He announced loudly, his voice rolling across the battlefield and echoing in every corner:
"Karl El, your achievements today are enough to be recorded in the annals of history.
"Ordinary gold, silver, and land are no longer sufficient to reward your merits and loyalty.
"Only honor and status equal to your accomplishments are worthy of you."
He paused deliberately. In the breathless silence that followed—under the stunned gazes of nobles, knights, and soldiers alike—he declared each word with solemn clarity:
"I, Foltest, in the name of the King of Temeria, hereby proclaim—
"Effective immediately, your fief, Terra, is elevated to a Grand Duchy!"
"You, Karl El, are appointed the first Grand Duke of the Grand Duchy of Terra, enjoying the same status, rights, and autonomy as Erlend!"
"What? A Grand Duchy?!"
"Directly promoted to Grand Duke?!"
The words struck the crowd like a massive stone hurled into a placid lake.
Shock rippled outward in waves. Nobles, knights, and common soldiers alike stared in disbelief, mouths agape and eyes wide. Many turned first to King Foltest, as if hoping to confirm they had heard correctly, then instinctively shifted their gaze to Karl, who stood calm and composed, as though the earth-shaking announcement had little to do with him.
To rise directly from a barony to a grand duchy was almost unheard of in Temerian history.
Such a leap meant instant transformation—from a minor noble on the fringes of power to one of the kingdom's highest-ranking lords, second only to the king himself and equal in standing to the great Duke of Erlend.
Voesemir's expression changed at once.
His face darkened, veins faintly bulging at his temples. Taking an abrupt step forward, he furrowed his brows deeply, his voice sharp with unconcealed dissatisfaction.
"Your Majesty! The establishment of a Grand Duchy concerns the very structure and foundations of the kingdom. This is no trivial matter!"
"How—how can such a decision be made so hastily? This is far too abrupt!"
King Foltest fixed him with a penetrating gaze.
This prince—this Duke of Erlend—had grown increasingly bold of late, increasingly careless in how he treated royal authority.
Before the war, his White Rose Knights had repeatedly clashed with the Royal Knights. During the campaign itself, he had ignored commands more than once, causing coordination failures during the early cavalry charge and resulting in unnecessary casualties.
In times of peace, such behavior might be tolerated as mere friction among nobles.
But now?
Here, on a battlefield that had just determined the fate of the kingdom—before countless soldiers who had shed blood for Temeria—Voesemir dared to openly question the king's decree.
In contrast, Karl's demeanor could not have been more different.
Though his martial prowess bordered on the absurd, he had consistently shown humility and respect before the crown. He appeared ready to accept any outcome, even if no reward were granted at all.
The contrast between the two men was stark.
Voesemir met Foltest's gaze and immediately sensed the suppressed anger beneath the king's silence. Cold realization struck him like a blade.
Driven by fear of a new rival, he had spoken too rashly.
Before a victorious king whose prestige was at its peak, such words were nothing short of provocation.
He swiftly lowered his head, masking the resentment on his face. Bowing deeply, he spoke in a subdued, respectful tone.
"Your Majesty, I misspoke."
"I was merely taken by surprise and spoke without due consideration. I had no intention of questioning Your Majesty's decision. Please forgive my offense."
Foltest regarded him without expression and remained silent for several long seconds.
Those few moments felt endless to Voesemir. Cold sweat formed at his temples and slid down his cheek.
At last, Foltest spoke, his voice low and heavy with warning.
"Voesemir, remember your station—and weigh your words carefully. Let this not happen again."
Voesemir bowed even lower. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Without sparing him another glance, Foltest turned back toward Karl. A resolute smile appeared on his face as he spoke with unmistakable authority.
"The matter is settled."
"Once the battlefield is cleared and the aftermath addressed, you will return with me to Vizima."
"There, in the open-air plaza, a formal investiture ceremony will be held. Before the entire kingdom, you will be proclaimed Grand Duke of Terra."
Karl understood that excessive modesty at this moment would only seem false.
He stepped forward and bowed slightly—neither too deeply nor too casually—his expression showing precisely the right balance of honor and restrained excitement.
"Yes!" he replied clearly and powerfully. "I thank Your Majesty for your boundless grace."
"Karl El vows that he will not fail Your Majesty's expectations and will defend the glory and territory of Temeria with his very life."
Standing to the side, Duke Voesemir's face had grown so dark it seemed ready to drip water.
By now, he understood clearly that the king's decision was irrevocable.
His gaze lingered on Karl, then drifted toward the silent Blood Angels Knights standing behind him. A sense of unease—and genuine apprehension—crept into his heart.
"So this Martial Arts Tournament champion…" Voesemir cursed inwardly. "He has hidden far too much."
"The Blood Angels Knight Order alone already outnumbers the knights I brought this time."
"And if I count the garrison forces that must exist within his territory…"
"In terms of raw military strength, his Grand Duchy is already nearly equal to my Erlend."
What unsettled him most, however, was not the numbers.
It was Karl himself.
That terrifying, inhuman level of personal strength.
Voesemir had no doubt that if Karl truly wished it, he could crush the entire Grand Duchy of Erlend single-handedly, as effortlessly as trampling ants beneath his feet.
Did Foltest truly believe he could control such a dragon?
A dragon powerful enough to devour its master at any moment—yet willing, for now, to bow its head.
Voesemir was deeply skeptical.
Foltest, naturally, noticed the complex mixture of reluctance, anxiety, and resentment flickering across Voesemir's face.
The corner of the king's mouth curved upward almost imperceptibly, though the expression vanished just as quickly, replaced by his usual regal composure.
The reason he had elevated Terra to a Grand Duchy so decisively was not merely to reward Karl's extraordinary contributions.
He also intended to use this newly risen power as a counterweight.
In recent years, the Duke of Erlend's influence had expanded rapidly, revealing faint signs of defiance. The kingdom needed a force capable of balancing him.
As for Karl's absolute loyalty?
Foltest was not overly concerned.
Karl's personal strength and the knight order under his command had already grown into a force the crown could not afford to ignore.
To safeguard Temeria's vast lands and to stand against threats from the Northern Kingdoms—and even Nilfgaard in the south—such a pillar was indispensable.
So long as Karl did not openly display rebellious intent, the king neither could nor would suppress such a powerful and accomplished vassal.
Especially one who, at least on the surface, showed no desire to meddle in central authority.
With the matter settled, the battlefield cleanup proceeded in an orderly fashion.
Captured Kaedweni common soldiers were disarmed and escorted back across the border.
This was the customary practice of war in this era. Slaughtering surrendered soldiers was both cruel and strategically foolish, as it bred undying hatred. Sending them home instead drained the enemy's supplies and morale.
As for the captured Kaedweni nobles—including the obese King Henselt himself—there were dozens in total.
Their fate, unlike that of common soldiers, would be decided not on the battlefield, but at the negotiating table.
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