Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 984 - 47 Another Hunt (Part 2)

Chapter 984 -47 Another Hunt (Part 2)

[Earl Harlan’s Tent]

“You’re insane!” Prince Richard bellowed furiously: “Even His Majesty, to agree to you…”

Prince Richard clenched his fists tightly, ultimately unable to utter that word.

“Also insane?” Siegfried replied calmly, though his eyes shot a crazed light.

Prince Richard was shaking with anger, he stared at Siegfried for a good while, then left in a huff, unable to contain his rage.

Only the golden-haired youth and the chestnut-haired youth remained in the tent.

“Fighting beasts on foot requires agility as a priority, so any attire that hinders movement must be shed,” Farnan expertly assisted Siegfried in removing his armor: “Take off the bracers too, any less weight is an added chance of winning.”

Siegfried nodded silently.

Farnan knelt on one knee, unbuckling Siegfried’s greaves: “His Highness sees you as his man, which is why he said those words just now.”

“I am His Majesty’s man,” Siegfried replied stiffly.

Farnan let out a long sigh: “Arrogance and competitiveness are your fatal weaknesses. You know it best, but either can’t change or simply don’t want to.”

Siegfried huffed lightly, choosing not to continue the conversation.

“One’s abilities are always limited; don’t push everyone to oppose you,” Farnan cinched Siegfried’s bootstraps tighter: “Besides…”

“Enough already, when will you stop?” This time it was Siegfried who erupted with annoyance: “No matter what, aren’t you still with me?”

“And is that enough?” Farnan shook his head: “My capabilities are equally limited.”

“No.” Siegfried took the hunting spear, turned away to avoid Farnan’s gaze: “A true friend, one is enough.”

…

[Royal Viewing Stand]

Prince Richard bounded up the viewing stand three steps at a time.

Duke Lothar rose to give his respects to the prince; the Queen was very pleased to see the prince, but the Emperor remained expressionless.

Having just reached the stand, Prince Richard immediately met his sister’s pleading eyes. He nodded slightly towards Princess Elizabeth, and walked steadily towards the throne.

“Your Majesty,” Prince Richard saluted the Emperor: “Fighting a beast unarmed is far too dangerous, Earl Harlan acted impulsively without consideration. He has shown remorse, I beseech Your Majesty to retract the decree!”

“Remorse,” the Emperor queried with interest: “Really?”

Prince Richard didn’t dare to continue, mustering up other reasons instead: “Your Majesty, to allow Earl Harlan to confront a ferocious beast alone and unarmed is tantamount to letting him commit suicide. If Earl Harlan were to slip up, his soul can only suffer in Hell, unable to find redemption even when final judgment comes. I urge you to reconsider, Your Majesty.”

Princess Elizabeth also pleaded tearfully: “Yes, don’t you most admire Earl Harlan? Father? Why watch him commit suicide? Please!”

The Emperor surveyed his son and daughter, then turned to the old man standing behind, dressed in a black velvet priest’s robe: “Your opinion?”

The Emperor’s personal priest, a brother of the Order of Michael named [Ambrose], stepped forward respectfully: “Your Majesty is the supreme leader and protector of the Church, and whether Earl Harlan’s death is considered suicide should be adjudicated by Your Majesty.”

Although the question was directed at the personal priest, the Emperor’s gaze returned to and lingered on the prince, making him feel the sharpness of thorns.

The stand fell quiet, the Emperor nodded slightly, and brother Ambrose retreated back to his original position.

The Emperor looked towards the hunting ground and remarked indifferently: “Then it shouldn’t count.”

The winter winds of the Castile Peninsula howled, yet Prince Richard’s forehead was unknowingly dotted with fine beads of sweat.

Prince Richard gritted his teeth, mustered his courage, and looked directly at the Emperor, wanting to say more.

But it was too late, the tune that heralded the entrance of the gladiator had already begun to play.

“Look,” the Emperor murmured softly. “The man you say has remorse—here he comes.”

…

[Hunting Ground]

Siegfried did not know what sort of opponent the Castilians would send for him, but he hoped it would be a formidable one.

