"Your grandmother has written a letter. She wants you to go back."

Father's words rang out in the dormitory room, and the familiar tone made people sit upright.

"What?" he asked subconsciously.

Although he had gradually become familiar with weekly reporting matters and was accustomed to his father's business-like tone, he still couldn't help but be stunned when he unexpectedly heard such "unprofessional" words from his father after a routine report.

The guard's duty room is located on a remote side of Fuxing Palace. Compared with the noisy palace gate facing the King's Avenue and the breathtaking Hall of Stars, it is neither noisy nor quiet, and the atmosphere is just right.

Father spoke calmly, his tone hoarse:

"Your cousin is not in good health. In fact, he is very bad."

"He has a lot of trouble managing the fiefdom and needs help."

Grandmother, cousin.

These two terms that he had not heard for a long time echoed, making him dazed for a moment.

It's like going back to the distant past.

helper?

But he just instinctively changed his mind and spoke without hesitation:

"No, I won't go back."

Hearing his answer, the father behind the table folded his arms and leaned back on his chair amidst the sound of his armor. His eyes were glaring, showing the dignity he had cultivated over the years.

This made him a little uneasy. It had been a long time since he had been alone with his father without a third person to talk about housework.

But his father did not frown, nor did he show any hesitation. He seemed to have anticipated his answer.

"What your grandmother means is that if something happens to your cousin...the family's fiefdom and title need to be inherited by someone," his father said softly.

This made him frown.

Fiefs and titles...

Someone needs to inherit...

He frowned instinctively, then snorted softly, trying hard to suppress the disdain in his words:

"They won't be so kind. What are the conditions?"

My father's expression remained as usual. I don't know whether it was because his many years of career had made him moody or because he knew too much about himself.

I just heard my father say calmly:

"The condition is that you marry your cousin-in-law, who is your grandmother's grand-niece."

"Give birth to an heir with her to maintain the relationship between the two families."

Marrying...my cousin's widow?

Hearing this, he raised his brows slightly and found with satisfaction that he had found a reason for his disdain.

really.

"I understand," he also crossed his arms, with a slight contempt in his nasal voice:

"Tell them I won't go back."

In response to his rejection, his father nodded without surprise, as if what he had just rejected was not the inheritance of a noble title, but simply "not going home for dinner tonight."

The father's gaze shifted to his bandaged fingers.

This time, the former actually frowned:

"Are you still practicing that swordsmanship?"

He subconsciously lowered his arms, but before hiding them behind his back, he temporarily changed his movements and naturally assumed a posture of supporting the arms of the chair.

He nodded and tried to answer in the most nonchalant tone:

"Yes."

But instead of relaxing, my father’s brows became more and more wrinkled:

"Do you think you have a chance to defeat him in the next knight's joust, or at least be evenly matched and not fall behind?"

This sentence made his heart tighten.

Defeat him.

Defeat him.

he!

Yes, that's it, defeat him! Like the northerner, he wanted to say this, in a confident, relaxed and calm tone.

But for some reason, he changed his words temporarily before saying it, and his tone was slightly lower:

"We will know by then."

His father was silent for a while, but his eyes were still fixed on him.

This made him very uncomfortable.

"I think you should know that when it comes to selecting watchmen, skill is not the only criterion." Father said slowly, his eyebrows not relaxed.

An ominous premonition came over me.

He changed his sitting position unnaturally:

"I know."

His father still looked at him steadily:

"But even so, you're not optimistic about being on the contending roster for Watchmen."

There seemed to be a string in his heart that was tense.

"Sak'el is the best in martial arts and is deeply trusted by His Majesty. Nolan Noor has the entire northern territory and good popularity as his backing. Tony is the person Captain Cullen is optimistic about, and Cox's battlefield command and experience are deeply trusted by him.

Appreciation and recommendation from Prince Horace.”

"They are all favorites."

His father looked at him and told him things that everyone knew word for word, as if they were deeply engraved into his heart like a seal.

"But you, all you have is a father like me."

Not sure if it was an illusion, but at the same time as he said this, he seemed to hear his father exhale gently from his nose.

He was a little annoyed, and his father's gaze forced him to look away and look elsewhere:

"I know."

But his father didn’t seem ready to let him go:

"In the Guard, people from the same family usually don't hold important positions at the same time, especially positions such as deputy guard captain and watchman."

There was an imperceptible sadness in his father's tone:

"You will most likely lose the election."

His breathing stopped for a moment, and he was able to recover after a few seconds:

"I know."

Father finally turned away his eyes and looked at the door of the duty dormitory.

"But you still want to be stubborn and give it a try?"

For some reason, facing such a father, although he frowned, he felt indescribably relaxed.

"Yes."

He put down his arms and remained still for a few seconds before finally taking a breath and replied:

"I have to give it a try after all."

This time, my father was silent for a long time, and the atmosphere in the duty room, which was not very relaxed, became serious.

It took so long that he frowned, wondering if it was time to interrupt and say goodbye...

"You know, the royal guard is not just a guard guarding the king, it is a contract, a concept, and a tradition."

Father slowly exhaled, but did not look at him, but at the wall of the duty dormitory.

There, the roster with the names of the Guards members was clearly visible: Cullen, Allard, Barney, Tardin, Garth, Tallon, Dastan, Norfolk, Godwin, Connie, Harvey.

Ya, Naki...

He didn't know why his father mentioned this, but his father's eyes seemed a little deep.

"Since the time of King Fuxing, powerful noble families have sent their descendants, whether the eldest son, second son, or branch of the main line, to protect the king, cultivate relationships with the royal family, and win the trust of Fuxing Palace. The king also uses this to maintain

The tacit understanding with the vassal family ensures one's influence on the subordinate fiefdoms."

The father sighed, his voice a little unusual, less tough and more helpless:

"In a sense, for hundreds of years, the royal guard has been the epitome of the kingdom's territory. From the six wealthy families to the thirteen famous families, from the Seven Shining Stars to the new nobles, the rise and fall of many families, large and small, is reflected in it."
To be continued...