Charlot furrowed his brow slightly, clearly displeased with the Duchess. This was a btant threat.

  Belisa took another deep breath to suppress the tension in her heart and said, “Please abandon the people of Silver Dove Castle.”

  “The safety of the Duke far outweighs that of Silver Dove Castle. Staying here contributes nothing to the rger battle. Only by rescuing the Duke can we completely turn the tide of this war.”

  “Mr. Mecklenburg, I implore you to consider the greater good.”

  As a transmigrator, Charlot naturally felt a sense of detachment from everyone in this world. However, after fighting alongside the residents of Silver Dove Castle for so long, he couldn’t help but develop a subtle and unique bond with them.

  To abandon the people of Silver Dove Castle and go rescue some so-called Duke Joseph? That was utterly absurd!

  What nonsense!

  No, it was more than nonsense—it was an insult directed squarely at Charlot Mecklenburg.

  Belisa, a maid serving the Duchess, was pure-hearted and wholly devoted to the Duke’s family. To her, serving them was the ultimate purpose of life. She used this conviction to try and persuade Charlot.

  The young woman initially believed Charlot would dispy profound loyalty, the kind that would demonstrate his unwavering commitment.

  Even though Belisa was just a maid, she had accompanied the Duchess to countless high-css events, often drawing attention from the young nobles present. Many of them had even expressed admiration for her.

  This led Belisa to believe, in her youthful naivety, that her words could hardly be refused by any young man.

  After all, years of receiving such favor had instilled in her an unshakable confidence.

  But Charlot merely replied, “I need to think about it.”

  He pnned to feign a stomachache again tomorrow.

  Three days of deliberation should suffice.

  Belisa rose to her feet, shouting, “The Duke’s life is hanging by a thread! You are a Behemothian; what is there to hesitate about? What more do you need to consider? Isn’t saving the Duke reason enough?”

  Charlot, unable to suppress his irritation, replied, “The Duke may be your revered master, but he isn’t mine. He’s merely the Duke of the Behemoth Principality. My most vivid memory of Grand Duke Ferdinand is the multiple taxes he levied every year.”

  Belisa nearly jumped in anger, shouting, “You only remember the taxes? Have you forgotten who protected you, allowing your family to live in peace and enjoy a stable life?”

  Charlot chuckled softly and said, “I remember our caravan being robbed by bandits. When my father sought the Duke’s help, not only did the Duke impose an extra fee, but he also did nothing. After waiting seven or eight years, my father didn’t see the Duke deploy troops to eradicate the bandits. Instead, he saw the Duke send troops to invade South Seraph.”

  “Also, I always thought that after Grand Duke Ferdinand’s death, his children would inherit the title. Who would have guessed it would be Joseph?”

  Belisa, unprepared for such sharp reasoning, quickly found herself at a loss for words. Charlot’s every argument seemed irrefutable, but they cshed with the ideals she had been raised to believe.

  After half an hour of heated debate, Belisa colpsed to the ground, wailing uncontrolbly.

  Charlot left the Duchess’s maid behind, stepping gracefully away from the balcony. Arguing with Belisa was simply a waste of time.

  As soon as Charlot left, three of Belisa’s guards stormed in. Seeing the young woman in tears, they were furious. A blond young man drew his sword and decred, “I will challenge Charlot to a duel! How dare he make Miss Belisa cry? Such a crime cannot go unpunished.”

  The other two not only refrained from stopping him but encouraged him. “That crude man Charlot truly deserves punishment. We’ll stay and comfort Miss Belisa. Mosar, if you defeat Charlot, remember to bring back some fruit wine and bread for Miss Belisa. She hasn’t eaten all day while rushing here.”

  As Mosar observed his companions’ attentive care for Belisa, he momentarily considered abandoning the duel to stay with her instead. But having spoken so boldly, he had no choice but to charge out of the balcony and find Charlot, who had just returned to the city walls.

  “You made Miss Belisa cry!” Mosar shouted. “You must apologize to her, or I will challenge you to a duel and tarnish your reputation.”

  Charlot gnced at the young fool and replied, “Miss Belisa was crying because she heard bad news. I left her alone so she could have some peace.”

  “What does her crying have to do with me?”

  “If you’re so eager for a duel, go find Hughes.”

  “His camp is just four hours from here.”

  Mosar hadn’t expected someone like Charlot to exist. For a moment, he seriously considered jumping off the city walls to find Hughes. However, his rational mind told him he was being toyed with. Gritting his teeth, he spat, “Don’t let me catch you offending Miss Belisa again. I won’t let you off.”

  Charlot had enough. Activating the Swiftstep Technique, the Spider Technique, and his recently mastered Wings of the Young Dragon, he darted behind Mosar and kicked him off the city wall.

  The kick came without warning, so swift that Mosar, a mid-tier knight, didn’t even have time to react. Tumbling through the air, he barely managed to nd on his feet. Furious, he roared, “You dare sneak attack me?”

  Mosar leaped back onto the wall with a flourish of his sword, determined to confront Charlot.

  “This time, it shouldn’t count as a sneak attack, right?” Charlot said nonchantly, delivering a front kick that sent Mosar flying off the wall again.

  Both times, Charlot had held back, as Mosar’s actions weren’t grave enough to warrant serious harm. It was merely a petty quarrel.

  When Mosar nded again, he let out a long howl before unching himself back up, his bde whirling defensively to guard his face and torso.

  Charlot casually stepped forward, tripped him with a hook of his foot, and sent him crashing headfirst down the wall for the third time.

  Suddenly, Charlot felt that bullying this “kid” was no fun at all.

  In his previous life, Charlot had been a teacher who had never fought anyone. But after transmigrating, even though he cked formal training in swordsmanship, spear techniques, or close combat, the brutal battles he’d faced over the past few weeks had forged him into a capable fighter.

  “I’m probably close to advancing to the seventh tier and becoming a mid-tier Transcendent,” he mused.

  Without sparing Mosar another gnce, Charlot returned to his patrol on the city walls. Mosar, too embarrassed to continue, slunk away to find Miss Belisa.