Chapter 344: The Day of Allegiance

Under lawful circumstances, when a noble lineage affiliated with the royal family is stripped of its title, the crown has the right to reclaim that noble’s estates and reassign them to others. The vassals who once pledged loyalty to the former lord are, in principle, expected to swear fealty to the new lord—but this is not mandatory. It is more a matter of “morality” and “custom.” The king has no authority over the vassals of vassals, so whether the old lord’s followers choose to pledge allegiance to the new master often depends on the new lord’s skill and influence. In fact, the ability to secure the loyalty of a predecessor’s vassals is a key measure of a noble’s strength and prestige—at least, that’s how things work in Ansu.

The name Gawain Cecil carried undeniable weight among the knights. His legendary personal prowess and the promising future of the new Cecil domain were enough to win over the old knights of Kant. Yet before them lay one final test—

Would they be willing to relinquish their old land privileges and submit to the new order under the Cecils?

The knights of Kant were no strangers to Cecil’s rule. Though traditional nobles tended to be somewhat slow to adapt, the Cecil family had effectively governed Kant for half a year. Even the dullest among them had noticed the creeping changes, and those with a bit of curiosity had sought out the legal justifications behind these shifts—after all, everyone suspected the Cecils would soon become the new masters of Kant, and no one wanted to be caught unprepared for what lay ahead.

Upon learning the current system under the Cecils, the Kant knights grew anxious. But no matter how uneasy they felt, the reality had to be faced—the king’s decree was official, and Sir Philip, who had long overseen Kant’s affairs, brought the summons from the new lord.

With heavy hearts, the Kant knights answered the call. On the seventh day of the month of Revival, the “old knights” of Kant, led by Walder Perich—the former chief knight of the Kant viscountcy—arrived at the residence of Duke Cecil.

Everyone knew why they had gathered, so they donned their polished, gleaming armor, layered with surcoats. These formidable warriors gathered uneasily in the great hall of the lord’s manor, exchanging low whispers from time to time.

Their main topic was the intolerable “new order” imposed by the Cecils, and how to negotiate for the privileges they believed rightfully theirs.

“I’ve heard everything in the Cecil domain revolves around that ‘Administrative Office,’ even tax collection and conscription,” a young knight whispered to his companion. “The land is only nominally noble property, but in reality, those who hold the land have very little power… they even have to follow the Office’s directives.”

Another knight looked more worried. “They might take back all the fiefs—Sir Philip said he himself holds no fief.”

“They say the fiefs will become ‘territories,’ and we’ll only receive pensions based on their size. Beyond that, we’ll have no authority. Even if villagers want to work in the city or go hunting, they’ll just have to report to the Administrative Office, no lord’s permission needed…”

A tall, thin knight frowned. “If we lose the power to keep the peasants in line, how can we maintain order on the land? Over time, those mud-caked peasants might not even bother to bow to us anymore!”

The knights fretted. Someone whispered, “We need to make our stance clear—the Duke is a great man, no doubt, but his decrees are nonsense. Leaving land management to a bunch of busy clerks in the Administrative Office will only lead to chaos!”

Heads nodded in agreement, and many eyes turned to the elder knight seated at the center. “Sir Walder, what do you think?”

The old knight fell silent for a long moment, frowning as he shook his head slightly. “We’ll have to take it one step at a time.”

His answer did little to ease their worries, and the murmurs resumed.

All of this continued until a tall, imposing man clad in a noble’s cloak entered the hall.

Their low voices immediately ceased, and everyone instinctively averted their gaze.

Gawain swept his eyes over the Kant knights before him: not many in number. A viscount’s vassals with extraordinary abilities were few, and those officially enfeoffed even fewer. These “standard knights” with titles and estates numbered only a dozen or so. Judging by the aura of power they emitted, only one was mid-tier—the gray-haired man standing in the center: Walder Perich, former chief marshal of Kant Castle.

Gawain had met Walder before. After the nightmare incident at Kant Castle, Walder was among the first to arrive at the main hall to restore order. In Gawain’s impression, Walder was a loyal but unassuming knight, the longest-serving vassal of the Kant family, and with mid-tier strength, he held the highest prestige and voice among the Kant knights.

