Chapter 570 The Confrontation

?With this thought in mind, Desai decided to aim directly for the apple atop Neplon’s head with his throwing knife.

He drew his right hand back, tensioning it like a bowstring, then snapped it forward, releasing his grip.

The knife soared towards Neplon like an arrow freed from its bow.

The guests were spellbound, their voices hushed, and even their breathing seemed to freeze in anticipation.

The knife missed its target by a mere fraction, but from Desai’s perspective, it landed just half a head’s width to Neplon’s left.

Applause broke out among the spectators.

Howard, uninterested in the spectacle, continued to enjoy his mutton.

Golan went to watch the knife-throwing contest, and Howard did not stop him.

Some of the family maids also expressed a desire to watch, and Howard remained silent.

It was Metinnis’s turn next.

Portia commanded, “Show some courage. Don’t embarrass me. I’m not like those who puff up at a few sips of wine and then cower.”

Neplon scoffed at Portia, retorting, “Oh, please. You, a master of intrigue, claiming courage? As if I don’t know how little bravery you possess. You people, always dealing in death, grow more fearful of it than anyone else. You think you’re braver than me? That’s laughable.”

Portia responded, “You’re welcome to try.”

Metinnis’s throw was shaky; the knife slipped from his grasp and struck Neplon on the shoulder.

Chaos ensued.

Neplon cried out in pain, and the guests screamed in shock.

Some female guests were particularly loud, and Howard, upon hearing the commotion, rushed to the scene immediately.

Ness, her voice trembling, said to Howard, “What do we do now?”

The atmosphere was charged with panic and confusion, as the playful contest turned into a serious incident, leaving the onlookers and participants in a state of disarray.

Portia, smugly, asked, “Does this mean I win?”

Golan rebuked him, “At a time like this, you’re still concerned about winning?”

Portia retorted, “Nonsense! If I wasn’t interested in winning, why would I stand here with an apple on my head? For fun?”

Howard instructed the maids to summon a doctor.

Upon arrival, the doctor carefully removed the knife from Neplon’s shoulder.

The screen was stained red with blood, drawing the nobles’ attention away from their meals and silencing their laughter and chatter.

Everyone’s focus shifted to Neplon.

Metinnis was consumed by guilt, continuously apologizing.

General Desai glared at Metinnis, eventually losing his temper and berating him.

Initially apologetic, Metinnis found Desai’s scolding unbearable.

Having been rivals in the contest, Metinnis felt insulted by Desai’s opportunistic criticism and verbally fought back.

Meanwhile, Kaido, having heard about Howard’s banquet, arrived at the palace with his wife, Flandre.

The guards at the entrance, recognizing Flandre, allowed them through without question.

However, upon entering, they found themselves in a crowded and noisy hall, where the commotion made it difficult to discern what was being said.

Flandre, curious, pulled Kaido into the crowd for a closer look.

Howard, surprised to see Flandre, exclaimed, “What brings you here?”

Flandre responded with playful indignation, “What? Am I not allowed?”

Howard, with a smile, reassured her, “Of course, you are.”

He then glanced at Kaido, who looked quite pleased with himself.

Howard was about to comment but, considering Flandre’s presence, chose to hold his peace.

The surgery commenced, its gore prompting several female guests to hastily concoct excuses to leave the hall.

It was then that three figures clad in black entered, calling out for Duke Portia by his noble title.

Hearing this, Portia excused himself and later returned to inform Howard, “Your Majesty, our efforts to turn agents from Nora’s camp are bearing fruit. Not only have several maids and servants from the Habsburg family agreed to our terms, but two core members of the Habsburg family have also accepted our invitation. One of them is even Nora’s own nephew.”

Howard, initially glaring at Portia with the intention of reprimanding him for the incident with Neplon, decided to prioritize state affairs upon hearing Portia’s report.

He instructed that the operatives could proceed that very night, emphasizing that there was no need for bloodshed; merely expelling Nora from the Habsburg family villa would suffice, as his own people could handle the rest.

Portia nodded in agreement.

At that moment, driven by a private anger over Neplon’s predicament, Howard posed a perilous question to Portia, “Duke, you are my vassal, are you not?”

