“Your Majesty. This is a case with almost no precedent. We fear that if this matter is mishandled, there could be future instances of ab*se.”
“It’s not that the work hasn’t been commendable. However, this reward… it’s just too much.”
In the face of the ministers’ cries, the emperor hummed thoughtfully, putting on a face of deep concern.
Their argument did have merit. Truthfully, even he had expected something like this might happen.
Even the Crown Princess, upon first hearing the Emperor’s intentions, had her fair share of worries.
She thought it might be too extreme—something the ministers would never accept.
“Silence, everyone.”
With the Emperor raising a hand, the Minister of the Palace silenced the rest with a stern voice.
As the Grand Hall fell into silence, the Emperor spoke in a calm tone.
“I’ve heard all your concerns loud and clear. Do you think I haven’t considered the potential problems of my decision? I’ve spent sleepless nights pondering this. I worried about the future generations being put in awkward situations because of my choices.”
“Your Majesty!”
“However, my decision here is final. Let’s not discuss this further. From now on, your task is to ensure the rewards go to those who’ve given their all for the empire.”
“I’ve heard your wise counsels, and I do respect your opinions. This, however, is ultimately my decision as your emperor. Further objections will be seen as overstepping.”
With that gentle yet firm warning from the emperor, the ministers reluctantly backed down.
“Minister.”
Alone, the Minister of the Palace bowed to the emperor’s call.
“What do you think, Minister?”
“Your Majesty’s wisdom is unparalleled. There is insight only you possess, I believe.”
“Hmm.”
After observing the minister in silence for a moment, the Emperor spoke again, now more casually.
“Come on, Benny. Let me ask you again—what do you think?”
A man who had served the emperor since his princely days, Benjamin the Minister of the Palace—an old confidant as much as a subordinate—paused before replying.
“Their worries, Your Majesty… they’re not entirely unfounded.”
“True. Precedents are scarce. There hasn’t been anyone in recent times who has been rewarded with something as grand as this.”
“There have been instances if you go through the history of the empire… but most of them stem from the days of the Great Emperor (the first emperor).”
As the minister trailed off, the Emperor chuckled.
Exactly. That’s why, isn’t it? When was the last time someone impacted an entire war so significantly?
“The efforts of one man have influenced the whole battlefield this time.”
“However, I have faith in Your Majesty’s decision, and I recognize your wisdom. Given your steadfastness despite all their advice, there must be good reason. I merely trust you and align with your vision.”
“Thanks, Benny. Truly, thank you, Minister.”
With that, the Emperor handed the official document containing his decision to the minister.
“To Duke Kael Klauwitz of the Bertier Empire. In recognition of your outstanding service in the eastern front, the Neomes Region, until now directly governed by the Imperial Family, is hereby granted to you.”
Neomes Region. It wasn’t just any small fief; the term “region” itself indicated its vast size.
In terms of area, it was almost as large as a marquisate—a whole, massive chunk of land being handed over.
And within that land was one of the most renowned trading cities of the empire.
It wasn’t an undeveloped or recently cultivated land—it was pure gold.
Thus, talk was inevitable.
Even the following point was controversial:
“The Neomes Region will fall directly under the jurisdiction of Duke Kael Klauwitz and will be inherited indefinitely by his descendants.”
While rewarding those who have served with honors and land was common, usually such arrangements didn’t extend beyond the immediate generation. This kind of permanent attribution was incredibly rare.
“Devoted Ministers they are.”
Even while the Emperor had made his will known, the ministers were showing their loyalty by voicing their concerns for future repercussions.
Seeing their dedication, the Emperor couldn’t help but smile.
Soon, they will understand why their Sovereign made this decision.
‘After all, that young man probably knows exactly what this means already.’
Speaking of which… The Emperor summoned someone nearby and issued orders to summon the 2nd Princess, Isabel.
*
Soon after returning to the empire, commendations and rewards for services during the Eastern Campaign commenced.
