And you too, Humphrey?

December 25, 1052, Christmas Day.

When Count Drogon de Hautville rode into the chapel of the Château de la Eranlo, everything seemed normal.

He was dressed in magnificent chainmail, with a jeweled longsword at his waist. Behind him followed more than ten trusted bodyguards, belonging to his most trusted brother, Humphrey.

Humphrey, leading his guards, wore his usual solemn expression. As the Norman leader of southern Italy, Drogo should have spent the holiday at the castle in Mefino, but this time he chose this remote castle on the Ilaro hill to attend a celebratory mass. Norman chieftains in Apulia were also holding similar events in their respective territories to demonstrate their piety towards Christianity and their continuation of Norman tradition.

Father Lysus, who was presiding over the celebration, was already waiting at the entrance of the chapel. He was a tall, thin Lombard, dressed in a white priest's robe, with a humble smile on his face.

Drogon dismounted at the door and patted Humphrey on the shoulder: "Brother, after Mass today, we should have a proper discussion about Robert. That kid's getting more and more restless."

Humphrey nodded, remaining silent as always. This was also why Drogo admired his younger brother; he did a lot, spoke little, and always understood the difficulties his older brother faced.

Drogon led the way into the chapel, followed closely by his guards. The candlelight inside was dim, and several monks bowed their heads and chanted scriptures, making the magnificent chapel seem like a true divine kingdom.

However, just as Drogon crossed the threshold, Father Lysus suddenly emerged from behind the door, holding a short dagger, and swiftly thrust it towards Drogon's neck like a snake.

"Who goes there!" Drogon instinctively sidestepped, his dagger grazing his chainmail, leaving a shallow mark. Drogon drew his sword to retaliate, but Lysus had already stepped back, shouting into the chapel, "For the Pope! Damn Normans, die!"

The moment the words were spoken, chaos erupted inside the hall!

Several monks who had just been chanting scriptures immediately drew weapons from under their robes, wielding short swords and crossbows, and rushed straight towards Drogon's guards.

Drogon's guards reacted very quickly; they immediately stood in front of Drogon and drew their swords to meet him.

But the assassins were prepared.

"xiu~"

Crossbow bolts rained down, accurately striking the guards charging in front of Drogon. Amidst the splatter of blood, the well-trained guards fell like mowing grass.

Drago, a renowned warrior among the Normans, effortlessly felled an assassin with a single stroke of his sword. The blade tore open the man's robe, revealing the leather armor beneath.

"Lysus, you traitor! Who sent you?" he roared as he approached the priest, but Lysus grinned and retreated, while two more assassins attacked from the side.

Although Drogon's guards were brave, they were outnumbered and were constantly stabbed in the chest with short swords and shot in the throat with crossbow bolts.

Inside the hall, swords flashed, and blood splattered across the gold-painted walls.

"Humphrey! Lead the rest of the men out and call for reinforcements!" Drago panted as he felled the third assassin. When he turned around, he saw that there were very few guards left.

What made him most desperate was that the few remaining guards did not protect him, but instead retreated far behind the assassin!

The assassins surrounded him and, under Lysus's command, closed in on Drago.

"Pfft!" "Pfft!" "Pfft!"

Even with Drogon's bravery, he couldn't escape the unequal battle; short swords repeatedly pierced his body. But the valiant Norman leader continued to wield his longsword until—

"Pfft"

Drogon stared in astonishment at the longsword piercing his chest, and following the blade's extension, he saw the sword's owner.

"And you, Humphrey?" These were the last words of the Norman leader.

"Slap, slap, slap"

Father Lysus clapped his hands and stepped forward, saying with amusement, "Well done, Humphrey—oh wait, shouldn't you be called Earl Humphrey now? You are now the leader of the Autel family. Remember our agreement: the Papacy will support you, but you must return the Papacy's lands that were seized by the Normans!"

Humphrey nodded, but as Lysus turned around, he suddenly swung his sword and beheaded Lysus.

Blood splattered, and Lysus's body fell to the ground, stunning all the assassins.

As a large contingent of brightly armored Norman warriors poured into the chapel, Humphrey coldly stated:

"Kill all these lackeys of the Papacy! My brother's death was all the work of you treacherous Lombards and the Pope!"

Meanwhile, in other parts of Apulia, a similar scene was unfolding. Norman lords were assassinated during Christmas Mass, along with their squires and followers. Throughout southern Italy, the Norman forces lost several leaders on this day.

-----------------

On a distant hill, Robert Giscard and Roger hid behind the bushes, gazing at the Château de la Estrela. Night had fallen, and the castle's firelight was faintly visible. Robert's grey-blue eyes were fixed on the castle, his fists clenched white. Roger stood beside him, a hint of unease on his young face.

"Brother, are you sure Lysus will succeed? Drago is, after all, our elder brother..."

Robert didn't answer. His heart pounded, and every detail of the plan replayed in his mind. Assassinating a leader, especially his own brother, was something that even a cunning fox like him felt a chill run down his spine.

Suddenly, a wisp of smoke rose from the direction of the castle—a message from Humphrey's confidant announcing the success. Robert's shoulders finally relaxed, he let out a long breath, and a smile appeared on his lips: "Well done, Humphrey."

Roger's eyes widened in shock: "Brother, you've dragged Humphrey into this too? He...he's Drogon's most trusted brother!"

Robert turned his head, looking at his younger brother's childish face, his voice low but tinged with coldness:

"Roger, you're too young. Do you think Drogon only has one disgruntled brother like me? Drogon became an earl, but he only made Humphrey a landless knight. Humphrey risked his life for him, but he was only ever given the runaround by Drogon. He's been dissatisfied for a long time! We just gave him a chance, a chance to inherit our good brother's land and become the leader of House Autherville."

Roger shook his head, his voice trembling slightly: "But brother, killing your brother has such a terrible impact! We should wait a little longer; perhaps a better opportunity will come?"

Robert patted his younger brother on the shoulder with a cold smile:

"Roger, we can't wait any longer. Richard and Tancred are making me increasingly uneasy. We can't wait any longer. Drogon is too weak; he wants to maintain peace, but he's holding the Normans back. We need war, we need land!"

"Besides, who said we murdered our brothers?"

"It was clearly Lysus, the Papacy's lackey, who assassinated Drogon, and he was killed in public by Brother Humphrey! It was the Pope, the Lombards, who assassinated my dear brother."

"The Normans should exact a holy revenge on these treacherous enemies!"