Chapter 445: Hitting Oliver

Oliver glanced at Isolde and asked, “What do you know about Francisco?”

Isolde replied, “Francisco is Deandre’s strategist, but some say he’s also Deandre’s illegitimate son. He commands a group of over a hundred people, all working for him. These people may not all be martial experts, but each possesses some unique skill. They don’t have a distinctive appearance—some could be elderly women, others beautiful women, children, or even old men.”

“That’s definitely difficult to deal with,” Oliver pondered.

“This man is practically invincible,” Isolde hissed through gritted teeth, her hatred for him evident. “By the way, any news about Finnian?”

“Nothing specific yet. However, some people reported seeing him with two others—a young man and a handsome middle-aged scholar, about thirty years old.”

“Could they be his companions?”

“They’re not. The witnesses said Finnian showed great respect for the scholar and was also polite to the young man.”

“Could they have kidnapped him?”

“It’s possible. Doug sent people to inquire along the route to Zloimond. Finnian was traveling with a merchant convoy to the capital, but he fell ill and rested for several days, then he separated from the convoy. It seems he eventually hired a cart to travel alone.”

“I’m worried; the situation is uncertain,” Isolde said, her concern growing.

“Indeed. Finnian doesn’t know martial arts, and if he’s been kidnapped, it’s not looking good. But don’t worry, Victoria is taking this seriously, so she’ll likely send people out soon,” Oliver reassured her.

“That’s good,” Isolde replied.

When they returned home, they noticed the servants were unusually tense, silently watching the direction of the main hall, afraid to even breathe. Isolde asked, “What happened?”

A servant answered, “I don’t know what William said to Pablo, but Pablo is inside, furious.”

Isolde exchanged a glance with Oliver. This had to be about the petition to go to Thalvinar.

Sure enough, as they entered, they heard Pablo’s furious voice, “What kind of person are you? How dare you ask for permission to go to Thalvinar? If you lose your life, fine, but don’t mess up the kingdom’s affairs. If something goes wrong in Thalvinar, who will clean up your mess?”

They saw William standing defiantly in front of Pablo, who was so angry his face was red, his eyes wide with rage, practically ready to devour him. Margaret sat quietly to the side, as composed and gentle as ever.

“Father,” Oliver and Isolde both greeted him.

Pablo sighed, “The physician says that if William simply rests and takes his medicine upon his return, he should pull through.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Mother,” Oliver greeted Margaret, while Isolde remained silent.

Margaret looked up at Oliver briefly and nodded. Her gaze swept over Isolde’s face with no noticeable expression.

William, seeing them, looked irritated and coldly said, “My life is my own. I didn’t ask for Father’s approval; I’m just notifying you. The King has already given his consent, and I’ll be leaving soon. Before I leave, I will marry Martha.”

Pablo’s temper flared at these words, “Not asking for approval? You think you’ve grown wings? You can make decisions on your own now? If you’re so capable, pack your things and leave. Set up your own household. I’m tired of looking at you.”

William, stung, raised his head and stared at Pablo. “Oliver encourages and supports you to achieve success, but when it’s my turn, you keep throwing cold water on me. Do you really think so little of me? I’m your son—why can’t you look at me properly?”

“Because you never do anything worthwhile. How can I respect you? Yes, you’re my son, and no one wants you to succeed more than me, but look at you—you’re unremarkable, both in literature and martial arts, petty, self-righteous. What makes you think you can accomplish anything? You’re just sulking, using the Eryndral Empire’s safety to settle a personal grudge.”

Margaret finally spoke, “Pablo, let him go if he wants to. Let him experience the world. Darwin will be in charge, and William will only be accompanying him. He’s not leading the charge, and if he suffers, that’s on him. Perhaps this will help him grow.”

Pablo, clearly displeased with her words, snapped, “If he wants to learn, let him do so in the military. But this mission to Thalvinar is crucial. He’s impulsive and reckless, always causing trouble. If he messes up the King’s plans, there’s no need to talk about it. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the palace and make it clear he cannot go.”

William clenched his fists in anger, his eyes blazing. “Why are you so overbearing? Why are you so biased? You don’t want me to succeed, do you? In your eyes, I’ll always be a failure.”

With that, he turned to storm out, but Oliver instinctively stepped aside to let him pass. Instead, William swung his fist at Oliver, shouting, “It’s all your fault!”

Oliver didn’t dodge, and William’s punch landed squarely on his cheek. Oliver’s fist tightened, his eyes cold, but just then, he heard Margaret cough and say, “Oliver, he doesn’t know any better. Don’t take it personally.”

Oliver hesitated for a moment, then slowly loosened his fist. But William, still seething, swung another punch, intent on venting all his anger on Oliver.

Pablo, enraged, was about to shout when Isolde suddenly intervened, grabbing his wrist and using her strength to twist it. She struck his arm sharply, and his wrist went limp. Without letting go, she pulled him forward, and with a push, William was sent stumbling out, his head striking the doorframe.

Margaret iumned to her feet, glaring at Isolde, but then she smiled and said, “Why bother with William?”

Pablo, watching the scene, said, “Well done. If we hadn’t taught him a lesson, he’d never know his limits.”

William slowly stood up, turning to glare at Isolde, his face dark with fury. “Isolde, don’t get too smug. One day, you’ll beg me for mercy.”

“Wait for it,” Isolde sneered.

William’s face turned pale with rage. He snapped at Oliver, “What kind of man are you? Hiding behind a woman to have her defend you? If you’re so brave, step up and fight me.”

Oliver answered calmly, “I won’t fight you. You’re not my match. You wouldn’t last a single move under me.”

To Oliver, it was just the truth. But to William, it was a grave insult. After being scolded by Pablo and now humiliated by Isolde and Oliver, he lost control. In a fit of rage, he pulled a dagger from his waist and lunged at Oliver.