However, Arthur's gaze swept past Ser Kutt and landed on the trembling peasant soldiers behind him. He spoke calmly, "You tell me."
This action made the hearts of all the noble Knights clench. Arthur's unquestionable gaze made it seem like he had no intention of letting this slide… Several peasant soldiers mustered their courage, and one older man stammered, "It…it was Sir Kute… He saw the Ironborn army charging, and he was the first to turn his horse and run. We…we only followed him…" The other peasant soldiers also started shouting, and Ser Kutt's face instantly turned ashen.
"That's right! He ran first!"
"It's true!!"
Arthur nodded, as if merely confirming a trivial matter. He withdrew his gaze and looked at Ser Kutt again. "Soldiers deserting is due to the officer's incompetence in leading. Therefore, I will not punish them."
He paused, his voice suddenly turning cold.
"But you, as the commander, not only failed to stop the desertion but led the escape, shaking the morale of the army. Therefore, I will kill you."
"No, why are you killing me?" Ser Kutt completely panicked. He struggled to stand up, roaring with a feigned fierceness, "No!"
"You have no right to punish me! I am a Knight of House Pypar! My liege is Lord Monte! Only he can judge me! You cannot kill me! You don't have that authority!"
Arthur ignored his roar. He slowly turned his horse, his gaze sweeping over the more than twenty Knights from different Houses and the leaders from another dozen Houses. His gaze was like a cold sword's edge, cutting across each person's face.
Everyone he looked at felt a chill rise from their spine. The young man's formidable reputation stemmed from the Trial by combat in Willow Wood City where he killed without hesitation, from the silent, mountain-like thousand-man army behind him, and even more so from his unquestionable gaze at this moment.
Arthur spoke in a calm, almost conversational tone, "Gentlemen."
"On the battlefield, a commander leading an escape, shaking the army's morale—what crime is that?"
No one dared to answer, nor did anyone dare to meet his gaze. There was a deathly silence.
After a brief silence, Patric, the young man from House Morrison, was the first to raise his hand. His voice was somewhat excited: "Lord Arthur! As a Knight! Deserting in battle! He should be executed!"
His declaration was like a stone thrown into water. Another Old Knight quickly raised his hand, at least having the excuse afterwards that it was the youngest son of House Morrison who had expressed his stance first. Then, other Knights followed, one after another, until finally, everyone had raised their hands.
They sighed in their hearts, grateful that they hadn't run. They had been so close to leading people away. Everyone began to say the same thing.
"Desertion in battle is a grave crime."
"He should be executed to maintain military discipline."
"Lord's handling is fair and reasonable."
Ser Kutt watched these scoundrels, who had clearly been slow to run, now actively expressing their opinions, and completely broke down: "No! You can't do this! You scoundrels!!!"
He no longer clamored about his noble status or the House he represented, but instead wailed loudly, begging Arthur for mercy with tears streaming down his face. He even struggled to crawl over, attempting to kiss his boots.
Everyone expected Arthur to order his immediate execution, but Arthur gave a strange command to Brin beside him: "Go, find me a sturdy wooden box, large enough to fit a person."
The soldiers were efficient. Soon, a sturdy wooden box used for transporting armor was carried from a supply wagon. Amidst Ser Kutt's terrified screams and futile struggles, several tall soldiers forcibly crammed him into the box. The box was narrow, and he could only curl up inside in a humiliating posture.
The box had no air holes, and heavy iron chains securely locked the lid. Soon, he would suffocate. Kute's wails, curses, and pleas
muffledly emanated from inside the box.
Arthur pointed at the constantly shaking box, from which wails could be heard, and spoke to all the Knights of Daedings Family and the Knight representatives sent by the Lords: "No water and no food."
"This is the fate of those who betray their liege and desert in battle. Put him on the last carriage, let all his colleagues see and hear, let him inspire morale with his wails."
The allied army set off again. Throughout the marching column, the fluctuating wails and curses from the box on the rear carriage echoed. This was a hundred times more cruel than directly killing him, and it completely stripped him of the last shred of noble dignity, turning him into a wailing animal for warning and display.
That sound was like a whip, lashing at the heart of every vassal leader with ulterior motives. Everyone became solemn, and the marching formation was unprecedentedly neat. No one dared to whisper anymore, and they even spontaneously formed squares. As the sound from the box gradually weakened and finally disappeared, their gazes towards Arthur's back turned into profound fear.
In this eerie and efficient atmosphere, the Ironborn dared not invade, and Arthur's allied army safely reached the gates of Daintings City.
The gates of Daintings City slowly opened, the heavy iron chains groaning harshly as the winch turned.
Lady Roslyn stood behind the gate, dressed in a dark gown. Although her face was haggard, her demeanor remained dignified. Behind her were several Knights and courtiers who had stayed in the city, as well as an excited Lucien. When Arthur's figure came into view, Lady Roslyn's eyes instantly welled up. She gathered her skirts and hurried forward, embracing Arthur tightly, heedless of onlookers.
Her voice filled with deep emotion, she pulled his arm and led him into the city. How loyal this young man was, bringing his entire domain's strength to aid: "Thank you, Little Suleiman."
"Daintings City will never forget your loyalty."
"I will surely tell my husband to give you the reward you deserve."
Arthur allowed her to pull him for a moment before gently disengaging and helping her to stand upright.
His voice was calm, and he politely reported, as if he had merely completed a duty: "This is my obligation, all that I should do, Lady."
Lady Roslyn wiped away her tears and said eagerly, "The equipment and food I promised you are all ready and can be handed over at any time."
After she finished speaking, she turned to Patric Morrison, who was beside Arthur, and walked over, forcing a sincere smile onto her face: "Little Morrison, thank you too for your father's help in our time of crisis."
As for the other Lords' representatives at the rear of the procession, she merely gave them a cold glance, clearly displeased but finding it inappropriate to speak. She nodded slightly, the aloofness forming a stark contrast with her gratitude.
Arthur did not miss this detail. Not to show oneself at such a time would be foolish. The greater the contrast, the more memorable and deeply imprinted it would be.
He looked at the Lady and began to report, his voice not loud, but clear enough for everyone around to hear.
"Lady, please rest assured, I have brought five hundred elite soldiers this time, the entirety of my domain's forces."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the Lord representatives, who had varied expressions and seemed somewhat restless.
"Adding Lucien and his four hundred men, whom I sent to garrison the city earlier, and the four hundred reinforcements sent by Lady Rona, we have enough strength to defend Lord Balon's castle."
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