Duke Edmund had promoted Louis this way not only because he had fought brilliantly, but also for deeper reasons.
Too many of the Frontier Nobles sent from the south had died in this campaign, provoking dissatisfaction among the southern aristocratic houses.
Everyone knew perfectly well that those wastrels had only come to the Northern Frontier to fulfill their obligations and snag themselves a fief.
But having so many die at once was difficult to explain away. It inevitably raised suspicions that the northern nobles had deliberately used the enemy to kill them.
Promoting Louis, a frontier baron from the south, was the best possible response.
It was not that the Northern Frontier excluded outsiders. They were simply too useless.
If they had possessed even half his ability, they would have survived and earned military honors long ago.
Louis had ended up benefiting from the situation.
And so Louis calmly walked down from the platform.
His pace was unhurried, as though he had just taken part in some inconsequential routine ceremony rather than received a medal and honors that nobles scrambled to obtain.
Yet wherever he passed, the nobles watched him with undisguised envy in their eyes.
No one dared look down on this nineteen-year-old baron anymore.
The awards continued.
The names of the nobles receiving rewards rang out one after another, but Louis recognized none of them.
Almost all were established northern nobles. Very few were Frontier Nobles from the south.
Then the military administrator's voice rang out again. "Baron Joern Tahawi, second-class military merit."
Seated in the back row, Joern nearly sprang out of his chair. He snapped fully alert, his face plainly saying, I get something too?!
"A reward of two thousand gold coins and an additional one hundred square kilometers of territory..."
Joern slapped his thigh, tears