Giant Dragon Lord: Starting from Daily Intelligence-Chapter 93: Banquet and Incident

Noon. The sun blazed high in the sky.

The Central Plaza of Black Stone Territory was already a sea of people, a dense, dark mass.

On a hastily erected platform stood several wooden stakes.

Ed walked onto the platform and cleared his throat.

"By order of the Duke! Baron Mengde, the former lord of Ironthorn Territory, possessed a savage ambition, colluded with bandits, and plotted to harm the Duke’s own bloodline. His crimes are heinous! Today, Mengde and three generations of his blood relatives shall be beheaded as a public example!"

Below the stage, the hundred or so prisoners from Ironthorn Territory, who had been brought out to witness the event, erupted in an uproar upon hearing the proclamation.

Most of them were Knights loyal to Mengde and had fought against the Black Stone Army on his orders. They had believed Black Stone Territory was the enemy, the invader. They never imagined the truth was the complete opposite—that Baron Mengde, the man they served, was the real traitor who had plotted against the Duke’s bloodline.

Many among them had clung to a sliver of hope, thinking the Duke would, at most, severely punish Mengde and confiscate his territory.

But no one had expected the punishment to be so brutal, extending even to the execution of three generations of his family!

In the crowd, Baron Mengde, his hair disheveled and his face gaunt, was forced to his knees by two soldiers of Black Stone Territory.

Listening to Ed’s pronouncement, his face turned ashen, and his body began to tremble like a leaf in the wind.

He knew he was finished. Utterly finished.

He desperately raised his head, his gaze frantically searching the crowd. When he saw His Highness Prince Elliot standing to one side of the platform—dressed in fine clothes, his expression cold and severe—a final glimmer of hope erupted in his eyes.

"Your Highness! His Highness Prince Elliot!"

Mengde shrieked with all his might, his voice as grating as a Night Owl’s cry.

"Save me, Your Highness! I’ve been framed! I am completely loyal to the Duke!"

"Your Highness, for the sake of our past relationship, please save me! I can still be of use! I’ll do anything for you!"

He babbled incoherently, snot and tears streaming down his face in a pathetic display.

Eliot stood there without a word, but his already grim face was now covered in a layer of frost.

He slowly drew the Knight’s Longsword from his waist, its blade reflecting a cold, sinister light in the sun.

’He knew that with this strike, he would shatter the loyalty of those he had worked to win over. But at this moment, he had no other choice!’

He looked up, gazing toward the South.

’After all, he was not yet the master of this Duchy. A single word from the one on the throne could make all his hard work wash away like nothing.’

Seeing Eliot draw his sword, Mengde’s wailing abruptly stopped. As if he understood something, the last light in his eyes died, replaced by endless despair and terror.

"No... No..."

"Your Highness, you can’t..."

Eliot gave him no chance to continue.

"Traitor, Mengde."

Eliot raised the Long Sword.

"By order of the Duke, you are to be beheaded."

The Long Sword swung down with a vicious gust of wind.

With a wet slice, a head flew high into the air, tracing a crimson arc before landing heavily on the ground and rolling a good distance away. Its wide-open eyes still held the terror and indignation from the moment of death.

Blood gushed from Mengde’s headless torso, staining the platform red.

Eliot sheathed his sword, his face devoid of expression.

"AHH!"

Mengde’s two sons and several grandchildren, some still in swaddling clothes, were already scared out of their wits. Cries and screams erupted all at once.

But the soldiers of Black Stone Territory showed no mercy. With swift slashes of their blades, several more headless corpses soon littered the platform.

The crowd in the plaza fell silent for a moment, then burst into thunderous cheers.

"The Duke is wise!"

"A good kill! Traitors like them deserve such an end!"

The prisoners from Ironthorn Territory, however, all turned deathly pale, their bodies trembling like leaves in the wind.

The stench of blood rose in the heat of the midday sun.

The bodies on the platform were quickly dragged away, and the bloodstains were swiftly cleaned.

Raylo silently observed Eliot. After personally executing Mengde, the Prince’s expression was impossibly grim.

"Your Highness, and all you Knights, please make your way to the castle. I have prepared a banquet to welcome you and wash away the dust from your journey."

Raylo spoke at the opportune moment.

