Tristan was surprised: "Annoqing, you... actually know my name?"
Annuo, who was already looking a little older, nodded calmly: "I usually remember the dignitaries from the countries surrounding Britain. I remember that the Mark Kingdom was destroyed by me. So, Mr. Tristan, you came to the hinterland of Britain.
…”
As he spoke, he put his hand on the hilt of [Chalk]'s sword.
Tristan motioned for Isolde to stand back and swallowed: "I have no intention of being an enemy of Britain..."
Anno threw the drunken Lancelot on the horse's back and patted the horse's neck.
The horse carried Lancelot away, and Anno's eyes returned to the vigilant Tristan.
"It doesn't matter, but you are a hidden danger after all... I will not put Britain into even possible danger, so..." Anno glanced at Isolde, "But let the lady leave first."
Isolde stepped back consciously, looking at the person she loved with hope and confidence.
But Tristan is not so confident anymore. He has been thinking about attacking Annuo or simply escaping with Isolde, but Annuo's actual attention has been following him, making him unable to move at all.
The chalk was unsheathed, and a drop of cold sweat flowed from Tristan's temples.
"Then, I'm going to do it." Annuo drank in a deep voice.
Tristan only felt the shadow coming, and he quickly raised his sword to resist.
Ping!
The two swords were separated as soon as they touched, but Annuo stood still and did not move, while Tristan took several steps back.
The sword he uses is a rapier, and he usually uses his speed to defeat his opponents.
But now when he encountered Annuo, who was not inferior to him in terms of speed and wielded a broad-edged sword, he was instantly at a disadvantage.
Annuo was unforgiving, and powerful and heavy blows came one after another. Although Tristan could keep up with the speed, his strength was weak, and he was beaten back by Annuo's blows.
Isolde on the side tried to support her and shouted loudly: "Mr. Tristan, don't lose to this uncle!"
Tristan, who was tired of resisting, heard Isolde's voice and his pupils shrank.
Annuo seized this gap and struck the side of Tristan's rapier with his sword.
Tristan's sword broke in response, and he was pushed by the huge force and rolled several times on the ground. His long, smooth red hair became messy.
"Lord Tristan!" Isolde shouted in fright.
Tristan held his chest and spit out a mouthful of donated blood. Just as he was about to raise his head, he found that Annuo had already put the sword on his neck.
Tristan threw aside the half of the dagger in his hand and smiled bitterly: "I lost."
Annuo was not happy: "I have been crazy for a few years, so I have taken advantage."
"It doesn't matter, my swordsmanship is indeed not as good as yours." Tristan was very free and easy, "Let's do it, Mr. Anno, if possible, please let me have a decent funeral and don't let my body be exposed in the wilderness. Also, don't kill Isol."
Virtue.”
Annuo nodded: "Knights will not do anything to ladies, so, goodbye, Prince of Mark."
As he spoke, he raised the chalk.
"No! Don't kill him!" A panicked and sad voice came from one side.
Isolde rushed over as fast as she could in her life, and used her back to protect Tristan before Anno's sword struck him.
Annuo frowned.
The chalk in his hand stopped in mid-air.
Just then, the fifth person who came to the wilderness in the middle of the night appeared.