The Kingdom

Chapter 5: The Knight's Attendant

After gaining an initial understanding of the continent's history, Hudson was overwhelmed with a sense of disbelief, his mind consumed by a single thought—chaos.

"Every three years, a minor skirmish; every decade, a major war," it seemed as though the entire world existed solely for the purpose of conflict.

Not only did wars frequently erupt between nations, but the noble lords within the kingdom were also constantly embroiled in strife. From the moment one is born, war follows a noble's life like an inseparable shadow.

The reasons for war were as bizarre as they were varied—anything could ignite the flames of battle. Whether it be a swarm of bees or a wild beast, almost anything could become the spark that set the world alight.

Were it not for the presence of extraordinary powers, Hudson might have doubted if he had somehow been transported back to the Middle Ages. Aside from the presence of foreign races, the continent of Aslant seemed to be nothing more than a mirror image of medieval Europe.

Perhaps due to the cost, the history presented to him, aside from content related to the Coslo family, was mostly glossed over in a cursory manner, which left Hudson feeling disappointed.

The worst part was that these were all records of the past, entirely irrelevant to the current state of affairs. If he sought knowledge of the present world, he would likely have to ask Baron Redman himself.

However, as a foreigner, Hudson could barely avoid Baron Redman’s presence, let alone willingly approach him for information.

Unable to find the answers he sought, Hudson returned to his quarters, filled with confusion. It was then that he suddenly noticed the magic beast’s crystal core he had been carrying had turned to powder.

“Did the Baroness try to deceive me with a fake?”

The thought barely crossed his mind before Hudson dismissed it. When the item was delivered, he had personally checked it, and the potent magical energy could not have been faked.

Moreover, given the brief time frame, it would have been impossible to substitute it with a fake. Hudson didn’t believe the Baroness could have had a mage at her disposal ready to perform such a deception.

Focusing his mind, Hudson suddenly realized there seemed to be a compass in his mind, faintly etched with four mysterious characters.

It seemed as though his "golden finger" had finally arrived. Unfortunately, Hudson’s limited knowledge meant he couldn’t read the ancient characters inscribed on the compass.

Of course, even if he could read them, it would be of little use. The simplest operating instructions could never be conveyed in just four characters.

Confused about its use, Hudson did not feel frustrated. After all, having something was better than having nothing. The compass was activated only after absorbing magic energy, which provided him with a possible point of entry.

Perhaps feeding it a few more magical cores would reveal how to operate the compass. Yet, the thought of the exorbitant cost of those cores immediately dampened his enthusiasm.

As expected, he was not destined for wealth. In his past life, he had struggled with debt, and even now, after a modest windfall, he was already on the verge of losing it.

Magical cores were not easily obtained. He would have to travel to a large city for such a commodity; Iron Town was too remote, and only the Baron’s household or the local priest, Quinn, might possess them.

If only Hudson were a mage or an alchemist, he might stand a chance of finding them at a reasonable price, but as a knight, it was out of his expertise.

These things could not be rushed. Until the situation became clearer, the cautious Hudson would not take any risks.

…

At dawn, just as the first red light of morning crept over the horizon, the town square was already packed with people.

A knight could not exist in isolation; they required attendants. After all, their armor, weapons, and horses needed tending, and the noble knights were far too dignified to manage such tasks themselves.

Hudson was no exception. Today, it was his turn to select an attendant, and the young men gathering in the square were hoping for a stroke of luck.

Although the position of knight’s attendant may seem insignificant, to the common folk, it was still an unattainable honor.

Taking this step meant gaining access to military training. And should one perform well on the battlefield, rewards awaited them.

Indeed, the battlefield was dangerous, but the alternative—remaining behind and still being thrust into war—was hardly preferable.

For the lesser nobles unable to maintain a standing army, conscripting peasants to fight was a common practice.

No matter what, being close to leadership always had better survival odds than being one of the nameless foot soldiers.

"Hudson, choose as you see fit," Baron Redman said, his expression unreadable.

On the battlefield, close coordination was key, and naturally, the more familiar the attendant, the better. Hudson recognized many of the eager youths before him, some of them even personal acquaintances.

However, these were the original owner’s connections, not his own. With only vague memories to go on, Hudson could not distinguish one from the other.

"Those wishing to become knights' attendants, run ten laps around the town, with the sandglass marking the time," Hudson announced with a smile.

Yet, to the young men, his smile was terrifying.

As the sand in the hourglass dwindled, the youths hurriedly began running, eager not to fall behind.

Losing to an enemy was one thing; losing to a fellow competitor was quite another. In Hudson’s view, war in the noble world was always about “survival of the fittest.”

In an era where social classes were rigidly fixed, rising to the top was nearly impossible. For someone like him—of little noble lineage and no inheritance—the best course of action was simply to endure.

Endure until the heir ahead of him met their untimely end, or until a distant relative died out, or even until he could secure a marriage with a family of few heirs—any of these scenarios was far easier than earning a title through military achievement.

After all, the lands were all spoken for. Unless some external force disrupted the status quo, opportunities were scarce.

No vacant territories meant no new noble families would arise. Even with military merit, one could only attain the status of an honorary noble.

"Shh-shh-shh..."

The hourglass ran out of sand, and the youths returned to the square, some jubilant, others dejected. It was a scene of joy for a few and sorrow for many.

Just as Hudson was about to announce the results, Baron Redman suddenly spoke up.

"Thirty-one participants arrived on time. Start the second round."

In that moment, Hudson understood. Too many had passed the first round. Iron Town had no shortage of people, but Hudson now lacked the means to support them.

By tradition, after several months of training, those who didn’t make the cut would be sent off to seek their own livelihoods.

In Hudson’s view, having more attendants with no salary to pay was a blessing. However, Baron Redman likely did not think he could afford so many.

Traditional knights lived by warfare, and without a foundation, survival would be difficult. But Hudson was different—without the burden of noble honor, he could resort to anything, even robbing merchant caravans if pressed.

With a sharp sword in hand and ambitions in his chest, how could he starve?

As he reluctantly acknowledged that his circumstances left him no choice but to rely on Baron Redman, Hudson sighed.

"Next, we’ll test their skill. The ten strongest will be selected," he declared, his tone firm.

He paid no attention to Baron Redman’s displeased expression. Ten was his limit—he couldn’t afford to reduce that number further.

Having fewer attendants didn’t necessarily mean greater strength, but having too few would certainly be a disadvantage. In an age of cold steel, the more allies one had, the better.