Henwell continues, “Viscount, if you have the time, I’d like to send you an invitation. When I get married, you’re more than welcome to come to Peace Haven for the ceremony. After all, your hometown isn’t that far from there.”

  Obian’s eyes widen. “Really?”

  Henwell smiles and nods. “Of course. I’ll personally write you an invitation. Looking forward to seeing you there!”

  The others don’t quite understand Obian’s excitement at first, but when Henwell extends invitations to all of them, they quickly catch on.

  They all promise to attend and begin to grasp why Obian is so thrilled.

  Even Wacker, the king’s trusted aide, feels a surge of happiness.

  This is an invitation to the wedding of one of the continent’s rising stars, and a personal one at that.

  What an honor!

  It’s easy to imagine Henwell’s wedding will be a grand affair.

  Nations will send representatives to offer congratutions, and being part of it is a great privilege.

  Henwell’s current status surpasses that of a powerful duke, and he’s still so young. His future is limitless.

  It’s clear his influence will only grow stronger in the near future.

  Even though the two sides hold different positions now, this connection offers valuable opportunities.

  Especially for Obian’s knights, many of whom haven’t reached noble ranks yet.

  Attending such high-level gatherings—even in a neighboring country—will be crucial for their advancement.

  Of course, Obian’s excitement comes from a different pce.

  For a father, participating in his son’s wedding is one of life’s most important moments, perhaps the most important.

  Even if Obian can’t attend as a father, just being there makes him happy.

  Though Obian is from the military faction, that doesn’t mean he’s a reckless brute.

  His courage has brought him far, but his wisdom is equally vital.

  Becoming a noble and rising to viscount shows Obian isn’t a political fool.

  Since Henwell hinted at his true identity yesterday, Obian has been pondering the matter.

  A day of reflection has allowed him to piece together a rough understanding.

  Though incomplete, he now comprehends Henwell’s situation.

  If they publicly acknowledge their retionship, it would bring trouble to both.

  That’s why Obian said what he did st night.

  He reassures Henwell that he’ll handle things carefully.

  He pns to erase every trace Henwell left behind, ensuring no one uncovers evidence of his true identity.

  Obian waves his hand. “Henwell, take good care of yourself. We’ll be there on time for your wedding.”

  Henwell bows slightly. “Viscount, you must take care of your health as well. I wish the best for your family’s well-being!”

  With that, Henwell turns his horse’s head and leads his group westward.

  Obian watches Henwell’s retreating figure for a long moment before finally pulling his gaze away.

  Beside him, Wacker sighs, “Ah, truly a heroic youth! Makes us all feel a bit old.”

  Obian’s deputy, Bosen, adds, “Our mission is complete. Let’s report back and hope they don’t send anyone else to die. Even if Henwell returns, it’ll be nearly impossible to stop him.”

  Obian replies calmly, “Everyone saw the battle the night before st. A young Grand Knight like him…… If he insists on leaving, intercepting him will come at a heavy cost. And who knows if he’ll even pass through the Kingdom of Ika on his way back. If he travels alone, avoiding main roads and riding hard, tracking him will be next to impossible.”

  Wacker shrugs, “No matter what, our mission’s done. What happens next is up to those above. We’ve suffered heavy losses this time. As long as we report honestly, our achievements won’t be overlooked. Let’s hurry back and submit our report.”

  After Obian leaves, Henwell gnces at the map. They still have about a week’s journey before entering the Western Federation.

  Actually, Henwell took a detour earlier.

  According to the route given by Fred, the lord of Tusyat, they could have crossed a dangerous stretch and reached their current position in no more than four days.

  But since his father was chasing after him, Henwell had to change pns on the fly and take a safer, though longer, route across the grassnds.

  Who would’ve thought the grassnds weren’t exactly peaceful either? They even encountered many ruthless Fury Spirits.

  Ahead lies a vast wastend. As long as they don’t get lost, Henwell’s group has enough supplies to cross it.

  On the first day, nothing unusual happens during their ride.

  Everyone just enjoys the taste of the wild rabbits from the wastend and tries to avoid traveling at night.

  On the second day, they spot signs of a passing caravan.

  Henwell and his group follow the tracks for over ten kilometers until they finally come across a small caravan of a few dozen people.

  When the caravan sees Henwell’s group, panic sets in, they immediately try to speed away.

  But with a dozen skilled riders showing expert horsemanship, they quickly maneuver into a pincer formation.

  Realizing escape is impossible, the caravan tightens its formation, preparing to face the charge.

  However, once the caravan leader gets a good look at the knights, he immediately orders his people to lower their bows.

  Stepping out from behind the wagons, the leader approaches Henwell personally to ask if they need any help.

  Having traveled far and wide, caravan leaders are usually well-experienced.

  He instantly recognizes that these armored cavalrymen aren’t mere bandits.

  Bandits don’t have the money or the means to acquire such fine equipment.

  Henwell approaches the caravan. “Who are you?”

  The leader replies in the continent’s common tongue, “Sir, we’re a trade caravan from Mountain Antelope. My name’s Tony, but you can also call me Leather Boots.”

  Henwell smiles. “Leather Boots? Interesting name. Is it because you run fast?”

  Tony chuckles nervously. “That’s part of it. But mainly, I’m steady and slow when I travel, like walking on foot.”

  Henwell dismounts. “Mountain Antelope Trade Caravan, I’ve heard of you. You’re a rge merchant group from the Duchy of Lumir, right? Are you coming from Lumir or from your branch in the Kingdom of Ika? Heading to the Western Federation?”

  Tony looks up at the tall Henwell in surprise. “Sir, you ftter us. We’re just trying to make a living. We’re one of the trade caravans from the Ika branch responsible for commerce in the Western Regions. We haven’t heard of the Western Federation. We’re heading west to Tule City to sell goods produced in Ika, and also to purchase supplies there.”