To earn respect, one must do something worthy of it. While it was uncertain how Randolph would mature, his current behavior gave little hope. Michael suspected Charles V would rue having only one heir.
As Duke Capone observed Michael’s calm demeanor, he grew increasingly uneasy. For someone so young to display such composure... it’s terrifying.
Even with Randolph as the nominal commander-in-chief, Michael’s poise and confidence were unsettling.
With the princes gone, the meeting progressed smoothly, and the attendees quickly reached a consensus.
"If we defend this fortress successfully, it will send a strong message. It may even be possible to reclaim the Dolce Line," one general noted.
"Indeed. Securing Orlando Fortress and reclaiming the Dolce Line would cut off the Empire’s supply routes. The Dolce Line’s destruction was unfortunate, but the scorched-earth strategy during the retreat was brilliant. The fields were burned, and wells were filled in, leaving the Empire with no resources in the occupied areas. If we can disrupt their supply chains further, victory is within reach," another added.
"The question remains: who should assume the role of supreme commander?"
"May I propose a candidate?" Duke Capone asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
The room turned to him, granting him permission to speak.
"The role of supreme commander is critical in this campaign. It requires someone who can balance the interests of all parties involved. Considering the recent victories and strategic brilliance displayed, I believe Count Michael is the most suitable candidate. What are your thoughts?"
Michael remained silent, lowering his head to allow the others time for discussion.
After exchanging glances and brief deliberation, the attendees reached a unanimous decision.
"Let Count Michael assume supreme command."
"I agree."
"We can trust Count Michael to lead."
"You’ll have to shoulder the burden, Count Michael."
Raising his head, Michael smiled. At last, he had secured command.
A royal envoy from Elonia arrived at Orlando Fortress.
The envoy, a middle-aged man cloaked in a black robe, exuded authority with the diamond-encrusted badge draped over his shoulder. He unfurled a scroll bearing the royal seal and surveyed the gathered knights with sharp eyes.
His voice was calm and dignified as he read the proclamation aloud, but its contents drew murmurs of dissatisfaction from the audience.
"In recognition of the valiant achievements of the special task force selected from the Kingdom of Lania, His Majesty Henry III has decreed the following rewards of titles and lands. First, Sir Michael von Crassus. For your courageous leadership as commander of the task force, which brought victory to the battlefield, you are granted the title of Count of Elandor and the most fertile plains within Elandor as your domain. Next…"
As the envoy continued reading, a ripple of discontent spread among the knights. While the honorary titles bestowed by Elonia were of little practical value, the awarded lands were currently occupied by the Pamir Imperial Army.
Even if these lands were reclaimed, their state of devastation due to scorched-earth tactics meant that rebuilding them would take years. Continue your saga on freewebnovel
The knights exchanged disgruntled whispers.
"They’re giving us useless land? Ha! They might as well hand out gold instead."
"Even if we win the war, how are we supposed to restore and manage that?"
Noticing the growing dissatisfaction, the envoy cleared his throat and resumed reading.
"…Additionally, as monetary rewards for their valor, a total of 3 million gold pieces will be distributed. Of this, 1 million gold is awarded to Count Michael von Crassus, with the remaining 2 million to be distributed according to individual contributions. The list of honorees is as follows…"
As the long list of names was read aloud, the knights swallowed hard, waiting to hear their own.
While the land grants were unimpressive, the gold was a different matter entirely. The knights whose names were called brightened visibly. Even the lowest-ranked honorees, designated as third-class contributors, received 50,000 gold pieces each.
"Amazing. A rich nation is truly different," one knight muttered.
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"Indeed," another agreed. "They say even dogs in Elonia’s capital carry gold scraps in their mouths. That must be true."
Michael, too, was quite satisfied.
The grant of the Elandor region as his domain did not trouble him. Combined with the lands awarded by Charles V, Elandor elevated Michael’s holdings to rival those of a duke. While he would need to invest significant effort into reclaiming the territory, war was unavoidable anyway.
Receiving a fertile region within Elandor, famous for its richness, was a promising reward. And the 1 million gold was certainly gratifying.
Though Michael’s recent windfalls had eased his financial burdens, no one ever complained about having too much gold.
Finally, the magical beasts that had served alongside him were also rewarded. News of Michael’s practice of compensating beasts for their contributions had spread across the continent, prompting royal courts to improve their treatment of such creatures.
As part of this effort, rewards were given to the beasts. Miaomiao and Markus, designated as first-class contributors among the beasts, received golden saddles.
Although Miaomiao grumbled, "What do they think I am, a mere mount?" she clutched the golden saddle tightly, purring softly. Markus, meanwhile, expressed unreserved joy, demanding to drape the ill-fitting ceremonial saddle over his back.
Other beasts were given golden reins or helmets according to their contributions. While all the beasts were pleased, those designated as third-class contributors couldn’t hide their envy as they eyed Miaomiao and Markus.
To further reward their efforts, Michael allocated 100,000 gold each from his monetary reward to Miaomiao and Markus, adding it to their investments.
Their faces lit up with delight upon hearing the news. Recently, the two had developed a keen interest in their growing "bank accounts."
Markus gazed at his account book with a dreamy expression. "Ah, I really love gold…" he murmured.
Miaomiao, glaring at Markus with disdain, nevertheless hugged her account book tightly. Around her neck dangled a golden pouch Michael had crafted at her request. She now refused to part with her purse, even avoiding transforming into her feline form for fear of misplacing it.