As Alia stepped out, the fight was destined not to happen.
The main figure of the incident, the high-born Alia Stark.
Who would dare to harm her friend, the butcher’s son, in front of her?
The prince’s orders are the prince’s orders, but she’s also the daughter of the Duke of the North.
What business do these soldiers have in getting involved in conflicts between such noble bloodlines?
If they had to cut Mika down, what would happen if Miss Stark directly stood in front?
Would you dare to use force?
That would truly be asking for a swift death.
Who would think that injuring the daughter of the Duke of the North would be a smaller matter than the prince getting hurt?
So Lann withdrew his sword with a slight smile, and the six on the opposite side awkwardly sheathed their weapons.
Anyone could see that drawing swords wouldn’t accomplish anything here, and holding them would only result in embarrassment.
"Please come with us, Miss Stark, His Majesty and your relatives are quite anxious."
The Hound Knight raised the visor of his helmet, revealing a face severely burned, and spoke calmly to Alia.
Though his tone still had a hint of intimidation, Lann felt it was probably his kindest state.
Nymelia accompanied Alia, clinging stubbornly to the edge of Lann’s armor, and nodded while staring defiantly at the Hound Knight.
Soon the group followed the torchlight to a fairly large camp.
The accompanying butchers, carpenters, and cooks were busy within the camp, while well-equipped knights and warriors patrolled its perimeter.
In the dark night, the camp made it hard to discern the number of people present.
Lann observed all this with slight curiosity.
According to Alia, this should be the convoy led by the King and the Duke of the North traveling to the capital for the new Prime Minister’s appointment.
A convoy of this scale is rarely seen.
On the way, Alia quietly informed Lann that the Hound Knight’s name was Sando Clegane, the prince’s guard.
Sando led three people and a wolf to the largest tent in the camp’s center.
It was apparent; this was the king’s tent.
Nymelia was led to a stake used for tying horses, her collar secured next to another notably calmer Ice Wolf.
That should be Alia’s sister’s wolf, named ’Lady.’
At the entrance, a man with the same brown hair and grey eyes as Alia’s rushed out to greet them.
Alia shouted joyfully, rushing forward.
He carried a stern demeanor like a frozen stone, indicative of someone who had grown in harsh environments.
However, at the sight of Alia, the glacier melted.
Initially, he sighed heavily, then wore a worried expression as he embraced Alia, who ran into his arms.
Alia had never been away from her father for so long.
The emotions bursting from her were easily perceived by her father, making it impossible to voice the reprimands that had almost slipped out.
Edd Stark, known as the Duke of the North, famous for being silent, just, and strict, people called him the ’Silent Wolf.’
He couldn’t understand why his daughter seemed to be acting as if she hadn’t been home in ages, but instinctively, he knew what Alia needed now was not reprimand but comfort.
"You shouldn’t... No, it’s okay. You are back, that’s what matters."
Lann watched the scene calmly and with contentment.
This was the reason he wanted to bring Alia home.
Lann’s appearance, and his hair as if it were molten silver, was rather striking.
After comforting his daughter, Edd was led by Alia to introduce him to Lann.
"This is Lann, daddy. He saved my life!"
The young girl said enthusiastically.
Edd smiled, examining the Demon Hunter’s eyes closely, while expressing his gratitude.
"Thank you for taking care of my daughter, Lord Lann. Soon, the King will pass judgment on this matter. May I invite you to attend? Your testimony might be required."
"Meeting the King is an honor, one I would seek eagerly."
Lann winked at the little girl, gladly accepting. This was something they had discussed on the journey.
Edd led Alia and Lann, the guard beside him helping the stumbling Mika, as they moved to enter the large tent.
But the Hound Knight blocked Lann at the entrance.
"Unbuckle your sword."
"Hey, I see many inside carrying swords."
"You’re different from the others; your background is unknown. Besides..." Sando Clegane’s severely burned face showed no expression, his voice lowered. "I know how dangerous you are, kid."
Inside the tent, Edd heard the commotion, ready to vouch for Lann.
But before he could speak, a booming voice erupted from inside the tent.
"Seven hells! Let them in, Hound! Just because of a sword? Do you think all the men here wielding swords are gutless cowards?!"
Lann could see Sando subtly gritting his teeth, then stepping aside and letting him in.
The voice could casually order the Hound Knight; clearly, this individual was above the prince, with a mature male’s tone... the King?
Truly standardly fiery temper of a warrior.
Lann walked inside; the King’s quarters, even if a tent, were unlike any other.
The floor, decor, and furniture were all complete, making it hardly noticeable from the inside that it was merely a canvas exterior.
Tonight, many gathered here because of the conflict between the King’s son and the Duke of the North’s daughter.
Lann noticed as soon as he entered a blonde, handsome young man speaking plaintively to the fat man seated in the room’s only chair.
"I saw her being bullied and drew my sword to help her, but I didn’t expect her to set the wolf on me, father!"
Wow, this narrative... such vivid imagery right upon entry?
Had Lann not known Alia’s character and personality, he might have paused for a second to judge.
The fat man originally sitting, with obvious irritation and impatience, was listening to his son’s complaints.
As a warrior who claimed the throne, the King’s youthful bravery was known across the Seven Kingdoms.
Who would’ve thought his son would cry outrageously from being bitten on the wrist by a wolf, utterly nauseating!
If you’d beaten the wolf on the spot, I’d have laughed heartily!
But crying over being bitten by an animal? What a pathetic excuse for a being!
However, this irritation and impatience cooled the moment Lann stepped in.
The fat man’s eyes, squinted into the flesh of his cheeks, locked onto Lann’s silver hair, exuding an intimidating killing intent.
The room naturally fell silent.
Weeping Geoffrey even winced, no longer daring to speak more.
"Edd, is this someone you brought?"
The Duke of the North seemed to have anticipated his reaction, speaking naturally.
"Robert, he has no relation to House Targaryen. Lann, step forward to let His Majesty see your eyes."
As a native, Alia was utterly bemused.
On the other hand, Lann recalled Edd’s focus on his hair and pupils when they first met.
Eyes, hair... perhaps the molten silver hair color and certain eye traits were physical traits of some enemy race?
Anyway, Lann knew he had no blood relation to this world.
Besides, those cat-like eyes were evidently a safe trait.
Thus, he approached the King quite confidently.