Ser Ronald's face was ashen. He strode quickly to Lord Suleiman, his voice thick with suppressed rage and bewilderment.
After the camp incident, Raymon Dayne and Ser Ronald summoned Lord Suleiman to the Lord's tent.
"Lord Suleiman! Are you insane?"
He practically roared.
"Do you know who Ser Joses is?"
"He's a knight who ranks in the middle tier at the Kingdom's Tourney!"
"You and your two peasant guards? This isn't bravery, this is foolishness, this is courting death!"
Lord Suleiman watched him calmly, his eyes without the slightest ripple.
"Ser Ronald, thank you for your concern."
Ser Ronald took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
"Listen, Suleiman."
"Castle Darry will give you satisfactory compensation for your family's honor!"
"It will absolutely satisfy you!"
He glanced at Lord Raymon Dayne nearby, who nodded slightly, clearly supporting Ser Ronald's suggestion.
"Lord Suleiman, we don't need to escalate things to an irreversible point!"
Ser Ronald believed that this young Lord of Dreadfort was merely blinded by the anger of being humiliated, and simply didn't understand what foolish words he had spoken or what foolish actions he had taken!
How could a boy who had barely survived on the battlefield contend with an experienced, highly skilled knight?
A subtle curve appeared at the corner of Lord Suleiman's mouth.
"Ser Ronald, I appreciate your good intentions."
His voice remained calm, yet it carried an undeniable resolve.
"But some matters cannot be resolved by retreating. My guards were humiliated because of me, and my family was disgraced because of me."
"I will absolutely not back down now, otherwise, what face will I and my family have to stand in the world?"
"This isn't recklessness, Lord, the outcome is not yet certain."
Lord Suleiman turned to Ronald.
"Moreover, this is a necessary declaration. Some beasts only understand when spoken to in a way that beasts understand."
Ser Ronald looked at Lord Suleiman's young yet extraordinarily calm eyes, and the anger in his heart was gradually replaced by a sense of powerlessness.
He couldn't understand why this youth was so stubborn, so unappreciative, so foolish.
Just like when he first heard that Lord Suleiman's father had brought three noble kinsmen to the battlefield, were all the true identities of this Riverlands family Northerners? Their brains were full of ice!
"Foolish! Too young, too foolish!"
Ser Ronald finally shook his head, flung out a remark, and with a heart full of disappointment and annoyance, he stormed off.
He felt that saying another word would be a waste of breath.
Lord Raymon Dayne silently watched Lord Suleiman.
Then he slowly walked in front of Lord Suleiman.
Raymon Dayne's voice was low; "Is your mind made up?"
Lord Suleiman nodded: "Yes, My Lord."
Raymon Dayne was silent for a moment, then suddenly unfastened the sword from his waist.
It was a beautiful longsword, unlike those from Westeros, with a slender blade and a hilt inlaid with intricate silver wire, clearly worth a fortune.
"This sword, from Myr, I give it to you."
Raymon Dayne handed the sword to Lord Suleiman.
"Your sword is too old."
Lord Suleiman was slightly taken aback, looking at the valuable longsword before him, then at the rusty iron sword from Dreadfort at his own waist.
He didn't act coy or decline, but solemnly accepted the longsword, engraving this kindness in his heart: "Thank you for your generosity, Raymon Dayne."
Raymon Dayne nodded.
"Your guards also need two decent weapons. I will have someone send them."
He paused, his gaze quietly fixed on Lord Suleiman's eyes.
"Before the trial by combat officially begins, you can withdraw at any time, and I will help you."
Lord Suleiman tightened his grip on the Myr longsword. The cold touch of the hilt brought his mind back to reality.
He looked up and gave Raymon Dayne a smile, a confident smile that surprised Raymon Dayne.
"I will remember My Lord's kindness in bestowing this sword."
With that, he bowed slightly, said no more, and turned to leave.
Raymon Dayne watched Lord Suleiman's retreating back, his eyes complex, remaining silent for a long time.
He felt that this young Lord seemed very confident.
Lord Suleiman came to the military medic camp.
