"Let me stop you there, my lady. Please don't sell me dreams. If your connections were truly as powerful as you claim, you wouldn't need an alliance with my family."

Beginning with a county sounded tempting, but it brought equally serious problems. First among them, he suspected, would be a cuckold's horns.

In this era, a considerable portion of noblewomen led unruly private lives. It came down to the balance of power in the marriage: strong husband, meek wife; the wife didn't dare stray too far. True, harmonious couples existed, but they were the minority.

For many in this age, a set of horns meant nothing at all. You take your lovers, I'll take mine: it's a political marriage. So long as the children were Lothar's, the County of Augsburg would eventually fall to House Habsburg. If Count Werner were the one having this conversation, he'd likely accept with pleasure.

But the horns were only the first problem. Every knight and vassal in the county, every man-at-arms: their loyalty belonged to the Countess. And Lothar would immediately make an enemy of a powerful count backed by Henry the Lion himself. That would strangle his room to maneuver.

Besides, in the traditional Catholic world, any expansion was bound to alarm the neighbors. History proved the point: Henry the Lion had acquired Saxony and Bavaria in succession, then reached for the imperial throne, and the princes had formed an "Anti-Lion League" against him. The war dragged on for two years. Henry won, and was still exiled by the Emperor, his hand in the game of power lost forever.

Lothar had never underestimated this world's players simply because he had a gacha system. This world had witches wielding supernatural power. Where there were witches, there would be other supernatural forces to balance them: he just didn't know what they were yet.

Once he had thought it through, his resolve hardened. "My lady, I must respectfully decline."

The Countess's voice chilled. "Are you questioning the depth of House Kalff's resources, knight?"

Lothar shook his head. "Forgive me, my lady. I mean no offense. I merely believe that an elected emperor without personal strength would find his seat… precarious. Besides, Henry the Lion of House Welf, as the most powerful prince in the Empire, is the true contender for the throne."

Henry's influence in both Bavaria and Saxony was immense: he could match the Emperor blow for blow within the Empire's borders.

The Countess smiled faintly. "But don't you see? That is precisely why he can never take the throne. Young knight of House Habsburg: no one wants an overmighty master."

Lothar fell silent. She had a point. But the more he considered it, the more he felt that staying in Greater Germania would only constrain his growth. Even if he fought tooth and nail for an empty throne, he'd still face a realm full of entrenched opposition. Exhausting.

Far better to develop his power in the Holy Land first, then return one day at the head of an army.

"Forgive me, my lady. Your charms rival the stars above, but I am bound by a sacred duty to defend the Holy Land. My life's pursuit is to battle the infidel for the glory of the Heavenly Father. I must decline your kindness."

"Very well." The Countess's interest cooled. She knew a polite fiction when she heard one, and her manner frosted over at once. "Then name your reward. How shall I compensate you for your valor, Sir Lothar?"

Lothar did not hesitate. "Two warhorses. And some coin. As you know, the County of Aargau is poor; my father's support can only stretch so far."

"A worthy cause. I am glad to sponsor it." The Countess inclined her head. "You may pick your warhorses from the mounts the Magyars left behind: those are your rightful spoils regardless. In addition, I will gift you one hundred solidus coins of sound quality."

An ordinary warhorse was worth roughly ten gold solidi. The solidus was minted by the Eastern Empire; its purchasing power had once been ironclad, but as the empire declined, the coins grew more and more debased. The latest issue, however, was said to be over ninety percent pure: a return to form. It wasn't just the gold. The silver denarius was suffering the same rot.

One hundred solidi of good quality was a respectable sum. But it was only respectable. The horses the defeated Magyars left behind were, by themselves, worth more than that amount: never mind what the caravan might have lost had Lothar not appeared.

Still, calling it a cheat would be unfair. At root, Lothar had slain only six Magyar riders. The total value of his spoils, sold off, wouldn't reach a hundred solidi.

"Thank you for your generosity, my lady."

Lothar bowed. His face betrayed no dissatisfaction. The Countess gave a cold hum. "You're dismissed, you ungrateful savage." She turned and swept away.

Lothar smiled, unbothered. His attendant, who had been watching the exchange as though Lothar had lost his mind, placed the heavy coin pouch in his master's hand. Lothar walked away in excellent spirits. The rejection hadn't touched his mood: quite the opposite.