Portia internally cursed, sensing trouble, but managed to maintain a calm demeanor, responding, “Indeed, it is as clear as day, my liege.”

Howard narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slightly to the right, his tone laden with implication, “Then how come, when those three men in black entered the hall, in the presence of both you and me, they reported directly to you instead of me? Do they no longer recognize me as their king? Or is it that if they were to report on a plot to overthrow me, they would bypass me and only inform you?”

Portia instinctively took a step back, his body almost carried by momentum to retreat further, but the seasoned Portia knew this was precisely the moment he could not afford to appear any different than usual.

Showing any sign of deviation from his normal demeanor would only confirm Howard’s suspicions, potentially exacerbating the situation.

Just as he was about to take a second step back, he forcibly halted his movement, then casually stepped forward towards Howard, regaining his original position as if nothing had happened.

He then casually dismissed Howard’s concerns, “Not at all, they’re merely minor figures. Just some spies, as you understand, Your Majesty. Whether spies or informants, these individuals lack noble titles and often engage in unseemly tasks, holding positions of little esteem.”

“On one hand, not being nobles, they naturally wouldn’t recognize Your Majesty by sight. On the other, they might think the gap between their status and Yours is too vast, fearing that approaching You directly could displease Your Majesty. Hence, they refrained from bothering Your Majesty.”

Howard found this explanation plausible but still cautioned Portia to conduct himself properly, warning him not to think that his ducal status afforded him the liberty to act recklessly or forget his place beneath the king.

Internally, Portia mused, “Didn’t Your Majesty express a desire to disengage from the affairs of the state just a few days ago? Why now this sudden insistence on holding onto power?”

Of course, Portia dared not voice these thoughts directly.

Instead, he nodded vigorously, lavishing Howard with praise.

The three figures in black departed, presumably to orchestrate the internal upheaval within the Habsburg family villa.

Portia, his nerves frayed by the encounter, found a secluded spot to take a few sips of wine to steady his nerves, reflecting on the precarious balance of power and loyalty within the court.

Portia typically abstains from alcohol, given his role in espionage.

He has witnessed countless nobles who, sober, display a sharp wit, clearly distinguishing between what should and shouldn’t be said.

Yet, under the influence of alcohol, these same nobles freely spill secrets, leading to many a downfall due to their inebriation.

However, today, after being lightly reprimanded by Howard, Portia felt a fear so intense that it broke his usual habit, driving him to drink.

This reaction underscores the respect and a touch of fear Howard commands.

Despite his reputation for mild policies, Howard’s formidable rise from Yami Village has cemented his authority, capable of suppressing any noble’s defiance.

The surgery on Neplon was a success, thanks to the use of anesthetics, and the knife embedded in his shoulder was carefully extracted.

Golan and Desai, upon seeing the bloody knife, glared at Metinnis with barely concealed hostility, their looks laden with threat.

Metinnis, seeking Portia’s support, found him absent; Portia was off in a secluded spot, indulging in wine alone.

Metinnis, feeling the weight of whispered conversations and the intimidation from Golan and Desai, grew increasingly panicked.

His gaze drifted towards the Habsburg family villa, where, under the cloak of night around 9:30 PM, several maids hurriedly moved about. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ N(o)vᴇl(ꜰ)ire.nᴇt

They had just received orders from Howard’s camp, instructed to act immediately but to refrain from harming Nora.

Their task was simply to expel Nora from the villa’s gates.

A maid knocked on Nora’s bedroom door, claiming to bring her something to eat, yet she was surrounded by five or six other maids and servants.

Their plan was to wait for Nora to open the door and then forcefully burst in, seizing Nora and dragging her out of the villa to complete their mission and claim their hefty reward.

As Nora opened the door, the eyes of the maids and servants seemed to sparkle with anticipation, ready to swarm in.

They thought their task would be easily accomplished, yet they also wondered how the usually astute family head could open the door so swiftly today.

Despite their suspicions that it seemed too easy, the sight of the door cracking open was an opportunity they couldn’t miss.

However, when the door opened, it wasn’t Nora who greeted them but mercenaries hired by the Habsburg family.