He saw Lucien and Lauslin, both supporting each other.
Their wounds were bloody, yet their eyes were unusually bright; one could only say the benefit of thick skin was quick healing.
"Lord Suleiman," Lucien grinned, wanting to laugh, but the wound at the corner of his mouth twitched, and he sucked in a cold breath, wincing.
"Lord Suleiman, I'm sorry, we caused you trouble!" Lauslin, on the other hand, lowered his head, his voice full of apology and guilt.
Lord Suleiman stepped forward, checking their injuries. Most were superficial wounds, but bruising and swelling were unavoidable.
He had originally thought they would be afraid of the impending life-and-death duel, after all, their opponents were a knight and a knight's squire.
And they were just peasants.
"Are you afraid?" Lord Suleiman looked at the two and asked.
"Not afraid!" Lucien and Lauslin suddenly looked up, almost in unison, answering with absolute certainty!
Lucien touched his injured cheek and said with a choke, "Lord Suleiman, it's just, it's just that we were too useless. They insulted you, insulted your family, but we couldn't defeat them, we disappointed you!"
His voice choked, and the corners of his eyes were slightly red.
Lauslin also nodded vigorously: "Yes, Lord Suleiman! We're not afraid of death, we're just afraid of disappointing you!"
Lord Suleiman's heart warmed. He patted both their shoulders.
"Remember this for me! This is not your fault!"
His voice was calm yet powerful.
"Sometimes, this world is just like this. Problems come knocking not because you did something wrong, but because others think you're easy to bully!"
Lord Suleiman stood up, his gaze directed towards the direction of Ser Joses's tent in the distance, his eyes gradually turning cold.
He recalled his life before transmigrating.
He had no family, no relatives, so there was no one he could rely on for support.
He had entered society very early, fending for himself, experiencing the harsh realities of life.
In those years, he understood many things.
"Everyone told me that suffering a loss was a blessing, but I never saw anyone enjoying that blessing."
Lord Suleiman's voice was not loud, but it clearly reached Lucien and Lauslin's ears.
"I once thought that being kind to others and treating people with sincerity would lead to the same treatment in return."
"Later, I discovered that some people, when you are good to them, they take it for granted; when you retreat, they think you are weak and easily bullied!"
"If you are gentle and friendly to everyone, then in the eyes of some, anyone can profit from you!"
"Remember! We will not use the swords in our hands to harm others, and likewise, others should not even think of using the swords in their hands to harm us!"
Lord Suleiman turned back, looking at Lucien and Lauslin, his eyes firm.
"Today, Ser Joses and his squire dared to casually beat you and insult my family, precisely because they thought we were soft targets, easy to manipulate."
"If we endure it, then tomorrow, even more people will come to bully us. They will take our food, seize our land, and even take our lives!"
"So, when someone comes knocking, the only way is to hit back even harder!"
"Hit them until they hurt! Hit them until they're scared! Make them tremble with fear the moment they see us! Make them walk around us whenever they see us in the future!"
Lucien and Lauslin listened blankly. Lord Suleiman's words were like a hammer, striking their simple minds, cracking them open.
They had never heard such reason. Their parents always taught them not to resist nobles, because they were just livestock pastured on the Lord's land.
The noble Lords always told them that because of their low status, they had to be submissive and obedient.
The septons of the Seven Gods always told them that because their souls were born dirty, they came to this world to endure all suffering, only to atone for their sins.
But Lord Suleiman's words made them feel an inexplicable sense of exhilaration.
Yes, why should they be bullied? Why should they swallow their anger?
Lucien touched his swollen head, then the back of his skull, and laughed foolishly.
Choking, he said, "My Lord, I, I, I think I understand a little."
Lauslin also grinned, revealing a simple, honest smile: "I think My Lord is right! We've lived twenty years longer than My Lord, but it feels like we've lived them in vain!"
Lord Suleiman looked at their relieved smiles.
And he also smiled.
"So, tomorrow, we are not going to die."
His voice was full of power.
"We are going to tell everyone that the Stinkfort Family is not to be trifled with!"