He'd come into a handsome sum and completed a Milestone. And he had finally tested himself in real combat and confirmed it: he was dangerous.

He decided he would use his card draw at the next stop.

That evening, they crossed into Tyrol and found lodgings at an inn in a small town. As before, Lothar shared a room with Prajna. The moment the door shut, he could barely contain himself. "Prajna! Tonight I'm summoning a new comrade for you. Might even be an old acquaintance."

In the game's backstory, Prajna had a reserved temperament, but her "Hell" faction housed many Retainers she knew well. Summon enough of the same faction and they would form Bonds, granting percentage-based stat boosts to all linked Retainers.

Prajna said nothing. She merely looked at him: the way one looks at a fool.

Lothar grinned, traced a cross before his chest, and prayed: "Heavenly Father above, please, I beg you, let this draw be five-star or six-star." He chose to draw.

The System chimed: Congratulations! You have received: 1★ Defense Retainer — Knight-in-Training.

Lothar's face went dark. One-star Retainers were the kind no player ever invested in past the forced tutorial. Even players who couldn't afford a full fleet of five- and six-stars would at least cobble together a three- or four-star lineup. The sole purpose of a one-star was to pollute the card pool.

Their stats were terrible, and their artwork was equally lazy: faces hidden behind hair or helmets, no proper name to speak of. Minimum effort at minimum cost. And this was the probability table he had set with his own hands. He had no one else to blame.

He ground his teeth, but there was nothing to do but accept reality. Come forth, Knight-in-Training.

A man in iron armor and a face-concealing helm materialized in the room. There was none of the blazing golden radiance that had accompanied Prajna's arrival: no sense of a god descending to earth.

**Name:** Hans

**Rarity:** Common (1★)

**Level:** 1

**Affinity:** Cold

**STR:** 10

**AGI:** 7

**STA:** 10

**END:** 8

**SPI:** 5

**Skills:** None

**Description:** A knight-in-training of the Teutonic Order State of Prussia, which has persisted since the late medieval era. Trained rigorously in the knightly arts from childhood, they are excellent warriors on the field of battle.

Just a flash of white light, and the Knight-in-Training was summoned. Lothar looked him over. The man cut a far more imposing figure than his card art suggested.

He wore a white surcoat marked with the black cross emblem, over a full hauberk of chainmail. A heater shield hung on one arm, white field, yellow cross, single-headed eagle, and an arming sword in the other hand. His helmet was a winged great helm with horn-like projections.

Lothar knew full well that a mere trainee, historically speaking, had no business wearing a winged helm. The wings were decoration, honor, a mark of command. But the game he'd designed had never troubled itself with historical accuracy. At this particular moment, Lothar was deeply grateful for that.

One-star or not, the armor was real steel: the kind a man could trade for a village fief. It was a considerable upgrade over Prajna's black leather riding suit.

Stat-wise, this one-star Retainer was roughly his own equal. Which meant he himself was worth about one star. No wonder Prajna didn't think much of him.

"You are my Master, correct?"

The man's voice was unexpectedly rich. He removed his helm, revealing a head of golden hair and a strikingly handsome young Germanic face.

"Correct."

Prajna frowned. "This is the comrade you promised to summon for me? I have never worked alongside such a weak mortal."

Lothar gave an awkward laugh. "Ah... The estimate was a little off."

"General Prajna?" The one-star's face lit with startled joy. "This is… incredible. I never imagined I'd fight under your command."

Prajna regarded him coolly, her expression unreadable. "Not under my command. Under our lord's."

Lothar asked, "What's your name, Knight-in-Training?"

The man dropped at once to one knee. "Hans, my lord. I hail from the Teutonic Order State in East Prussia. It is my honor to become your Retainer."

Hans. Even the name was generic. Lothar felt a pang of pity. As for "the Teutonic Order State": that was pure fabricated lore, cribbed from the historical Teutonic Order's coat of arms. One-star Retainers got the bare-minimum art budget.

Still, this world did have a Teutonic Order, currently in the Holy Land. Its full name was the "Order of the German Hospital of St. Mary in Jerusalem," and it couldn't begin to compare with the Templars or Hospitallers.