Shield of the Rose

A small boat drifted slowly along the river. It was a sightseeing skiff with gently upturned ends, its slender, spindle-shaped hull coated in a black lacquer so glossy and smooth it mirrored the sky. A canopy arched over the deck, shielding the passengers from both sun and rain.

This sightseeing boat had over a dozen rows of seats, each row accommodating three people, and today, most of those seats were occupied by the members of Squad 105.

None of the women wore their military uniforms today. Most were dressed in elegant, flowing skirts, though Robin, as usual, remained in her male attire.

The man steering the boat was Richie. His rowing technique was mediocre, but his sheer strength was immense, and his control over his own physical output was exceptionally precise. After only an hour of practice, he could manipulate the vessel with absolute ease.

Of course, his method was something an ordinary person could never replicate. His feet clung tightly to the deck as if fused to the hull. The long pole in his hands was a modified lance, ten meters long, with a steel core wrapped in wood—no matter how much force he exerted, it would not bend or warp. While his eyes remained fixed on the river ahead, his body registered the vibrations of the boat, the ripples of the current, and the resistance of the riverbed as the pole sank into the mud.

Truth be told, when he was first assigned this duty, he had been quite displeased. He could not understand why, despite both acting as bodyguards, the others got to dress up as travel companions and chat amiably with the Princess, while he was relegated to hard labor. Along the way, he had been the one carrying bags during shopping trips, running errands whenever they bought something, and now he was the one rowing the boat.

Yet, Richie no longer grumbled. Watching the cone-shaped ripples spreading from the hull and the trailing eddies spinning in their wake, a faint spark of inspiration began to take shape in his mind.

The bow cut through the waves, generating much larger ripples, but these waves quickly dispersed, decaying rapidly once they traveled five or six meters away.

The stern was the exact opposite. The force of the vortexes was not particularly strong, yet they persisted for a remarkably long time. Some of these eddies continued to spin faintly even minutes after the boat had passed.

These vortexes reminded him of the combat technique he was currently cultivating.

It was a discipline that Lina herself had not fully mastered. Consequently, when she taught him, she could not explain its mechanics clearly, leaving many aspects ambiguous.

Lina had mentioned that when trained to a high level, this technique could launch rings of energy—rings as sharp as razor blades.

Before this, Richie had never understood the underlying principle. A vibrational attack required a medium to propagate. Air was a poor medium because it was compressible; vibrational waves traveling through the air would rapidly dissipate.

Lina had no answer to this dilemma either. In practice, she used leaves or similar objects as physical mediums, which made the technique look no different from throwing hidden weapons.

But at this moment, the trail of tiny vortexes behind the boat acted like a beacon of light in the darkness. Though it was only a tiny spark, it was incredibly bright, guiding him toward a solution.

Vortexes did not only occur in water; they could also be generated in the air. From tiny dust devils in the corners of walls to massive tornadoes capable of lifting houses, all were vortexes formed in the air.

Richie wished he could drop everything and begin experimenting immediately, but unfortunately, he was on duty.

Three mornings ago, an official from the Department of Internal Affairs had arrived at the camp. The official pulled Captain Calli aside, spoke to her for a few minutes, and then departed.

As soon as the official left, Calli gathered the entire squad.

“Her Highness, Princess Mithra of the Packington Holy Empire, wishes to enjoy a few days of sightseeing in Peines,” Calli announced. “She does not want a grand parade and hopes to wander the city like an ordinary citizen. Therefore, the Department of Internal Affairs has assigned us to act as her bodyguards during her stay.”

No sooner had Calli finished speaking than a wave of chatter broke out among the girls.

“Doesn’t the Department of Internal Affairs have its own dedicated security force? Why do they need us for this?” Robin shouted loudest of all.

“What is the security force?” Richie whispered to his mentor.

“It’s a company directly under the Department of Internal Affairs, consisting of about four to five hundred people, specifically tasked with protecting high-ranking officials and visiting emissaries,” Dana explained, leaning in slightly. “Every year, the department recruits new members from the Knight Academy. First, they must be attractive, and second, they must be strong. Those selected are transferred to a secret facility where they undergo specialized training.”

Richie was highly intrigued by the mention of a secret base. “What do they have in that secret base? Is it really better than the Knight Academy?”

Dana hesitated, as the subject was somewhat difficult to evaluate. “How should I put it? From what I know, the conditions there are quite good. They have access to hundreds of high-tier arts that they can study freely, and the instructors are the best—at least Ace Knights, with the Republic’s top experts frequently giving guest lectures. With good techniques and excellent instructors, the security force boasts many skilled fighters. However, they have never been on a battlefield or baptized by life-and-death combat. In a real fight, they aren’t actually that impressive.”

