"It seems that our esteemed Palace Minister met with resistance among the nobles and knights of Montreal and has turned to me as if I were an easy target?"

Losa felt little anger in his heart, instead, he felt as if he were watching a clown act.

Though, paying out of his own pocket for the soldiers' lodgings and covering the inn's fees admittedly gave off a bit of a soft impression.

"Hans, put on a pair of iron gloves and come with me."

Hans's face was brimming with a smile: "Master, are you sure you don't want to handle it yourself? This is a great opportunity to gain prestige."

The reason for specially instructing Hans to wear iron gloves was simple.

He planned to use the simplest, most direct, and most effective method of resolving conflicts as a nobleman — a duel.

Perhaps to others, dueling still posed high risks, even with an advantage, no one could remain alive in duels forever.

Falling from a warhorse, conveniently being stabbed through a weak spot in defense, or falling from the horse head-first, breaking the neck during the tumble...

There were too many unforeseen factors.

Moreover, no one could guarantee that their opponent's strength would be inferior.

Therefore, knight duels were often referred to as "letting the Heavenly Father judge right and wrong," because luck truly played an important role.

Losa shook his head and said, "In terms of personal prowess, I've accumulated enough reputation already. After all, the honor of slaying two werewolves was all mine alone. If I make a move, they wouldn't dare to challenge me."

Hans complimented, "Master, remarkable!"

Losa couldn't help but laugh, "Hans, your flattery is terrible."

...

A group of well-dressed knights surrounded Amalric outside the "Oak and Hazel" inn.

They stood in opposition to the fully armed Royal Knights and soldiers.

Losa's reputation within the Knight Order was steadily rising, and the disdain towards their Grand Master in these newcomers had long infuriated them.

"Don't be rash, let everything be decided by the Grand Master!"

Pepin, who had already been promoted to "Knight Commander" and "Standard Bearer," held significant influence among the knights, and he had naturally restrained the others from acting rashly as they had before.

Some of Amalric's knights, looking at the angry crowd opposite, expressed concern, "Will this Baron Losa, as the Grand Master of the Royal Knight Order, agree to your request?"

"What rubbish Grand Master, just a young fellow who hasn't fully grown. For Amalric to demand he vacate this inn is to save his face."

Guy of Lusignan shouted, "Indeed, this Losa has an undeniable relationship with Sir Hanfry's death, as for the local nobles and knights' testimonies? Who knows if they are in collusion, trying to seize Montreal's territory while Count Reynard is too occupied to pay attention?"

Guy was certain that Baron Losa would not dare to offend his highly influential brother at this moment, and he even hoped to curry favor with his brother, in hopes he would speak well of him.

"Are you saying I'm still a criminal now?"

The knights and soldiers blocking the inn slowly parted ways.

Losa strode out.

He looked at the knight sitting on a mighty warhorse.

In history, he rose to the throne of Jerusalem by marrying Sibilla and later became the ruler of Cyprus by siding with Richard the Lionheart.

A lucky but foolish fellow.

To have such a person occupy a high position was a disaster for everyone.

He raised his voice and questioned, "Answer my question, Guy!"

Guy defiantly replied, "Is it not? Without judgment, no one can exonerate you from suspicion of Sir Hanfry's death, and as for the talk of the Evil God's interference? It's utterly ridiculous!

There is only one True God in this world, and that is the Heavenly Father! Where did this so-called Evil God come from?"

"Since that's the case, let the Heavenly Father decide whether I am guilty."

Losa took off his gloves and threw them harshly towards the opposite side.

Bang—

Amalric was caught off guard and was hit square in the face by the heavy chain armor gloves.

He angrily protested, "You're insane, Losa, I'm the Palace Minister, how dare you treat me this way?"

The gloves slid off his face and fell to the ground.

He dared not reach down to pick them up because doing so would mean accepting Losa's challenge, and being pampered in the court, he had no confidence in his own martial prowess.

