Chapter 1955 - 532: However, the Show Has Only Just Begun_3

Sir Newcastle's smile stiffened on his face.

Actually, he didn't care about his own dignity, nor did he believe Sir Skidgin would truly visit his house; after all, his business also involved shares from Baron Wickton.

But now he was caught between the Knight and the Baroness, and this made him feel the pressure on his head, like a mountain.

Should I...

let you fight?

I'll wait for you to determine the winner, then apologize to the victor?

Just as things were at a standoff, the carriage door suddenly opened again behind him.

Miss Marie Langbane inside the carriage was clearly impatient from waiting.

She lifted her intricate dress hem, stepped down from the carriage in her exquisite high heels, the cold wind ruffling her meticulously styled curls, but it couldn't disperse the anger on her face.

Without uttering a single unnecessary word, she was even braver than Princess Erin, the lace folding fan in her hand like a short sword, slammed hard on Skidgin's chest.

Her action frightened Sir Newcastle; in his understanding, a conflict meant a behind-the-scenes struggle, he never imagined this young mistress to be so rough.

Before both men realized what had happened, a well-maintained jade hand drew a sharp arc in the air, smacking solidly onto the face of this Captain of the Royal Guard.

"Slap!"

A crisp sound of a slap rang out, exceptionally loud in the silent cold night.

All the Royal Guards were stunned.

However, they were experienced guards, and with great coordination, they all bowed their heads or turned around to study the texture on the smooth pillar at the theater entrance.

The citizens standing around were also shocked, never expecting the lady to dare slap the face of the Captain of the Royal Guard.

In their shallow understanding, Sir Skidgin's face was equivalent to His Majesty's face; after all, His Majesty had just awarded this firefighter a medal.

This truly was... the Storm has flooded Saint Clement Cathedral!

Utter blasphemy!

Having missed a good show, they never imagined witnessing another, eagerly anticipating the follow-up development.

However, the plot developed beyond their expectations.

Sir Skidgin, who could swat them with a stick, dared not move an inch, even his knees seemed to wobble.

"You uncultured watchdog!"

Miss Marie withdrew her painful palm, pointing at the stunned man without any ladylike composure, and cursed fiercely.

"Did your father never teach you what manners are? You dare to make a lady wait in the cold wind for your so-called inspection? By Saint Sis, I don't care what you're plotting, but can't you wait until I've finished watching the show?"

Sir Skidgin broke out in a cold sweat.

Others may not recognize Miss Langbane's face, but he, as the Captain of the Royal Guard, could recognize the face of every Noble and their family members who frequented the court.

And there were many like him within the court; the Royal Guard had more than one captain, and he was only one of them.

"It was Lord Bishop's order..."

Miss Marie's scolding became harsher.

"Ha! Bishop? That Claude, right? Without even a surname to his name, don't think that becoming a Bishop makes me forget what he used to be! That court jester, I threw an apple at his head when I was six, and he had to smile and pick it up for me! What does he know about art? Has he even understood the Holy Word Book?"

Sir Skidgin dared not respond.

Because he knew Miss Langbane wasn't bluffing; if she said she had hit Claude on the head, then she really had.

Though all were Barons, Barons and Barons are not the same. Among them are supporters of great Nobles, supporters of the King, and those fence-sitters caught in between.

Such as the mutual patron Baron Wickton, whom he and Sir Newcastle shared; although this gentleman was a Minister, his status was akin to Bishop Claude, serving as His Majesty the King's rag.

Used when needed to clean shoes, discarded into the fireplace when not.

Unexpectedly, Sir Newcastle found yet another greater patron, and Sir Skidgin glanced at him quietly, his authoritative expression had completely turned into a fawning look.

Brother... lend a hand.

Sir Newcastle returned a helpless expression, not blaming those few offensive words, but the current situation had already exceeded his capability.

Brother, I want to help you, but do you really think I can restrain her?

Moreover, we've reminded you...

Finally recalling the phrase "of noble lineage" from Sir Newcastle's previous statement, Sir Skidgin painfully closed his eyes and fell into complete despair.

The cunning and sly Campbell people have tricked the honest and simple Ryan people once more, now it's his turn to be trapped between the Baron and the Bishop...

Miss Marie unleashed her full fury, cursing for a full minute in the cold wind, practically rubbing this firefighter's face against the ground back and forth twice.

Clearly, she wasn't only venting the anger from waiting, but also pouring out all the dissatisfaction she felt towards the rude men here ever since returning to Roland City, all at this poor Knight.

Transference of anger.

This is the most undignified behavior.

And bullying the weak is the most malignant behavior.

Rumor has it that this is how Hell operates, with High-level Demons abusing goblins for fun, how did Roland City become so blasphemous?

Sir Newcastle silently lamented in his heart, simultaneously waging an inner battle over whether a knight title was worth sacrificing a sacred marriage and a beautiful future.

But he had to admit, he felt unworthy of Miss Marie's fiery personality, yet Sir Skidgin and she were well-matched.