If the Castilians set loose a deer or a gazelle, it would simply be an attempt to humiliate him.

Siegfried, spear in hand, jogged at an even pace around the elliptical arena—he still took some advice to heart.

“Stay warm, stay active,” Farnan had repeatedly admonished before entering the field: “The Castilians you publicly humiliated might resort to dirty tricks. For instance, having you wait in the field until you’re frozen stiff and numb in your limbs.”

“I did not publicly humiliate the Castilians,” Siegfried countered.

“Stay warm,” Farnan presented a fine fleece cape, “stay active.”

The proud Castilians did not stoop to base tricks, and the earl hosting the ceremony even politely raised the flag to ask—is it time to begin?

Siegfried nodded and discarded the cape.

Many spectators couldn’t help but gasp, for the golden-haired knight in the arena was without any armor, clad only in a simple shirt, breeches, and low soft shoes.

The banner waved, and the tune signifying the beast’s entrance followed.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.

The gate slowly rose, dull thuds of hooves preceded their source from the pen, and in the blink of an eye, a burly wild bull charged into the hunting ground.

Perhaps the lack of deceit was not because the Castilians were noble but because the opponent they had chosen for Siegfried required no additional advantages:

A formidable adult male bull, each inch of muscle bursting with explosive strength, slightly smaller in stature than the one Little Hernan had just slain, but no less wild and perilous.

You want to claim the glory of “spear’s end”?

Fine, we’ll give you a beast worthy of that honor.

There was no need for Siegfried to taunt; the bull, back pierced by a dart, took the initiative to attack the person in the arena.

The enraged buffalo lowed furiously, striding forward at full speed, plowing towards Siegfried in a frenzy.

Siegfried did not hesitate, charging at the buffalo with his spear as well.

As they were about to collide head-on, many ladies, unable to bear the sight of the handsome blond man being eviscerated, instinctively covered their eyes and looked away.

At the critical moment, Siegfried leapt diagonally forward half a step, narrowly avoiding the horns and turning to stab viciously at the bull’s neck.

No sooner had the spear tip touched the bull’s neck than the bull turned its head, lowering and then raising its head to charge at the human once again.

Siegfried’s muscular and well-proportioned body burst forth with incomparable strength, like a humanoid big cat leaping continuously towards the side and rear of the bull, spear always ready to pierce the bull’s carotid artery.

The bull’s explosive power was even more astonishing; it stomped fiercely, twisted its body, and flicked its tail, with each hoof hit making a loud thud against the ground, kicking up clouds of dust half a person’s height.

Man and beast tangled within less than a two-meter radius, each desperately trying to kill the other.

Outside the hunting field, there was silence except for the “thuds” of heavy impacts resounding.

Everyone held their breath; Elizabeth’s heart was clenched so tightly she didn’t even realize she had turned her father’s arm blue and purple.

The intense yet brief struggle ended with Siegfried leaving two shallow cuts on the side of the bull’s neck.

After another failed attempt to charge and twist towards the human, the bull stood its ground while Siegfried seized the opportunity to put some distance between them.

Both the man panting heavily and the beast snorting white steams faced each other in the winter wind, entering a temporary standoff.

It was at this time that the stands erupted with deafening cheers and applause, even the Castile nobility shouted praises loudly.

The young Earl Harlan watched the bull, his heart inexplicably filled with a mixture of pity and respect, yet his desire to kill the opponent did not diminish in the slightest.

This duel was destined to have only one survivor; Siegfried found either victory or destroying himself in front of her an acceptable outcome. Even if it meant causing her a little bit of heartache, he was ready to embrace death with satisfaction.

Outside the hunting arena, amidst the atmosphere of joy, Farnan’s expression became increasingly solemn.

If Siegfried’s background could be considered poor, Farnan’s background wouldn’t even qualify as poor—it would be deemed lowly under the Empire’s system.

Farnan was able to become a soldier because he passed an exam to enter a new school founded by the Emperor; his father was an ordinary hunter. Although his father had no title to pass on to Farnan, he taught Farnan many hunting skills.

