Knight: Becoming King of the World

The Emperor had been far too considerate of him. It wasn’t normal. The Emperor had covered everything—the funds, time, and policies needed for development, and even external threats.

This was treatment befitting the First Prince. Was that reasonable? He was just a student.

It was just first place, after all. Common nobles envied the academy nobles, and the academy nobles envied the top student of their class. But there was a new top student every year. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced the walls of Lukaron and the city gates slowly opened, Henry led his retinue out of the bustling imperial capital.

He didn’t inquire about the Mysterious Merchant, nor did he visit any friends or colleagues.

Right now, he just wanted to get back to Vostrom as quickly as possible, then take all his men and horses back to Westwood Laine Castle.

Henry sat atop his horse, his gaze profound. The Emperor’s command seemed simple, but there had to be a deeper reason behind it.

The retinue advanced through the thin morning mist, the sound of hooves echoing on the silent imperial highway. Henry’s Attendants followed closely behind him, their eyes revealing their curiosity.

Henry hadn’t taken them out for food, drink, and fun this time they came to the imperial capital?

This wasn’t normal.

Henry glanced back at the receding city of Lukaron. He had entered and exited this city countless times before, but on this occasion, he felt an unprecedented sense of urgency.

’That damn old Emperor dares to scheme against me?’

Moreover, the Emperor hadn’t even asked about my special suit of armor?

’How is that possible? The Emperor’s spies are all over the empire. I’m 100% certain that some of his people have even moved to Westwood Laine Castle, disguised as Free People.’

’Then, that just proves one thing: the black armor that I considered my invincible life-saving talisman is nothing special in the Emperor’s eyes...’

Henry’s retinue continued along the road, passing through dense forests and across clear streams.

When they reached Vostrom, Henry didn’t stop, heading directly for the Mercenary Guild.

Just as Henry had expected, Carlos was waiting for him.

Henry’s absence these past few days had Carlos on pins and needles, terrified that someone else would beat him to the punch. He cursed himself for being too hasty and forgetting the most crucial detail: the price!

That’s right—Carlos had somehow forgotten to tell Henry how much money he was willing to offer!

Henry’s arrival was a pleasant surprise, and Carlos felt incredibly lucky.

"Baron, you’ve returned so quickly. It seems you’ve made your decision," Carlos said with a smile.

Henry nodded. "Yes, Carlos, I’ve thought it over. I’m willing to work with you and form a mercenary company."

"Excellent, Baron. Your decision will bring great benefits to us both."

They quickly discussed the details of their cooperation. Henry would provide a group of experienced veterans to form a mercenary company. All combat commissions and due spoils of war would belong to Henry’s company.

For example, if a Baron needed to hire a force of three hundred Skilled Infantry, the market rate would be five hundred Dinars per squad for a one-month contract.

The commission for these three squads of Skilled Infantry would then be fifteen hundred Dinars a month—all of which would go to Henry! Furthermore, the Mercenaries would still get their proper share of the spoils after any battle.

The profit margins were insane. A squad of Skilled Infantry only had a monthly salary of ninety-six Dinars, but as Mercenaries, they could earn five hundred Dinars a month.

Of course, anyone who needed to hire Mercenaries for a fight was likely looking for cannon fodder. This was money earned by risking one’s life.

A noble’s Private Army served him primarily out of a sense of social standing, honor, and dignity. Mercenaries, on the other hand, were in it purely for the thrill and the money, living on the edge of a blade.

As for how Henry would convince his army to risk their lives as Mercenaries just to make him rich, that wasn’t Carlos’s problem.

On this basis, Henry’s mercenary company would nominally belong to the Vostrom Mercenary Guild, meaning the "turnover" would be credited to Carlos.

Carlos needed to complete more contracts to raise the status of the Vostrom Mercenary Guild. Then, the guild masters from other cities would all look to him for leadership!

In addition to this, Carlos also promised to make his network of contacts available to Henry, allowing him to connect with more nobles and merchants for one-on-one communication.

"Carlos, I can’t deliver the army to you right away. It will be at least a month or two before your people can go to Ximira Castle to receive them."

Henry was being upfront. His army had suffered significant losses, and he couldn’t just transfer his current men directly to Carlos.

These elite troops were the army Henry needed to garrison Westwood Laine Castle and Ximira Castle.

Besides, Henry felt he was becoming a bit more "human." He no longer saw the soldiers who had followed him for so long as mere consumables.

