The Marquis They Threw Away

The Kingdom of Morrow, its capital at Morrowgate.

The Marquis's manor in the eastern district.

The autumn winds had just died down, and heavy snow was falling.

Gideon Hale stood in the doorway, gazing north.

The war was over. The northern clans had surrendered. It was time to lay down his sword.

"Cough, cough."

Gideon coughed twice and pulled the thin blanket tighter around his shoulders. He had won an unprecedented victory at the Battle of Broken Sky Mountain, but the cost was the wellspring of power inside him, shattered beyond repair. His strength had drained away with it, and now even a small cold was more than his body could bear.

Looking back on seven years of glory, he had risen high while still a young man. At fifteen, he made his name in the army. At sixteen, he put down a rebellion in the south and wiped out three thousand bandits. At seventeen, he led an army east, crushed a rebel vassal state, and destroyed a hundred thousand enemy soldiers in a single stroke, earning the title of marquis at an astonishingly young age.

From there, his rise was unstoppable. He fought north and south without a single defeat, won in the east and west, and piled up feats that no one else could match. He laid a foundation that would carry Morrow for a hundred years, and the whole country loved and revered him. His strength had seemed beyond mortal.

The title of Champion Marquis was his.

That same year, the King gave him his eldest daughter, the Princess Royal, in marriage, along with royal favor, great wealth, and the honor of wearing crimson court robes.

But now the wellspring was gone, and he was crippled. Gideon had long since prepared himself to retire. He was only twenty-two, yet his body was covered in wounds, and as the cold winter sun climbed, the pain went straight to the bone.

Morrow's glory was secure, and tribute poured in from every direction. His goals were achieved, and it was time to step aside.

Fame and fortune were passing clouds to him. To Gideon Hale, the title of Champion was nothing more than a name.

"Wren, prepare the ink."

He slipped off his thin robe and stood at the desk, a pen in his hand, each word heavy with meaning. There were two petitions. One resigned his title. The other asked to end his betrothal to the princess, sparing the royal family any embarrassment.

"Young Master, what's wrong...?"

Wren had followed him for seven years. He had taken her in as a starving beggar girl the day he first arrived in the capital. Years of trailing him through his campaigns had made reading and writing second nature to her. She was the only one who still called him "Young Master." Everyone else said "Lord Marquis."

"Now that I'm crippled, and the Marquis of Champion has become a target of envy, it's only right that I step down. How could a broken man like me be worthy of Her Highness the Princess?"

Gideon smiled calmly.

"Young Master, your body carries countless scars, cut by swords and pierced by spears. Every one of them is a glorious deed done for your country! You put down the Three Northern Tribes. You destroyed the Five Clans. Your might is unmatched, and enemies in every direction tremble at your name. Morrow has peace because of you. You will always be the Champion Marquis in my heart, and in the heart of every person in this kingdom! Morrow will never abandon you. Why must you do this?"

Wren spoke firmly, her eyes full of respect and admiration.

"My mind is made up, Wren. There's no need for more words. Send someone to the palace to deliver these to His Majesty."

His voice was soft.

"A royal decree has arrived! Gideon Hale, receive the decree!"

A sharp voice rang out just beyond the door. Old Steward Aldous Pike came hurrying up with small, quick steps, crunching through the first snow that had not yet settled, four young attendants trailing behind him.

"By royal decree of the Kingdom of Morrow, effective immediately, the title of Marquis of Champion is revoked, and the man is reduced to a commoner. He is to vacate the Marquis's manor at once. So it is decreed!"

Pike held his head high and raised his eyebrows, plainly enjoying himself. He was nothing like the man he used to be. Before, he had been as meek as an ant. Now he was arrogant and looked down on everyone.

"Gideon Hale, His Majesty, mindful of your past service, has granted you a house in the suburbs, so that you may live out your days in comfort and security. This is an act of royal grace. Accept the decree at once."

Pike narrowed his eyes and spoke in a sharp, reedy voice, his tone mocking and unpleasant.

Gideon stood frozen, as if struck by lightning. He wondered if he had misheard. But no steward would dare forge a royal decree.

