Leaving the Royal Palace Hall.

A well-dressed servant was standing in the corridor waiting.

Seeing Losa appear, he immediately went up to him and said humbly, “Count sir, my lord invites you to attend a banquet.”

Losa’s gaze swept over the emblem on the opponent’s shoulder, his expression slightly moved.

The blue background with six yellow standing lions arranged in an inverted triangle represents the lineage of Anjou, while the Great Cross represents the Royal Family of Jerusalem.

Richard the Lionheart had inherited the lion emblem from his mother in Aquitaine, integrating it into the Normandy William Family’s original double lion emblem (representing Albion and Normandy Duke’s Domain respectively), which evolved into the current three lion emblem.

Though they belong to the same Anjou Family, the Royal Family of Jerusalem does not change along with it.

The complexity of heraldry is evident.

Losa asked, “Which princess is your lord?”

The servant smiled and said, “Princess Sibilla.”

“Sorry, I am honored to receive such an invitation, but please inform your lord that His Majesty has assigned me an important task and I cannot accept your lord’s kindness.”

Losa showed a look of apology.

In this era, banquets are important occasions where nobles foster relationships, arrange marriages, or even form alliances.

If it weren’t for being busy, he would be happy to attend this banquet.

“Count sir, how about this, the banquet will be hosted at Princess Sibilla’s royal estate, this evening, you are welcome to visit anytime after handling your affairs.”

“Alright, thank you.”

Watching the servant walk away, Furinjira immediately spoke with a sarcastic tone, “Ha, that old woman in heat really won’t give up on you, sir.”

“Won’t give up?”

Jeanne immediately showed a curious expression, “Miss Furin, I’m quite curious about this, could you elaborate?”

Furinjira rolled her eyes, “There’s nothing worth saying!”

Losa chuckled, saying nothing.

It’s not self-indulgence; Princess Sibilla most likely does have that intention, otherwise, the servant wouldn’t have said that he could visit anytime after finishing his official duties.

After all, he is already one of the most prominent young nobles in the kingdom, and still unmarried; even if Baldwin IV and Godfrey released the news, it couldn’t stop nobles from wanting to marry Losa.

Even in political marriages, noble ladies would rather be with more handsome, more promising young dignitaries.

Jeanne said with some regret, “If you were to marry Princess Sibilla, wouldn’t you become the Crown Prince’s stepfather, then being crowned as a king wouldn’t be difficult.”

“Such a rich woman is hard to find even with a lantern.”

Furinjira said irritably, “She’s already an old woman who has given birth to children, and you still think she’s very precious or what?”

Jeanne pondered for a moment and gave a very fair assessment, “In terms of age, she’s much younger than us three.”

Furinjira showed a look of anxiety, as if her most cherished thing was about to be taken away, she tugged at Losa’s sleeve, saying nothing.

Losa smiled and patted her head, “No need to consider those things; if I want kingship, I would rather take it myself, advance from Transjordan, capturing the Sinai Peninsula, then Egypt, by then, I can completely establish a brand new kingdom.”

Even if Baldwin IV hasn’t been cured, and Princess Sibilla is about to be crowned as Regent Queen, he never thought about obtaining Jerusalem’s throne through marriage.

We’ve got the upper hand, why humble myself with a political marriage?

That wouldn’t be dignified at all.

If I were to marry, it would be Prajna!

In Losa’s mind, the scene of Prajna, with a cold expression, holding a baby, under the cover of curtains, breastfeeding the child, flashed subconsciously.

The two locked eyes, and Prajna was startled by the rare passion in his gaze.

Furinjira: “?”

…

In an estate on the outskirts of Jerusalem City.

Hans was leading a team of knights and soldiers from the Royal Knight Order, surrounding the estate.

“It should be here.”

He twitched his nose, ordered his subordinates to watch the steeds, while the others were fully armed, advancing into the estate.

“Stay alert, search in groups of three.”

Hans commanded.

Beast Intuition told him the target was in this estate.

Being a Werewolf, he felt his most suitable duty should be hunting down and solving crimes.

The terrifying sense of smell and innate Beast Intuition made him capture many criminals after taking charge of the Royal Knight Order, greatly improving the security issues in Jerusalem.

“Commander sir, no one!”

The soldiers reported one after another.

“No one?”

“How could that be!”

He twitched his nostrils, continually searching forward.

Moments later, he arrived at the garden behind the estate, searching among the nursery, until he arrived at a place, raised the Armed Sword, and stabbed down fiercely.

