There were questions Derek did not ask. If the old count truly intended rebellion, would Derek follow or not?

Business still went ahead. Beyond heavy armor, Count Perez ordered a large quantity of weapons and equipment—a deal worth tens of thousands of gold coins. More than half of Derek’s purpose in coming to Pran City was complete.

He inspected several businesses and met the northern nobles one by one. Even counting minor hereditary knights, the entire northern circle contained only forty or fifty houses. It was a small world whose members were easy to reach.

This time Derek’s status had changed, and so had his treatment. When he left, fifty or sixty more attendants followed behind him. Every house had sent young men as a political investment in House Augusta.

Even with the year's end approaching, the prospect of advancement drove the heirs and younger sons of minor houses to Derek. House Ferreira had once followed the same political pattern: the eldest inherited, the second served in the local royal legion, the third entered a great noble's household, and the fourth trained with an allied house.

Without Derek’s rise, that would have been House Ferreira’s path. Noble sons could easily become junior officers, then spend ten or twenty years either failing and returning to help their eldest brother or becoming middle officers who helped their houses grow.

The northern noble sons were the same. Whether they entered the Kingdom’s officer system through Derek or stayed with him directly, they could benefit their families. Derek gladly accepted them. He was drawing in the northern nobles as a group—and he could see the new names appearing on the Panel.

Verut Crono

Class: Knight, Level 6 (45/100)

Experience Pool: 20/100

An outstanding knight from a baronial family and the future Baron Crono, Verut was the highest-born youth to follow Derek. At his age, becoming a level-six knight made him one of the finest of his generation, stronger than Derek had been at the same point.

Without the Panel, Verut should have been the model of a new generation of northern knights. His decision to follow Derek surprised him.

After brief contact, Derek understood. Not every noble viewed the world through cynical political calculation. Verut was a hot-blooded young knight drawn entirely by Derek's reputation and achievements. He wanted to follow a true northern knight and had largely ignored his family's strategic interests. Otherwise, the Cronos would have sent a younger son instead of their heir.

Derek liked young men like that. An earnest enthusiast was easier to manage than a practiced liar. Verut also gave his new following prestige: if a future baron willingly served the northern knight Derek, lesser sons had little reason to refuse.

Verut’s decision strengthened Derek’s reputation and raised the other squires’ morale. A future baron choosing to follow him was a powerful endorsement, and Verut’s immediate appearance on the Panel proved his devotion was genuine.

Once home, Derek arranged accommodations for the new attendants. Some could not truly be called squires. Verut had essentially completed his knightly training, was older than the usual candidates, and already surpassed ordinary knights. Among Augusta's veterans, however, he still had much to learn.

Perhaps because there had been no major war for years, the average knight’s level had fallen. Thirty years ago, during the War of Division, many Elite Knights could run in heavy armor. Now they were rare. With the tense situation, a new group of Elites would likely emerge soon.

Derek had already decided that his knightly order must establish a formidable reputation from the beginning. Devoted followers like Verut would not graduate until they became Elite Knights. Ordinary squires needed to reach at least Level 5 or 6 before receiving honorary knighthoods.

As for men with other intentions, those who did not appear on the Panel would have to progress through talent and effort alone. Derek remembered every one of them. He recorded their names and placed their families under quiet scrutiny.

In a sense, they had succeeded too: they stood out from the squires and made Derek remember their names.

Derek looked away from the uneasy men and back to his fervent followers. If he meant to shape them, he would do it thoroughly. Nothing forged common identity like shared life in a military camp.

He had never relaxed his own martial training. Even now, he exercised and honed his sword every day. With the Panel’s aid, he still improved little by little despite reaching the limit of his natural talent.

Training anywhere was training, so Derek chose to work beside the squires. Living and drilling together would let him reshape their loyalties as well as their swordsmanship.

When Derek chose Verut as his sparring partner, the young man’s excitement was unmistakable. Verut revered the northern ideal of strength, ruthlessness, and glory, and Derek seemed its living embodiment.

Chosen as a partner, he was so excited his hands shook.

How strong were northern knights? Would he fall in a single exchange? Could he possibly defeat Viscount Derek? His thoughts swung between hope and certainty of defeat. He feared both the death of his ideal and humiliation before his peers.

Seeing his state, Derek frowned. “Verut, how can a knight’s hand fail to hold a sword? Adjust yourself, or you will never become a northern knight.”

Verut had not faced a great occasion, but he had never been lazy in training. After a deep breath, he looked at Derek firmly. “I understand. I will become a northern knight like you. Come—let me see the gap between us.”

Both held training swords: solid iron weapons without edges. No one mentioned protective gear. A blow could injure, perhaps even kill.