While the two whispered, Captain Calli stood at the front with a stern expression. “This mission was personally requested by Her Highness.”

Lina yawned and spoke lazily. “How boring. It seems we shouldn’t have gone to that ball the other night.”

Seeing Robin’s face turn grim, Lina couldn’t help but feel secretly amused. She felt a bit annoyed herself; people of her and Robin’s social standing loathed acting as bodyguards for others. However, her mood was slightly better than Robin’s. “Since we’ve taken the mission, so be it. The little girl is a distant cousin of mine. Just think of it as accompanying my cousin on a shopping trip. We can all accept that, right?”

Everyone else could accept it, but Robin was still disgruntled.

“The Princess of the Holy Empire is your relative, but she has nothing to do with me,” Robin grumbled. She turned to Calli and raised her hand. “I request leave.”

Before Calli could approve, Lina chimed in with a giggling whisper. “Trisli came along with the Princess. Out of the entire delegation, those two are the only ones with nothing to do. Who knows, Trisli might join us on our shopping trips too!”

Upon hearing this, Robin, who had been full of complaints a moment ago, instantly fell silent.

The sightseeing boat drifted on the Glaude River for over two hours before a small pier came into view.

Such small piers were scattered all along the banks of the Glaude River, appearing almost every few hundred meters. They served as stations on the water, while the sightseeing skiffs traveling the river acted like water taxis.

In the past, these small piers were bustling hubs, though their bustle was entirely different from that of a commercial street. The piers were crowded with ordinary people and lined with simple shops. The people came to enjoy a peaceful, leisurely time, and the shops were modest, featuring simple decorations and plain chairs that lacked elegance. They were places for ordinary citizens to have a cup of coffee, sit for a while, and buy small trinkets.

To Richie’s surprise, the heavily guarded Princess ran to the side of the boat and waved toward the pier.

Richie looked in that direction.

He saw a wooden platform built along the edge of the pier, with several tables set up on one end.

The place looked incredibly familiar. Richie had been here not long ago.

He also spotted a few people sitting at one of the tables, one of whom was waving back.

The woman wore a black silk veil, and because of the distance, an ordinary person would not have been able to make out her features. But Richie was no ordinary person. Having cultivated the scout Knight techniques for so long, his senses far exceeded those of normal men.

When he saw the woman, his first impression was one of familiarity.

Then, he remembered.

He had seen her at the ball. That night, she had been surrounded by a crowd like stars orbiting the moon; it was impossible not to notice her.

Why would Her Majesty the Empress of the Packington Holy Empire come here to drink coffee?

Richie found it bizarre. In his mind, the diplomatic negotiations had reached their most critical phase, and the Empress should have been swamped with work.

Without needing to be told, Richie knew he should bring the boat to the pier, so he steered the skiff slowly toward the dock.

The edge of the pier was lined with oak bumpers to cushion the impact of docking vessels. At the moment, only seven or eight elderly individuals were scattered across the dock.

“In the past, this place was always packed with people and boats coming and going. Now, it’s so quiet… ah,” Lina sighed. Her home was not far from here.

“I heard many painters like to hang out here,” the Princess asked as she stepped off the boat.

For this mission, Lina served as both a personal bodyguard and a guide. Although she was not the only one born in Peines—Robin and Dana were as well, and all of them except Richie had attended the Knight Academy here and knew the city intimately—no one knew the ins and outs of Peines better than Lina.

“That’s true. This stretch of riverbank is the oldest part of Peines, with a history older than the city itself. Before Monstoke even existed, people lived here. Peines was originally formed by seven fishing villages along this river,” Lina smiled. “Hard to imagine, isn’t it?”

“That was thousands of years ago,” Robin grumbled from the side.

The group of women walked ashore one after another, with Richie being the last to leave the boat. Once on land, he secured the mooring line tightly to a cast-iron bollard.

While he was doing this, several passersby came over to ask about the fare and whether he was taking passengers. Richie could only smile wryly at their queries.

The coffee shop’s platform was spacious. Although only five tables were set up, it was large enough to accommodate the entire group.

Richie was, of course, tasked with moving the chairs, though this time the coffee shop owner joined in to help.

As they carried the chairs, Richie kept a close eye on the owner, trying to figure out what made this man special. Why would figures like Lina’s father and the Empress of Packington come here just for coffee?

After watching for a while, Richie couldn’t see anything unusual. The man’s footsteps were somewhat light and his gaze was unfocused; he seemed neither a Knight nor a Psion.