Eliot gave a cold nod, saying nothing more.

However, the Knight Commander of the Thunder Dragon Knight Order, a burly man with a thick beard, clapped Raylo heartily on the shoulder.

"Lord Baron, you’re too kind! We were just following orders; we don’t deserve such generous treatment. But since we’ve come all this way, I’d love to try some of Black Stone Territory’s famous fruit wine!"

The Knights behind him let out a good-natured laugh, and the atmosphere instantly relaxed.

For these Knights, who were accustomed to a life of constant vigilance, a hearty banquet was undoubtedly the best reward.

Inside the banquet hall of Black Stone Castle, long oaken tables were laden with a sumptuous feast.

There was wild boar roasted until it sizzled with fat, mountains of sausages, golden bread, and fruit wine that gave off a rich, fragrant aroma.

Raylo raised his cup.

"Today’s events were all thanks to the Duke’s wisdom, the Prince’s decisiveness, and the tireless efforts of all you Knights. On behalf of Black Stone Territory, I propose a toast to you all!"

"You’re too kind, Baron Raylo!"

The Knights all raised their cups, the wine sloshing as they clinked together with a crisp sound.

They downed gulps of fruit wine and rapidly devoured the food. The atmosphere in the banquet hall gradually grew more lively.

The Knights laughed and chatted loudly, boasting of their various adventures. Occasionally, they would argue until they were red in the face over some trivial matter, only to throw their arms around each other’s shoulders and declare themselves brothers, spurred on by the alcohol.

A stark contrast to this boisterous scene was Eliot, who sat to the right of the main seat.

The food before him was almost untouched, and he had only taken a few symbolic sips from his cup.

He wore a sullen expression, his gaze distant, as if lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to the surrounding clamor.

When the occasional Knight plucked up the courage to offer him a toast, he would only give a slight nod, sparing with his words.

Raylo took it all in, understanding everything perfectly.

’This Prince,’ he thought, ’is probably vexed about how to fill the power vacuum left by Mengde’s death and how to explain this to his former followers.’

’On a deeper level, he’s likely also feeling resentment and apprehension toward the Duke for his hardline stance in forcing him to execute Baron Mengde.’

Raylo made no special effort to curry favor with Eliot. He simply exchanged frequent toasts with the Knights of the Thunder Dragon Knight Order, letting out loud laughs from time to time as if he were genuinely enjoying himself.

’He knew that with a man like Eliot, deliberate flattery would only arouse his suspicion. It was better to act naturally.’

"Lord Baron."

The Knight Commander, his face flushed red, walked over to Raylo holding an enormous goblet.

"I hear that you have a Storm Griffin under your command, Lord Baron? That’s a rare Magical Beast!"

Raylo laughed.

"I was just lucky enough to tame it. It’s used to being wild and doesn’t always listen."

"Haha, well, they’re Magical Beasts! Which one of them isn’t fierce? Our Prince’s Thunder Dragon, now that’s a temper for you!"

A Knight nearby immediately chimed in.

"That’s right! The last time we were in the Broken Soul Mountain Range, the Prince’s Thunder Dragon turned an Earth Dragon into a pile of charcoal with a single blast of Dragon Breath!"

The topic quickly shifted to all sorts of powerful Magical Beasts, and the atmosphere grew even more enthusiastic.

Raylo listened quietly, occasionally adding a word or two, but his mind was occupied with other matters.

’Ironthorn Territory has been secured. The next steps are to integrate this land, pacify the populace, and guard against threats from the restless Jade Swamp and the Black Stone Mountain Range.’

Just as the banquet reached its peak, a sudden, unusual, and immense sound came from outside the castle.

BOOM!

A dull, heavy crash resounded from outside the castle, as if something massive had fallen from a great height. The very floor of the banquet hall trembled slightly.

Cups and plates clattered with a sharp ringing sound.

The clamor in the banquet hall died instantly.

The Knights all put down their goblets, their hands warily moving to the hilts of their swords.

"What was that?"

"An earthquake?"

Immediately after, another sound followed—a sharp, piercing shriek filled with rage and violence. It tore through the thick stone walls of the castle and reached everyone’s ears with perfect clarity.

Eliot’s head snapped up, a flash of alarm and confusion in his gloomy eyes.