared.
"Adam Goldrose!" he growled, his voice low and guttural, vibrating with uncharacteristic intensity. This long-forgotten sensation of pain awakened something primal within him—a fighting spirit buried under years of stagnation.
With effort, Klarll summoned his aura. Wisps of blue energy enveloped his body, trembling slightly from the unfamiliar exertion.
This was the signature combat technique of the Oat family, passed down for generations: the Tidal Armor.
The technique was renowned for its ability to bolster both physical strength and defense. A single sword strike imbued with this technique mimicked crashing waves, relentless and nearly impossible to block.
Klarll's father, the first Baron of Deepwater, had achieved greatness on the battlefield by mastering this technique. His mastery had nearly elevated him to the rank of Great Knight. When fully unleashed, the Tidal Armor created a protective shell of aura around its user—a precursor to the perfected form only achievable at the Great Knight level.
But Adam was unimpressed.
"Tidal Armor? If Baron Ailman himself were wielding it, I might show some respect," Adam sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. He looked Klarll up and down, noting the older man's trembling form as he struggled to maintain his aura.
"But you? You can barely sustain it. Do you really think you're a match for me, you useless excuse for a knight?"
The earlier rage in Adam's voice faded, replaced by cold amusement. He shook his head and sighed, as if genuinely disappointed.
"Let's be honest, Klarll," Adam continued, folding his arms. "Who here could you even defeat? You're lecturing me about maturity, but you're the one halfway to the grave who can't even best your own son in a fight. Truly pathetic."
"W-what nonsense are you spouting?" Klarll sputtered, his anger briefly reigniting before doubt crept in. His gaze shifted toward Clobber, who stood silently nearby, his expression unreadable.
"Wait…" Klarll's voice faltered. His eyes widened in disbelief as he turned back to Adam. "You're saying… Clobber has become a full knight?"
Adam's smirk widened, and he leaned back into a chair with exaggerated ease.
"Oh, he's only recently broken through," Adam replied, feigning nonchalance. "It did cost me three magic potions to get him there, though. Quite the hit to my wallet, I must say."
"Three potions? That's impossible!" Klarll's voice cracked with disbelief. "He only just reached the peak of squire level! How could he…"
But as the realization settled in, Klarll fell silent. Adam wouldn't lie about something like this, and the evidence was right in front of him.
The truth hit Klarll like a hammer. He had severely underestimated Clobber's talent, as well as Adam's willingness to invest in him. This revelation was the last thing Klarll wanted to face.
Clobber's breakthrough wasn't just a personal achievement—it was a statement to the entire duchy. His potential was undeniable, and his minimum future rank was that of a Knight of the Earth. This reality reframed every past slight and neglect Klarll had shown toward his own son.
The nobles would revel in this scandal, laughing at the fool who had mistreated and undervalued a rising star. Meanwhile, the Goldrose family would bask in the narrative of their perceptiveness and familial loyalty.
Klarll's political instincts kicked in. Fighting was pointless now. Adam's words were painfully true—Clobber could likely defeat him in a duel despite his inexperience. And that wasn't even accounting for the age and physical disparity between them.
Forcing his body to relax, Klarll took a deep breath.
"Fine… I understand," he said, his voice heavy with resignation.
He knew Adam hadn't brought Clobber back without an agenda. Klarll's connection to Clobber as his father, their shared surname, and the family's only claim to fame—a blessing once bestowed by an elven ancestor—were the only threads tying him to this newfound opportunity.