However, Richie dared not be certain the man was just an ordinary citizen. The last time he was here, the librarian had also looked like an ordinary person, yet with a gentle tap, the librarian’s finger had poked him square in the forehead. Even now, he found it inexplicable; the movement hadn’t been fast, yet he had been completely unable to dodge it.

They carried almost all the chairs out of the coffee shop before they had enough.

The last chair belonged to Richie himself, but he couldn’t sit down immediately. After moving the chairs, he had to help the owner serve the coffee.

He carried trays back and forth several times until everyone had a cup of coffee in hand. Only then could Richie pause to catch his breath.

At this point, he finally had the chance to observe the others.

Sitting with the Empress were six individuals, both men and women, all of whom seemed advanced in years.

Their clothing was quite plain. Only one old man looked rather disheveled. His hair and beard were a tangled mess, his face was deeply lined, and his skin was dark and weathered to a polished sheen. His hands were massive, with exceptionally thick knuckles covered in thick calluses. He wore a gray checkered sweater and a pair of faded canvas trousers.

Looking at him, Richie’s immediate impression was that of a laborer.

He was either a miner or a blacksmith; the placement of the calluses made that clear.

Yet Richie wasn’t entirely sure, because he noticed Lina and Robin sitting “obediently” beside the old man. Both women sat with their eyes forward, behaving like exceptionally refined, quiet ladies.

Richie could clearly sense the reverence and awe the two women held for the old man, which apparently exceeded even what they felt for the Empress.

Richie felt his mind growing confused. If only Lina acted this way, he could understand, as he had seen her behave similarly before. But for Robin to act like this as well was truly bizarre.

Richie couldn’t help but look at his mentor.

Sure enough, even Dana seemed somewhat constrained, a look he had never seen on her face before.

Glancing at the others, they seemed to show no particular reaction.

“Little fellow, thank you for your hard work,” the old man said, noticing Richie. Half the reason he had come here for coffee was to see this boy.

Richie walked over obediently. Since even Lina and Robin were behaving, he naturally knew how to act.

“Stretch out your hands and let me see them,” the old man said.

Richie complied.

The old man held Richie’s hands, turning them over and examining them from side to side as if appreciating a piece of art. After a long while, he released Richie’s hands and fumbled in his left pocket, pulling out a small case.

Upon opening the case, he revealed a collection of odd instruments: needles, slender glass pipettes, and small test tubes.

“I need a drop of your blood,” the old man said as he pulled out a needle, straightened Richie’s middle finger, and gave it a sharp prick. Instantly, a tiny bead of blood welled up on the fingertip.

The old man quickly drew the blood into the pipette and sealed it inside a test tube.

Every one of his movements was slow, yet they flowed like water without a single pause.

Throughout the process, Richie remained perfectly still. He had sneaked a glance at Lina, his mentor, and Robin, and saw that all three had looks of intense envy in their eyes. For Robin, it was beyond envy; it bordered on jealousy.

With this, Richie felt reassured. This was definitely a good thing, not a bad one.

He did not ask the old man who he was, nor did he ask what the blood was for. Once they returned, he could easily get the answers from Lina.

While his mind wandered, the old man asked warmly, “We were just talking about what we hoped for when we were young. Tell me, what do you envision for your future?”

Richie froze, unsure of how to answer.

He had indeed made plans for the future in the past. Back then, his greatest desire was to make a fortune, become rich, buy a beautiful apartment in the city center, and build a massive mansion in the mountains.

However, all of that had vanished the moment he became a Knight.

Knights were wealthy; money held no meaning for them. Knights had status; status was equally meaningless.

Confusion. Richie’s heart was filled with confusion. Ever since he became a Knight, he had never given the matter any thought.

If he were like other Knights, he might say he hoped to achieve a Heavenly rank someday, or dream of becoming a Sword Saint.

Unfortunately, he was not. The title of Sword Saint was far less appealing to him than the position of city mayor.

After a long pause, Richie said hesitantly, “I really hope there won’t be any war. I want to start a family, have a bunch of kids. Living in Peines would be nice—I could come to a place like this to drink coffee, look at the scenery, and chat. But returning to Glasslovar would be great too. In my free time, I could fish by the river or hunt in the mountains.”

The more Richie spoke, the more he felt this future was indeed wonderful. The world of Knights was too cruel; even Knights of noble lineage like Lina and Robin were sent to the battlefield, risking their lives for honor. For other Knights, this was natural, but to him, it seemed rather foolish. He had always believed that staying alive was the most beautiful thing.

