Chương 241: 241：Supreme Commendation, Zero Power

The Prince Regent turned, looking at Rodman's reaction with profound satisfaction.

"Yes, General Rodman. Such a meteoric speed of promotion is absolutely unprecedented in the centuries-long history of the Silvermoon Kingdom!"

"I want the entire world to see that the Royal Capital will absolutely not mistreat the heroes who bathe in blood for the realm. I will use this supreme honor to commend his illustrious military merits!"

"Your Highness is profoundly wise! If Commander Soren learns of this, he will be deeply moved by the Crown's boundless grace, and he will gladly lay down his life for the Kingdom!" Old General Rodman saluted excitedly, his hand over his heart. He had entirely believed Supreme Command would indefinitely suppress the Crimson Moon Knights; he never imagined the Prince Regent possessed such magnanimous vision.

However, just as the old general was brimming with joy, Duke Fernando, standing off to the side, let out a sinister, deeply mocking sneer.

"General, I wouldn't celebrate just yet." Fernando twirled the massive ruby ring on his thumb. His bloated face was heavily etched with treacherous calculation, adding an extra layer of cruel ridicule:"Is your hearing failing you in your old age? His Highness bestowed the title of Deputy Border Commander." Fernando bit down exceptionally hard on the word "Deputy." Rodman violently stiffened, the intense excitement on his face instantly freezing over.

The Prince Regent sat back down in his throne, his expression completely neutral, and began to methodically peel back the deeply hidden, lethal political calculations lurking beneath this supposedly glorious commendation:"While this position holds immense nominal prestige—enough for him to hold his head high in front of anyone—it is, fundamentally, a strictly subordinate role."

The Prince Regent casually played with an ivory letter opener, slowly unveiling the murderous restrictions:"As a Deputy Commander, legally, Soren will be placed under the absolute jurisdiction and strict control of a Crown-appointed Chief Commander!"

"He must unconditionally obey the military deployments of his superior. Furthermore, every single time he wishes to initiate a large-scale military operation, he will be legally mandated to submit formal reports and await authorization from the Chief Commander."

"Not only that, but the actual authority he possesses will be virtually zero." The Prince Regent's face turned chillingly stern as he explicitly stripped away the military power that should have accompanied the rank:"Aside from the battered remnants of his Crimson Moon Knights and the militia he conscripted himself in Greywater Village, he will absolutely not be able to leverage this title to mobilize a single unit of the Silvermoon Kingdom's regular army!"

Those words acted like a bucket of ice water, instantly shocking old General Rodman awake. The joy and gratitude he felt mere seconds ago completely evaporated. The old general looked at the Prince Regent in utter disbelief, then turned to look at the sinister, grinning face of Fernando. He finally saw through the true, utterly sickening intent of the Silvermoon Kingdom's high command! This wasn't some supreme blessing of royal grace!

This was a custom-tailored political collar—a mechanism that appeared incredibly glorious on the surface, but was designed specifically to entirely paralyze Soren! Supreme Command intended to use this high-status, zero-power official title to violently drag Soren—who currently operated freely and without restraint within the lawless swamps—directly back into the Kingdom's strict, bureaucratic military hierarchy!

As long as Soren accepted this title, he officially became a direct vassal of the Crown, bound by absolute military law. If he ever dared to disobey orders from the capital in the future, if he dared to expand his army unauthorized, or attempt to break free of their control... Supreme Command could legitimately, righteously brand him with the crime of "Treason and Insubordination" and deploy the main legions to eradicate him!

This was a highly calculated move to permanently neuter his Warlord ambitions, thoroughly reducing him to a high-tier, highly disposable tool manipulated entirely by the Royal Family!

"Your Highness! This is utterly absurd!" Old General Rodman roared, grief and fury intertwining as his white beard trembled violently: This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

"If you deny him military authority, what about resources?! Since Soren has been promoted to a Senior General of the Kingdom, according to military law, Supreme Command is absolutely obligated to allocate tangible combat resources befitting his new rank!"

"He has achieved an earth-shattering miracle! Are we truly not going to reward him with a single gold coin, a single warhorse, or even a handful of winter grain?!" Hearing the old general mention resources, Duke Fernando acted as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. He clutched his fat stomach and burst into uproarious, mocking laughter.

"Hahaha! Resources? Rodman, have you been locked up in Supreme Command for so long that you've gone completely deaf to the winds outside?"

"According to our embedded border scouts and the exact intelligence transmitted back by the military clerics!"

"Soren's Greywater Village territory is currently sitting on a stockpile of wealth so astronomically abundant it is literally sickening!" The more Fernando spoke, the more violently jealous he became, the fat on his cheeks physically quivering:"Would you believe it?! His base-level grunts—his lowest dirt-farmers—are eating magical beast stew more luxurious than a noble's banquet! They drink expensive rum!

When they get a minor flesh wound, they are chugging Minor Life Recovery Potions worth dozens of gold coins a vial!"

