Chương 247: 247：A Legitimized Warlord

She wasn't dressed in the cumbersome gowns of the nobility, but rather in practical, rugged leather riding breeches and a heavy windproof jacket. At this moment, a tidal wave of unprecedented excitement and profound shock violently surged through her heart. Having spent years navigating the absolute most brutal, blood-soaked frontlines, Lucia had witnessed far too many human refugees wailing beneath Orcish butcher knives. She had seen countless tragedies of cannibalism over half a loaf of moldy black bread.

In her worldview, war was a completely inhumane slaughterhouse, and base-level soldiers and civilians were nothing but disposable chips in the hands of the high nobility. But here, in Greywater Village, that fundamental truth had been entirely, violently pulverized! Walking through the territory, she had been profoundly moved by the scenes unfolding before her eyes.

She saw human civilians, diminutive goblins, and even heavily discriminated half-elves sitting entirely unguarded around a massive iron cauldron, openly sharing steaming bowls of Wyvern meat stew! She saw the blast furnaces spewing blinding, searing flames into the sky, where goblin master artisans and human apprentices fervently argued over blueprints just to forge the perfect piece of heavy armor. She saw the endless, thriving fields of [Swamp Tubers] growing vibrantly in the highly acidic mud.

The sheer, astronomical volume of their material reserves was something that even the absolute wealthiest border capitals of the Silvermoon Kingdom couldn't even hope to rival, let alone a mere "village"! Yet, what left Lucia utterly breathless and unable to extricate herself from her awe was a single, microscopic detail.

"Civil-military integration..." Lucia gripped her parchment journal so tightly her knuckles turned white. Just moments ago, she had personally witnessed a squad of terrifyingly oppressive vanguard elites clad in heavy Black Steel plate marching past during a shift change. Logically, civilians encountering such blood-soaked, murderous killing machines should have instantly dropped to their knees in sheer terror. But a little human girl by the roadside hadn't shied away at all.

Instead, she giggled and ran right up, handing a perfectly roasted, golden tuber to the veteran leading the squad. That grizzled veteran—a man capable of literally tearing an Orc apart with his bare hands on the battlefield—actually stopped in his tracks. He meticulously, carefully removed his steel gauntlet, which was still caked in dried blood, and used his massive, calloused hand to gently pat the little girl's head before taking the tuber and taking a massive, hearty bite. No class oppression.

No racial discrimination. The soldiers gripped their halberds to protect the civilians to the death, and the civilians toiled endlessly to nourish their soldiers.

"Just what kind of man is he?" Lucia muttered in her heart. This unprecedented level of societal stability and unbreakable military cohesion absolutely could not be forced through draconian laws and the lash of a whip. Behind this miracle, there had to be an utterly sublime, master-tier doctrine of leadership!

"Soren... are you a bloodthirsty Warlord, or a Saint attempting to completely reforge the rules of this dark world?" Lucia's curiosity regarding this Lord she had yet to even meet reached an absolute, feverish peak. She was practically vibrating with the urge to rip open his mind and see exactly how much epoch-shattering, transcendent wisdom he possessed! Step. Step. Step. Just as the two envoys were lost in their respective states of shock, the steady, authoritative thud of leather boots echoed from the corridor.

The heavy wooden door was pushed open. Soren took massive strides into the reception hall. He wasn't wearing heavy plate, but rather form-fitting, highly mobile combat attire draped with a black cape, a fine-steel longsword slung casually at his waist. He completely lacked the hypocritical, pretentious airs of the nobility, nor did he possess the unhinged, arrogant swagger of a typical warlord.

Forged in the absolute crucible of brutal battlefields, every single micro-movement he made radiated a chilling, decisive composure.

"Gentlemen. Apologies for the wait." Soren's gaze swept over the two envoys. The sheer, razor-sharp oppression bleeding from his eyes caused the royal envoy to instinctively shrink his neck.

"Commander Soren! I am Lucia!" Before the royal envoy could even open his mouth, Lucia could no longer suppress the explosive excitement in her chest and strode rapidly forward. She didn't execute a dainty, noble curtsy. Instead, like a pure war scholar and soldier, she extended her right hand directly toward Soren. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"On behalf of the Holy Halycon Empire, on behalf of Grand Duke Valentine, and on behalf of the tens of millions of humans desperate for victory... I salute you!" Lucia tilted her head up, looking Soren dead in the eyes: "I implore you! Please grant me permission to conduct a profound, in-depth war chronicle and interview regarding you and this absolutely miraculous territory! Your tactical doctrines and your philosophy must be made known to the entire world!"

Looking at the exceptionally famous war scholar standing before him, a charismatic smile touched Soren's lips. He reached out, gripping Lucia's hand with steady, reassuring strength.

"The esteemed reputation of Lady Lucia has reached my ears even within this toxic swamp. Your articles are, at times, vastly more impactful than the charge of ten thousand heavy knights." Soren generously agreed on the spot, his Warlord mind perfectly calculating the absolute, immeasurable strategic value of this massive, free public relations campaign:"The gates of Greywater Village are always open to any human harboring true righteousness."