To the members of Squad 105, such an answer was entirely typical of Richie. The old man and the Empress, perhaps due to their refined breeding, showed no outward reaction either. Only the young Princess looked at Richie with a face full of astonishment.

“That, too, is a form of happiness,” the Empress said softly after taking a sip of her coffee.

The one who seemed truly moved was the old man. He scratched his messy hair and muttered to himself, “Indeed, how is that not a form of happiness? Unfortunately, some people only realize this after they’ve forgotten how to live.”

“You must be curious and want to know who I am,” the old man said, his tone growing even warmer. He could tell Richie wasn’t speaking to curry favor. To hear such words from someone who did not know his identity made them all the more precious. “I’m just a retired old blacksmith. Do you remember a few days ago, at this very spot, a librarian chatted with you? I’m his friend. I heard him mention you.”

Richie wasn’t too surprised; he had already guessed it was related to the librarian.

“What kind of weapon do you prefer?” the old man asked. His style of conversation was highly erratic, likely a habit from spending his life dealing with metals and blades. Very few people in the world could converse with him, so he rarely spoke to anyone, making him somewhat unaccustomed to normal dialogue.

Richie didn’t mind this abrupt style and answered without hesitation: “A shield.”

Hearing this, the old man’s face instantly turned sour. Of all weapons, a shield was perhaps the one requiring the least craftsmanship. For someone of his legendary status to forge a mere shield would be a disgrace to his title as a “Great Craftsman.”

“I recall your struggle was a lack of offensive power,” the old man said, having already learned of Richie’s situation from his old friend.

“I am indeed not good at attacking,” Richie admitted, hoping the old man could offer some advice.

“I’ve examined your hands. They are exceptionally flexible, and the arts you practice are very diverse. Your preferred style should be defensive counterattacks, and you seem to have studied close-quarters grappling extensively. You have great strength, but you have difficulty projecting your Aura outward.”

The old man closed his eyes slightly, already designing the weapon in his mind.

No one spoke; most dared not even breathe loudly. Although the old man sat quietly, an invisible aura naturally radiated from him.

It wasn’t a Knight’s mental pressure—there was no suffocating weight—yet this presence was far more powerful, inducing a primal urge to bow in reverence.

The old man did not ponder for long. Forging weapons was second nature to him. When he examined Richie’s hands, he had already formulated a design; his question was merely to gather the user’s input.

“I once designed a Knight’s blade, but I never found anyone suited to wield it, so it remained only a drawing on paper. This blade would suit you perfectly.”

As he spoke, the old man used a fork to trace a simple diagram on the tablecloth, explaining as he drew.

Richie listened quietly, soon understanding why the old man called it a Knight’s blade rather than a typical straight sword or saber.

It was actually a semi-flexible weapon, though unlike a whip, it wasn’t completely soft. It was semi-rigid. Normally, it resembled a lightweight straight sword, but only the tip was double-edged, while the lower portion was single-edged, resembling a straight saber.

This weapon could thrust like a normal sword, but it could also slash. When slashing, the blade would flex, curving like a Persian scimitar.

A lightweight sword and a Persian scimitar both prioritized speed and agility, placing fewer demands on raw power projection, which suited his style perfectly.

After explaining his design, the old man stood up and said, “It’s getting late. I am old and need to go back and rest.”

He took his cane from the side and walked away slowly.

Except for the Empress, everyone looked at each other in shock. It was obvious the old man had come specifically for Richie. Those who knew the old man’s identity were stunned, while those who didn’t could still sense that something monumental had occurred.

The Empress waited until the old man was far away before asking with a smile, “My dear daughter, did you have fun?”

“I had a wonderful time. Peines is indeed a very beautiful city,” the Princess replied. Her words carried a diplomatic tone, clearly intended for the ears of those around her.

For someone of her status, she had seen far grander sights. While Peines was nice, its history was brief compared to the grand capitals of the world, and it lacked majestic scale, offering only a bustling commercial hub. Moreover, the commerce in Peines carried a strong civilian flavor; although the Princess had bought many items over the past few days, most would be given away as gifts, and she would never use them herself.

“Don’t play too hard. Even if you are idle, others are not,” the Empress said, taking a sip of her coffee as she gently chided her daughter.

These words were directed at Richie. While the others had nothing pressing to do, Richie was scheduled to duel Gerold in a few days. Time was precious for him, and he had already spent two days on this assignment.

“I understand,” the Princess murmured. Though she bowed her head in obedience, no one knew what she was actually thinking.

The bodyguard duty was finally over.

