There were three major paths for a knight to achieve prominence.
First, participating in large-scale territorial wars or crusades to reclaim holy lands and proving their valor on the battlefield.
Second, demonstrating religious faith and devotion to join a church-affiliated knightly order, thereby gaining recognition for their piety and moral authority from the church.
However, both of these paths were incredibly difficult and harsh.
It wasn’t just about achieving remarkable feats on the battlefield; maintaining a life of austerity to win the favor of the powerful church was equally demanding.
The Third path,
Swearing allegiance to a noble who owned land, earning a fief in return, or strengthening one’s influence in the aristocratic society through a strategic marriage with a prominent noble family.
“Would you consider becoming my vassal?”
The path Count Bogenberg offered was the third. Swearing loyalty to a liege lord, receiving a fief in return, and establishing a vassal relationship.
Keldric found himself at a loss. The tournament was still ongoing, and no victor had yet been determined.
Typically, such proposals were extended to knights who excelled in the tournament, like its champion.
Why then was such an offer being made to Keldric, who had just completed the matches on the third day of the tournament?
“Count Bogenberg, it is truly an honor to hear such words from you. However, regarding the vassal relationship you mentioned…”
“I would grant you a fief. There’s a fine village not far from here.”
Count Bogenberg’s offer was not just extraordinary; it was revolutionary.
Even Kuno, the steward standing beside the count, was glaring at Keldric as if to protest that this proposal made no sense.
Keldric’s concerns deepened. This proposal was clearly absurd, which made it all the more suspicious.
‘Why me?’
The most puzzling aspect was why Count Bogenberg had singled him out for this vassal relationship.
As far as Keldric could tell, Count Bogenberg didn’t appear to lack loyal retainers. According to rumors Keldric had heard earlier, the problem was more about existing retainers feeling their positions threatened.
While vassals and retainers had slightly different roles and significance, the idea of Count Bogenberg giving up rights to a village near the city just to recruit Keldric was incomprehensible.
Thus, Keldric simply rolled his eyes silently, trying to decipher the count’s intentions.
Count Bogenberg was a noble with good relations with Baron Yaben, someone Keldric had no reason to distrust.
However, nobles didn’t always need reasons to harbor ill intentions. In fact, they could easily fabricate reasons if needed.
For instance, one might claim unease at the possibility of Keldric defecting to a rival noble.
“Does my proposal not please you?”
“To be honest, I cannot help but feel suspicious.”
“From your perspective, that’s understandable. I won’t force you. I’d be glad if you accepted my offer, but after all, it’s just the two of us here, isn’t it?”
Count Bogenberg’s words carried a dual meaning.
He would be pleased if Keldric accepted the vassal relationship. However, even if Keldric declined, it wouldn’t harm the count’s reputation significantly since this wasn’t a public setting.
Vassal contracts were, by their nature, agreements formed through mutual consent.
No matter how great Count Bogenberg’s authority was, he couldn’t force Keldric into such a relationship. Doing so would likely damage the count’s honor and dignity instead.
Of course, if Keldric were to completely disregard tradition and outright reject the count’s offer, it could turn into a matter of face for Count Bogenberg.
But such a situation hadn’t arisen, and Keldric wasn’t the type to act in such a manner.
“Count Bogenberg, it is a great honor to receive your proposal, but given the weight of the matter, I will need more time to consider it.”
“Of course. I didn’t expect an immediate answer. I may have proposed this too suddenly.”
“Thank you.”
As Keldric maintained a courteous demeanor, Count Bogenberg nodded in agreement, albeit with a slightly surprised expression.
Even as he left the room, Keldric remained troubled by the count’s sudden proposal.
Keldric knew little about noble conflicts or politics.
While he could learn about such matters over time, the immediate problem before him required resolution.
For now, Keldric decided to address the most pressing issue.
At that moment, Alyssa, who had been waiting outside the room alongside Sir Tolle, caught Keldric’s eye.
“Alyssa.”
“Ah, Sir Keldric. Was your discussion fruitful?”
“…I’m not sure.”
Yet, it felt a bit awkward to ask Alyssa for advice, given the gravity of the situation.
There must have been a reason Count Bogenberg had called him separately. Was it wise to share this with Alyssa and seek her counsel?
“That thing we were talking about earlier… you said it might be for political purposes?”
After some hesitation, Keldric decided to start by asking about Count Bogenberg.
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“You’re more cautious than I expected.”
Count Bogenberg, who had been sitting with his eyes closed, opened them.
By the warm fireplace, Kuno, the castle steward, stood upright and took half a step closer to the count’s side.