The resignation letter he had just written was still gripped in his hand. How ironic.

"Gideon Hale, kneel at once and receive the decree. Morrow is a kingdom of warriors, and we have no use for the useless. You should understand that!"

The old steward was smug. In the past, when he saw the Marquis of Champion, he would bow low from a distance. Now he looked down from on high, and it delighted him.

A single decree had reduced him to a commoner, with a flimsy excuse about useless people, and it buried every one of his great achievements. Was this what royal power was?

The cold-blooded royal family had watched his strength shatter and his freedom to roam vanish, and they had tossed him aside like a worn-out boot.

Gideon understood the reason behind the gift of a house well enough. It was a gilded cage, meant to keep him under watch in the capital, because his influence as the Marquis of Champion was too great to ignore.

At that moment, his heart felt as if it were being torn apart. He had fought countless battles for Morrow and risked his life, only to end up like this? Even a palace lapdog dared to strut in front of him?

"Our young master rendered outstanding service to Morrow. Why would the King strip him of his title and throw him out? This is outrageous! It's like throwing away a tool the moment the job is done!"

Wren gritted her teeth, her pretty face flushed red with anger, her voice hard.

When the war is won, the soldier is forgotten. When the enemy is gone, the good sword is thrown in a drawer.

Gideon smiled bitterly, his expression cold, and thought that a man who was no longer of use to Morrow could hardly expect more.

I gave my heart to the crown, and the crown gave me the gutter.

He had believed his retirement was a foregone conclusion. He never imagined the royal family disliked him so much that they wanted him out of the capital at once.

"How dare you, you brat!"

Pike slapped Wren across the face.

A flash of murderous intent crossed Wren's eyes. Her slender fingers darted to her waist. Someone who had followed the Marquis of Champion for seven years was no weak girl.

But Gideon was faster. He caught Pike's wrist with lightning speed, his grip like an iron vise, and Pike's face turned pale. No matter how hard he struggled, he could not break free.

Gideon was a peerless general who had fought on the battlefield, and even with his strength shattered, a commanding presence still radiated from him. He had slain enemies by the thousands, and no one could stand up to his anger.

"Gideon Hale, are you trying to rebel?!"

Pike's voice shook with fear as he winced in pain.

"The Princess Royal has arrived!"

In the courtyard before the gate stood a young woman in a pale rose cloak over embroidered silk. She moved gracefully, tall and proud, and a few snowflakes rested in her black hair, making her look strikingly beautiful. She seemed like a woman out of a ballad, lovely and untouchable.

She was Eleanor Ashcroft, the eldest princess of Morrow, and Gideon's betrothed.

"Gideon Hale, stop!"

Eleanor's voice was clear and crisp, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Get out!"

Gideon gave a low shout and kicked Pike ten feet away. The old man spat a mouthful of blood onto the snow, a shocking sight against the white.

"Your Highness, he defied the royal decree and committed the crime of deceiving the King!"

Pike immediately complained to the princess.

"Step back!"

Eleanor looked down coldly, her presence chilling, her icy eyes carrying a trace of arrogance and edge.

Gideon's eyes were full of complicated feelings. As expected of a woman chosen by the Starlight Order, she was extraordinary. It was only a pity that his bond with her had to end here.

"By royal decree, our betrothal is hereby dissolved. Gideon Hale, you should understand that you are no longer worthy of me."

Eleanor looked down at him with open condescension. In her eyes there was only one thing for him: disdain.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

Gideon laughed loudly, then shook his head with a wry smile.

He had risked his life to protect the Ashcroft crown, and now a mere decree had cast him from heaven to hell.

It was absurd. Utterly absurd.

"Why are you laughing?"

Eleanor frowned.

"I'm laughing at myself for being such a fool. I spent my whole life on the battlefield, risking my life again and again, only to be ruthlessly cast aside. Your royal family is cold-blooded. I was truly too young."

With a wave of his hand, Gideon tore the two petitions in half and threw them into the air. They drifted down like snowflakes, marking the end of his seven years of service.