Everyone received some gifts. Some got hats, others received decorative bags. The situation was somewhat awkward for Robin and Richie: Richie was a man, and Robin preferred to dress like one, so the gifts should have matched their preferences. Unfortunately, among the Princess’s purchases, the only item for a man was a shaving razor meant for her father.

Richie had no beard, and Robin naturally had no need for one either.

In the end, the Princess dug up a pocket watch and handed it to Richie. The watch was clearly of immense value, featuring a gold-plated case with a ring of tiny diamonds encrusting the bezel. It showed not only the time but also the date and day of the week.

“You hit the jackpot. This watch was custom-ordered for the royal family; you couldn’t buy it even with all the money in the world,” Lina teased, knowing Richie cared about such things.

“I’ll give you my share too,” Lina said, tossing the small handbag she had received into Richie’s hands. She had no interest in such things; she had plenty of them and certainly didn’t lack the money.

“Take mine as well,” Dana said, throwing her hat to Richie. She never wore such things.

“And mine,” Captain Calli added. Like Dana, she always wore her uniform.

Soon, Richie was holding a mountain of gifts.

“Who was that old man?” Richie asked, eager to find out.

Lina laughed. “Didn’t he tell you? He’s a blacksmith.”

“I don’t believe you! You looked terrified of him.” Richie glared at her, knowing she was teasing him.

“Who said I was terrified?” Lina snapped back. “That’s called reverence, understand?” She reached out and pinched Richie’s cheek.

Dana, being the kind soul she was, answered, “His name is Espol Lozaka.”

Before Dana could finish, the members of Squad 105—except Lina and Robin, who already knew, and Nora, who never reacted—let out a collective gasp. Even the usually cold Calli and Margaret were visibly stunned.

Richie was left bewildered. He had no idea who Espol Lozaka was. Famous figures in the Knight community weren’t necessarily known to ordinary people.

Moreover, the significance of a famous person differed between Knights and commoners. Take the Empress, for example: to ordinary citizens, she was a figure of supreme status. But to Knights, she was merely a descendant of the Holy Emperor and the nominal commander-in-chief.

Lina knew Richie’s ignorance. Seeing his blank look, she immediately realized he had no idea.

“Espol Lozaka is a contemporary Great Craftsman. Now do you understand?”

Richie nodded. He hadn’t heard of Espol Lozaka, but he knew what a Great Craftsman was.

Knights were the main pillars of the state’s military power, but they needed proper weapons and customized armor. An army of people supported them—designing and manufacturing armor, tuning its performance, and equipping it with weapons. Randy’s role was a technician; her armor-making skills were merely amateur attempts.

A Great Craftsman was the absolute pinnacle of this profession.

To a Knight, a Great Craftsman’s status was no lower than a Sword Saint’s, and perhaps even slightly higher.

“Among the three Great Craftsmen, Espol Lozaka is the master of blades. They say the weapons he creates possess life and blood, feeling like an extension of the wielder’s body. His title is the ‘Life Forger.’”

Lina clicked her tongue in envy. “Even I don’t have a weapon made by a Great Craftsman. How do you have such absurd luck?” She ruffled Richie’s hair in frustration.

Unlike Lina, Dana looked exceptionally serious. She turned to Lina. “Why is Espol here? I heard he has absolutely no interest in politics.”

Lina stopped ruffling Richie’s hair and avoided Dana’s gaze. Although she knew some details, it was not appropriate to speak of them before they were confirmed.

Currently, many people who had no interest in politics had gathered in Peines, just like the librarian she had met a few days ago. Although her father refused to tell her who the librarian was and why he was here, she had her own ways of finding out through her family connections.

“Never mind that. We just need to do our duty,” Captain Calli said, as she was the only one who could sway Dana.

Although time was short for Richie, the pressure wasn’t as intense as the Empress had implied. The Princess only needed companions during the day, taking up only six hours between ten in the morning and four in the afternoon.

Richie could still perform his morning training. Since he woke up exceptionally early, he had at least six hours available, plus another three hours in the evening. After ten at night was the dual training session, during which only three women joined him.

Randy’s role was irreplaceable; only she could convert external energy into that special life force. The other two were Nora and Lina. These two possessed exceptional sexual technique and could control the flow of Aura within Richie’s body to complete the cycle.

Richie only needed to sleep; he didn’t even need to consciously control the energy.

The two women had a clear division of labor: Lina took the first half of the night, while Nora took the second half, taking turns making love to Richie.

Thanks to this arrangement, despite the tight schedule, Richie still had some free time.

“I’d like to request half a day off,” Richie said to Captain Calli. He was carrying a heap of gift boxes, all unwanted items from the other girls.

Richie would never use them himself, so he planned to give them to his mother, who loved such luxury items.