As Gawain observed the knights, Walder and the others rose and saluted, the clinking of metal armor filling the hall. This time, Gawain calmly returned their salute and waited until everyone had finished before speaking.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you are punctual.”

Among the knights were not only men but three women—because in this world of supernatural powers, women who awaken such abilities hold equal rights to men.

This was one of the few forms of “fairness” in an otherwise deeply unjust world.

“Greetings to you, great pioneer, knight of knights, founder of Ansu, sword and shield of the kingdom…” Walder began, reciting a string of titles he had clearly rehearsed many times. “It is our honor to step into your castle. We are glad you have become the new protector and ruler of Kant. That land will gain safety and prosperity because of you.”

When Walder finished this formal speech, Gawain raised a hand and cut straight to the chase.

“I am not one for idle talk, so let’s get to the point—we all know why I summoned you today.

“I have become the legitimate ruler of Kant. By tradition, you should swear fealty to me. I trust your punctual arrival signals your attitude toward this. But before that, I must explain the new ‘rules’ you will need to adapt to after pledging loyalty to the Cecils.”

Such bluntness was unlike the usual nobles of this era—most would drone on with flowery speeches before reaching the point. But Gawain Cecil was clearly different.

The knights exchanged glances, and the atmosphere grew tense and subtle.

Gawain seemed oblivious to this. He beckoned, and several attendants stepped forward, handing each knight a document filled with printed text.

“I prefer to put everything in writing. Black and white agreements are more reassuring,” Gawain smiled. “Please take your time to read.”

When Walder Perich saw the printed clauses, a complex mix of expected yet resistant emotions welled up inside him.

Abolishing fiefs, replacing them with territories; ending tax revenues, switching to pensions calculated and distributed by the Administrative Office; stripping governance rights, handing management to the Office or its subordinates; knights may join the Office but must undergo the same exams as civilian clerks, and ‘official’ positions are non-hereditary…

On one sheet of paper, nearly all land-based privileges were erased.

And this was only for knights, who were essentially “half-lords” with limited rights to begin with. What would happen to a viscount or even a count absorbed into the Cecil family? How much noble power would they lose?

Walder noticed the room had quieted. Without looking up, he knew many eyes were fixed on him. But what could he say?

What could he say to a duke?

Still, he had to speak—at least not remain silent. After a difficult pause of several seconds, Walder lifted his head.

“Your Grace, may I—”

“Not so fast,” Gawain smiled, cutting him off. “These papers are just to give you a preliminary understanding of the Cecil ‘order.’ Swearing fealty is a serious matter. Merely knowing some legal clauses isn’t enough—I invite you all to tour my city, so you can see this land from every angle. Only then can you better judge whether the Cecil family deserves your loyalty, don’t you agree?”

The knights exchanged looks. Some appeared thoughtful, and Walder quickly nodded in agreement.

The new lord likely wanted to showcase his domain’s economy and military strength to bolster his appeal—everyone understood this, and it was the most common tactic for a new lord to attract followers.

So since Gawain intended to follow this “traditional process,” the Kant knights didn’t mind cooperating. But cooperation didn’t mean giving up on their own interests—they still planned to fight for their rights.

Each man and woman had their own calculations as they followed Gawain out of the manor and began touring the city, still somewhat unfamiliar to them.

The orderly, well-maintained city streets were broad and straight, paved with some unknown material. Bustling commercial districts and neatly dressed commoners were everywhere. Walder, mounted on horseback, silently observed it all, though his mind seemed elsewhere.

What lay before them was indeed a sign of prosperity—a powerful testament to Gawain Cecil’s governance and wealth. Frankly, for a place less than a year old, its development was beyond rapid—it was almost incomprehensible. Yet the Kant knights’ attention was elsewhere.

Gawain kept his smile, quietly watching the old knights’ reactions. Saying nothing, he signaled the group to quicken their pace, heading toward the northeastern city exit.

A female knight noticed the change in speed and asked curiously, “Your Grace, where are we going now?”

Gawain replied casually, “I see you’re not very interested in the commercial streets or the residences, so let’s go see something you might find more relevant.”

“Relevant to us?” the knight’s curiosity deepened. “You mean…”

“Something you’ll definitely have to deal with in the future.”

(End of chapter)