Knight: Becoming King of the World

If the Prince was unable to achieve a decisive victory in the Northern Lands’ snowfields, his standing in the eyes of the Emperor and the imperial nobility would be severely impacted.

This was not merely a military contest, but a political gambit.

In the Empire’s power structure, every decision and action could trigger a chain reaction.

The atmosphere inside the tent grew somewhat complex. The nobles began to discuss in low voices, their minds constantly calculating.

This transaction could bring them immense wealth, but it could also drag them into a political whirlpool.

The nobles present knew full well that once someone started a rebellion, it would spread like wildfire.

It was not merely an act of defiance against existing authority, but also an expression of the thirst for power and discontent with the status quo.

Once someone made the attempt, even if they failed, the act itself would ignite the ambitions of many more. It would make them feel that the Emperor was not so unassailable, nor the Empire’s rule so indestructible.

The repercussions of rebellion were far-reaching and complex. It was not merely a matter of local chaos, but a challenge to the very legitimacy of the Empire’s rule.

The nobles in attendance exchanged glances, each with their own calculations running through their minds.

’Should we... raise the price?’

The Counts from across the Empire were already dissatisfied with the Emperor’s increasingly firm central control, and the turmoil of recent years had only fanned the flames of their ambition.

Some of them had already begun to secretly amass power, preparing to strike at the opportune moment.

’If the Emperor is old and the Prince is a failure, why don’t we take over ourselves?’ Such thoughts began to quietly take root in the minds of certain nobles.

Henry’s brow furrowed slightly. He could feel the atmosphere in the tent shifting.

What had begun as simple greed for wealth was now becoming tainted with a thirst for power.

He knew these nobles were not satisfied with merely selling off their loot. They wanted more.

Henry’s gaze was sharp, as if it could pierce the fog of uncertainty in each noble’s mind.

Honestly, he hadn’t expected the Empire’s nobles to be so indifferent to the Imperial Family’s rule.

’This is the Prince, the future King, perhaps even the future Emperor! And yet no one is willing to lend him a hand right now, to give him the support and aid he needs?’

As Henry currently saw the Empire’s situation, the Prince was not just its heir, but a symbol of the entire nation’s stability and prosperity.

He had always believed that even amidst power struggles, most of the Empire’s nobles would maintain a basic level of respect and loyalty toward the Imperial Family.

But now, what he saw was an attitude bordering on cold indifference, an anticipation and readiness for a transfer of power.

Henry didn’t believe everyone was short-sighted, but when the majority of people were uninterested in the Imperial heir, and even gossiped about his incompetence behind his back, that spoke volumes.

The pervasiveness of this attitude wasn’t just a vote of no confidence in the Prince personally, but a sign of disrespect for the entire Imperial Family.

It showed that the nobles’ loyalty was no longer founded on reverence for the Imperial Family, but on the pursuit of personal gain.

Henry gave a silent smile. ’I never would have guessed. I thought I was being ambitious enough, but compared to these people, I’m a paragon of loyalty!’

Henry stood up. His movements were calm and composed, yet every noble present could feel the authority emanating from him.

Countess Ratifa Villarreal’s brow furrowed slightly. She, too, felt an oppressive presence from the tall, powerful man before her.

’Is this the same young, naive Knight I saw before? Wait... has he gotten taller?’

Henry cleared his throat. His voice was not loud, but it was enough to bring all discussion in the tent to an abrupt halt.

"My friends, I believe you need some time to digest this proposal."

Henry’s gaze swept over every noble present. "But before that, Countess Ratifa, there are some things I wish to discuss with you in private."

The nobles exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of surprise and reluctance.

They didn’t know what Henry wanted to discuss with Countess Ratifa Villarreal, but the proposal to trade loot and the enemy’s fiefdoms involved immense profits for them.

Asking them to leave? It was as painful as forcing them to give up the Gold Coins already in their grasp.

They didn’t dare defy Henry; they weren’t that bold. It was just... their backsides were "stuck" to their chairs.

Viscount Carl Yang was the first to speak, his voice tinged with a hint of pleading. "Baron Henry, this proposal is very important to us. We hope we might be allowed to stay and listen..."

He was cut off by Henry before he could finish.

Henry’s tone was firm and left no room for argument. "Viscount Carl Yang, I understand how you feel, but some matters require a private discussion. Please leave for now. We will give you an answer as soon as possible."

Viscount Carl Yang gritted his teeth but rose to his feet. With a lingering, reluctant glance at the large chests, he departed from the command tent.

The other nobles were also familiar with Henry’s temper. They knew that if they insisted, it would likely backfire.

With Viscount Carl Yang gone, they had even less courage to remain. Despite their deep reluctance, they slowly rose and departed from the tent, their unwillingness plain to see.

Their steps were slow, and they kept looking back, their eyes glued to the chests filled with Gold Coins.

Once the last noble had departed and the tent flap was lowered, Henry turned to Countess Ratifa, his expression turning serious.

"Countess, now we can have a proper talk."

Henry’s tone grew earnest. "I want to know what kind of difficulties the Prince’s military supply mission has encountered to require such a vast sum of Gold Coins to resolve."

Countess Ratifa gave a faint smile, as if she had long anticipated this question from Henry.

She elegantly adjusted her posture before speaking. "Baron Henry, you are a clever man. I imagine you’ve already guessed a few things."

Henry nodded. He did have his suspicions, but he needed more information to confirm them.

He said nothing, simply waiting quietly for Countess Ratifa to continue.

Countess Ratifa continued, "The Prince’s army has run into some difficulties in the war on the Northern Lands’ snowfields—difficulties that cannot be solved by military might alone."

We need more resources, more support, to help the Prince stabilize his front and ultimately achieve victory."

Henry’s brow furrowed slightly. ’In a campaign, the greatest need isn’t military strength, but... more resources?’

’What’s going on? Have they already started fighting a war of attrition in the Northern Lands?’

It wasn’t that Henry was unimaginative, but compared to the surrounding powers, the Empire was a superpower packed with highly advanced technology.

Its resources were abundant, its weapons advanced, and its logistics efficient.

’It’s a first-rate power, second to none!’

Countess Ratifa Villarreal pressed her lips together. After studying Henry’s face for a few seconds, she said with equal gravity, "Baron Henry, we can’t kill all the enemies."

Henry: ???

’Huh? What kind of reason is that?’

’Don’t tell me the enemies can resurrect? That would be too bizarre.’

"Countess, I hope you can be a bit more specific."

Ratifa sighed. "Baron, there are too many of them. We have no way of knowing just how many soldiers the principalities of the Kyivan Rus’ actually have."

Their combat effectiveness is low and their equipment is poor, but their numbers are despair-inducingly vast."

"Did you know? In the Legions of the Northern Lands, many soldiers have fought until their blades have grown dull, or even shattered!"

Henry didn’t understand how an enemy that had once fled in disgrace could now possess such numbers.

But if there were truly too many enemies to kill...

Henry looked at the still-garbled system panel, a glint in his eyes.