Knight: Becoming King of the World

The captain of the Personal Guard nodded confidently and said to Ratifa, "According to an inside source, Lord Henry has barely left his carriage. We suspect he’s injured."

Injured?

Ratifa shot to her feet. "How could that be? Henry, injured? Those Inferior Horned Beasts didn’t seem like they could possibly harm him."

The designation "Inferior Horned Beast" had already been adopted. Henry had come up with the name, and it hadn’t caused any stir, much like the terms "Half-Beastman" and "Lizardmen." It was just another name for an Alien Race.

In any case, none were as noble as the Caladria People!

Seeing Ratifa on her feet, the captain of the Personal Guard grew nervous and quickly backpedaled. "Well, not necessarily injured. It’s just that Lord Henry hasn’t been leading the troops on horseback. He’s spent most of his time inside the carriage.

My contact—the captain—told me that in the past, whenever he delivered messages to Lord Henry, the Baron would always be clad in armor, riding his warhorse at the very front of the column.

There’s no definite news that Lord Henry is hurt; it’s all just speculation for now. It’s also possible he’s simply in his carriage looking at maps and planning his next move."

Ratifa was skeptical. She had witnessed Henry’s prowess on the battlefield with her own eyes. ’If even a man like him can be injured, just how strong is the enemy?’

"And that captain... how do you know him?"

"Ah? Their Legion was on patrol duty in Tiyaer a few times. We just got to know each other over time."

Ratifa pursed her lips and nodded, dismissing the captain of her Personal Guard.

The entire border camp was abuzz with concern for the young Baron, the most prominent and famous man in recent years, whose future seemed boundless.

All except for one person: the First Prince.

The First Prince sat in his tent, brow furrowed, fingers tapping lightly on the tabletop. Henry’s victory left him with a complex mix of feelings—both exhilaration and anxiety. It was truly a world of ice and fire.

On one hand, he was exhilarated. Henry’s victory had won him immense glory, which would undoubtedly solidify his standing in his father’s eyes.

He could use this opportunity to display his own leadership and military acumen to the King. He might even be able to secure more military resources, such as an existing Legion, or the charter to form two new ones.

That way, he could not only increase his own strength but also save his personal funds, using the empire’s resources to expand his own power base.

’And forget all that talk about being the heir. It’s not like I’m the King yet, the sole ruler of Caladia.’

’My money is my money. The empire’s money is the empire’s money.’

’Besides, if he played his cards right, this whole affair could be spun into a major accomplishment. He could even start commissioning his own epic poems and biographies in advance. Heh heh heh...’

The source of his anxiety, however, was that Henry’s brilliance was too dazzling. It made him feel a suffocating pressure, like being crushed by a mountain.

Henry’s youth, talent, and courage had earned him immense prestige within the military and among the nobility, even eclipsing that of the First Prince himself.

He was the quintessential "perfect son" your parents wish they had, the model Warrior in another commander’s army, the ideal Vassal to another lord, the perfect husband for someone else’s wife!

Damn it!

The First Prince couldn’t accept that someone his own age could be so brilliant. He felt his own status was being threatened.

’The empire cannot allow someone this damn capable to exist!’

He tried to suppress his inner jealousy and unease, but Henry’s success left him with an indescribable sense of frustration.

The First Prince recalled everything he had done to consolidate his own position. He had gone to great lengths, using court intrigue to have the Second Prince imprisoned and stripped of his military power.

He had also relentlessly pestered his father until the Third Prince was dispatched to the distant southern frontier, keeping both brothers far from the center of power and ensuring he would face little competition for the throne.

And yet, Henry’s sudden, meteoric rise presented him with a new kind of threat.

Henry not only possessed exceptional military talent but also commanded widespread influence and a legion of loyal followers.

This stoked an irrepressible sense of crisis in the First Prince; he feared he would be unable to contain Henry’s ascent.

The First Prince’s heart was a tempest of conflict. He wanted to leverage Henry’s victory to elevate his own status, yet he feared that Henry’s growing influence would one day threaten his future.

’How can I use Henry while still maintaining my own dominance?’

Perhaps he needed to handle his relationship with Henry more carefully—outwardly showing appreciation and support, while secretly guarding against the potential threat Henry posed to his position.

But that was all easier said than done. Taking actual action was another matter entirely.

The agents he had dispatched earlier were still operating in Westwood Laine.

According to the intelligence they sent back, the situation was not promising.

Henry’s fiefdom was an iron-clad fortress. The First Prince’s infiltration plans had met with immense resistance, and aside from throwing obscene amounts of money at the problem, he couldn’t think of any other solution.

Initially, the First Prince had wanted to start with Henry’s army. Henry’s success was built on the strength of his soldiers and the effectiveness of his military.

If he could divide and conquer Henry’s forces, the Baron would be rendered powerless—or so it would seem to outsiders, at least.

But as it turned out, from the commanding officers down to the lowest grunts, no one in Henry’s army gave his agents the time of day. They happily accepted all the bribe money, but didn’t lift a finger to do what was asked.

’Son of a bitch, they were being played for suckers!’

The First Prince’s own spymaster was grinding his teeth in fury; more than half of the operational funds the Prince had provided had been swindled away.

’These eastern grasslands, so far from the heart of the empire, are truly full of uncouth savages!’ He had no choice but to swallow this bitter pill and suffer in silence, unable to voice his grievance.