When facing a large ferocious beast, hunters must follow a basic principle: exhaust the beast’s physical strength while conserving their own.

A skilled hunter can slay wolves, leopards, and mountain lions with just a spear because the hunter can use the spear to defend in place, continually draining the beast’s energy while inflicting damage.

But facing a behemoth weighing nearly seven hundred kilograms, using a defensive counterattack strategy is tantamount to suicide. The buffalo would smash both the man and his spear into pieces, toss them into the air, and grind them into mincemeat.

Therefore, Siegfried had no choice but to keep dodging actively, jumping and sprinting constantly.

After the struggle, the bull was bleeding while the human was unscathed; it seemed that Siegfried had won entirely, but in reality, it was a complete loss for Siegfried.

At the current rate, Siegfried’s stamina would surely be exhausted before the buffalo’s.

The wild bull might sustain a hundred more wounds, but should Siegfried make a single mistake, death is all that awaits him.

Farnan originally thought that the Castile nobility would at most release a wild boar, yet what charged out of the animal pen was a wild bull—without a doubt, this was the Castile nobles challenging the Emperor’s authority, with Siegfried’s death being merely a means rather than the goal.

A clear and penetrating voice rose from behind Farnan: “Truly fascinating! The display by Earl Harlan is nothing short of miraculous. His Majesty too had once slain fierce beasts in succession twenty years ago, no wonder some say Earl Harlan is His Majesty’s illegitimate son…”

Turning around, Farnan realized the voice belonged to Little Hernan.

Little Hernan, holding two bull ears and a bull tail, smiled at Farnan.

“Earl Harlan is not His Majesty’s illegitimate son.” Farnan bowed slightly: “Lord Hernan.”

Marshal Hernan had his firstborn, Little Hernan, only at the age of forty, thus Little Hernan was actually just over twenty, an age brimming with curiosity.

He coughed awkwardly, his shame battling his urge to pry: “Really not? Tell me, I won’t tell anyone else.”

“Can you first answer a question for me?”

“What?”

With respectful inquiry, Farnan replied, “Why won’t you believe that the Earl is simply the son of an insolvent Knight?”

Little Hernan scratched his head and said with a smile, “Okay, I’ll believe it. Because my father was also just the son of an insolvent Knight.”

Farnan nodded in acknowledgement and turned back to observe the ongoing situation within the hunting ground.

In the midst of their conversation, a new round of struggle erupted in the center of the hunting field.

Siegfried, still relying on his agility and burst strength, dodged the horns in a dangerous fashion.

And the bull, while appearing to exert fruitless effort, was in fact delivering attacks that could be lethal, just waiting for one small human error.

“You see it too, right?” Little Hernan casually hung the bull ears and tail on the fence, looking over the human-beast battle in the field, saying, “At this rate, the one who’s bound to die is Earl Harlan.”

Farnan looked at Little Hernan, waiting for him to continue speaking.

Little Hernan slapped Farnan’s shoulder in a carefree manner, “At the end of the day, you guys oversimplify beast-fighting. Do you really think we people of Castile are all about brute force? It’s all about skill! Understand? Skill! Fighting beasts on horseback already requires helpers, let alone fighting them on foot. Do you really think just anyone can do it?”

Little Hernan extended four fingers: “I changed horses four times just to exhaust that wild bull’s stamina. Does Earl Harlan have more endurance than four horses combined? Just wait a little longer, and you’ll see his physical strength hit rock bottom first.”

Little Hernan became more disheartened as he spoke, “Ah! This is my first time being at the tail end of a scheme. And what happened? Everything’s been messed up by Earl Harlan’s interference, and now who knows when the next chance will be…”

“Lord Hernan,” Farnan asked politely, “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“What am I saying?” Little Hernan snapped back to reality and slapped his forehead, “Oh, right, I came to help you—help you deal with this bull.”

“Could you tell me, why do you want to help Earl Harlan?”

“Why? What else could it be for?” Little Hernan shrugged, “My father told me to.”