“Most knights would have leapt at the opportunity with fiery enthusiasm.”
“…That’s true.”
As Kuno suggested, it was indeed surprising that Keldric had not accepted the proposal outright.
It was the sort of offer that other knights would have eagerly accepted, practically drooling over the opportunity, yet Keldric had remained cautious throughout his conversation with Count Bogenberg.
In a word, it was unknightly behavior.
Count Bogenberg recalled Keldric’s performance in the tournament.
‘With such exceptional skill, he could have easily been arrogant…’
The count himself had experienced territorial wars and even participated in a crusade to reclaim holy lands.
When a country’s king joined such campaigns, there was no reason for a count like Bogenberg to abstain.
During these endeavors, he had encountered countless knights. Sir Werner of the Henzer family, nicknamed the “Raven,” Sir Guillaume of the Montclair family, known as the “Azure Knight,” and Sir Theodore of the Mistfall family, the “Silver Lion.”
Count Bogenberg’s mind lingered on Sir Theodore, his long-time friend.
Even now, Theodore’s strong physique and wise demeanor remained mostly unchanged from the days of their campaign together over twenty years ago.
But knights were individuals who lived by the sword.
It was undeniable that time and age eventually took their toll.
“Your Excellency, what do you think of Sir Keldric?”
“Sir Keldric is…”
At Kuno’s question, Count Bogenberg once again pictured the young knight he had met earlier.
Compared to Sir Theodore, who had inevitably aged, Keldric seemed to embody the potential Theodore had displayed in his youth: a balance of humility, wisdom, and exceptional martial skill.
“A fine knight.”
Because of this, Count Bogenberg felt an even greater desire to secure Keldric’s allegiance. He was, perhaps, growing a little impatient.
If Keldric were to win the tournament outright, other nobles would certainly flock to him with their offers.
Even so, Count Bogenberg believed he could present the best terms. A single fief meant little to him in the grand scheme of things.
Even if Keldric refused today’s terms, the count was confident that, one way or another, Keldric would one day wield his sword in service to him.
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Keldric arrived at a quiet spot within the castle and turned to Alyssa.
“Can you explain now?”
“Yes. Well then, ahem…”
It was clear that the unresolved concerns, even with the tournament still underway, were weighing heavily on him.
Lingering too long without making a decision didn’t seem wise, and outright ignoring Count Bogenberg’s proposal was undoubtedly the worst option.
Keldric knew he needed to give an answer as soon as possible.
“Before I begin, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Go ahead.”
“What I’m about to share includes some of my personal opinions. Please keep that in mind.”
“Naturally. I’ll listen and decide for myself.”
“Good. Then… we must start by discussing the Emperor.”
“…The Emperor?”
Keldric’s brow furrowed. The mention of the Emperor caught him off guard, making him realize the matter was far more complex than he initially thought.
“This all began four years ago, when the Emperor suddenly summoned a shepherd boy to the imperial court.”
Four years ago, the Emperor had brought a shepherd boy from a village to the court.
The boy appeared to have no idea who the Emperor was, but the Emperor embraced the boy upon his arrival, breaking into tears.
The courtiers were momentarily stunned, but what truly shocked them—and indeed, shook the empire—was the Emperor’s declaration about the boy.
“The Emperor announced that the boy was his illegitimate child.”
Years ago, during his youth, the Emperor had an affair with a commoner woman, and the child she bore was this shepherd boy.
Naturally, the court was thrown into chaos. The uproar spread beyond the palace, fueling heated disputes among the electors, who periodically voted to appoint the Emperor.
The legitimacy of imperial authority was thrown into question due to the recognition of an illegitimate child.
Already tense political circumstances within the empire boiled over into a series of territorial skirmishes.
Some nobles rallied in support of the Emperor and his illegitimate son, while others vehemently opposed the move. The result was nothing short of a bloodbath.
Of course, if the Emperor had other legitimate heirs, the situation might not have escalated to such extremes.
“The Emperor has no other children. What’s more, he seems inclined to pass the imperial throne to the shepherd boy.”
The title of Emperor in the empire was technically an elected position.
The electors, a group of seven, consisted of three ecclesiastical electors, including archbishops, and four secular electors who were hereditary nobles.
However, while it was officially an elected position, the reality was far from fair or rotational.
The electors were power-hungry, and any ruler who ascended to the throne often sought to consolidate scattered imperial authority and turn it into a hereditary succession.
Indeed, several families had succeeded in using political influence to secure the throne for multiple generations. The current Emperor had attempted to do the same.
The problem lay in the fact that the chosen successor was not only a mere shepherd boy but also an illegitimate child.
