Starting With an SSS-Rank Swordsmanship Talent

Later that day, another letter was delivered to the crown prince.

“Your Highness, we received word from the Venerables.” The messenger reported with a deep bow.

Leighnard smiled faintly.

It seems like their conversation has concluded.

He turned his head to Tyrone and sent him a knowing look.

Understanding his intentions, Tyrone took the letter from the messenger and handed it to the crown prince.

“Here is the letter, Your Highness.”

Leighnard took the letter and signaled to the messenger to leave.

After the man left, he unsealed the letter and read it with a look of anticipation.

A while later, he let out a chuckle. “Who would have thought that things would turn out this way?”

He then looked at the confused Tyrone and explained the situation to him.

“So that’s what happened…” The old marquis was surprised by the news. He now understood why the prince revealed an unusual expression when they received a letter recently.

But can we really trust an enemy Venerable?

Sensing his doubtful look, Leighnard spoke. “Don’t worry about it, Sir Tyrone. I am sure the two Venerables have a strong reason why they chose to believe that man.”

He turned around and added. “If this goes perfectly, we will gain another Venerable on our side.”

“You’re right, Your Highness. I hope everything goes smoothly.” Tyrone sighed inwardly.

***

At this moment, in the city hall of Midgard, there was a heated argument between Marlon and a group of aristocrats.

“General, what were you thinking?! Did you really tell those bastards that we will surrender?! Are you out of your mind?!”

Shouted a rotund middle-aged man with neatly combed hair. He was so furious that his beard flared up. His shoulders were also trembling which showed how agitated he was.

“General, those men might be planning to deceive us! If we surrender and open our gates to their army, they might kill us all!”

This time, the one who spoke was an old man dressed in shiny silk clothes.

“How about we wait for reinforcements? We just have to hold out for a few days…”

Marlon could no longer contain his anger when he heard their ridiculous words. “Wait for a few days and what?! Haven’t you seen the size of their troops?!”

“Do you think we can defend the city against an army of that size?! Are you guys fucking dimwits?”

“All you guys do is sit on your comfortable chairs so you know absolutely nothing about warfare!”

Startled by his strong response, the aristocrats stared at him with dumbfounded gazes.

Marlon was usually very accommodating to them so they were shocked by his unexpected reaction.

Looking at their stunned faces, Marlon took a deep breath and continued. “They have a Venerable leading their army and they also have a large group of powerful warriors. Even with all the defensive weapons in the city, that army will besiege us in just a day.”

“The only reason they are willing to negotiate with us is to minimize their losses.”

Everyone fell silent as they began to contemplate his words.

“I understand that you have properties to protect, but ensuring the safety of our people is more important. Please, give me your approval so Midgard can survive this crisis.” Marlon bowed deeply, his voice ringing with emotion.

The hall was silent for almost an entire minute before someone responded.

“Whatever happens will decide the fate of our city… I will give you my support this time, but I hope that you are right, General Marlon. Otherwise, I will be very disappointed…”

The first person to give his support was quite an influential figure. The nobles who had no intentions of giving their support began to reconsider their decisions.

“Marlon, you better be right about this!” Another one expressed his support, albeit in a fierce manner.

With two aristocrats voicing their support, a few more also followed.

More than half of the influential people and aristocrats who were gathered in the hall had given their support, leaving only less than twenty people who remained undecided.

Marlon looked at them and was about to persuade them when…

“If you are planning to persuade us into supporting your cowardly decision, then you’d better shut your mouth! I don’t give a fuck about the size of their army! I will never yield to those Astanian dogs!” Shouted the rotund middle-aged man with undisguised fury.

Staring at him deeply, Marlon furrowed his eyebrows.

Viscount Peterson Shakewell… I knew you would be my greatest obstacle.

Peterson Shakewell was one of the three most influential figures in Midgard. This was because he controlled the biggest mining industry in the city.

With the success of his business, he managed to gain the favor of Harune’s imperial family.

“Lord Peterson, please think about the lives of the people of Midgard…”

Marlon wanted to say something, but his words were rudely cut off.

“Did you not hear what I just said?!”

Peterson shook his head with a cold look.

“I don’t want to hear any of this bullshit! If you guys want to surrender, then go do it yourselves, you damned cowards!”

“I am leaving!” With an angry flick of his sleeves, he walked away with heavy strides.

A few aristocrats who were undecided chose to leave with him, leaving only four people who were yet to make their decisions.

Marlon glanced at Peterson’s group who were about to exit the city hall and muttered under his breath. “Peterson, if you try to get all of us killed, then you will have to die by my sword!”

While he was crafting a plan on how to quietly eliminate Peterson, a voice suddenly drifted into his ears.

“General Marlon, we need to discuss this properly. Things have already come to this point so we have to do it right.”

Turning his head, Marlon nodded his head.

“What do you propose we should do? I want to hear the thoughts of you wise lords.”

Hearing this, everyone’s faces eased up.