These soldiers had advanced from recruits to infantry, then to Skilled Infantry and Senior Infantry, following him through more than ten major and minor campaigns. Henry had to admit he had grown attached to them.

Carlos thought for a moment and said, "Baron, I trust you’re a man of your word. But it would be best if you could deliver the army sooner rather than later. To be blunt, if this chaotic period ends, we won’t be able to make the big money anymore."

Henry laughed as well. It sounded inhuman to say it, but it was the truth.

The more chaotic things were, the more the common people suffered, and the more opportunities nobles and Mercenaries had to make money and build their reputations.

What was that saying again? If no one is injured, how can I show off my superb medical skills? If there are no enemies, how can I display my Martial Arts and Bravery?

"Alright. I guarantee I will deliver ten well-equipped infantry squads, capable of winning battles, before the end of December."

After signing the contract, Henry didn’t linger in Vostrom. He immediately led his men and horses back toward Westwood Laine Castle.

Henry’s army, with its horse-drawn carts, marched majestically past Danustika and Onira. After heading east and crossing the river that divided the central empire from the grasslands, they passed through several Baron’s and Viscount’s Domains, finally arriving near Odoche.

The army’s pace was neither fast nor slow—just average. The carts of the logistical supply train had nothing that could be abandoned; they were all carrying essential materials.

That went without saying for the food, but the same was true for the equipment left by fallen soldiers and the captured Lizardmen Obsidian Weapons. Not a single thing could be discarded.

On the second day after entering the Odoche region, several small military units began to circle around Henry’s army.

Their behavior was part surveillance, part tracking. Henry and his men soon recognized them as the armies of the nobles under Count John.

It seemed Count John was still deeply traumatized by the fact that Henry had conquered his Ximira Castle and killed seven Knights right in front of him.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be acting like a startled bird.

’A Baron with a force of just over a thousand men is just passing through your, a Count’s, domain, and you’re this scared? Have you no shame?!’

’Shameful!’

The feeling of being watched was certainly unpleasant, but in Henry’s eyes, they were more like "bodyguards."

One had to wonder if Count John and his nobles would jump up in anger if they knew what Henry was thinking.

Bain approached Henry with a frown and said in a low voice, "My lord, these guys don’t seem to pose a threat, but they are getting rather annoying."

Henry nodded. "Yes. They’re acting more like they’re protecting us than attacking us."

Bain frowned. "Protecting us? That’s very strange. We didn’t request any protection. Besides, why would Count John protect us? We’re his number one enemy."

Henry chuckled, a hint of irony in his smile. "Perhaps this is one of Count John’s schemes. He might be trying to use this method to ensure I don’t pose a threat to him again.

If I make a move against him, I’ll be violating the truce, and John can then ask the other nobles and the Emperor to punish me."

Philip, who was standing nearby, asked in confusion, "But why would Count John do that? We’ve been abiding by the law. There shouldn’t be any danger."

Henry looked at Philip and shook his head. "That’s just how nobles are. They’re always doing things that are hard to understand."

Henry glanced at Philip again. ’Hmm... he’s tanner and sturdier now. It seems the last year or two have changed him quite a bit.’

Henry’s army continued its march, and the small units followed them like shadows—like a series of tails trailing behind them on all sides.

Henry’s army wasn’t hindered in the slightest. On the contrary, the presence of these "bodyguards" actually made them feel more at ease.

This was because the local Bandits and robbers didn’t dare to come near, not even to take a look from a distance.

A few days later, Henry’s army arrived before the walls of Odoche.

The city walls were lined with soldiers and Militia, and the gates were shut tight, as if they were expecting an army to attack.

As his army passed the city and continued eastward, Henry glanced back at the small units. They had stopped outside the city and were not following.

Henry gave them a nod, a gesture of "thanks."

Although he didn’t know the true purpose of these units, they had indeed provided him with protection.

However, this gesture made Count John and the host of nobles on the wall’s arrow towers grind their teeth in fury!

"Damn that Henry! What’s the meaning of this?! He’s completely ignoring us!"

"This is a provocation! My honor as a noble has been insulted! If the Emperor’s mediated truce hadn’t still been in effect, I’d lead my army after him and cut off his head myself!"

"So arrogant! The young have no manners!"

Count John angrily slammed his hand on the wall and roared, "Enough! Isn’t this humiliating enough?! Cut off Henry’s head? Go on! Whoever can cut off his head, if the Emperor sentences you, I’ll take the blame! Which of you dares to go? Huh?!"

The nobles under Count John fell silent, lowering their heads and playing dead, which made the Count so furious he saw stars.