“Just half a day’s leave. You must be back by five tomorrow morning,” Calli commanded.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Richie replied.

Richie’s parents, his cousin, and Aunt Ling had moved into a small apartment in the city center. It wasn’t far from the pier, and after a brisk run, he arrived in no time.

The alley was located in the busiest commercial district, but entering it felt like stepping into another world. Near the entrance, the city’s din was still audible, but after a dozen paces, the noise vanished. At the doorstep, there was only silence, as the dense cluster of surrounding buildings completely blocked out the external world. Most of these structures were used as warehouses, with very few residential tenants, giving the place a quiet, uninhabited feel.

Richie had a key and unlocked the door.

Even during the day, the hallway and staircase were dark, his footsteps echoing with hollow thuds. As he climbed the stairs, he heard movement inside the apartment—the scraping sounds of tables and chairs being dragged.

“Mom, open up,” Richie called out. Although he had a key, he had learned his lesson after once opening the door to find his parents in the middle of an intimate act. Since then, he always waited for them to open the door.

At his voice, a small window on the door slid open with a clatter. A pair of eyes peered out, followed by an excited exclamation: “Oh, son! You’re finally back!”

Then came a rattling of metal bolts. After a long moment, the door opened.

It was Richie’s mother. She made to embrace her son, but seeing the dozen boxes in his hands, her attention shifted instantly to the gifts.

“Oh, son, this is wonderful! Are all of these for me?” she asked, taking the boxes one by one.

Richie smiled wryly. His mother’s personality would never change.

Stepping into the apartment, he looked around in surprise. Heavy iron bars had been installed on the windows, and the door was secured with multiple bolts and a thick iron chain.

“Is this to keep out thieves?” Richie asked.

“Just a few blind hoodlums,” Aunt Ling replied with a hint of resentment. “But it’s much better now. We’ve spoken to the local police, and after they warned those thugs, no one has bothered us.”

“Why don’t we move back to the villa?” Richie suggested.

“No, this place is great,” his mother chimed in. She had always envied those who owned property in the city center. Living in such a bustling location was a dream come true for her.

Moreover, she didn’t quite trust her husband. The houses near the alley entrance were notorious brothels, and at night, the streets were lined with prostitutes. If she lived in a suburban villa, she worried her husband might bring a prostitute home when he was lonely.

In the past, when he had no money, she didn’t have to worry. But now her husband was in the Quartermaster Department—a department dripping with oil. Even the scraps he picked up were enough to keep them living comfortably.

While expressing her opinions, his mother began tearing open the boxes.

As the first box was opened, her eyes lit up. Inside was a handbag, originally meant for Lina, and one of the most expensive items among the gifts.

“Oh! The latest model from Kafuni!” she squealed. In Peines, she had plenty of time, spending her days wandering the commercial districts with the other two women. Though she couldn’t afford them, the styles and prices of the luxury brands were burned into her memory.

Aunt Ling and his cousin hadn’t intended to look, as seeing luxury items they couldn’t have would only make them envious, but now they couldn’t resist. For women, the sight of luxury goods was like a predator spotting fresh meat; the temptation was irresistible.

“Oh my, it really is! This bag costs at least seven hundred and twenty credits!”

“Look at this! A hat from Borina… it’s ostrich leather, so soft!”

“And this, perfume from Dulie! I remember this bottle costs over five hundred.”

“Five hundred? This is ‘Nostalgic Night Jasmine.’ Even on sale at Elmo Mall, it costs over six hundred and forty. Full price is over seven hundred!”

“Ah… this silk scarf designed by Madame Kamina is a non-retail item!”

Watching the three women chatter excitedly, Richie stepped aside, knowing it would take a while for them to calm down.

However, he soon realized he was wrong.

His cousin suddenly glanced over, smiling as she walked toward him with the exclusive silk scarf draped over her hand.

“Look, does this suit me?” she blinked, her gaze as suggestive as could be.

Richie understood her meaning and glanced at his mother. His mother didn’t mind sharing one or two items; this haul had given her enough bragging rights, and sharing a few pieces with her sister and niece made everyone happy.

Seeing no objection from his mother, Richie said, “It suits you perfectly. It was meant for you anyway.”

His cousin leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“Just that little gesture? Tsk, tsk,” his mother teased.

“Sister…” Aunt Ling nudged her.

“I have a gift for Aunt Ling too,” Richie quickly added.

“What about your father?” his mother asked, having opened all the boxes to find only women’s items.

“Of course I have something for him,” Richie said, pulling out the gold pocket watch and placing it on the table.