Whatever he did, the result was the same. His dignity and glory were trampled into the dirt, and the great Champion had become a fallen man, an outcast.

I would have left on my own, but you chose to drive me out. I would have retired in peace, but you would not let me rest!

Gideon's eyes blazed with fury, his heart full of indignation, his anger burning like a raging fire.

He took up his pen, and with a flourish, a letter appeared on the paper.

"From this day forward, we have no further connection. The betrothal is over, and this letter of release is yours!"

Gideon took up a bow and loosed an arrow. It whistled past Eleanor's ear and buried itself in the wooden post beside the gate, pinning the letter in place with a sharp thud.

Looking at the letter nailed up right beside her face, Eleanor's expression turned as dark as a thundercloud. She was utterly humiliated.

Humiliation!

This was an absolute and blatant humiliation!

She was the eldest princess of Morrow. How could she have ever been treated like this?

With an arrow quivering beside her ear and a letter of release before her eyes, how could she not feel that her royal authority had been spat upon?

Even for ordinary people, a woman cast off by her betrothed could never hold her head high again. For the eldest princess of Morrow, it was worse than being killed. It crushed her spirit.

"Gideon Hale, you...you dare to cast me off!"

The princess's shoulders trembled slightly, her eyes wide with fury. Her long fingernails dug deep into her palms.

She was not only a symbol of royal power, but also a future disciple of the Starlight Order. How could she ever stand tall again if this disgrace got out?

"If there's nothing else, Your Highness, please leave."

Gideon didn't want to say another word.

"Gideon Hale, you have insulted me too much. Do you really think that just because you are the Marquis of Champion, I won't dare to kill you?"

Eleanor gritted her teeth.

"Eleanor Ashcroft, forgive my bluntness, but with your eighth-rank strength, you still can't kill me."

Gideon sneered.

"Your strength is shattered, you're crippled, and you still dare to look down on an eighth-rank expert. Since that's how it is, this princess will show you what I can do."

The princess gave a low shout and moved on light steps, leaving no trace on the snow as she flew toward him. Her palms struck in quick succession, and in an instant she unleashed a flurry of attacks that stirred up a rolling wind.

Gideon stood with his hands behind his back, unmoved, as if a mountain could collapse in front of him and he would not blink. He knew Eleanor was only venting her anger. She would not dare kill him inside the Marquis of Champion's own manor.

The Marquis of Champion was crippled now, but his military achievements were great, and his influence among the people was enormous. Killing him would require a reasonable excuse.

Of course, even if Eleanor only wanted to vent her anger, she would not get the chance.

A figure appeared in front of Gideon like a ghost. It was Wren.

At that moment, Wren was wrapped in a blazing red light. Her eyes were cold and sharp, and she struck at Eleanor with a single palm like a demon lunging from the dark.

Bang!

The air exploded, and Eleanor was thrown back several feet by that one strike. Shock filled her face. When she looked up at Wren again, her gaze had completely changed.

"A ninth-rank master."

Eleanor was stunned to discover that the seemingly frail maid at the Marquis of Champion's side was actually a hidden ninth-rank expert.

Wren stood at the front in purple, her hair in a simple ponytail, looking heroic and fierce. Her beautiful eyes blazed, and her presence was aimed straight at Eleanor.

"My young master earned great victories for this kingdom, and he has suffered such injustice from your Ashcroft royal family. He has already written the letter, and he has no connection with Her Highness the Princess anymore. If you keep pushing, don't blame me for being rude."

Eleanor's chest heaved, and she barely held back her anger. But she could also tell that the girl in front of her had eyes only for the Marquis of Champion and had no respect for a princess. What good would it do to keep pressing?

As Eleanor slowly calmed down, she looked at Gideon again, and her expression could not help but change. The Marquis of Champion was famous, but how could one little maid be the only person loyal to him?

She suddenly realized that the man in front of her, even crippled, still held far more influence than she had imagined.

"Gideon Hale, I will never let this humiliation go."

Eleanor left with that bitter threat, her heart full of resentment.