Northern swordsmanship aimed for practicality. It abandoned flashy moves. From the start, it taught basic cuts, thrusts, and blocks, then when to advance, retreat, cut, and guard. Repeated daily until muscles formed reflexes, then tested in real battle. Those who survived, and those injured, made such experience the foundation of strength.

The rest was greater power, faster speed, keener reactions, and stronger will.

Verut raised his sword and gave a proper salute. Derek’s blade point struck hard into his wrist.

Verut gasped in pain, nearly dropped his sword, and stared in confusion. Why had Derek attacked?

“Has courtly nonsense softened your head? Did your grandfather ever salute an enemy on the battlefield? Have you heard of a northern knight lowering his guard and waiting for courtesy in return?

“Listen. We are northern knights. We need no one’s approval; the swords in our hands are our authority. Courtly rules exist to bind a warrior’s hands. The next fool who offers you ceremony on a battlefield is giving you the first strike. Take it.”

The squires were stunned. This was the new generation of northern knights?

Northern knightly education had not necessarily become lax, but years without a major war had allowed courtly habits to creep north. The region's knights had not escaped their influence.

Verut looked unconvinced, but Derek did not argue. Among warriors, a demonstration of strength carried more weight than a lecture.

“Now grip your sword. I will give you one more chance.”

Verut gripped the sword tightly, shouted, and rushed forward. Derek made an upward countercut.

Clang!

Although Verut’s downward cut should have had the advantage, he staggered backward.

“Where is your strength? I can barely feel the blow!” Derek roared.

Verut was shocked. He had genuine talent, otherwise he could not have become a level-six knight so young. His strength, speed, and overall qualities were among the best of his peers. Yet he was far below Derek.

Derek spared him no pain, stepping forward and exposing one weakness after another through superior technique.

“Your reactions are too slow. I have to hold back or I will knock you down. Even with equal force, you cannot match me, and your swordsmanship is far behind. Your footwork—are you a wooden post? Use your legs. Kick me.”

Every part of Verut’s body took hard hits. Derek did not hold back. Pain left no room for resentment or confusion. At last Derek kicked him down and tossed his training sword to an attendant.

“Terrible. Truly terrible. Are all young northern knights this useless?”

Many faces hardened. Verut struggled upright, still unconvinced. Derek's fame and achievements made defeat acceptable, but that did not mean the younger generation of northern knights was useless. They usually held an advantage over knights from other regions.

“What? Unconvinced? Then say it. If you do not even have the courage to resist, how are you not a coward?”

They should not stay silent because he was a Viscount or because of reputation. His own people should not be silent.

“Viscount, I am unconvinced,” Verut said. The other young squires were provoked and echoed him.

“Good. You have a little northern knight spirit.” Derek smiled. Obedient silence would teach him nothing; defiance gave him something he could temper.

“Verut, I know you are called a knightly genius. Look at the knights here. Every one comes from the most ordinary background and none received complete knightly education. Choose any one. Let me see whether your title is deserved.”

Verut looked around. The watching knights all looked imposing, broad and fierce, but build did not decide knightly skill. He might not beat Derek, but surely he could beat commoner knights. He proudly chose the biggest man.

“Bold choice,” the knights laughed. “Savage Bear has the greatest strength.”

They gathered eagerly. Many held honorary knight titles, but were still commoner knights whose children would need to struggle again. Seeing noble squires beaten was enjoyable; a few days together had not created brotherhood.

Savage Bear was pleased but also irritated. Out of so many, Verut had chosen him—did he look easy to beat?

“Boy, House Augusta has no geniuses, only fools. Today I will teach you that.”

Verut discarded ceremony and attacked. Though covered in pain, his foundation was excellent; his movements did not deform, and his force and speed were sound. Few squires who came with him could have blocked that blow.

Savage Bear was simpler. He used brute strength to knock the knight’s sword away, then swung into Verut’s waist. Verut fell, unable to rise, with the training sword at his throat.

“As expected of a noble young master.” Savage Bear proudly put away his sword and showed off to his companions.

The noble squires were stunned. Losing to Derek was unsurprising. Losing so easily to one of Derek’s knights was not. Derek’s voice sounded again, full of malicious amusement.

“Continue. Pick another.”

Verut challenged nearly every knight present. By the end, pain made it hard to hold his sword, but his fierceness was memorable; few continued challenging after repeated defeats.

The new squires were even more impressed by Derek’s knights. Almost all were excellent, and many had reached the level of titled knights. Any one of them could crush these young men.

The squires stared in disbelief. They had arrived certain of their talent. Now they wondered whether they had ever understood what real strength looked like.