At the City Gates

With profit at stake, the once fairly united raiding party now faced the danger of falling apart.

Dividing the money had always been humanity's greatest problem. If it was not handled properly, the raiding party, united by profit, could crumble at any moment.

Looking at the list of supplies in his hand, Knight Chels developed a headache. In theory, the cash and supplies were worth one hundred ten to one hundred twenty thousand gold coins, but that was only if they could be converted into cash.

If selling them off were the only difficulty, it would not have been so bad. The problem was that while the haul was substantial, there were even more people demanding a share.

All seventy-three nobles of the Fifth Army had to share the spoils, leaving less than two thousand gold coins per person.

For some impoverished knights, that was naturally no small sum. At the very least, it made the venture worthwhile.

But for nobles in relatively better financial circumstances, risking disobeying military orders and offending Count Pierce for a profit of less than two thousand gold coins was simply not worth it.

An equal split was impossible. Even blood brothers among nobles kept their accounts clear, let alone people who were merely allies.

In theory, distributing the spoils according to each person's contribution would have been the fairest approach. No one would suffer a loss or gain an unfair advantage.

Yet determining the extent of one's contribution was precisely the hardest thing to do. Other than Hudson, who was absent, everyone present boasted that he had contributed the most.

Faced with such a complicated situation, Knight Chels was powerless. Though he was the nominal leader, his family's limited strength meant he could not suppress the powerful factions within the alliance.

After the successful raid and a brief burst of joy, they sank into endless bickering.

If Chels had not been personally formidable, someone might already have challenged him to a duel. During the argument, three pairs had already declared duels.

If Chels did not intervene, then according to the nobles' habit of settling unsolvable matters, a few more duels could likewise complete the division of benefits.

Of course, that was impossible. If they truly handled it that way, the fragile raiding party would definitely fall apart.

The alliance could not disband, at least not before the rebellion had been suppressed. Otherwise, if the Governor's Mansion pursued responsibility, no one could bear it alone.

Seeing the situation about to spiral out of control, Chels, full of anger, could not help snapping, "Watch your words! Do not do anything that disgraces noble honor!"

He truly regretted it this time. Had he known it would be so difficult to profit from war, he would never have led a team out to raid.

Deep down, Chels had complained more than once that everyone was so shortsighted, yet his gaze had never once strayed from those chests of gold coins.

Poverty sapped ambition. Everyone dreamed of making a fortune from war, and Chels was no different.

If he were not currently serving as the "captain of the raiding party" and required to display sufficient magnanimity, his reaction probably would not have been much better.

After all, it was wealth worth over a hundred thousand gold coins. An equal division truly could not satisfy everyone, but for any single minor noble family, it was a fortune they could not accumulate in a lifetime.

Unfortunately, no one could swallow it all alone. At that moment, they suddenly realized that having too many companions was not necessarily a good thing.

After calming down, everyone gradually regained their reason. Though the arguments continued, at least no one suggested going out to duel again.

With no surprises, since contributions could not be accurately measured, they ultimately adopted a method of distribution that perfectly fit the world's rules—strength reigned supreme.

Most of the supplies could not be sold off, and their true value was hard to assess, so they simply divided the goods themselves.

Even Hudson, far away over a hundred miles from them, was allotted a share. Though it consisted of what everyone else had passed over, no one could find fault with it on the surface.

As the "captain," Knight Chels naturally received a large slice of the pie. Though he did not take the most, he still ranked among the top five.

The generous haul somewhat soothed his wounded heart. Yet when he looked at the alliance on the verge of collapse, Chels could not bring himself to feel happy.

The gloomy expressions on everyone's faces showed that none of them were particularly satisfied with this distribution of benefits.

It had to be admitted that Chels had failed as a leader. A distribution he considered fair had somehow left everyone dissatisfied.

But there was no helping it. Human desire was limitless. Even if the loot from this raid had doubled, it would not have satisfied everyone's demands for profit.

Chels had exhausted himself trying to make everyone reluctantly accept it. At the end of the day, he was only a minor knight pushed onto the stage by circumstances. It was his first time doing this kind of "technical work," and he sorely lacked experience.

"Everyone, there is not much time left before our agreed time. We must hurry back and rejoin the others. If we are caught red-handed, it will be difficult to explain ourselves to the Governor."

Many things could be done, but they could not be openly displayed. Just like now, everyone had mentally prepared themselves for being discovered, but they could not bear the consequences of being caught in the act.

Once the matter was brought into the open, no plea for mercy would help. To uphold the rules of the game, severe punishment was unavoidable.

Without the slightest hesitation, after dividing the spoils, the raiding party immediately set off on a long forced march.

At noon, beneath the blazing sun, the Noble Allied Forces finally arrived beneath Dadir City after a series of setbacks.

However, they had still been forced to delay by a day and a half from the original schedule. Judging by their marching speed, it was truly too embarrassing to mention.

There was no helping it. The Rebel Army had no sense of fair play and had caused them plenty of trouble along the way.

Either a bridge had been destroyed here, or a road had been ruined there. Occasionally, they even launched a surprise attack.

Though the casualties were minimal, it was thoroughly irritating. Their marching speed was forced to slow, to the point that Count Pierce began doubting whether his earlier decisions had been correct.

Fortunately, the counties of White and Layton were flat, with mountains only along the edges. Otherwise, they would have encountered even more trouble.

Looking at the tightly shut gates of Dadir City, Count Pierce knew that his plan for a swift victory had completely failed. The Rebel Army had no intention of coming out to fight a decisive battle.

"Send the order. Make camp. We attack the city tomorrow!"

The cold voice made it clear that Count Pierce was in a very foul mood. It was not only because his strategic plan had fallen through, but also because of the anger of being rejected.

As one of the twelve landed counts, a great noble who ranked among the foremost in the entire Alpha Kingdom, he had actually failed to recruit an uninvested knight.

The blow to his pride was minor; the real loss was far more painful. Without Hudson acting as a traitor, his plan to use the nobles of the Fifth Army as an example had also fallen apart.

Without a reasonable excuse, even as Governor, he could do nothing to the nobles once they banded together.

The failure of his plan to establish authority would most directly affect the postwar division of benefits. Pierce could already foresee the scene of the small and mid-level nobles joining forces to haggle with him after the war.