Knight: Becoming King of the World

Beer kegs were tapped, foam spilling everywhere. Soldiers filled their wooden mugs, raised them high, and toasted to victory.

They drank heartily in celebration. The beer’s bitterness held a hint of sweetness, just like the battle they had endured. After the bitterness came the sweet taste of victory.

Dairy products were also essential. Cheese, yogurt, and cream—gifts from the grasslands—added more flavor to the soldiers’ meals.

Whether eaten on their own or mixed into porridge, these foods provided the soldiers with rich nourishment.

The soldiers gathered around the bonfires, their faces etched with the fatigue of battle, but filled with even greater hope for the future.

To them, war wasn’t just a struggle between life and death; it was a chance to change their destiny.

The bravery of those who fell in battle would be remembered by their families and comrades-in-arms.

Their families would receive death benefits and perhaps some tax exemptions as compensation for their sacrifice.

But for the survivors, there was much more to consider. That was the nature of war—its end didn’t mean everything was over.

While enjoying roasted meat and beer, the soldiers discussed their deeds in the battle.

They cared about whether their performance would earn them a promotion, better pay, or a larger bounty.

Some soldiers who had distinguished themselves in battle hoped for tangible rewards, like better weapons or armor.

"I heard that the soldiers who killed the most enemies in this battle will be personally commended by Baron Henry himself."

Henry’s heroic image was seared into everyone’s mind as if by a branding iron.

’He’s so unbelievably brave! You couldn’t find another man in the entire empire who fights better than Henry! What an incredible honor it would be to be personally commended by such a Warrior!’

’It’s not just something you could brag about for the rest of your life—your son could brag about it for his entire life too!’

"Yeah, I’m hoping for some reward money too. Then I can send it home to help my family live a little better."

Most of the men had more practical thoughts: getting some money to offset taxes, buy more household goods or food, and let their families live an easier life.

"Do you guys think our performance this time gives us a chance to be promoted to Knight?"

"Are you drunk? There are plenty of guys who killed more enemies than you. Just take some Dinars and blow it all on a couple of wild days when we get leave."

Faced with such unrealistic talk, the other soldiers didn’t pull any punches with their comrade.

The soldiers’ conversation revolved around their post-war gains. War was cruel, but it was also full of opportunity.

They hoped that by risking their lives to bravely kill the enemy, they would receive the rewards they deserved—not just material wealth, but also honor and status.

Amid these discussions, there were also plenty of worries about the future.

The war was over, but life had to go on.

Unlike Henry’s personal troops, the soldiers serving other nobles worried if their deeds would be recognized fairly and if their futures would be secure.

But tonight, they chose to set aside those worries and simply enjoy the moment of victory.

Around the bonfires, the soldiers ate, laughed, and teased one another. Days like this were rare, which made them all the more precious.

Their songs and laughter mingled in the night sky. At this grand bonfire feast, noble and soldier alike celebrated the hard-won victory together.

They knew that no one could say what would happen when the sun rose tomorrow, but for tonight, they just wanted to enjoy the fruits of their victory.

In several clearings cordoned off by large tents to create banquet spaces, the nobles raised their cups to toast Baron Henry.

Their faces were wreathed in smiles, and their words were full of praise and respect. Henry stood by a bonfire, his figure appearing all the more imposing in the flickering firelight.

’BYD, what did I eat growing up? How did I get so tall?’

"Lord Henry," a Baron boomed, raising his cup high. "Your valor is unmatched, and your wisdom lights our path like the stars. I drink to you!"

Henry smiled, nodded, took the cup, and drained it in one go.

His capacity for alcohol seemed bottomless. No matter how much he drank, his expression remained unchanged, showing no sign of intoxication.

This made the nobles present marvel. Many of them were already feeling tipsy, yet Henry remained as sober as ever.

"Lord Henry, your victory has brought us glory. I am proud to have fought at your side," another noble declared, stepping forward to offer a toast.

Henry raised his cup again, his movements elegant and unhurried. His tolerance for alcohol continued to astound the nobles.

Throughout the barrage of toasts, Henry remained perfectly clear-headed.

’I don’t know what’s wrong with me, either,’ Henry thought. ’Drinking this wine is like drinking juice in my past life. It’s just sweet, with no buzz at all.’

In the crowd, Baron Boras’s gaze was particularly intense.

He kept glancing at Henry, and his fanatical stare made Henry feel rather exasperated.

Henry couldn’t help but smile bitterly. He now had a profound understanding of a feeling he’d previously only found irritating in description.

’Exasperation... Speechlessness... You really do just laugh when you’re at a loss for words.’

’In my memory, this Boras fellow was a rational astronomer-philosopher, someone completely uninterested in fighting and killing.’

’So what’s happened to him? What’s gotten into him? Why has he become so fanatical and fixated on me?’

’Whoever you are, get the hell out of Boras right now!’

"Baron Boras, I’ve received your toast."

Henry said to Boras, his voice holding a gentle, smiling tone, "I will not forget your support and loyalty."

Hearing Henry’s words, a satisfied smile spread across Boras’s face. His eyes still held a fanatical gleam, but now they seemed to hold a measure of peace as well.

He retreated to his seat, but his gaze still drifted toward Henry from time to time.

The nobles’ toasts gradually petered out, and they began to gather in twos and threes, enjoying the roasted meat and fine wine while conversing in low voices.

Henry seized the opportunity to pull Edmund aside, a questioning look in his eyes.

"Edmund, have you noticed Boras’s behavior? When did he start acting so... peculiar?" Henry lowered his voice, not wanting others to overhear their conversation.

Edmund glanced at the rather unhinged-looking Boras in the distance, his own expression also tinged with confusion.

He thought back carefully, then whispered to Henry, "I remember he started acting abnormally after those Black Shadows appeared in the sky. Especially when you were standing between those three pyramids of skulls... he was like a madman."

Edmund’s voice dropped even lower, and he glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to their conversation.

"Lord Henry, do you think Boras might be possessed by some Evil God? I’ve heard from those wandering preachers that some Evil Gods can possess people and control their actions."

"Should we..." Edmund made a gesture of tying someone up and setting them on fire.

Henry quickly shook his head. "Edmund, don’t be ridiculous."

’There are no such things as Evil Gods in this world.’

"Boras’s behavior is likely just due to the stress of war, or something else. We can’t just assume he’s possessed by an Evil God because of a few strange actions."

Henry’s voice carried a hint of warning; he didn’t want Edmund’s line of thinking to spread.

A rumor like that would be bad for Boras and for the morale of the entire army.

"Besides, if we really were to use fire, would Boras even survive? We can’t harm one of our own over baseless suspicions."

Edmund realized his suggestion had been a bit extreme and gave an embarrassed laugh.

"You’re right, Lord Henry. I was just worried about Boras, worried that something might be wrong with him."