First up were, of course, the officers and soldiers who fought at the front lines.
Amongst them, the 12th Legion, which had valiantly fended off attacks in Pavilion, and the 7th Legion that triumphed against the Kingdom of Burkhai stood out.
“To the Field Commanders of the 12th and the 7th Legions… To every soldier… double their current salary.”
Ah, the Empire indeed. It doesn’t force patriotism—it stirs it naturally.
Materialism at its best, you say? Nonsense. Rewards have to follow or else pride and patriotism dry up faster than you can say “enthusiasm pay.”
Countries that preach patriotism but don’t compensate? Forget it—those are doomed.
And how do I know this? Memories from another life—not exactly fun ones.
Anyway, numerous others were also honored accordingly, including nobles who contributed resources and efforts during the campaign.
Strangely, the Princess wasn’t mentioned much.
Despite her significant contributions, the Emperor made no particular remark about Her.
Maybe later, the ministers might request her name be added to the list of heroes.
But right now, she wasn’t included in any official records of merit.
‘Showing that this was her duty as part of the royal family?’
Or maybe avoiding official titles but still participating personally?
Hmm. That could also be true. But if so, wouldn’t that make it the same for me?
After all, I wasn’t a formal officer of the Legion or a commander—just a sort of volunteer, wasn’t I?
“To Duke Kael Klauwitz of the Bertier Empire. In recognition of your service during the Eastern Campaign, the Neomes Region, governed by the Royal Family until now, is hereby granted to you.”
“…”
Finally, my name was called, and the magnitude of the reward shocked me.
Did I hear wrong? Perhaps I misread or mistook something?
The entire Neomes Region? Not just part of it. Not even a city.
The entire region? And it’s hereditary?!!
“World!?”
I wasn’t the only one shocked. The Princess beside me looked equally startled.
Sure, she’d been saying all along that the rewards would be proportional to the efforts, but even she didn’t expect it would be this big.
“Your Majesty was going to give all of Neomes!?”
“I, too, couldn’t have imagined this, Your Highness.”
To put it bluntly, the size of the granted area was almost equal to the current size of the Bertier Dukedom.
And it wasn’t just a vast, empty land. It was fully developed—fertile soil, populous, active commerce.
It was land so valuable, only the Imperial Family could hold it. Precious land for generations.
And His Majesty had given it to me so casually.
“Do you think this might cause some… trouble? Is it… alright?”
The Princess asked, her eyes and voice filled with concerns.
Maybe, I replied after a pause, with a somewhat detached air.
“Maybe? Kael, you sound oddly calm despite not expecting this?”
“Well, it feels… like it’s part reward for what I’ve done, and part down payment for what I need to do next.”
“Down payment?”
Certainly. It’s like His Majesty is saying, “Work hard for the Empire in the future.”
Otherwise, why would he override all opposition just for this?
There’s no benefit in showing clear favoritism for one.
If the emperor knew this, then it must be a test. By giving so much, He’s saying, Prove yourself.
“…I shall take my leave first, as His Majesty has asked me to attend the Palace.”
“Yes, Your Highness. I’ll see you later.”
“Of course. The genius strategist who was key to this victory will soon be in high demand.”
After bowing, she left.
‘That “strategist” title again.’
Left alone, I cradled my aching head.
People keep calling me a genius strategist, but I’ve told them countless times—I’m not!
I’m just parroting a few things I knew from before. At any point, my limits may be exposed. Once that happens, it’s a quick fall.
And honestly, that title itself is too much to bear.
To me, a true strategist is someone capable of overwhelming influence—capable of single-handedly guiding a nation through intricate strategies.
Someone whose brilliance persists through thousands of years of history.
They’re not just geniuses—they’re practically divine figures.
That’s what a true strategist is.
I? I’m just… doing the surface-level stuff. A strategist wannabe at best.
‘Fine, since I’ve received this gift, I’ll try my best—but…’
Can I really pull it off? Honestly, I’m not sure.
