They, along with several high-ranking cavalry officers, were held under strict guard as extremely valuable "war spoils" and bargaining chips for future negotiations.
According to long-standing custom, their families or countries would be required to pay an enormous ransom in exchange for their freedom. Such payments would constitute a substantial source of income—enough not only to offset the costs of the war, but also to leave the royal treasury with a considerable surplus.
On Temeria's side, the privately conscripted troops of feudal lords—those who were not direct vassals or blood relatives of the King—as well as the mercenaries who fought solely for profit, were gradually dismissed. After receiving their promised wages or shares of the spoils, they disbanded one after another, either returning to their own territories or setting out in search of their next employer.
In the end, only the contingent that accompanied King Foltest back to Vizima remained.
Including the King's original royal forces and Karl El's Order of the Bloody Angels, the total number barely exceeded two thousand men.
Upon returning to Vizima, Foltest did not linger. He took only a brief bath to wash away the dust and grime of the campaign, then changed into his most magnificent and solemn ceremonial attire—robes and regalia befitting a reigning monarch.
He immediately resolved to hold a grand and dignified investiture ceremony for Karl El in Vizima's largest open-air square.
He wanted the entire kingdom to personally witness the birth of a newly appointed Grand Duke, as well as the favor and authority of the royal family.
On the appointed day, Vizima itself seemed almost deserted. The streets were emptied as people surged toward the vast central square, which soon became packed shoulder to shoulder.
From common folk and merchants to low-ranking nobles, everyone wanted a glimpse of the legendary "Golden Angel," the newly ennobled Grand Duke of La Valette.
The innermost perimeter of the square was reserved for Temeria's prominent nobles. Impeccably dressed, they stood with expressions ranging from curiosity and admiration to thinly veiled envy and jealousy.
A splendidly attired herald stepped to the edge of the high platform. Drawing a deep breath, he projected his voice with all his strength, loudly proclaiming the contents of the royal decree so that it echoed across the entire square.
"By royal decree, Karl El is granted the title of Duke, and his fief, Terra, is hereby elevated to a Duchy, enjoying the same status and rights as Erlend!"
King Foltest sat upon the lavish throne at the center of the platform. He wore a royal robe inlaid with countless gemstones, and upon his head rested the radiant Lily Crown.
In his hand he held the Golden Scepter, the symbol of supreme authority.
Members of the royal family and high-ranking nobles surrounded him, lending the ceremony an air of overwhelming dignity and power.
At the opposite end of the long aisle, carpeted in deep crimson, Karl El appeared.
He was no longer clad in his familiar golden plate armor. Instead, he wore a dark formal suit befitting a Grand Duke, crafted from the finest velvet and silk, its understated elegance emphasizing his imposing presence.
Under the gaze of countless eyes, he walked steadily forward, step by step, along the red carpet toward the King.
When he reached the foot of the throne, Karl El knelt on one knee in accordance with ancient etiquette. He placed his clasped hands into Foltest's outstretched palms, raised his head, and looked the King directly in the eye.
In a clear, resolute voice, he recited his oath of fealty.
"I, Karl El, solemnly swear here and now to remain eternally loyal to you."
"I shall use my sword and my blood to defend your rights and your glory, against all enemies, no matter where they may come from."
A satisfied smile appeared on Foltest's face. Leaning forward slightly, he personally helped Karl El to his feet.
One by one, attendants stepped forward, each carrying a velvet-lined tray.
From the first tray, Foltest took a Duke's Ring—set with a sapphire and engraved with a lily intertwined with the Golden Winged 'S' crest—and solemnly placed it upon Karl El's finger.
Next, he presented him with a slightly smaller scepter, symbolizing the authority of a Grand Duke, followed by the official charter confirming the Duchy's status and rights.
Finally, a powerful soldier stepped forward and forcefully unfurled a massive banner.
Its background was a deep, dark red, like congealed blood, and at its center gleamed the striking Golden Winged 'S' crest, wings fully spread.
From that day onward, this banner would represent the Duchy of Terra, flying proudly over the northern lands.
"In the name of Temeria, I recognize you, Karl El, as the Grand Duke of La Valette!" Foltest proclaimed.
"May your wisdom and courage protect your people and illuminate the borders of the kingdom!"
"WHOOSH—!"
In the next instant, the square erupted in thunderous applause and deafening cheers.
Among the common people who revered Karl El, the shouts were especially fervent. Even the assembled nobles, regardless of their true feelings, smiled and applauded in unison, offering their congratulations.
This included Duke Voesemir, whose expression remained dark and whose clapping was stiff, reluctant, and devoid of sincerity.
After the investiture ceremony concluded, several days of nearly uninterrupted banquets and celebrations followed.
Every night, the royal palace and the mansions of Vizima's nobility were filled with music, laughter, and the constant clinking of glasses.
All manner of guests crowded around the newly appointed Grand Duke of La Valette, eager to curry favor, establish connections, or subtly probe his intentions.
For Karl El, these social gatherings—overflowing with hollow compliments and tedious formalities—were more exhausting and irritating than facing a thousand soldiers or charging through ten thousand galloping horses.
If not for sparing Foltest's dignity, and for Triss's reluctant yet anxious attempts to keep him engaged, he would have left the city on the very night the investiture ceremony ended.
After barely enduring several days of endless toasts, polite smiles, and meaningless small talk, Karl El finally found a suitable opportunity to bid farewell to Foltest.
He courteously declined further celebrations, citing the urgent need to return and take charge of governmental affairs. The Duchy had only just been established, he explained, and required immediate attention and development.
Foltest understood and readily approved his request. He knew well enough that it was unwise to confine a lion within a gilded social cage for too long.
Thus, early one morning—while Vizima was still steeped in the lingering haze of celebration—Karl El quietly gathered his belongings. Accompanied by Dalton and the knights of the Order of the Bloody Angels, he departed the royal palace swiftly and without fanfare.
As the sound of hooves echoed against the flagstone streets, Karl El glanced back at the majestic palace and released a soft sigh.
"Foltest," he murmured inwardly, "I hope that in the future you will truly improve the people's livelihood and show genuine compassion for the common folk. Otherwise… don't blame me if one day I overthrow your rule."
Leaving behind the noise and splendor of Vizima, the contingent followed the paved main road toward the outskirts of the city.
Karl El sat upright upon Nightwind. His golden plate armor gleamed brilliantly in the late afternoon sun, though his helmet had been removed and hung from the saddle.
Freed from its weight, he could more clearly sense the faint fragrance of grass and soil carried on the breeze beyond the city walls.
The tranquility, however, did not last long.
Just as the group was about to pass completely out of Vizima's sight and into the open countryside, a soft, clear female voice suddenly echoed directly within Karl El's mind.
"Powerful warrior, please pause for a moment. I require your help."
Karl El's brow furrowed instantly.
His gaze sharpened as he swept his surroundings. Sparse woodland flanked the road, stretching out into flat, open fields. Aside from Dalton, the following knights, and the rhythmic sound of hooves striking the earth, there was no sign whatsoever of an unfamiliar woman.
Given the acuity of his superhuman senses, this could not possibly have been a hallucination or illusion.
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