Reactions from All Sides
When Karl returned to the castle, he happened to encounter a transport caravan arriving from Fran City.
Edgar, accompanied by several assistants, was busily inventorying supplies in the castle courtyard. Seeing Karl approaching, he smiled, took out a neatly folded copy of the Kingdom Gazette from his pocket, and quickly went to greet him.
"My lord, look at this," Edgar said, his tone unusually excited. "The Count sent this; it's the latest official report. Your heroic deeds have spread throughout the kingdom. You are now the ' Light of the Northern Border,' the ' Kingdom Hero.'"
Karl paused slightly, then took the newspaper, which still smelled of ink.
Upon opening the book, the huge and eye-catching headline on the front page, along with a series of ornate and almost flamboyant praises, immediately catches the eye.
The article portrays him as a young war god of wisdom and courage who turned the tide of battle, almost single-handedly crushing the Sauron invasion. The article is full of praise for him as an "outstanding member of the Schmidt Family".
Looking at these words, Karl could only find them amusing.
He was all too familiar with the kingdom's propaganda machine.
Their greatest talent lies in "deification," amplifying any small-scale victory on the border and elevating frontline commanders to godlike status.
They used flowery language to mask the kingdom's internal weaknesses and anxieties, thereby boosting morale and diverting attention.
The "hero" who is elevated to prominence is often quickly given even more difficult and impossible tasks, and ultimately falls in obscurity under the true might of the Sauron, becoming the next forgotten victim.
"The Light of the Northern Border? Kingdom Hero?" Karl chuckled lightly, casually handing the newspaper back to Edgar. "These titles are just for show."
"Unless someone like Earl Rochefort sends me real soldiers and provisions, or someone like my father gives me real gold and silver, these are nothing but empty promises from those frivolous scholars in the court to fool the common people. Just treat them as stories."
Karl then changed the subject, saying, "However... these empty titles aren't entirely useless."
"At least, thanks to their praise, the name ' Carnford ' has become widely known throughout the kingdom, especially in those remote inland areas. Those poor people, artisans, or serfs who couldn't survive in the interior now know that there is a place in the Northern Territory where they can win battles and perhaps find a way to survive."
His tone was calm and realistic, showing no sign of arrogance despite his sudden fame.
Edgar took the newspaper, his excitement fading slightly, replaced by a hint of admiration in his eyes.
It is truly remarkable that Your Lord, at such a young age, can maintain such a clear mind in the face of such great honor.
"Once the supplies are dealt with, gather all the key officials in the Lord's Hall," Karl instructed, his expression turning serious. "I have important matters to discuss with you."
"Yes, sir!" Edgar immediately bowed in response.
Soon, Carnford's core officials, including Morr, Brendan, Richter, Lyon, Roland, Edgar, and Hans, all gathered in the Lord's Hall.
Karl didn't beat around the bush. He stood directly in front of the head of the long table, his gaze sweeping over everyone, and said bluntly, "I've gathered you all here because there's an important and potentially controversial matter that needs to be discussed."
He paused to make sure everyone was paying attention, then continued, "I have just received confirmation that Thorsten, the commander of the Sauron Vanguard Camp who was defeated by Commander Lyon at Ashbourne, did not flee back to Frosgard. Instead, he led his remaining troops south to occupy the tip of the Southwest Peninsula, Cyril von Eichberg's so-called 'territory'."
Upon hearing the words "Thorsten" and "remnants of Sauron," the officials from the Northern Territory present immediately frowned.
"And just now," Karl's voice was calm, but he dropped a bombshell, "Thorsten sent envoys. They are now considered traitors by the Sauron Tribe and have nowhere to turn. Fearing the imminent retaliation of the Sauron army, they have offered to form an alliance with us."
"It's called an alliance, but in reality, it's surrendering to us and seeking our protection."
As soon as he finished speaking, the hall fell into complete silence; you could hear a pin drop.
Everyone's face showed extreme shock and disbelief.
A moment later, a cacophony of voices erupted in varying reactions.
Brendan, Roland, Edgar, and other officials from the South appeared relatively calm; although surprised, they were more weighing the pros and cons.
The experienced and prudent Brendan spoke first, his tone cautious. "My lord, this matter... though unexpected, if it is truly as you say, a surrender born of desperation, perhaps... perhaps we can consider it."
"Thorsten's cavalry is quite formidable. If we can incorporate them into our forces, it will greatly enhance our military strength, especially our much-needed cavalry force."
"However... security must be the top priority. We need a comprehensive plan to ensure their genuine allegiance and to strictly control them to prevent any backlash."
Edgar nodded in agreement. "Sir Brendan is right. We are in dire need of manpower right now. We are short of people everywhere, whether it's building the city, the autumn harvest, or training the troops."
"If we can recruit these experienced soldiers, even former enemies, as long as we disarm them and have them participate in labor, we can solve our immediate problem. The key is how to manage them."
However, the reaction of the Northern Territory officials, represented by Richter, Morr, and especially Lyon, was quite different; their faces instantly filled with anger, resistance, and disbelief!
"To incorporate the Sauron? To ally with those butchers? Absolutely not!" Lyon stood up abruptly, his voice trembling with anger. "My lord! Have you forgotten how they slaughtered our people, burned our villages, and seized our land?"
"They are the ones who breached my family's castle! They are the ones who drove my father to his death! I have a blood feud with the Sauron, a feud that will last until death! I will never agree to associate with any Sauron Barbarians! If they dare to come, I will kill them without hesitation!"
His words were filled with deep-seated hatred.
Old Morrell's hands, roughened by years of drawing and labor, clenched into fists, his eyes revealing deep pain and fear. "My lord... Carnford... the Carnford of the past, was breached by them... many of my old friends, my former comrades... all died by their swords..."
"These barbarians are cruel and bloodthirsty, utterly devoid of integrity! To accept them is tantamount to inviting wolves into the house! Please reconsider, my lord!" He had once been an engineer in Old Carnford, but after the city fell, he was dismissed by the kingdom and even enslaved. That experience remained a nightmare for him.
Richter's face was ashen. He had fought against small Sauron units for many years and witnessed too much carnage. He said in a heavy tone, "My lord, the Sauron are cunning and ruthless. Their surrender is probably not genuine, but rather a delaying tactic or a probe to assess our strength."
"Even if they come to us out of temporary desperation, their wild nature is untamable and they will surely cause trouble in the future! We, the soldiers and civilians of the Northern Territory, have many blood feuds with the Sauron. If we suddenly accept our enemies, it will likely chill the hearts of our soldiers and cause trouble!"
The atmosphere in the hall suddenly became tense and confrontational.