Guy's face turned red as he cursed, "You scoundrel, a barbarian who ran out of the German Forest. You rely on your bravery to disdain the law. This is a desecration of the sacred duel, an excuse for your own crimes!"

Losa chuckled, "If I remember correctly, the one who often relied on his vast dueling experience and would toss gloves at others frequently, wasn't that you? I'm also curious, how do you get rid of this bad habit of throwing gloves at others at the drop of a hat? You should be experienced, can you teach me?"

Guy was furious to the point of exploding.

Since being soundly defeated by that blacksmith from Gaul, his reputation for bravery had been trampled upon as if by countless feet.

Some of the defeated opponents from the past even began to mock him for not being a match for a blacksmith.

Losa practically tore open a scar deep in his heart and sprinkled salt on it.

"Enough, Losa."

Amalric felt quite caught on the horns of a dilemma at the moment.

The gazes from those around him, from knights who used to be awed by his title as the Palace Minister, now looked at him as if he were a clown.

He was very sure that if he backed down now, the morale of his party would completely collapse.

Hereafter, it was conceivable how many of these knights would stay under his command.

He planned to gain merit in this battle, even if it was some insignificant merit, it could allow Empress Angenise to maneuver and bestow him a fief territory.

If the knights all dispersed, who else could he rely on?

Rely on those recruits, who were mostly riffraff and couldn't even equip themselves adequately?

"It's fine if you don't dare to accept the challenge, I know asking you to duel with me is too demanding. Hans, it's your turn to throw a glove at our Court Chancellor."

Pa—

This time, Amalric was prepared and instinctively dodged, but a heavy iron glove still hit him squarely on the face.

"Scoundrel!"

"You are simply going too far!"

"Lord Chancellor, is it I who is bullying you?"

Losa's voice carried a hint of coldness, and the overwhelming pressure brought by the Dragon Bloodline swept out like a storm.

He stepped forward, one step at a time.

The knights opposite each had a slight change in their expressions, and their steeds underneath them uncontrollably retreated.

"You want to forcibly take over the inn I spent a fortune to rent, intended as a resting place for my Crusader warriors who fought a bloody battle and killed hundreds of Mamluk Cavalry, and now it turns out I'm the one bullying you?"

"I will duel with you!"

Guy exclaimed, unable to hold back any longer.

"You haven't been completely destroyed by those few heavy blows after all."

Losa said, not knowing whether it was in praise or mockery.

Amalric hastily added, "The day of the duel should be decided by us. Traveling is tiring, and now dueling is too unfair to us."

"When do you want it?"

Amalric pondered a bit, "At least a week later."

This was evidently an excuse.

A week later, the army would likely be confronting the Saracens under Kaler Castle, with no time for duels.

But Losa did not refuse, he merely nodded, "Fine. However, esteemed Lord Chancellor, I must warn you about one thing: control your subordinates. Do not let them come into conflict with my Knight Order, and do not let me see you occupying civilians' — even if they are heretics — houses."

Amalric's face changed slightly; he never thought Losa would even think of this.

"Heretic civilians count as people? Are we warriors fighting for God not even entitled to occupy the houses of heretics? Baron Losa, are you putting yourself above all, acting as a King whose words are law? On what grounds do you command me?"

Losa smiled, "You can certainly try; I don't mind testing your ragtag bunch before we engage in a bloody battle with the Saracens."

"My dear Lord Chancellor, you have embezzled so much money from the City Defense Army. Are you not willing to take out some to support your soldiers who are lacking food and clothing? I can hardly imagine how the once brave Frankish knights could become as miserly and greedy as the Jewish."

"You... you're slandering me!"

In the end, Amalric still slinked off in defeat.

He seemed like a clown brought by a Gypsy wagon, or a court entertainer delighting the nobles, having performed a ridiculous farce at the city gate and in front of the inn, one after another.

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