"They even possess a terrifying Black Steel forge! His vanguard elites are wearing [Black Steel Full-Plate Armor] capable of completely shrugging off Orcish heavy axes! That is top-tier equipment that even the Royal Guards directly under the Crown cannot fully afford to field!"

Fernando violently slammed his palm onto the table, pointing his heavily jeweled finger right at Rodman's nose and roaring:"And you expect me to go into the national treasury, scrape together some standard-issue iron weapons, a few ragged cotton coats, and a pile of moldy, years-old grain to 'reward' him?!"

"Old General, offering that garbage to him won't serve as an incentive! It will be viewed as a blatant, pathetic display of Supreme Command's absolute incompetence!"

"Furthermore!" Fernando turned to the Prince Regent, viciously pouring oil onto the political fire:"His current military strength is already far too terrifying! If we allocate a massive influx of tangible, physical rewards to him, it will only fuel his faction's explosive growth! We would literally be funding his warlord ambitions! When his army is fully formed and his wings are fully spread, do you truly believe he will even put the Silvermoon Kingdom in his eyes?"

This highly manipulative, incredibly venomous analysis flawlessly struck the absolute most sensitive, paranoid nerve of the ruler. The Prince Regent took a deep breath, his face darkening completely.

"Fernando speaks reason." The Prince Regent handed down his final, completely ruthless verdict without a single shred of mercy:"Treasury resources must be deployed where they are most critical. Since Greywater Village is already excessively affluent, all tangible combat resources originally earmarked for his commendation will be entirely reallocated to other, more obedient regular army units along the northern defensive line!"

"Your Highness! You absolutely cannot! This will freeze the hearts of every single soldier on the frontlines! This is burning the bridge after crossing the river!" General Rodman's knees buckled; he nearly collapsed to the floor in sheer desperation. The frontline soldiers were out there bathing in blood, trading their very lives to achieve peerless, legendary combat merits...

yet in the eyes of the Royal Capital's high command, those lives couldn't even be exchanged for a single scrap of tangible, material support!

"General Rodman. Watch your tone!" The Prince Regent shot the old general a severe, highly warning glare. He walked over to his desk. Pulling out a document crafted from the most exorbitantly expensive gold-leaf parchment, he picked up the pure gold seal representing the absolute authority of the Crown, and stamped it down heavily.

"I have not been stingy with my rewards." The Prince Regent picked up the parchment bearing the vibrant red royal wax seal. His expression was haughty, genuinely believing he was acting with utmost benevolence:"This is my reward to Soren. A Supreme Commendation from the Kingdom!"

"For a Knight, honor is life."

"This commendation represents the Silvermoon Kingdom's absolute, highest validation of Soren's combat prowess. It is a sublime honor that a man of his lowly birth could never hope to attain in ten lifetimes!" The Prince Regent handed the weightless piece of parchment to a waiting attendant, his voice icy:"Go! Take this Supreme Commendation, along with the tailored uniform of the Deputy Border Commander, and deliver it via express rider directly to the Misty Swamp."

"The high command of the Royal Capital unanimously agrees: for a man of his abysmal origins, spiritual recognition and honorable titles are the absolute most appropriate reward. This is the bounty for which he should be endlessly, tearfully grateful!" The attendant accepted the silver tray burdened only with hypocritical, empty honor, and bowed deeply as he backed out of the secret chamber. Old General Rodman stood completely paralyzed in place, staring blankly at the tightly sealed oak door.

Standing inside this luxurious, spring-like secret chamber, the old general felt nothing but a profound, absolute desolation and a freezing chill that pierced straight into his soul. It was as if he could vividly see Soren, fighting a brutal, blood-soaked slaughter amidst the freezing mud and blizzards.

When that young commander opened this "Supreme Commendation" from the Royal Capital with heavy expectations, only to discover that aside from a completely hollow title and a piece of scrap paper, there wasn't even a single lump of coal provided to ward off the cold... what absolute, agonizing grief and fury he would feel. This was politics. Filthy, entirely consumed by calculation, and absolutely ruthless. Meanwhile.

Due south of the Misty Swamp, along the northern defensive line of the Holy Halycon Empire: Megalith Keep. In stark, aggressive contrast to the luxurious, politically poisoned, and heavily calculated atmosphere of the Silvermoon Kingdom's Royal Capital, the domed hall of Megalith Keep's Supreme Command was currently steeped in a heavy, iron-blooded aura of martial solemnity. Grand Duke Valentine stood completely alone before the vast, incredibly detailed strategic sandbox.

Thick pine logs burned fiercely in the massive fireplace, the dancing flames casting deep, shifting shadows across his majestic, heavily scarred profile. This Supreme Commander, a titan holding the lives of millions of imperial soldiers in the palm of his hand, was currently frowning deeply, lost in profound thought.

"My Lord, it is late into the night." Chief Tactician Marr approached silently from behind, gently draping a massive, heavy bearskin cloak over the Grand Duke's shoulders. Grand Duke Valentine did not turn around. His piercing gaze remained locked entirely, with laser-like focus, onto a single, specific coordinate on the sandbox: [Misty Swamp - Greywater Village].