“At the time, rumors were everywhere. People kept asking how it was possible for the emperor to have an illegitimate child when he didn’t even have an heir yet. There was so much talk.”
“That makes sense.”
“Even if the child were truly illegitimate, it would still cause problems.”
An illegitimate child couldn’t inherit a noble family’s legacy.
If there were no legitimate heirs, the inheritance would pass to siblings or, in the absence of siblings, to the closest relatives.
If none of those options worked, under extraordinary circumstances, an illegitimate child could inherit.
However, that was more of a theoretical possibility. Handing down the throne, not just a regular noble title, to an illegitimate child was beyond crossing a line, it was unthinkable.
Still, the emperor, claiming the boy was his child, elevated the sixteen-year-old to the title of Count of Rasau.
“The Count of Rasau title was practically nominal. The Rasau region had already been split up and divided among other territories.”
“So, granting the title of Count of Rasau in that situation meant…”
“Exactly. It meant the emperor was intent on reclaiming land from the nobles who had divided it and asserting his authority over them.”
By granting the now-empty title of Count of Rasau to the illegitimate child, the emperor managed to strip land from the nobles under the guise of legality, significantly weakening their power.
It was a bold strategy. The emperor essentially wagered his authority on a direct confrontation.
Unable to tolerate it, some nobles in the empire formed a faction opposing the emperor’s decision, centered around dissenting electors.
Out of the seven electors, four opposed the emperor’s decision, while the remaining three sided with him.
Among the opposing electors was Count Bogenberg.
“While the anti-emperor faction has one more vote among the electors, that doesn’t necessarily mean things will go their way.”
“Cooperation must be difficult, then.”
“Exactly.”
Three electors had already been promised power and land by the emperor, swaying them to his side.
Even if the remaining four opposed him, there was no guarantee one of them wouldn’t eventually switch sides.
Electors fundamentally couldn’t trust one another. Without trust, cooperation was naturally out of the question.
On top of that, some electors were so proud that they outright hated the idea of collaborating with others.
Unlike the pro-emperor faction, which had the emperor as its central figure, the anti-emperor faction lacked any unifying leader, further complicating matters.
“Due to geographical factors, Count Bogenberg has been clashing the most fiercely with Count Rasau. And under him are…”
“Count Gofried is on Count Rasau’s side, and on Count Bogenberg’s side, there’s Count Yaben.”
“Exactly. It’s essentially turned into a proxy war.”
No matter how much the emperor’s actions aimed to strengthen imperial authority, the newly empowered Count of Rasau was now full of ambition.
Gone was the shepherd boy; the moment he received power from the emperor, he began gathering his own faction, revealing himself to be anything but ordinary.
“The reason Count Bogenberg is under attack from Count Rasau is simple. It ties back to the issue of the electors.”
The proposal was to either expand the electoral council to eight members or remove one member and replace them with the Count of Rasau.
The target for removal, due to geographical proximity, was Count Bogenberg.
If successful, this would grant the emperor an additional vote in the electoral council, significantly weakening the anti-emperor faction.
“Right now, territorial battles are erupting across the empire. It’s likely that Count Bogenberg will soon have to make a decisive move.”
“….”
“And the place where it all begins will likely be…”
The Barony of Yaben, which directly borders the Barony of Gofried.
Even Keldric could see that if someone wanted to assert authority and project influence into the north, starting a battle in those two regions made the most sense.
“Count Bogenberg must be fighting a tough battle. He can’t rely on help from the other electors, who are uncooperative, and instead, he has to face Count Rasau, who enjoys significant support, head-on.”
“……”
“The reason Count Bogenberg went out of his way to host this tournament before Lent is likely… because of that.”
Even with Lent approaching, someone like Count Bogenberg could have easily smoothed things over with the church and hosted a more lavish event.
Yet, instead, he chose to hold a relatively modest gathering, citing the Lent season. He even declared that the tournament was in honor of Saint Benancio, showing respect for the church’s authority.
This allowed him to secure support from the three archbishops among the electors while simultaneously bolstering his legitimacy and influence through the church.
His proposal of vassalage to Keldric was born from this political landscape.
Every bit of support mattered.
Every capable knight was valuable.
Keldric’s martial prowess was impressive—so much so that it seemed to unnerve even Count Bogenberg, who was usually composed.
The decision, however, lay with Keldric.
Caught in the turbulent politics of the empire, facing forces that defied order and tradition, Count Bogenberg was in a precarious position.
Keldric pondered deeply. But one thing was clear to him:
‘As long as I don’t side with them, I’ll be fine.’
The faction he would serve, at the very least, would not be that of Count Rasau.