A sound of wooden boards cracking came from below.

“Search.”

Hans pulled out the sword with specks of mud on it, ordered the men to go ahead, uncovering the soil, revealing a deep passage leading underground.

“Sir, how did you discover it?”

By smell.

Hans silently said in his heart.

He made up an excuse and said, “The soil on the ground is new, and covering wooden boards with a layer of soil has never been a clever camouflage technique.”

The Knights instantly showed expressions of admiration.

“I see!”

“We have much to learn from the Commander.”

Descending underground.

Hans examined the stacked terracotta jars before him with a solemn expression.

Inside, a strange faint fragrance wafted out, a scent that seemed to stir one’s appetite, causing his mouth to drip with a little more saliva.

Precisely because of this, Hans’s expression became even more grave.

Being a Werewolf, his favorite food was always humans, so it was clear what the jars contained.

“Sir, what is this?”

The soldiers showed expressions of fear; when they had previously searched the city for heretical cellars, they had also discovered such things.

At first, they thought it was wine, but upon opening it, they found chunks of bone and meat floating in the dark red liquid.

“Hmm, pay no mind to these. Our goal is to tie these miscreants, who twist the will of the Heavenly Father and enchant the faithful into cannibalism, to the stake,” Hans said solemnly.

The group walked silently through the dark tunnel.

Suddenly, a Knight spoke, “Last year, my son disappeared not long after he was born.”

The atmosphere grew heavier.

Hans didn’t know how to comfort him and could only say, “Stay vigilant, protect yourself, don’t let your wife lose both her son and husband.”

He pushed aside the two Knights leading the path and said, “Let me go ahead. If there’s trouble, you must retreat from the tunnel immediately.”

“But…”

Hans snorted coldly, “The tunnel is narrow, and my swordplay requires wide, sweeping moves; crowding me from behind will only leave me without room to maneuver.”

“Yes.”

The soldiers nodded one after another.

Nowadays, Hans’s reputation in the Royal Knight Order sometimes surpassed that of Losa.

To them, Losa was a legend, an object of admiration and worship.

But most often, he was just a symbol in their hearts, too high, too distant.

Hans was the one they truly interacted with daily, who oversaw their training and took a portion from his own salary to support impoverished households — the “Grand Master.”

The tunnel was very long; after walking for a long time, they hadn’t reached the surface.

Until, Hans smelled a strong scent of blood.

Plop—

A drop of fresh blood fell onto his shoulder.

He immediately cautioned, “We’ve arrived. If the opponent is too strong, remember to follow my command to retreat and seek support.”

The soldiers agreed verbally, one by one.

But Hans didn’t realize that the more he said this, the less willing they were to abandon him alone on the battlefield.

No one is fearless in the face of death.

But to some, death is not more distressing than enduring the torment of their conscience every day and night henceforth.

The group reached the end of the tunnel where there was a staircase leading upwards.

At the end of the stairs was a stone door, slightly ajar; with a firm push, it opened wide.

In front was a vast hall.

It probably was once the site of a Greek theater when the Empire ruled, revealing glimpses of its former splendor amidst the ruins.

“Heavenly Father above!”

“Is this a ritual to worship a Demon?”

The soldiers’ faces were filled with terror.

In the center of the hall, living people sat cross-legged on the ground, heads bowed, and blood continuously flowed from their wrists.

Their lives were ebbing away, and yet they showed no will to resist.

If not for the faint rising and falling of their chests, anyone would’ve mistaken them for lifeless corpses.

Blood soaked the ground.

The pungent smell of iron filled everyone’s nostrils.

In the center of these people, a heart-like meatball pulsed vigorously, extending red tendril-like tubes, drinking deeply from the blood-covered ground.

At that moment, amidst the crowd, a Priest, holding a Bible and wearing a tattered vestment robe, shouted loudly, “Praise to you, great Holy Son! Please descend upon the earth again where you fell, Amen!”

Thump-thump—

Thump-thump—

The heartbeat of the “heart” became more rapid, making the knights present feel inexplicable anxiety, as if their hearts were synchronized with the meatball.

Until there was a loud “bang.”

The meatball burst.

A gigantic Demon, three meters tall, emerged from within.

Topped with winding red horns, its body was covered in black triangular scales like dragon scales, its bluish-black face resembled a goat, with clusters of blood-colored tendrils dangling like beards from its chin.

Huge meat wings spread, obscuring the sky and sun.

“This is… a Demon!”

Hans’s face showed a hint of shock.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep