FL - Chapter 78: Recognition and Reward

At last, the autumn winds brought a lull to the war in the Northlands.

The Imperial army's steady advance had achieved every strategic objective Duke Edmund had set. Snowsworn remnants had been purged from Imperial territory, the northern defensive line was secure, and the enemy had been driven back into Ice Sea County and Snowfall County. Those two counties would become the main battlegrounds of next year's decisive campaign.

And now—it was time to tally the results and bestow rewards.

Dukes, generals, and landed nobles gathered in Frostspear City to mark the end of this two-to-three-month phase of the war.

Louis arrived at Frostspear City a day ahead of schedule. The moment he entered the city, he was summoned directly to the council hall within the main keep.

This was his second meeting with Duke Edmund.

The first had been half a year ago, when Louis came to register his territory. Edmund had received him with casual indifference. At best, he had considered the young noble an ambitious pup, marginally better than the useless scions sent up from the South.

This time, the atmosphere could not have been more different.

The young man before him looked no different, and his cultivation remained low. Yet the moment Louis entered the hall, Edmund smiled with open satisfaction. "You handled Clearfeather Ridge beautifully."

He walked directly up to Louis and, in a rare gesture, clapped him on the shoulder—an action he normally reserved only for legion commanders or his most trusted advisors.

"Barely more than a hundred knights. A night assault on a vital choke point. Eight hundred wolf riders annihilated—and Snowsworn elites at that. You lured them in, set an ambush, used Mana Blast Bombs, and brought down half a mountainside. Every trick was more ruthless than the last." Wry amusement entered his voice. "None of it sounds like the work of someone your age."

Facing this praise, Louis showed neither excitement nor the swaggering pride typical of a young man. He merely inclined his head slightly. "Had Clearfeather Ridge fallen, the rear would have collapsed. I only did my duty."

The words were humble, but they could not conceal the confidence beneath them. Edmund's approval deepened.

"Both Bond and Gibson praised you in their letters as 'a pillar of the Northlands' future.' I assumed they were flattering me. But now I admit it." He nodded, his expression turning serious. "Even if I had been in your position, I'm not certain I could have done better."

Edmund paused, a wry, self-reflective smile tugging at his lips.

"It seems these old eyes of mine have truly gone half blind. I nearly lumped you in with those soft-boned nobles who can do nothing but preen and posture."

"Baron Calvin—this time, you've done me a tremendous service."

He clapped Louis on the shoulder once more. "Tomorrow's commendation ceremony. I think you'll like the reward I've prepared."

……

Frostspear City's grand banquet hall was dressed in its finest today.

Battle banners of the Northlands' great houses lined the walls, stirring in the draft and silently proclaiming generations of glory. Horns sounded, and the great doors swung open.

Silver-armored knights filed through the entrance in formation, marching in lockstep into the hall. Their grim, measured cadence pushed the atmosphere to its peak.

Duke Edmund strode into the hall beneath the weight of every gaze. His towering frame was like a fortress wall. As he ascended the main dais, everyone rose to their feet unbidden, hands raised in salute.

The commendation ceremony formally began.

And in a front-row seat below the dais, a young man sat quietly.

Louis Calvin—a colonization baron from the South, and the only young noble in the front row who did not belong to an old northern house. Surrounded by counts and viscounts with vast estates and generations of seniority, he could not have looked more conspicuous.

"Who is that? Some southern whelp?"

"A colonization baron? Sitting *there*?"

Murmurs rippled through the assembly like hidden currents. Some northern nobles cast appraising glances his way—some contemptuous, some questioning. A few even wore undisguised distaste. They refused to accept that a boy with no foundation in the Northlands had been placed on equal footing with themselves.

Yet beneath the weight of all those stares and whispers, Louis's expression did not flicker. He simply sat there—quiet, unobtrusive.

Edmund stood on the high platform and let his voice carry across the banquet hall:

"In the name of the Empire, and as Governor of the Northlands, I thank every commander, every soldier, every subject who never took a step backward. You have held the Northlands with your blood and your iron will."

He paced across the dais, his voice rising.

"The Snowsworn burned our cities, took our people, slaughtered the innocent. They sought to awaken the ghosts of the dead Snow Kingdom and tear apart the Empire's borders. They were wrong. You proved it to them—with blade and blood—that the Northlands will never yield! It was your unity, your valor, that keeps the Empire's banners flying above the snowfields still. I am proud of every one of you! Next year, we will finish them in Ice Sea County and Snowfall County—once and for all!

"But today—today we honor the brave. Today we bestow what is earned. Because the Empire does not forget the warriors who fight for her!"

As Duke Edmund took his seat, a military adjutant ascended the steps, unfurled a long scroll of parchment, and proclaimed in a ringing voice:

"By the judgment of the Frostspear City Military Review Council, the phased commendation roster for the Snowsworn extermination campaign is hereby announced!"

Silence fell over the hall. Every breath was held. Every gaze turned toward the dais.

The adjutant read in a loud, clear voice: "First in merit—Count Albert. Commanded the Third Legion's southern campaign against Snowsworn guerrilla forces. Eliminated three thousand seven hundred enemy troops. Captured three enemy strongholds. Secured the Windcape Canyon defensive line… Awarded the 'Shield of the Northlands' Medal, thirty thousand Gold Coins, an additional seven hundred and seventy-two square miles of territory, and one thousand six hundred military warhorses…"

Count Albert, a powerfully built man in his forties, rose from his seat and walked expressionlessly up the steps. He dropped to one knee. Edmund personally pinned the Shield of the Northlands Medal to his chest.

The hall remained solemn. No one questioned the merit of a commander who had mobilized four thousand men and swept the enemy remnants from the south.

The adjutant continued: "Second in merit—Count Grant. Coordinated local forces with the First Border Legion. Cleared Snowsworn infiltrators from Mistpine County. Destroyed seven enemy strongholds. Captured twenty-one collaborators… Awarded the 'Shield of the Northlands' Medal, fifteen thousand Gold Coins, and an additional five hundred and seventy-nine square miles of territory…"

This time, a white-haired old noble rose. Stern and solemn, he climbed the steps and bowed to receive his honors. His prestige in the Northlands was immense. For this campaign, he had personally mobilized an entire county's forces and stabilized the northwestern front. Both his seniority and his achievements placed him beyond question.

Thunderous applause filled the hall.

At that moment, the adjutant raised his head and spoke the third name.

It stunned every person in the hall into bewildered silence.