In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

The naturally gentle pegasus obeyed its master's command, gliding down toward the ground. General Leonard and Duke Capone reluctantly followed. Discover exclusive content at My Virtual Library Empire

As Randolph landed, his escort knights waved banners to announce his arrival. Nobles, led by Count Charles, quickly gathered around the prince, bowing respectfully.

"Greetings to the kingdom's young sun. General Leonard, Duke Capone, welcome. You must be weary from your journey. Shall we arrange for you to ride in the carriage?"

The sudden appearance of such high-ranking figures stirred excitement among the troops. While the soldiers celebrated, Michael remained unenthused. The crown prince's presence was not something he welcomed.

Unlike the other nobles, Michael stood quietly at the rear, avoiding the commotion. But Randolph soon singled him out.

"Sir Michael! There you are. Come over here," the prince called out.

Michael frowned briefly before smoothing his expression. There was no need to display hostility.

As Randolph enthusiastically shared his views on military strategy, Michael listened without expressing any opinions. It wasn't that he lacked thoughts on the matter, but speaking candidly on such sensitive topics was dangerous.

While the prince had the liberty to discuss any subject, Michael could not afford the same freedom. His restraint was not due to timidity but a calculated decision. Michael respected King Charles V not because of his title but because of his exceptional leadership and merit as a ruler. The crown prince, however, had yet to demonstrate such worth.

Randolph, noticing Michael's lack of response, frowned.

"Sir Michael, you've been rather quiet. Do you find my ideas unworthy of a reply?" he asked, irritation evident in his tone.

Before Michael could answer, Duke Capone intervened.

"Your Highness, such words are uncalled for. Sir Michael is merely a corps commander. He refrains from commenting out of respect for your authority, not out of disdain. Please forgive any perceived slight."

Randolph's scowl softened, and he laughed heartily. Clapping Michael on the shoulder, he declared,

"Ha! So that's how it is. It would be a shame for someone as talented as you to lack the position you deserve. I value ability above all else. As supreme commander of the expeditionary forces, I hereby appoint Sir Michael von Crassus as the First Corps Commander and bestow upon him the rank of baron!"

The sudden announcement left everyone stunned.

As supreme commander, the crown prince had the authority to make such appointments, but doing so without prior consultation was unprecedented.

While Michael's qualifications were undeniable—being the owner of a dragon and a sphinx, an exceptional archer, and a brilliant tactician—the promotion seemed abrupt.

Amused by the unexpected turn of events, Michael thought to himself,

"Even arrogant and impulsive superiors can occasionally be useful."

The sudden elevation of Michael's status startled the nobles, prompting murmurs and sidelong glances. Their envious stares brushed past him, but Michael remained impassive, offering gratitude to the crown prince who had granted him the title. In such a situation, excessive flattery or overt displays of joy could easily invite trouble.

The crown prince appeared oblivious to the nobles' discontent. To him, the soldiers under Michael's command seemed to be the only true army, while the rest were nothing more than a disorganized rabble.

In truth, the other noble-led armies weren't intentionally lax in discipline or deliberately slowing their march. On the contrary, their pace was relatively quick—covering approximately 20 kilometers a day despite being hastily assembled infantry units. However, in comparison to Michael's forces, their efforts seemed insignificant.

"It's merely a reward for a knight who set an example during these trying times. What is there to complain about?" the crown prince asked, his brow furrowed as he glanced around. Sensing his dissatisfaction, the nobles quickly quieted down.

"All the nobles need to do is fulfill their duties as faithfully as Sir Michael," he added. His simplistic perspective only made the atmosphere more uncomfortable.

Perhaps it was because he had been raised in the comfort of a greenhouse-like environment, but his political instincts were woefully lacking. It was hard to believe he was the son of Charles V, who was famed for his cunning political acumen. Was it because he was the only prince and had been excessively coddled? Or was his eagerness to step out of his father's shadow leading to repeated blunders?

The nobles responded with silence, their gazes growing colder.

Unable to bear the crown prince's continued missteps, Duke Capone intervened. "Your Highness, it seems we will soon reach the border of the Kingdom of Elonia. How should we prepare for the inspection?"

The crown prince, who had been venting his frustrations, finally collected himself. "There's no need for a formal inspection. After all, not all the troops have gathered yet. The gravity of the situation should ensure the Kingdom of Elonia understands."@@novelbin@@

Although his tone was calmer, an undercurrent of arrogance still lingered. Duke Capone noted that the crown prince still failed to fully grasp the situation. However, as a seasoned politician, he concealed his thoughts and carefully continued, "A wise decision, Your Highness. It would be best to rest briefly at the border fortress and finalize how we'll engage after all reinforcements arrive. If Your Highness personally explains the circumstances, it will prevent any unnecessary misunderstandings with the Kingdom of Elonia."

Michael silently admired Duke Capone's tact. Initially, he had questioned why such an inept prince was given any autonomy, but it became clear that the duke's presence was a key reason. Above all, Michael doubted Charles V truly understood how disastrously incompetent his son was. After all, even a hedgehog finds its offspring endearing.

Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of Elonia, the atmosphere inside the palace's conference room was tense as the sun set. Urgent reports from the frontline arrived one after another, and the heavy air pressed down on everyone present.

News came that two of the five main tribes of the Pamir Empire, considered its primary force, had begun their invasion.

"When will reinforcements from the Kingdom of Lania arrive?" King Henry III asked in a voice heavy with fatigue.

Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and his shoulders drooped as if burdened by the weight of the world. Today, more than ever, the throne felt unbearably uncomfortable. The fate of the Kingdom of Elonia teetered on the edge of collapse.