"Interviews, records—you have absolutely unrestricted access." Receiving such a straightforward, unhindered response, Lucia trembled with sheer excitement. She immediately pulled out her charcoal chalk, ready to launch into an interview destined to violently shake the continent. Ahem! Ahem! Seeing the spotlight entirely stolen by the scholar from the Halycon Empire, the royal envoy from the Silvermoon Kingdom—who had been left hanging out to dry—could no longer sit still.

He coughed heavily, forcefully puffing out his chest to project an aura of high-and-mighty royal majesty. He took a scroll tightly bound in pure gold thread from his attendant.

"Vice Commander of the Crimson Moon Knights, Soren! Receive your decree!" The envoy deliberately raised the pitch of his voice, desperately attempting to weaponize royal authority to snatch back control of the room. Soren turned around slowly. However, he absolutely did not drop to a single knee like a traditional, subservient noble. He merely offered a faint nod, staring at the envoy with dead, chilling calmness. That utterly indifferent posture ignited a flash of fury in the envoy's heart.

But the exact microsecond he recalled the terrifying, Black Steel juggernauts marching outside, he violently swallowed his reprimand.

Rolling open the scroll, he announced loudly:"In light of Soren's deployment of brilliant, unorthodox stratagems during the campaigns of Soulsever Gorge and Bloodfang Fortress—whereby he utterly annihilated the high inspection delegation of the Blood Province along with their elite Orc escorts, decapitated enemy leaders, and struck absolute terror across the borders—he has achieved unprecedented, monumental glory for the Silvermoon Kingdom!"

"By resolution of Supreme Command in the Royal Capital, and by the personal, supreme decree of His Highness, The Prince Regent!" The envoy's voice echoed through the cabin, dripping heavily with the tone of a master tossing alms to a beggar:"Soren is hereby officially promoted to the rank of Deputy Border Commander of the Silvermoon Kingdom! Bestowed with the Purple-Gold Sash! He shall retain his original unit designation within the Crimson Moon Knights and continue commanding his forces against the enemy!"

"Furthermore..." The envoy used both hands to present another extravagant piece of parchment bearing a bright red royal wax seal toward Soren:"Soren is hereby bestowed with the Supreme Commendation of the Kingdom, stamped personally by The Prince Regent, to honor your irreplaceable, transcendent battle record!" The cabin instantaneously fell into a dead silence. Lucia stared at the glittering, gold-leafed document in profound astonishment.

With her razor-sharp political acumen, she instantly pierced through the suffocatingly thick stench of political conspiracy reeking from this supposed "reward."

"Deputy Border Commander? An absolute, terrifyingly prestigious title... yet they aren't granting him a single fraction of actual authority to mobilize regular troops?! They aren't even providing tangible material rewards, just a worthless piece of paper?!" Lucia sneered coldly in her heart. These utterly corrupt, bloated high nobles of the Silvermoon Kingdom... Even hovering on the absolute brink of apocalyptic ruin, they are still playing their pathetic games of political checks and balances!

It's purely farcical! She looked at Soren with intense anxiety, utterly terrified that this fiercely proud, Warlord-tier young commander would violently erupt on the spot when faced with such a blatantly insulting, hollow reward. However, Soren's reaction completely shattered everyone's expectations. Not only did he not fly into a rage, but there wasn't even a microscopic trace of surprise on his face.

He stepped forward with flawless composure, using both hands to accept the seemingly grandiose yet entirely worthless Supreme Commendation.

"I, Soren, offer my deepest gratitude for the boundless grace of His Highness, The Prince Regent, and the cultivation of Supreme Command." Soren's words were exceptionally earnest. Gently placing a hand over his chest, he completed the investiture ceremony with absolutely impeccable, flawless aristocratic manners.

Watching Soren accept the decree with such docile obedience, the royal envoy let out a massive, internal sigh of relief, immediately mocking him in his heart:"A base-born peasant is ultimately still a short-sighted peasant. He got completely dizzy and lost his mind over the empty prestige of a Deputy Commander title!"

"With this, Supreme Command has flawlessly, legally shackled him under the absolute authority of Kingdom military law!" But the envoy was entirely, blissfully oblivious to the fact that, at this exact microsecond, Soren's lowered head concealed a sneer of pure, Warlord-tier mockery.

"Old General Rodman. It must have been agonizing for you to fight tooth and nail against the Royal Court just to secure this official status for me." The high command in the capital actually believed this 'Deputy Commander' title was a political collar? Utterly, unbelievably stupid!

"No actual authority to mobilize the regular army? I absolutely do not need to mobilize your pathetic, grain-wasting coward legions!"

"But now that I possess the completely orthodox, highly official status of a Senior General... from this day forward, any troop movements my Greywater Village executes across the entire geopolitical map of the Human Alliance—even the hostile absorption of other wandering factions—becomes a perfectly justified, legally sanctioned military operation! Who would ever dare brand me a rebel Warlord now?!"

"You truly believed a worthless piece of scrap paper could bind me? Then open your eyes and watch closely! Watch how I weaponize this very piece of scrap paper to systematically, violently swallow the entire military authority of the South!" With the investiture ceremony concluded and his mission accomplished, the royal envoy sat to the side, sipping tea with a profound sense of relief. Lucia, however, could finally hold back no longer.

Clutching her parchment journal, she rapidly closed the distance, stepping directly in front of Soren.