In the Name of the Queen

Wharton was stunned for a moment.

He never dreamed that Roland would go all out without any warning.

He panicked.

Every accusation Roland made was true.

Even if the evidence was incomplete, it would be collected sooner or later.

He never doubted this, but he couldn't understand why Roland dared to do it?

Doesn't this pretty boy know that the entire Knights are his people?

A terrible thought flashed through Wharton's mind.

Could it be that Her Majesty wanted to deal with him and clear the way for her mistress?

After thinking about it, this was the only possibility.

Confess?

Wharton almost laughed out loud.

His crime was too serious, and even if he knelt down and begged for mercy, he would not be able to change the inevitable death.

Since confessing is useless, then don't confess!

Squinting his eyes and observing the royal private soldiers guarding the entrance and exit of the training ground, Wharton's heart trembled.

It seems that it was premeditated.

Since Roland was well prepared, it is naturally meaningless to defend himself at the legal level.

Walton drew his sword, pointed it at Roland, and roared:

"Roland! You are just a pretty boy who got promoted by nepotism. How dare you slander a meritorious minister who shed blood for the empire and made contributions to the previous emperor!"

"This is an insult to me. I want to challenge you to an honor duel!"

Wharton went straight to Roland in the middle.

If Roland accepted the honor duel, he could kill Roland with his own hands.

If Roland did not accept the honor duel, he would be guilty.

Even if Roland suppressed the Knights with the help of the Royal Guard, he was still a softie in the hearts of the knights.

Wharton looked at Roland with contempt, and his provocative roar resounded throughout the venue.

The training ground was silent, with only Walton's roar echoing in the sky.

Everyone knew that Walton was guilty and the evidence was conclusive, but he challenged the honor duel before the trial procedure began, and the nature of the matter changed.

The prosecutor and the heraldry officials cast their eyes on Roland at the same time.

They did not speak, just watching the show.

Everyone knew that Roland relied on the Queen to get to the throne, and they didn't have a good attitude towards Roland.

They even wanted to see him laugh.

Wharton didn't think he would lose.

I heard that Carl Vinson died at Roland's hands, but he didn't lose because of his fighting skills, but because he underestimated the enemy and his musket.

In a fair duel, Roland is nothing.

His idea was not wrong.

If it was a fair duel in close combat, Roland and him would be at most 50-50.

But Roland didn't have the concept of a fair duel in his mind.

If the enemy fights you in a fair duel, it's your thinking that's wrong.

Just as he was waiting for Roland's response, a clear and angry voice sounded.

"Wharton, you have tarnished the honor of the knight and failed the expectations of His Majesty, but you have indeed made contributions to the empire and are qualified to defend your dignity with force. I accept your challenge on behalf of Her Majesty the Queen."

Sif accepted the challenge neither humbly nor arrogantly.

And with good reasons.

This is her battlefield.

Wharton is extremely evil, and he must be dealt with personally to relieve his hatred.

If Wharton fights head-on, then stab him to death with a lance.

If he wants to play dirty, then naturally shoot him in the head with a pistol.

The whole audience was stunned.

No one expected that the delicate female knight would fight for Roland.

His nickname of a pretty boy was confirmed.

Only the old official of the Heraldry Academy turned pale with fear.

As a person serving the royal family, he knew Sif's identity.

Just when he was horrified, Sif looked back at him.

The meaning was obvious.

Shut up.

Sif walked down the platform with steady steps.

As she walked, she put the segments of the lance together.

The most orthodox knight duel is naturally a lance duel.

Wharton was indeed corrupt, but he did bleed for the empire and the royal family.

Since he didn't want to go to the trial, he should die decently.

Sif assembled the lance expressionlessly, with the tip of the lance pointing at Wharton.

Under the gray sky, the White Rose Knight looked particularly petite compared to the towering Wharton.

Wharton looked at Sif in astonishment and said in a deep voice, "Are you sure?"

Sif didn't say anything and threw the prepared gloves at him.

Wharton reached out to catch the gloves with a gloomy face.

He knew that Sif was a member of the royal family and even a count.

He would never dare to offend such a person at ordinary times, but now that he was in a desperate situation, he naturally didn't care about these.

He laughed wildly a few times, took the lance from the saddle, and prepared for battle.

The special lance was not as useful as the ordinary lance in the ground duel, but it was enough.

Whether it was the little white face or the shameless royal girl, they had to be buried with him!

He had made a decision that even if he died, he had to take these two people who ruined him with him.

No nonsense, the duel began.

The collision of the lance and the lance sparked sparks.

Roland looked calm, staring at the battlefield, with a slight sweat on his palms.

Before deciding on the duel candidates, Roland and Sif also had a sparring match.

Sif's fighting talent is unparalleled.

Although Roland has a knight's secondary profession, he is not yet proficient in it. If he wants to win, he must use a combination of smoke bombs, darts, and alchemical props.

In terms of pure fighting skills and physical skills, Sif is still better.

Walton and Stanley must die, but other knights can fight for it.

This duel must be won fairly.

Although a little nervous, Roland is not too worried.

Sif not only has overwhelming fighting skills, but also luxurious equipment.

She wears royal ancestral armor on the outside, with a middle layer of mithril mail and velvet armor on the inside. With three layers of protection, even rifles can't hit her.

The face armor is considerate to protect her delicate face.

Sif moved very steadily and cautiously, gaining the upper hand and forcing Walton to retreat continuously.

Walton's lance could not hit Sif at all, but was hit twice by Sif's lance tip.

He was careless.

To ensure flexibility, he wore a light mail, which could not withstand the frontal stab of the lance tip.

He dodged awkwardly and retreated again and again.

The Royal Guard cheered loudly and cheered for Sif.

A one-sided and boring duel.

The Heraldry official breathed a sigh of relief and took out a handkerchief to wipe his sweat.

Only Roland kept staring at Walton.

He didn't want to believe that Walton would die so miserably.

Just when Walton was about to retreat to the corner of the training ground with no way to retreat, Roland saw a black mass on his palm and reminded him loudly:

"Right hand!"

Sif was alert at the first time, and the lance tip accurately pierced Walton's wrist, making a bloody hole in his right wrist.

Just when everyone thought the outcome was decided, Walton suddenly pulled out a dagger with his left hand and pounced on Sif like lightning.

Few people know that his killer move is the left-handed sword.

Those who are good at using weapons with their left hands have completely different fighting styles from those who use right-handed swords, and are very difficult to defend.

Although the armor fits tightly, there are always weak points such as joints.

The enchanted dagger can easily cut off the joints and turn defeat into victory.

Walton approached instantly, and the three-meter-long spear in Sif's hand became a burden and could not return to defend.

A bloodthirsty and cruel smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Damn woman, bury me with me!

He stared at Sif's face armor, trying to see her panic through the gap.

Looking at the terrified expression of the enemy before death is his greatest joy.

He saw Sif's eyes clearly.

Calm and indifferent, as if looking at a corpse.

"Bang!"

The gun went off.

The shotgun pellets flew out like flowers scattered by the goddess, shooting Walton's face into pieces.

A shrill scream sounded.

Sif took a half step back and gave the Royal Guards an order indifferently, "Take him away!"

A live Walton is more useful than a dead Walton.

In a spear duel, she must go all out, and it is difficult to leave him alive.

Walton was the first to violate the duel rules, and she did not violate the spirit of chivalry by drawing her gun in self-defense.

What a pleasant surprise.

Sif turned around and walked towards Roland, lifted her visor, and blinked proudly.

Roland almost couldn't help laughing.

The speed of drawing the gun is really fast, I really don't know who learned it from.

Good, great!