In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

The Count's tent was surrounded by rows of cavalry, a display of strength that caught Michael's attention.

"I want those heavy cavalry," he thought enviously.

"Thank you for coming despite your fatigue," Count Charles began. "Let us begin the discussion."

The room was tense as nobles exchanged furtive looks. Most were warriors by nature, ill-suited for negotiations. They relied on their aides to guide them.

Michael whispered to Baron Crassus, "Your Grace, the Count surely knows the extent of the damage we've suffered. We should demand 70% of the spoils from this campaign, in addition to retaining whatever our troops have claimed for themselves."

Count Charles's face darkened. "Seventy percent? That's outrageous! We've lost three knights, and there will be more casualties to come."

"Three knights?" one of the representatives interjected. "We lost 21 knights, including five lords! How will you compensate for those losses?"

Count Charles clicked his tongue in frustration. "Fine. Then we'll allocate shares according to each house's contributions, as has been customary. Individual soldiers may keep what they've claimed."

"That won't do," Baron Crassus retorted. "We've already agreed to divide the spoils collectively. If 70% is too much, then we demand 50% of the total spoils, which we will distribute among ourselves. As for personal claims, those will remain untouched."

Count Charles hesitated. Overwhelmed by the alliance's united front, he had no choice but to relent.

"Very well. I'll bear the losses," he conceded.

The meeting ended more swiftly than expected, with the minor noble alliance leaving in high spirits.

Watching them go, Count Charles smirked.

"Celebrate while you can. You're not the only ones with alliances," he muttered, thinking of the viscount houses and other nobles he could rally to his side.

Still, with his recent string of bad luck, there was no guarantee his plans would succeed.

The minor nobles were overjoyed with the profits secured by their five representatives.

Receiving half of the collective spoils, excluding individual loot, was an unprecedented gain. The spoils even included territories. For nobles, acquiring land was irresistible.

Even if the land was far from their current holdings, they could always exchange it with others. Since estates were often contiguous, swapping territories was a common practice.

Michael was in good spirits, too. It was now clear to all the minor nobles that he was the true force behind the alliance.

With such accomplishments, he no longer needed to rely on Baron Kensington to rally support.

After the meeting concluded, Michael and Baron Crassus hastened back to their camp. The casualties from the battle had unsettled the soldiers, and it was not wise for the lord and his heir to remain absent for long.

As they approached the camp, the acrid stench of burning flesh assaulted their senses.

By the fires, soldiers stood solemnly, mourning their fallen comrades. The cremation of the dead was underway.

This was a grim necessity. On the battlefield, burning corpses was standard protocol—not just to prevent the spread of disease but to avoid a more sinister threat.

In this world, the dead often returned. Reanimated comrades usually announced their return with ravenous bites aimed at their former allies.

With a necromancer among the enemy forces, the precautions were even more critical. The bodies had to be burned completely, leaving nothing but ashes.

Still, the dead deserved dignity. As the grandson and heir of an executioner, Michael felt it appropriate to offer some form of funeral rite.

He excused himself from the baron and approached the burning pyre.

The soldiers made way as Michael stepped forward.

"Those who rest here, rejoice with all your heart," Michael began, reciting the executioner's prayer. "Death is peace, a promised sanctity. Do not grieve the end, for I will avenge you. If not me, then who will stain their hands with blood? Peace comes from vengeance, and death is rest."

Standing before the flames, Michael traced the sacred sign of the gods of death and vengeance.

The soldiers, who had been watching in awe, hastily mimicked his gesture, drawing the same symbol over their chests.

It was a cruel world, one where war would never cease.

Though Michael had not yet gained the strength to reshape its course, he hoped to always make the right choices.

After a solemn bow toward the blazing pyre, Michael turned and walked away.@@novelbin@@

As he departed, the soldiers saluted him with newfound respect.

His steps toward the barracks were heavy.

Though he felt no aversion to killing, likely due to a survival instinct, the deaths of his allies weighed on him differently.

Without such feelings, he would have feared becoming a psychopath.

Through blood and fire, Michael had undergone a harsh initiation into this world.

Indeed, humanity was a creature shaped by its environment.

The next morning, the sound of horns signaling assembly echoed through the camp.

Dragging his heavy body, Michael mounted Bucephalus. Baron Crassus and Sir Ronald, their eyes shadowed with exhaustion, joined him.

The aftereffects of their first battle were palpable.

Though they longed for a day of rest, there was no time to spare.

The Bloodseal needed to be neutralized, and the remaining fanatics had to be eliminated.

Failure to act swiftly could endanger their territories.

The soldiers, understanding this, moved with urgency.

The haunting image of the fanatics' blood-red eyes lingered in their minds. They could not allow that same fire to threaten their families.

Count Charles divided the assembled forces into four legions.

The first legion comprised Count Charles's troops and his vassals, along with the 20 court knights brought by the Court Count.

The second legion consisted of the viscount families and their retainers.

The third legion was formed from nobles unaffiliated with the minor noble alliance.

Naturally, the minor noble alliance made up the fourth legion.

Michael and Baron Crassus directed Sir Ronald to organize their formation while seeking out the other nobles.

Now that they were part of a legion, they needed to establish a proper order. They could no longer afford to fight as a disorganized mob.

The allied nobles agreed wholeheartedly.

They had learned the hard way during the previous battle that 90% of their forces were untrained and ineffective.

Under standard military structure, units were organized into squads of ten, companies of a hundred, and regiments of a thousand.

However, the allied nobles instead grouped themselves haphazardly, forming six companies based on personal connections.