Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 583 - 357: We Fight Alone

The Knight stood leaning on his sword.

Like a reef standing firm amidst the surging crowd, the tide naturally parted to either side of him.

He watched as Lavinia ascended the marble steps, passing through the heavy doors emblazoned with the "Black Eagle Badge" representing the Lombardy Duchy (the eagle, lion, and cross are the most common badges in Europe).

"To take such fearless actions in a woman's body, she is a true knight."

A deep voice sounded beside Losa.

The source of the voice was the will inside the Holy Cross Gothic Plate Armor.

Like the Shining Cross Sword, this equipment too had come to this world with him.

It had simply not been equipped before.

Perhaps now back in a familiar world, the Holy Cross Gothic Plate Armor had become much more lively.

"What the hell do you know about knights?"

Losa sneered.

"Of course I know. In the past, when I fought alongside Maximilian, I saw countless knights, and even helped him win the title of Champion Knight at the Burgundy Court Knight Tournament."

"But he still abandoned you."

The Holy Cross Armor fell silent.

Dark lines emerged from the surface of the armor, replacing the gold patterns originally used to amplify the holy radiance.

The Holy Cross Armor spoke with feigned rationality: "As armor, when a more superior replacement appears, it is always destined to be discarded. I have accompanied him for long enough. Besides, spending time in Saint Stephen's Church is not without its delightful leisure."

Losa couldn't help but laugh: "Come on, what's the point in being stubborn with me? If you really felt leisurely and delightful, why have you become like this?"

It fell silent again, no longer speaking.

"Mr. Demon Wolf!"

The excited voice of a young boy sounded not far away.

Turning to look, he saw the boy squeezing through the crowd, looking at him with some nervousness.

Losa was somewhat surprised: "Are you calling me?"

"Yes."

"Now's not the time to explain this nickname. I saw a squad from the Sassari Family, dressed in law enforcer uniforms, aggressively heading this way. They likely intend to disperse the people here who want to seek justice for Mr. Madlen."

He hesitated for a moment, then continued, "If they find out you're here, it could be bad for you."

Losa frowned. By logic, after last night's events, the Sassari Family had already lost their last chance to flip the table and play hardball. In today's court, the forces dissatisfied with the Sassari Family should be the ones to make a move.

But that was only by logic.

A patchwork puppet family like this couldn't be judged by common sense.

The crowd suddenly became restless. Nearly a hundred thugs from the Sassari Family, clad in law enforcer uniforms, wielded fasces—implements used by law enforcers for whippings that also symbolized authority.

They advanced in formation, continuously pressing forward.

The crowd continuously retreated.

Long-standing fear of the family made it impossible for these ordinary people to muster any courage to resist the thugs of the family.

This was the most sensible choice.

Because occasionally a few young people who stood up to resist were immediately struck down by the Sassari Family thugs with their fasces.

"You should go first, they can't harm me."

Losa patted the boy's shoulder, pushing him back into the crowd.

The Sassari thugs advanced further, and the people retreated accordingly.

Soon, it was Losa's turn.

"Get out of here!"

"This isn't a place for you."

Bang—

A Wolf Race thug, seeing that Losa wouldn't move, raised his fasces and smashed it down hard on Losa's head, but it only made a crisp sound, and Losa's body didn't even flinch.

Beneath the helmet, Losa's gaze was cold as he glared at him.

"Who the hell do you think you are? Get lost!"

The thugs exchanged glances, a hint of fear growing in their hearts, and this was without Losa exerting the Dark Lord's pressure; otherwise, these thugs, who rarely even saw a corner, would have been scared out of their wits.

"What are you standing there for? Tear off his tin can and throw him into the water prison!"

A leading corner head shouted an order.

But the result was that before Losa, a scene of utter chaos unfolded. The once arrogant thugs, who had knocked down countless ordinary people, were themselves knocked down by Losa in heaps, with some having fractures and others losing limbs.

"Is this guy from the Saluzzo Family?"

Soon, the commotion here attracted a Centurion hiding behind the scenes. He leaned in for a closer look, his expression immediately changing: "Kid, you dare to show up again?"

"Now, there's no Bologna woman to help you."

Losa sneered: "Oh? You think without Lavinia's help, you can take me on? On the night of the full moon, even ten of you weren't my match, let alone during the day."

"Let's see about that, shall we?"

The Centurion gritted his teeth, coldly ordering, "Sound the horn, gather all nearby experts, it's time to wash away the shame."

Losa felt a heaviness in his heart; these lunatics really intended to act in broad daylight.

On the Holy Cross Armor, the black lines became more distinct.

The power of darkness gradually brewed.

A deep voice rose: "Losa, we're going to fight alone."

"Yes."

...

Bang—

The courthouse doors slowly closed.

Mr. Madlen was pushed onto the defendant's stand. He didn't look as young as his age suggested; prison life had left him scruffy, with heavy shackles on his hands and feet. Two prison officers closely followed him as if he were not an ordinary person but a high-combat-capable, highly dangerous murderer.

In the jury stand, the seats were filled with well-dressed gentlemen whose expressions varied as they looked at Mr. Madlen.

Some felt sympathy, as Mr. Madlen, despite not being on good terms with them before, was ultimately one of their own.

Some sneered, some appeared impatient. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Others simply treated it as entertainment, watching with interest.

In front of the judge lay a gilded gavel. Two high-ranking judges sat flanking him as deputies, the three perched high above the courtroom, symbolizing impartiality like a scale.

Mr. Madlen's expression showed visible shock upon seeing Lavinia, but he quickly composed himself: "Thank you, Miss Lavinia; I didn't expect you'd actually be willing to come to Milan to defend me."

"Didn't anyone inform you? ... Well, I suppose they wouldn't."

"Judge Lavinia Bologna, are you sure you want to defend the accused, Victor Madlen?"

The judge's voice carried a hidden threat.

To many, this seemingly impartial court held no real authority.

Even if Wolves, merchants, and nobles commit murder in broad daylight with undeniable evidence, charges of murder could be downgraded to manslaughter, then to assault, until they were acquitted.

Among the jury, the majority view their attendance here as a trip to the markets; some don't even bother to show up themselves, instead sending a housekeeper in their stead as a courtesy to the judge.

"I am certain."

Lavinia's expression was solemn, even as the jury discussed her Wolf Race background and last night's achievements, paying no heed to the statements she was about to make. She maintained her respect for the court nonetheless.

"Then let us begin."

The judge let out a soft sigh and struck the gavel.

The boisterous jury finally quieted down somewhat, at least no longer resembling a marketplace.