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Derek quickly obtained the information regarding the owners of the houses involved in the assassination attempt. As expected, they were all properties once owned by merchants from the Holy Cross Kingdom. These individuals likely wouldn't leave obvious traces behind.

"Follow the list. Those with ties to the Holy Cross Kingdom, smash one of their shops. And for the ones that have done business with them, tear them all down," Derek ordered.

With the help of local informants, it didn't take long to gather the necessary intel. Derek moved swiftly, so fast that no one else had any idea what he was planning.

The guards at the city gates didn't even dare to stop the private soldiers of the Augusta family. After all, Derek himself had been attacked right under their watch. They were more concerned about covering their own tracks than stopping anyone.

They assumed the knights were there to protect the viscount, but they were wrong. With a wave of Derek's hand, his knights charged into the bustling streets of Pran like wolves among sheep.

Guided by the local informants, they quickly found their targets.

"What do you think you're doing? This is a store under the protection of the Ols family! Are you out of your minds?" a shop manager shouted, stepping forward as if the noble name behind him would be enough to intimidate the knights. However, all he got in return was the blunt force of a sword scabbard smashing into his face.

"What the hell are you doing? Break it all!" the knight bellowed. The manager, powerless and bleeding, collapsed to the ground as iron boots stomped over him. The rest of the shop staff, trembling in fear, looked like they were about to help the knights tear down their own store.

And so, the knights smashed everything in sight. For what couldn't be broken, they struck with their swords. In mere minutes, they left the shop in ruins, once again stomping on the manager as they walked out.

This scene repeated itself over and over again across the city.

It wasn't long before Earl Pereira caught wind of what was happening. News of this sort couldn't be kept hidden for long. Now everyone knew what Derek was up to.

As for the northern nobles whose shops had been targeted, they were outraged. They gathered before the earl, their indignation barely contained. "My lord! Viscount Derek has lost his mind! He's gone mad! He can't just accuse us of collusion with the Holy Cross Kingdom without reason. Our dealings with them have always been purely commercial!"

Even among the northern nobles, such actions couldn't be tolerated, especially when their own interests were at stake. If Derek could get away with smashing one shop today, what would stop him from targeting their homes next?

Earl Pereira was beginning to feel the pressure. He hadn't anticipated Derek acting so recklessly. This level of audacity—did he not understand the enemies he was making? The young man was still too inexperienced, Pereira thought, shaking his head. But he couldn't just throw his future son-in-law under the bus.

"What's all the commotion about? You all have some explaining to do yourselves. Don't blame me for not showing you any courtesy. Go back and investigate your own households. If any of you find the traitor who leaked the information, I will personally take Derek to your door to apologize. Otherwise, you'll just have to endure this!" the earl shouted, half-scolding, half-reassuring them. Begrudgingly, the outraged nobles simmered down.

Earl Pereira glanced over and saw Marquis Hussein standing off to the side, clearly enjoying the spectacle. This only made Pereira angrier. "That boy Derek," he thought, "is going to need some serious discipline."

Meanwhile, Hussein Marquis wouldn't be laughing for long if he knew what was happening elsewhere.

Derek's knights were a ferocious bunch, still carrying the scent of blood from the recent wars they'd fought. They weren't just angry; they were itching for more violence. Simon, ever the troublemaker, had seized the opportunity to take on a more difficult task.

Smashing stores was one thing—they were still fellow northern nobles, after all—but when it came to another suspect, or more accurately, another criminal, they weren't about to hold back. Simon led his heavily armed cavalry straight into the encampment of the royal army from the capital.

The soldiers there were completely caught off guard, offering almost no resistance at all.

"Take them! Round up a hundred men!" Simon ordered coldly. An officer tried to step forward to negotiate. "This is the First Army of the Northern Expedition. Who the hell are you?"

Simon didn't care in the slightest. "Northern Expedition?" he sneered. To him, they were nothing more than a bunch of greedy noble private armies looking to profit from the chaos. He signaled his men, and the officer was quickly trampled by the horses. Hooves mercilessly stomped on his fallen body.

"Listen up! We are knights of the Augusta family, and the viscount is furious right now. You'd best behave, or don't blame us for what happens next," Simon declared with icy authority.

The nearby soldiers of the First Army didn't dare move. They stood paralyzed, watching as their comrades and even a few junior officers were dragged away. Some even recognized familiar faces among the prisoners.

To be honest, Simon hadn't expected it to be this easy. Credit had to go to Marquis Hussein's complete incompetence. After two months on the road, he still hadn't managed to turn this rabble of noble private soldiers and conscripted peasants into a proper unit. With most of their officers absent, the soldiers had been cowed by the knights.

But no matter how many excuses they had, to Simon and the other knights, they were still cowards. And being green to battle was no excuse.

Simon and his knights made no effort to hide their disdain. "A bunch of weaklings," one spat as they galloped off, Derek's "gifts" in tow.

"Let's go. It's time to pay a visit to our esteemed guests from the capital," Derek said with a smirk.

It had been half a day since the attack, and Earl Pereira had been waiting anxiously for Derek's return. Some northern nobles were muttering among themselves, voicing their opinions that Derek had gone too far. Meanwhile, the capital nobles pointed and sneered, watching the northern nobles bicker among themselves, feeling ashamed by the internal strife.

Marquis Hussein, with his ever-present smile, thought everything was playing out perfectly for him. Exploiting this conflict to draw a few northern nobles to his side would be the icing on the cake. Just as he entertained this thought, a commotion erupted outside.

"Viscount Derek has arrived!" someone announced.

Earl Pereira rushed out, anxious to see if Derek was hurt. But when he stepped outside, he saw Derek ordering his men to string up the captured assassins. Behind them was a row of royal soldiers, bound and kneeling on the ground.

"Hussein," the soldiers cried out in panic as they spotted the marquis, "Commander!"

"What is the meaning of this?" Marquis Hussein shouted as he approached.

That's when everyone realized that the men kneeling were none other than soldiers from the First Army of the Northern Expedition. Many recognized the familiar faces among them.

Earl Pereira's unease deepened. This was no longer a simple matter. "Derek, what are you planning?" he demanded.

Derek turned, flashing a wicked grin. "What our predecessors did, I intend to do as well."

The predecessors? He could only be referring to the events from thirty years ago during the Northern Rebellion, when fleeing nobles had been hanged by the ruthless northern knights. That bloody chapter was still one of the reasons northern knights remained unpopular to this day.

Marquis Hussein could no longer stay silent. He pushed past Earl Pereira, trying to intervene. "We're no longer living in the days of rebellion, Derek. Killing my soldiers would be treason against the kingdom," he warned.

Even now, he couldn't help but attempt to trap Derek in a wordplay snare, clearly hoping to use the deaths of a few soldiers to frame Derek for treason.

In Hussein's eyes, this was his moment.

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