Soldiers at the City Gates

The prospect of personal gain, which had initially united the raiding party, now threatened to tear it apart.

"Splitting the spoils" was, as always, the greatest challenge in the human world. Without a proper solution, a group united by profit was always in danger of collapsing.

Looking at the inventory list in his hands, Knight Chels felt a headache coming on. Theoretically, the cash and goods were worth over a hundred thousand gold coins, but that was only if they could be converted to cash.

If it were just difficult to convert to cash, that would be one thing. The problem was that while the haul was substantial, there were far too many people to share it with.

All seventy-three nobles from the Fifth Army were to receive a share, which came out to less than two thousand gold coins per person.

For some of the poorer knights, it was certainly not a small sum; it was enough to make the trip worthwhile.

However, for the nobles in a better financial situation, risking disobedience to military orders and offending Count Pierce for a return of less than two thousand gold coins was simply not worth the trouble.

An equal split was out of the question. In the world of nobles, even blood relatives kept strict accounts, let alone mere allies.

Theoretically, distribution based on contribution would be the fairest, ensuring no one was disadvantaged or gained an unfair advantage.

But precisely that, the measure of contribution, was the most difficult thing to define. Aside from Hudson, who was absent, everyone present was boasting about their significant contributions.

Faced with such a complex situation, Knight Chels was powerless. Although he was the nominal leader, his family's limited influence meant he couldn't control the power players within the alliance.

After the brief joy of a successful raid, the group descended into bickering.

If not for Chers's considerable personal strength, some might have challenged him to a duel. During the arguments, three "pairs" had already announced their intentions to duel.

If Chels didn't intervene, following the nobles' usual habit of resolving intractable issues, a few more duels would have been held, and the distribution of profits would have been settled.

Of course, that was impossible. If things went that way, the fragile raiding party would surely fall apart.

The alliance could not break, at least not before the rebellion was quelled. Otherwise, if the Governor's Office sought to assign blame, no one could bear it alone.

Seeing the situation about to spiral out of control, Chels, filled with frustration, couldn't help but reprimand them, "Please mind your words and refrain from actions that tarnish noble honor!"

He truly regretted this venture. If he had known that war profiteering was this difficult, he would never have led his team out for a raid.

Deep down, Chels had often criticized the others for their short-sightedness, yet his peripheral vision had never strayed from those chests of gold.

When people are poor, their ambitions are limited; everyone dreamt of profiting from the war, and Chels was no different.

If he weren't currently the "captain of the raiding party" and had to display sufficient magnanimity, his reaction probably wouldn't have been much better.

After all, these were goods worth over a hundred thousand gold coins. An equal split couldn't satisfy everyone, but for a single minor noble family, it was wealth they could never accumulate in a lifetime.

It was a pity that no one could claim it all. At that moment, everyone realized that having too many teammates wasn't always a good thing.

After calming down, everyone slowly regained their rationality. Although the arguments continued, at least they stopped arranging duels.

Unsurprisingly, with the inability to accurately measure contributions, the distribution method that ultimately prevailed was one that perfectly aligned with the world's rules: strength dictates status.

Since much of the material wealth couldn't be converted to cash and its true value was hard to estimate, they decided to divide the physical goods directly.

Even Hudson, who was a hundred miles away, was allocated a share. Although they were the leftovers after everyone else had chosen, it was done in a way that left no room for public criticism.

As the "captain," Knight Chels naturally received a substantial portion of the spoils. While he didn't get the most, he ranked among the top five.

The generous haul served as a small balm to his wounded spirit. However, looking at the alliance on the verge of collapse, Chels couldn't feel happy.

Judging by the grim expressions on everyone's faces, it was clear that no one was particularly satisfied with this distribution of spoils.

Chels had to admit that his leadership had been a failure. His distribution, which he believed to be fair, had somehow managed to displease everyone.

But there was nothing he could do. Human desires were boundless; even if the spoils from this raid had doubled, it wouldn't have met everyone's demands.

Chels had to use all his persuasive skills just to get them to grudgingly accept the outcome. Ultimately, he was just a minor knight pushed to the forefront by circumstances, and this was his first time handling such a "delicate task," lacking experience.

"Everyone, time is running short according to our agreed schedule. We must hurry back and rendezvous as soon as possible. If we're caught directly, it will be difficult to explain to the Governor."

Many things could be done, but they couldn't be openly acknowledged. For example, right now, everyone was mentally prepared to be discovered, but they couldn't bear the consequences of being caught red-handed.

Once something was brought into the open, no amount of pleading would help, no matter who it was from. To uphold the rules of the game, severe punishment was inevitable.

Without any hesitation, after distributing the spoils of war, the raiding party immediately began a long-distance sprint.

At noon, under the scorching sun, the Noble Allied Forces finally arrived at the gates of Dadir City after a series of setbacks.

However, they were still forced to delay their arrival by a day and a half compared to the original planned time. If one were to calculate their marching speed, it was truly embarrassing.

It couldn't be helped; the rebels were utterly dishonorable, causing them no end of trouble along the way.

Whether it was a broken bridge here or a washed-out road there, they occasionally launched sneak attacks.

Although their killing power was generally weak, they were incredibly vexing, forcing them to slow their march. Count Pierce himself began to doubt the wisdom of his previous decisions.

Fortunately, the terrain in White and Leighton counties was flat, with only the border areas being mountainous; otherwise, there would have been even more trouble.

Gazing at the tightly shut gates of Dadir City, Count Pierce knew that the plan for a swift victory had completely failed. The rebels had no intention of coming out to meet them in battle.

"Give the order to set up camp. We will attack the city tomorrow!"

From his cold tone, it was clear that Count Pierce was in a very foul mood. This was not only because his strategic plan had fallen through but also due to the annoyance of being rejected.

As one of the twelve great Earls of the fiefdoms, a prominent noble throughout the entire Alpha Kingdom, his attempt to recruit an un-fiefed knight had failed.

The damage to his pride was secondary; the real blow was to his ego. Without Hudson acting as a traitor, it meant his plan to make an example of the nobles of the Fifth Army had also gone up in smoke.

Without a valid excuse, even as the Governor, he couldn't deal with the united nobles.

The failure of his plan to establish authority had a direct impact on the distribution of spoils after the war. Pierce had already foreseen the scene of numerous small and medium-sized nobles banding together to negotiate with him after the conflict.