Helpless and defeated, the remaining Kaedweni cavalry finally dismounted, their faces ashen and hollow.
One by one, they threw their weapons onto the blood-soaked ground. The clatter of steel echoed dully across the battlefield as they joined the infantry, heads lowered, surrendering in silence. The chaos of battle gradually faded, replaced by an uneasy stillness broken only by groans of the wounded and the crackle of dying fires.
Amid countless gazes filled with awe, fear, and disbelief, Karl dragged Henselt forward like a beaten animal. The once-arrogant Kaedweni king now looked no different from a stray dog. Karl strode through the quieting battlefield without haste, his armor stained with blood and dust.
Reaching the open ground before Foltest, Karl casually tossed Henselt aside as if discarding refuse.
"Ugh—"
Henselt let out a pained groan as his body hit the earth. He curled into himself instinctively, trembling, not even daring to struggle to his feet.
Beside King Foltest stood his personal guards, their weapons still drawn. Among them was another man of obvious status—a middle-aged noble clad in elaborately engraved plate armor, a crown resting upon his head. Though dignified, his crown was smaller and far less ornate than Foltest's.
This was Voesemir, Duke of Erlend.
Karl's gaze swept calmly over the assembled nobles and officers. In the crowd, he noticed two familiar figures desperately trying to shrink into the background.
Bacari of Carias and the Lord of Dondel.
Their faces were drained of all color, eyes darting nervously. Neither dared to meet Karl's gaze. They looked as though they wished the earth would open and swallow them whole.
Karl paid them no further attention. Turning toward Foltest, he placed his right hand over his chest, preparing to bow in proper knightly fashion.
Just as he was about to move, a fleeting trace of wariness flashed across Foltest's eyes.
What Karl had displayed today could no longer be described as mere strength. His martial prowess far exceeded the bounds of human capability. It was power that bordered on the inhuman—power capable of shaping the outcome of an entire battle single-handedly.
For a king, such power inevitably inspired fear.
A profound sense of unease rose within Foltest's heart. He could not help but wonder whether this lord before him was still someone he could truly control.
Yet another thought quickly followed, tempering his anxiety.
Karl did not appear to be a sorcerer.
He had not relied on spells, incantations, or arcane tools. Nor did he appear connected to the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. Everything he had shown stemmed purely from his physical body and refined martial skill.
Moreover, Karl was a Temerian noble. Their interests, at least for now, were closely aligned.
These facts eased Foltest's mind somewhat.
Still, one doubt lingered.
Was Karl truly not a sorcerer?
He needed absolute certainty.
"Dispense with the formalities!" Foltest said suddenly, his voice ringing out with warmth and authority. "Karl, you have done exceptionally well—far beyond my expectations!"
He stepped forward as he spoke, a gentle, cordial smile appearing on his face.
"You not only saved this battle, but also captured the monarch of an enemy nation," Foltest continued loudly. "You have proven your loyalty to Temeria, your courage, and your honor!"
As he spoke, Foltest raised his hand, clearly intending to pat Karl's shoulder in a gesture of intimacy and royal favor.
Instantly, the guards around him stiffened.
They stepped forward almost in unison, weapons shifting to block the space between king and knight.
"Your Majesty!" several guards exclaimed urgently. "You must not!"
Even these battle-hardened veterans could not help but fear Karl after witnessing his terrifying display. They instinctively worried that such a being might pose a threat even to the king himself.
Foltest understood their concern. With a calm wave of his hand, he signaled them to stand down.
"It is fine," he said evenly. "If Karl truly wished to harm me, you would not be able to stop him regardless."
He glanced deliberately at Karl, his words carrying both confidence and a subtle declaration.
"If I, as the ruler of a nation, grow suspicious simply because a subject displays extraordinary bravery," Foltest continued, "how can I govern my realm or command the loyalty of my people?"
Hearing this, the guards reluctantly lowered their weapons and stepped back into position, though their eyes never left Karl.
Foltest approached once more, closing the distance until the demeritium woven into his armor would have a noticeable effect on any spellcaster.
Maintaining a relaxed posture, he observed Karl closely, watching for the smallest reaction.
Karl's expression remained calm and composed.
He even took the initiative to remove his helmet, revealing a steady gaze and a face unmarked by fatigue or strain. He bowed slightly, his movements controlled and respectful.
"Your Majesty, you honor me," Karl said in a firm yet measured voice. "Defending our homeland and its people is the duty of every Temerian citizen—and even more so, of every knight who has been granted a title."
He paused briefly, then continued without hesitation.
"To fulfill one's duty should never be for the sake of reward."
The words were flawless—everything expected of a loyal knight.
Outwardly, Karl appeared sincere and resolute. Inwardly, however, his thoughts moved rapidly.
The power he had revealed today was enough to alarm any monarch. Capturing an enemy king only amplified that concern. If he were to openly ask for rewards now, it could easily be interpreted as ambition or arrogance.
That would be dangerous.
So instead, he chose restraint—advancing by retreating, leaving the initiative in Foltest's hands.
Foltest was momentarily taken aback.
'Perhaps I truly am overthinking this,' he mused. 'Could Karl genuinely be a paragon of loyalty and knightly virtue?'
At the same time, his eyes never stopped observing.
At such close proximity, the suppressive effect of demeritium should have been obvious if Karl possessed magical abilities. Sorcerers like Triss and Fercart had shown clear signs—dizziness, weakness, sluggish magic flow—whenever they approached too closely.
Karl, however, showed none of these symptoms.
His complexion was healthy, his breathing steady, his eyes clear and focused.
There was no discomfort, no unnatural tension.
At that moment, the final weight lifted from Foltest's heart.
He was now certain.
Karl was not a sorcerer.
His unprecedented power came solely from his physical body and martial discipline.
The last of Foltest's doubts dissolved, replaced by a profound sense of relief—and joy.
To possess such a powerful yet loyal subordinate was nothing short of a blessing for Temeria.
"Good! Well said!" Foltest laughed heartily, genuine delight ringing in his voice. "Loyalty should not seek reward, but great merit must be acknowledged!"
"If I failed to reward such achievements," he added, "would I not discourage loyal service?"
His gaze shifted past Karl, settling on the silent formation behind him.
The Blood Angels stood like statues, clad in dark red plate armor stained with the marks of battle. Not a single one moved or spoke, their presence alone radiating discipline and lethality.
A trace of admiration flashed through Foltest's eyes.
"Are those brave knights in dark red armor all under your command?" he asked.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Karl replied with a slight nod. "They are my guards from Terra. They are known as the Blood Angels."
"Blood Angels…" Foltest repeated thoughtfully. "A fine name—and a formidable presence."
He lowered his head briefly, deep in contemplation, as if weighing a significant decision.
All eyes around them fixed on the king. The battlefield, now silent, seemed to hold its breath.
After several long seconds, Foltest raised his head once more.
The smile on his face faded, replaced by an expression of solemn resolve.
A decision had been made.
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