The gleaming gold piece instantly drew all eyes. His mother stopped fussing over her bags, Aunt Ling forgot about her choices, and his cousin snatched the watch.

Looking at it, all three women fell silent. They often visited jewelry shops, but none of the watches there could compare to this one.

“What is this?” Aunt Ling pointed to a crest engraved on the back. “I’ve never seen this trademark.”

It was a crown, but inside the crown was a rose.

Richie felt a surge of pride. “It’s not a trademark; it’s the crest of the Packington Royal Family. The watch is royal issue, and Princess Mithra gave it to me.”

A few days ago, he had grumbled about the bodyguard duty, but now he felt rather pleased. He realized his mother’s vanity had rubbed off on him.

Silence hung in the room as the three women stood dumbfounded.

After a long pause, his mother asked in disbelief, “You met foreign royalty? All of these were gifts from them?”

“That’s nothing,” Richie said, knowing exactly what would captivate them. “Ten days ago, I received an invitation to the Red Palace… the decorations inside were beyond luxurious. The outer hall was grand enough, but the inner chambers were simply gilded in gold… the guests were all giants. Ambassadors were minor figures, and foreign royals were everywhere… Royalty doesn’t shop like you do; they buy whatever catches their fancy…”

Richie spun his tale, adding a touch of exaggeration to his experiences. Most of it was true, and his aunt and cousin had no way of verifying the rest anyway. This wasn’t pure vanity; it was a bit of retaliation for all the times Aunt Ling had bragged about her past while his mother and he had been quiet listeners. Now, the tables were turned.

Just then, footsteps clattered on the stairs outside. Richie stopped speaking.

A slip of paper was slid under the door.

His mother picked it up, her face instantly turning sour. “Overtime again. That’s three days in a row.”

Richie took the paper; it was indeed his father’s messy handwriting. He offered some comfort: “Mom, don’t complain. Dad is really busy now, and he’ll only get busier. Once the alliance is signed, massive amounts of aid will pour in, and Dad is in charge of material distribution.”

In the past, his mother would have grumbled, but now she understood. She knew that if her husband wasn’t busy in the rear, he might end up on the front lines. In Peines, she had heard of many men joining the reserve forces, which required training twice a week.

As the room fell quiet, his cousin’s eyes gleamed. She leaned in close to Richie and whispered, “Are you going back to the barracks tonight?” As she spoke, she subtly pressed her thighs together.

Apart from their apartment, this alley was home only to brothels. Although they looked down on those women, the sounds of couples coming and going under the streetlights at night made them restless.

“Of course I’m not going back,” Richie said, his throat going dry. He knew what his cousin wanted.

Though he was now experienced with women, his cousin was still his cousin, and the taboo added a thrill. The only frustrating part was her coy nature; she never allowed him to take her virginity. Still, Richie didn’t mind this tease. After a heavy diet of female Knights, a softer, civilian touch was a welcome change. Moreover, the tease itself could be more stimulating than normal intercourse.

Though she wouldn’t let him enter her vagina, she was always willing to let him use her backdoor.

The narrow apartment was split in two. The outer room served as the living room and his parents’ bedroom, while the inner room was for Aunt Ling and his cousin. The room was so small it could only hold a single bed, leaving only a narrow passageway.

Richie lay on the bed wearing a blindfold. The bed was incredibly soft, fitted with a newly purchased down mattress that made him feel as if he were floating on clouds. The women certainly knew how to enjoy themselves.

He didn’t touch the blindfold, knowing his cousin would notice any adjustments. Though he couldn’t see, he didn’t care. Since cultivating the scout Knight techniques, his senses were sharp. The blindfold blocked his vision, but he could still hear perfectly.

“Oh my, you really want to do this?”

“I’m not joking!”

“Look at you, you’re already wet, and you’re still talking.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

“Crazy, we’re all crazy.”

“Then let’s go crazy together. I’ll go first.”

In the outer room, the women spoke in hushed whispers.

Richie’s heart hammered against his ribs as he listened. He quickly covered his ears, not daring to hear any more.

After a long moment, he felt someone enter the room. It sounded like two people, perhaps three, but he forced himself to believe there were only two.

The down mattress sank as two women climbed onto the bed. One positioned herself by his head, while the other knelt between his legs.

Both knelt down.

Richie reached out and felt the legs of the woman near his head. She wore silk stockings, and her legs were slender. It was definitely his cousin. As usual, there was a convenient tear in the stockings right over her anus.

