“Battles are not one-dimensional. One should rather favor the result, not the method.”

Marcus Cornelius' barony is some miles south within Count Augusto's territory.

According to his father, it only measures around a couple of square miles and has a small population of some hundreds mostly of farmers.

And while the land itself is green, it still needs much improvement to become self-generating.

The territory is obviously not a generous gift. In fact, everyone who knew of what happened to him is aware that becoming a baron all of a sudden was a result of a very complicated maneuvering.

And what is even more complex is the fact that his territory is almost edging the boundary of another neighboring count.

While his father and the said count have friendly relations, it was simply on the surface. For after all, among aristocrats, there are no lifetime friendships, only eternal benefits. So it was pretty ordinary that a minor misunderstanding between two nobles sparks deep enmity.

However, Count Augusto is quite certain that the neighboring count would not cause any trouble to his son—at least not in the meantime, given that the distance between their territories is separated by a huge chaotic river. In a sense, there was a natural barrier. And crossing over the other territory would require great effort.

Marcus Cornelius, of course, was unaware of such a predicament. He was simply focused on reaching his own territory.

The entire caravan, moreover, consists of four carriages hauled by two horses each.

The best-looking one was obviously for Marcus Cornelius' transport while the other three carriages carry the baron's personal things and other resources to help him start in his fief.

The knight captain, on the other hand, rides his personal horse. It was one of the rare breeds available in the eastern region of the empire.

The squires also rode on horses, but their horses—although of the lower breed—properly belong to Marcus Cornelius as properties of his fief as well.

The entire travel would take approximately 3 days and they would need to pass through a few other baronies just to get to his own territory.

And as the group set off, Marcus Cornelius suddenly noticed the falling leaves along the narrow road only to realize it was already autumn.

For some reason, there was a feeling of melancholy.

He stretched his arm outside the window of his carriage and caught a fallen leaf.

He mused at the irony of life; at how a once green leaf beaming with lush forced to fall off from a tree without knowing the reason why. All it could do is to let the natural course take its action.

Then he thought of himself as a fallen noble. He thought of everything that transpired. He was reduced to such state without being given the due opportunity to stand for what is true.

He felt as if he was a fallen leaf.

While it appears that his moment of solace only took a few breaths, Marcus Cornelius was surprised to realize that the caravan is already in the midst of forest traversing a narrow path.

Apparently, the group has already traveled for six hours.

“Captain Endel, ” he summoned.

The knight's horse suddenly galloped as the captain hastily approached.

“Sire!?”

“Let's take some rest.”

The Silver ranked Knight looked ahead to the north before he nodded in agreement.

“There's a small stream up ahead Milord, ” the knight respectfully replied. “Let's settle down there for a bit to water the horses.”

“Lead the way brother.”

Marcus Cornelius followed in satisfaction.

Just as Knight Endel turned his horse to order the squires to proceed, rumbling sounds of galloping horses suddenly reverberated through the ground, followed by a strong killing intent surging in the atmosphere.

“Ambush!”

The captain’s yell was undoubtedly backed by his Silver rank physique.

When the others heard this, they were aghast.

Marcus Cornelius' face suddenly fell.

He realized the evident crisis they were in. And what was even more terrifying is the thought that the sounds of the galloping horses did not sound like that of bandits.

It was the sound of elite knights!

The group's hearts thumped. Alarm and panic began to show on their faces.

But the knight captain's rich battle experience prevailed in him. He hastily tried his best to regain composure and suddenly yelled one command after another.

“Milord, take one of the horses and race to the next fief. We shall buy you time for your escape.”

“Squires, form a defensive line. Move the carriages to the flanks and prepare your bows.”

The squires were trembling as they quickly move according to the instructions.

They were not proper knights yet but from the looks of it, they were completely showing an attitude beyond bravery knowing that they would be facing an entire group of true knights.

“Hold your positions and attack on my command.”

Marcus Cornelius' face was deathly pale.

All of a sudden, he realized that all his acquired knowledge from the books he read for the last ten or so years, were useless in the face of fearsome foe—not even his Bronze rank physique made him feel any better.

He was stunned and immediately trembled at the looming massacre.

“Milord!”

The knight yelled at the top of his lungs.

“You have to escape now.”

It was only then that Marcus Cornelius awoke from horror.

But it was too late.

About a hundred black armored knights rampaged their way through the narrow path they were currently in.

Even before the squires could release the arrows, skillful spearmanship by the black-armored knights was already at full display unleashing a devastating power that eventually wreaked havoc to their defensive formation.

Bodies flew and subsequently slammed onto tree trunks. In a blink of an eye, the ten squires were already dead.

Marcus Cornelius was unharmed. But he suddenly found himself flanked by two black-armored knights both emitting an aura of Silver rank.

His knight Endel, on the other hand, was caught. He was alive but bruised. He obviously survived the first wave of attack, but just the same, death obviously remains to be his fate.

After a few breaths, Silver rank Endel's hands were tied from behind and he was forced to kneel on the grounds facing Marcus Cornelius with a black armored knight standing behind.

He looked warmly towards Marcus Cornelius as if bidding his goodbye.

Marcus Cornelius' face sank all the more at the sight of his knight. He knew what was to come.

It hadn't been a week since he officially became a baron. He had already dreamed of a few things about how to start a new life. But then again fate has been cruel to him all of a sudden.

“Blame your luck for being too bad. Sticking with this trashy noble is obviously your downfall,” one of the armored knights maliciously remarked.

He was obviously talking to Endel as if they had known each other for some time. But that was already a given fact.

Even Marcus Cornelius could patch up the clues and knew that whoever plotted against him has come to finish the job.

The armored knights must have also come from the army of his father but that the orders came from somebody else.

Without any further warning, Knight Endel was suddenly beheaded right in front of Marcus Cornelius.

Right after the death of his knight, the armored knights focused on Marcus Cornelius. They wore a vicious smile as they look at his pitiful state.

One of them dragged him towards the direction of the stream. Blood sprayed out of his mouth as he struggled from the grasped of the black-armored knight.

Once again, a sensation of indescribable crisis welled up in him.

Facing a hundred of elite knights, he knew it was now his time to meet his doom, and he knew that no one's there to save him this time.

Marcus Cornelius closed his eyes as if any further resistance is already a lost cause. How he wished he were stronger, that he had the power to alter his fate.

Yet, he was indeed a fallen leaf.

“Our orders were to eliminate the baron and completely wipe off his caravan. So let's just drown him to death and give his body a proper burial. He's a baron after all.”