Louis had his own reasons for sharing the credit with Count Firth.
Before arriving in Snow Eagle City, he had pieced together Count Firth's personality from information supplied by the Daily Intelligence System.
Cowardly, vain, deeply self-centered, and fond of claiming the lion's share of the credit without contributing anything.
A textbook case of narcissistic personality disorder.
A man like him loved being flattered more than anything and feared being isolated most of all.
Rather than let him scheme in secret, Louis might as well offer him a share of the military credit and gain some goodwill and convenience in return.
Anyone with eyes could tell who had actually done the fighting anyway.
More importantly, under the mobilization order from the Northern Frontier Governor's Military Headquarters, all forces in Snowpeak Commandery fell under the Fifth Legion's coordination.
And the Fifth Legion's nominal commander was Count Firth.
In other words, without orders from Duke Edmund, Louis would have to fight under this incompetent fool no matter how much merit he earned.
It was unreasonable, but that was reality.
Louis understood the rules among nobles perfectly well. He had been born into one of the Empire's eight great noble households.
He had grown up hearing verbal sparring at banquets and watching hypocritical displays of flattery.
He had long since mastered the ways nobles buttered one another up.
If a few smiles and a handful of words could buy him more authority over troop movements, he did not mind doing it.
The music resumed, and servants carefully cleaned the blood from the floor, but the murderous tension in the air had yet to fade completely.
The Southern Nobles who had mocked Louis earlier now approached with smiles on their faces and wineglasses in hand.
"Lord Louis, you've accomplished so much at such a