The Emperor cut the thread cleanly, not because the topic was resolved, but because lingering on it would keep feeding the room’s unease.
His tone carried the weight of command returning to its proper path, and the shift was imdiate: people straightened, attention reoriented, minds recalculating what the "reason" would be.
The emperor looked at the hall and all the nobles that were there.
"Ludwig heart, you’ve proven yourself, ti and ti again, a bastion of humanity and its protector.
A guardian of the Empire where many failed to et the standards. We have failed to recognize your value even though you cleared Tulmud of the Wrathful Death, the Usurper of Death, a Godless being that We have co to understand wants nothing but to destroy and kill.
We have believed it to be a guardian of the North. But in reality, it was rely a beast among many beasts.
And Ludwig had fought against it for Five consecutive years while We, the Throne did nothing more than give a few words."
He laid it out plainly: the throne had done little more than speak.
The nobles listened with careful expressions, because this wasn’t just praise. It was narrative. It was the Emperor shaping how the country would rember these events, and everyone in the room understood that mory was political currency.
"This is bad..." The words ca from the Knight King right into Ludwig’s mind.
"What do you an Bad," Ludwig replied ntally, "So far nothing he said was out of line or order."
The Emperor’s words were clean, respectful, even accurate. No insult. No trap obvious enough to point at. Ludwig’s mind stayed on the surface facts because that was where he preferred to live, where survival was simple.
"That’s exactly the reason why it’s bad. You’re being openly and actively honored with every noble in the country present, at least the higher ones... You’re in for so nasty surprises," the Knight King said.
The Knight King’s aning pressed in behind the words.
Ludwig could feel it: public honor in front of the entire noble spine of the Empire was never free. It wasn’t generosity; it was investnt. The kind of investnt that ca with chains disguised as ribbon. Ludwig’s eyes drifted, briefly, subtly, over the faces in the hall.
So looked pleased, so thoughtful, so tight with calculation. This wasn’t a simple ceremony; it was an announcent to the country’s power brokers that Ludwig Heart was being moved on the board.
"Not only that, he still followed duty and honor, and took it to his own heart to take the Stigma of betrayal to go deep into the West, unsupported by the Crown and Country. Have t my own child, and fought to forge peace between two warring states..." The emperor’s words echoed once more.
The Emperor continued, stacking deeds like stones, building a monunt out of Ludwig’s history.
The Empire had let Ludwig walk into danger without backing, and he had done it anyway. Then the Emperor tied Ludwig directly to his own child, a phrasing that made the nobles’ attention sharpen, because family involvent ant the throne’s interests were now attached to Ludwig in a way that wasn’t easily severed.
The whole hall began nodding up and down.
Not all nods were equal. So were sincere, born from admiration or relief. Others were polite, automatic, the kind a noble gives when the Emperor speaks and the safest posture is agreent. A few nods were sharper, more deliberate, people marking this mont as sothing they needed to rember. In a room like this, even approval had layers.
"I think I’m beginning to understand what you an," Ludwig replied to the Knight King as he saw Alexander’s face turning paler. Sothing big was about to happen.
Alexander’s pallor was the kind that ca before bad news, blood draining, muscles tightening as if bracing for impact that hadn’t landed yet. Ludwig didn’t need a prophecy to read that reaction. The Knight King’s warning clicked into place: praise, public honor, unanimous nodding, this was a setup, the kind that led into a "reward" that wasn’t optional.
Ludwig felt the old irritation rise, the survival-minded part of him that hated being cornered by ceremony.
"They have, alongside so of my own, sought the vilest of creation and destroyed them, bringing peace back to the world away from eyes and witnesses. That is our Empire’s Pride, that is a Knight’s Pride, to seek Honor without a witness." The Emperor locked eyes with Lduwig.
The Emperor’s gaze was direct, pinning Ludwig in place as if to ensure the ssage landed where it needed to. His intent anchored Ludwig again to the royal family, tightening the web.
The Emperor held Ludwig’s eyes as he spoke of pride, and the hall listened as if being taught what kind of man Ludwig was supposed to be in the Empire’s story.
"And for that, I shall bestow upon you the title of Viscount."
Ludwig frowned. The reaction was imdiate, involuntary, a crack in his composure that ca from instinct.
A noble title was not a gift. It was a hook. It ca with obligations, territories, expectations, and political gravity that dragged you into conflicts you didn’t choose. Ludwig’s mind flashed through possibilities the way a soldier’s mind flashes through exits when a room turns hostile. He didn’t need a title.
He didn’t want land. He wanted freedom of movent, freedom of action, freedom to keep hunting the Usurpers toward his own goal. The words "Viscount" felt like a collar being lifted toward his throat.
The refusal shaped itself in his mouth before he could stop it. The muscle mory of independence. The impatience with ceremony. The desire to cut the chain before it fully settled.
Ludwig could already feel how easy it would be to speak, how satisfying it would be to reject this trap openly, to throw the crown’s "reward" back into its lap.
But satisfaction was expensive in rooms like this. One sentence could turn into years of consequences.
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