Knight: Becoming King of the World

Following Henry’s frequent campaigns over the past few years had not only broadened their horizons but also honed their military expertise.

Neither man was young anymore. Now in their middle years, they had an endless supply of things to discuss.

They reminisced about their youthful escapades, past adventures and challenges that felt as if they’d happened only yesterday. Then, they spoke of their present lives—the roles each played in the fiefdom under Henry’s leadership and their hopes for the future.

Amidst the steam of the bathhouse, their laughter rang out, as clear and uninhibited as it had been more than a decade ago. No matter how much time had passed, their bond remained unchanged.

Tommy’s brow suddenly furrowed, his tone turning serious. "Speaking of which, I need to bring up the issue of those hundred thousand serfs. With the Lord leaving with the main army, I can’t help but feel a little uneasy."

He paused for a moment before continuing, "While the number of soldiers and Militia we’re leaving behind isn’t low, it’s still far too small compared to a hundred thousand serfs. These serfs are all newcomers, unfamiliar with their surroundings. It would be easy for them to cause trouble."

Hearing this, Claude fell into deep thought as well. Tommy’s concerns were not unfounded; these new serfs were indeed a source of instability.

Westwood Laine had a mere five hundred Militia, three hundred sixty garrison infantrymen, seven squads of Grassland Warriors patrolling the villages and farms under its jurisdiction, and fifty Militia from the various villages.

And Westwood Laine Fort itself was hardly worth mentioning. One hundred Militia and three hundred sixty garrison infantrymen. And those three Heavy Cavalry and nine veteran shield-bearing Crossbowmen were little more than mascots. If they weren’t on the payroll, no one would even remember those old geezers existed.

Claude nodded in agreement. "You’re right. We need to discuss this properly with the Lord."

So, the two men relaxed in the bathhouse a while longer, allowing their minds and bodies to fully unwind. Once refreshed, they dressed, wrapped themselves in robes, and walked back to the castle together at a leisurely pace.

Inside the castle, Henry was busy with the last batch of documents. Tomorrow, he could finally leave with his army. ’Commanding troops is much more relaxing than this.’

Henry’s ears perked up. He looked up to see the two men approaching together and knew they must have something important to discuss.

He gestured for them to sit and set down his quill.

Tommy cleared his throat and got straight to the point. "My Lord, you know I’ve been worried about this business with the hundred thousand serfs. I’m afraid trouble will break out once you leave."

He elaborated on his concerns, including the serfs’ potential discontent, their difficulties adjusting to a new life, and the possible threats to public order.

Claude added, "Indeed, My Lord. We must figure out a way to ensure a smooth transition for these serfs, so they don’t cause any unnecessary trouble for the domain."

Henry fell silent for a moment after they finished.

He understood Tommy and Claude’s concerns. It was indeed a problem that couldn’t be ignored.

’And why hadn’t he brought it up before? Because he had genuinely forgotten about it!’

Henry thought for a moment, then said, "About these serfs... Tommy, you can increase the number of supervisors. At the same time, you must also strengthen their education and guidance. Make them understand their rights and obligations.

And to remember my benevolence."

’Huh? Benevolence?’ Tommy and Claude exchanged glances. ’Since when was it about benevolence? Isn’t loyalty what we’ve always emphasized in this domain?’

’But what Henry said was law. Since the Lord said the serfs needed to be educated—and that they must not forget his benevolence—then they would just have to find a way to do it.’

’And if anyone forgets the Lord’s benevolence, they’ll just have to be given a proper ’education.’’

The three of them then began to discuss the specific measures in detail: how to assign the serfs to the various villages, how to arrange their work and daily lives, and how to establish more effective mechanisms for communication and management.

Tommy had actually laid the groundwork for this before Henry’s recent elevation in rank, and he even had some contingency plans. He just never expected to have to handle such a massive influx all at once.

Soon, a series of concrete plans began to take shape.

As for the rest, it was all left to Tommy to implement.

There’s an old saying: discuss small matters in large meetings and large matters in small ones. Their three-person meeting soon concluded. Henry didn’t keep Claude and Tommy for dinner; after a simple meal by himself, he washed up briefly.

He walked into the bedroom to find Ailia already in bed, snuggled under the covers. The weather wasn’t cold, but she was tucked in anyway, waiting quietly for him.

The two fell asleep in each other’s arms. The next morning, sunlight streamed through a glass window—purchased from the southwestern coastal region—and fell upon Henry’s face. He opened his eyes and stretched lazily.

Today was an important day: his army was marching out.

He rose quickly, put on his crisp uniform, armed himself, and walked out of the bedroom.

Yes, Henry had "invented" the military uniform.

Soldiers, officers, and nobles alike wouldn’t wear full armor while on the march. It was too heavy, consumed too much energy, and slowed their pace.

But without armor, their attire was a motley mess. If it weren’t for their weapons and fit physiques, an outsider might think they were serfs who had just raided an armory.

So, Henry had commissioned proper military uniforms. The outfits for soldiers, officers, and Attendants were distinct, as were the uniforms for infantry, archers, and Cavalry. During battle, armor could simply be worn over the uniform. At the very least, it looked much more presentable.

’Looking good and stylish is what matters most!’ Henry had based the design on old French uniforms from the line infantry era, but due to technological limitations, they were merely similar in appearance.

Outside, the army was assembled and ready to march.

Company after company of soldiers marched out from the barracks, heading for the city gates. Each company had a standard-bearer who held their banner high, their steps firm and steady.

Each colorful banner represented a company of soldiers, fluttering brightly in the wind.

This system of banners was an enormous help when it came to commanding large-scale battles.

On the battlefield, when both sides descended into a chaotic melee, soldiers could use the banners to locate their comrades, regroup quickly, and re-establish their formations.

Visually, the endless sea of banners created the impression of a vast, unstoppable army, putting immense psychological pressure on the enemy.

This was especially true for an army with such a terrifyingly high victory rate.

The soldiers’ eyes shone with confidence. They believed, from the depths of their hearts, that their leader would without a doubt lead them to victory.

Henry had never bothered with things like uniforms and banners before. But now that his operation had grown, he was starting to pay attention to these finer details.

Mounted on his horse, Henry gazed at the orderly ranks, and with a single command, the army began its slow advance. The rhythmic clang of hooves and marching boots was powerful and resonant, creating an air of imposing might.

The townspeople lined the streets, watching Henry and his army depart. Their faces showed little emotion; they simply watched the scene unfold with a calm demeanor.

To them, it was a familiar sight. This was far from the first time their lord had led his army out from Westwood Laine on a campaign.

They had grown accustomed to the routine. They knew that every time Henry marched out, it was for the glory of their domain—and, by extension, for their own peace and security.

Henry’s army had been victorious in battle time and again through several great wars; it had become a tradition in the domain.

The people trusted in Henry’s ability, certain that he would lead his army to victory. They had no need for excessive worry; they simply had to wait for their lord to return with news of his triumph.

In the days following Henry’s departure, everyone would simply carry on with their daily lives. Farmers would toil in the fields, merchants would bustle about the market, and artisans would meticulously craft their wares in the Workshops. The elderly would sit before their doors, enjoying the warm sun.

The only thing they needed to do was wait for Henry’s victorious return, at which point they would stand on either side of the street, flowers in hand, raising their hands high to welcome their lord with the most thunderous applause and cheers.

At that time, all of Westwood Laine would be immersed in an atmosphere of joy and celebration.

But for now, all they had to do was wait.