Richie cupped his cousin’s hips and pulled her down slightly. He began licking her vulva, which was already slick with arousal, the damp fabric sticking to her skin. Her scent was clean and fragrant, smelling of scented soap. While his tongue worked her folds, his right index finger slid into her anus, sliding in and out. Her anus was notably looser than before, suggesting she and her mother had engaged in their own private games, and Richie wondered if his own mother had joined them.

While Richie worked on his cousin, she took his massive manhood into her mouth. She lacked the expert technique of Emily’s mother and couldn’t swallow his entire shaft, but she made up for it with enthusiastic friction. Her tongue swirled around the glans and the frenulum, occasionally grazing it with her teeth.

Richie shuddered at the sensation.

Meanwhile, the woman between his legs parted his buttocks, her tongue tracing the sensitive skin between his testicles and anus. Richie shivered, the pleasure intense. He loved this stimulation, though the feeling of having his testicles taken into a mouth always brought a faint, thrilling edge of fear—a single bite could end his manhood. That slight fear combined with the warm, wet sensation made it incredibly exciting.

The woman seemed to know his thoughts, playing with his nerves by lightly closing her teeth around his balls, stopping just short of biting, and teasing him with a gentle friction. Richie’s hairs stood on end. To soothe him, her tongue moved to his anus, growing firm and entering with a swirling motion.

The rimming technique was incredibly intense, and Richie loved it. Yet, many women refused to do it, finding it unclean. In his squad, only Lina, Nora, and Merlin had ever done so.

Richie realized he should visit home or the girls’ place more often. To be honest, for pure pleasure, he still preferred ordinary women. He loved soft skin, a plush touch, wide hips, and breasts as soft as down.

Thinking of wide hips, Richie began to shift. His feet rubbed against a plush, heavy pair of buttocks nearby. A single nudge sent ripples through the flesh; except for Nora, no female Knight could offer such a soft, abundant touch.

Richie didn’t know who this heavy, voluptuous rear belonged to. Or rather, he pretended not to know.

After an indeterminate time, the woman between his legs began scratching his lower abdomen with her nails. She was impatient, wanting the real thing.

Richie lowered his legs, and soon, the woman straddled his hips.

Perhaps due to long abstinence or the stimulation from the nearby brothels, she didn’t tease him further and guided his length straight inside her.

It wasn’t her backdoor; his manhood slid into a wet, hot vagina. Richie’s heart hammered. In the past, they had only played with anal sex or light teasing, only once or twice letting him enter her front. Now, she had taken him straight in.

Her plump hips moved with frantic energy, sliding up and down with wet, squelching sounds, her pelvis slapping against his thighs. Richie reached out and gripped her flesh; it was soaked with her arousal. Compared to the tight, muscled channels of the female Knights, this vagina was far softer and looser, offering less raw friction, but the psychological thrill was unmatched.

He thrust his hips upward in rhythm, his shaft bottoming out with each stroke. The Knight’s superior strength was far more effective than any technique.

With a muffled gasp, the woman froze, her mouth covered to silence her cries. Her body trembled, the spasms of her vaginal walls clamping tightly around his shaft, proving she had reached a powerful climax.

Richie had always been proud of his endurance, but now he wished he could release his load. He wanted to fill her to the brim.

As her climax faded, she tried to pull away, but Richie gripped her waist, flipped her over, and pinned her beneath him.

He began thrusting like a pile driver. To increase the friction, he pressed her thighs together, forcing his shaft through a tighter squeeze.

It felt incredible.

He sprinted hard, letting the pleasure build along his length. But his partner reached her limit first; after barely two hundred thrusts, her body went rigid, and she clung to him, her nails scratching his back as she rode another wave of climax.

Richie let her go and pulled his cousin over.

He needed to release his build-up. Without asking, he aligned his glans with her anus and pushed. With a firm shove, his shaft slid into her tight backdoor.

The anus was far tighter than her vagina.

Richie thrust hard.

“Ah… ah… it hurts… gentler… you beast!” his cousin cried out, cursing him in her pain.

But her cries soon dissolved into soft moans as the pain gave way to intense pleasure.

“Oh… oh… yes… it feels so good… keep going…”

She moaned without restraint, forgetting her initial pain. The tight channel, her uninhibited moans, her slender waist, and soft skin drove Richie over the edge. He built his pleasure on her body.

But the gap between a Knight and an ordinary woman was too great. His cousin couldn’t last; with a sharp cry, her anus clamped tightly around his massive shaft as she climaxed violently, her legs locking straight and shaking.

Richie felt a warm rush of fluid spilling over his thighs, wondering if she had lubricated heavily or lost control. But he didn’t care. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep in her tight rear and let loose, his hot seed erupting into her anus in thick, pulsing waves.

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