Knight: Becoming King of the World

The first ones returning to the garrison camp were the Independent Nobles, like Henry’s group. With their soldiers and Attendants busy cleaning up the battlefield, they returned in small groups.

The first thing everyone did upon returning to their tents was have a serving girl help them wash up. They were covered in sticky, uncomfortable blood.

’It was anyone’s guess how many minor nobles had died, but they didn’t really care. So what if some of their peers were dead? They weren’t family. Maybe one of them was a minor noble from a neighboring fief? If so, perhaps they could declare war once they got back.’

「That night.」

The military camp was quiet. Even with the return of the main force and the two rescued Legions, there were no celebratory gatherings. They needed rest, and the wails of the wounded left no one in the mood for celebration.

「The next day, at the crack of dawn.」

After the four Legions merged their encampments, an air of activity filled the sprawling camp.

Hundreds of Record Keepers bustled between the various military tents, recording the casualties from last night’s battle and the number of captured Half-Beastmen.

The clerks didn’t dare approach these Half-Beastmen, who were bound in iron chains and locks, and needed soldiers to accompany them.

The spoils of war were piled up in several temporary supply depots. The Half-Beastmen’s armor, weapons, and other loot formed mountains, while the weapons and armor of the many fallen Legion soldiers were recovered.

Clerks tallied yesterday’s gains and losses, the calculations making their heads spin. A person can often break their own limits when pushed, but that doesn’t apply to mathematics.

In a corner of the camp, the lightly wounded were gathered for a second round of examinations. Well-trained physicians were incredibly busy, their faces etched with exhaustion.

They had spent the entire night treating the severely wounded. Although most wouldn’t make it, every life saved was a victory.

They swiftly tended to the wounded, dressing their injuries and administering treatment, doing their best to alleviate the pain.

Some comrades-in-arms with minor injuries also spontaneously joined the relief efforts, helping to carry the wounded and distribute medicine and supplies. Their movements were clumsy but filled with camaraderie.

The nobles’ Private Armies weren’t idle either; their personal stewards were rushed off their feet. Even the Minstrels were busy, needing to quickly compose music and arrange lyrics.

The entire camp was immersed in this bustle, with no one slacking off in the slightest. The work lasted the whole day.

Except for one group: the nobility.

After a night’s rest, the nobles were full of energy today. They might have been covered in bruises and sported a few wounds, but that didn’t stop them from coming out to socialize.

The number of nobles participating in this battle was so large that a crowd of them, dressed in the imperial robes decreed by Anikovarest IV, spontaneously organized a banquet.

Too many nobles had voluntarily joined the campaign—from the Kuset grasslands, the Northern Lands of Stegia, and even minor nobles from places like Amperela and Mizea.

In a spacious, temporary camp, hundreds of nobles gathered, each bringing their own treasured vintages and meticulously prepared food.

The air was filled with the aroma of fine wine and the tempting smell of delicious food, whetting appetites despite their being in the middle of nowhere.

Henry and Fass naturally came to join the festivities. Everyone came on their own, so they didn’t bring their Attendants.

Mace wasn’t qualified to come. He was now part of the Pioneer Nobility, or in other words, a half-noble.

The nobles gathered in small groups, their laughter and cheerful voices echoing constantly.

They shared stories and news from their different regions. Some nobles recounted their travel experiences to distant lands, describing the sights they had seen and the unique cultures they had encountered.

Someone immediately joked that if he weren’t a noble, he could have easily been a Minstrel.

Others discussed local customs and traditions, introducing unique delicacies and conventional practices.

For example, nobles from the Northern Lands loved furs, while nobles from the grasslands adored high-quality warhorses, and so on.

In a corner of the banquet, several nobles were sampling the fine wines they had brought.

"Before I rushed here for the battle, something big happened in the Northern Lands," said a noble with the distinct features of the Stegia region, keeping the others in suspense as he ate grapes and drank beer.

Everyone was an imperial citizen now, but the names for people from different regions and some major cities still retained their original appellations.

Chaotic, yet orderly.

"If you’re not going to tell us, then don’t. It’s not like I want to hear it anyway."

Seeing that the others at his table weren’t falling for it, the noble from the Northern Lands quickly spilled the beans. "They found a descendant of the former princes of Kyiv from old Stegia in the Northern Lands. The walls of the Royal Capital will soon have another distinguished head to display."

Fass, sitting at the other end, chuckled and remarked, "Those people are certainly good at hiding. The year before last, they caught a descendant of the Aserai Mamluk Sultans in the desert. It’s been hundreds of years, and we still haven’t killed them all."

Another Baron, from the Amperela region, was eating a piece of steak dripping with sauce. After savoring a bite, he said, "For three full generations, no King has been acclaimed as emperor by the Imperial Senate. This time, our great King might finally be acclaimed as Emperor!"

The twenty-odd nobles at the long table all grew excited upon hearing this, even Henry.

The state of the empire was strange. Normally, enfeoffed nobles would try every means to evade their Lord’s various duties, such as military service and taxes.

But within the empire, the situation was the complete opposite. Everyone was waiting for the King to order a few major wars.

The empire’s martial spirit had only grown stronger after maritime trade led to new iterations in the technology for forging armor and weapons.

"By the way, I heard Count Soslan brought in linguists last night to interrogate some of the Half-Beastman leaders. Has anyone heard anything?"

Henry shook his head and replied to the person beside him, "Who cares what’s going on with those Half-Beastmen? Worst case, we just fight them again later. Their language is gobbledygook, and their writing looks like a Hunter’s dog just pawed at the dirt."

"Haha, true enough."

The noble next to Henry laughed heartily and clinked glasses with him before they both drank.

"I’m Baron Gary Bell, from the Mizea region."

Henry returned the courtesy. "Henry Bro, a Knight from the Odoche region."

"You’re *that* Henry!"

Gary’s exclamation immediately drew the attention of everyone nearby.

"The Star of the Battle of Zhiluo! I know you! You were the one who commanded the breakthrough of the Half-Beastman formation on the left flank, relieving the Seventh and Eleventh Legions."

Minor nobles from other tables swarmed over, heaping praise on Henry. A young noble with two such distinguished achievements to his name—no one dared not show him reverence.

Even if Henry got drunk right now, stood on the table, and pissed in someone’s cup, these Barons and Viscounts would just say they’d put their cup in the wrong place.

"Knight Henry, our great King might summon you to the Royal Capital this time to award you honors for your military service!"