Faerun: The arcane mage is still too imprisoned.

Chapter 133 Who is this person below, daring to accuse me, an official!

When the army of the Kingdom of Eredland returned to Rild City in the faint light of dawn, the entire city was in an uproar.

The city gates were wide open, and the streets were packed with citizens. Flowers and ribbons rained down on the marching troops, and the cheers almost lifted the roofs off the entire city.

All eyes were fixed on the silver-white figure at the front of the group.

At Alfred's suggestion, Lance rode a pure white warhorse, slowly making his way to the front of the procession.

His sky-blue robes were spotless, and his long, silvery-white hair was gently blown by the wind. As he passed by, the citizens gave him a warm welcome!

The cheers grew louder and louder.

"Long live Mage Lance!"

"Heroes! Our heroes!"

"Thanks to Lord Lance, we managed to drive that wretched Sassanid dog back to Sassan!"

The Sassanid Kingdom's actions this time were twofold: first, it disregarded the long-standing friendly relations between the two countries by crossing the border to attack Rield City; second, it launched an attack without a formal declaration of war, making it a shameful sneak attack.

Many people who previously held a positive view of the Sassanid Kingdom now deeply resent it.

Lance, who dealt a heavy blow to the Sassanid army, was naturally welcomed.

With Lance's immense charisma and Alfred's encouragement, Lance now enjoys extremely high prestige among the citizens of Rield.

Amidst the deafening cheers, Lance simply waved his hand casually, which only drew even more frenzied shouts.

He couldn't help but think to himself:

No, this is way too much! Anyone who didn't know better would think I'd already ascended the throne, become king, or even emperor!

Prince Alfred, riding beside him, watched the scene with a smile on his face, showing no displeasure at being overshadowed.

It's a joke. Lance pulled him back from the brink of death. Let alone this cheer, even if the whole city only praised Lance and ignored him, the prince, he wouldn't have the slightest objection.

He is not the kind of person who craves extravagance.

After spending these past few days together, Alfred felt more and more that Lance's talent was truly terrifying. As long as Lance could experience the passion of the Kingdom of Eredland and truly become a mage of the Kingdom of Eredland, he would even raise his hand and shout Lance's name himself.

Alfred's heart belongs only to the kingdom!

Not to mention, Lance deserves 90% of the credit for winning this battle.

He single-handedly burned the enemy's supplies, single-handedly crushed three thousand vanguards, and in the siege battle, he single-handedly suppressed the Sassanid army, making them unable to raise their heads. In the night battle, he used the [Exile] spell to control the Hero-class Olaf for three minutes, and also cooperated with them to kill all eight Exemplary-class soldiers Olaf brought with him.

Most importantly, he managed to pull himself back from Kranz's clutches, even though he was forced to commit suicide.

Alfred grew increasingly pleased with Lance the more he looked at him.

Graham, riding behind, leaned in and asked in a low voice, "Your Highness, is it appropriate for you to have Lance walk at the very front?"

Graham was not jealous of Lance; rather, he was worried that Lance would attract criticism because of this.

"What's inappropriate about it?" Alfred said without turning his head. "We won this battle largely because of him. What's wrong with him walking ahead?"

"That's not what I meant," Graham scratched his head. "I meant, this is too much of a show, I'm afraid Lance won't be able to handle it."

Alfred turned his head and gave him a strange look. "You're worried about Lance? You should worry about yourself."

Graham paused for a moment, "Huh?"

"Fuck me? What did I do wrong?"

Alfred didn't answer, he just smiled and continued walking.

Graham pondered for a long time, but still couldn't figure out what was going on in His Highness's eyes.

Graham, of course, had no idea what he was planning.

After this battle, Alfred will have to secure a substantial reward for Lance.

A title is easy to obtain, a marquisate is good enough, but a title without territory is just an empty shell.

They need to be given a fiefdom, but what should they give them?

Alfred thought for a long time before finally focusing his attention on Rild City.

Due to the ancestral precepts of the first king of the Kingdom of Eredland—Charlemagne Eredland the Great, known as the "Sun King"—all subsequent kings have been extremely cautious about the appointment of feudal nobles.

Even for a warrior of the Exemplary rank like Graham, after being granted the title of Earl for his military achievements, his fiefdom was not a bustling metropolis like Rield.

Rield was originally a direct territory of the royal family, and Graham was only "managing it on behalf of the royal family" and it could not be inherited.

Granting the city of Rild to Lance now would be a generous reward and would also keep people here.

It would be crazy not to firmly bind such talent to the kingdom's war machine.

As for Graham—Alfred glanced back at the burly man chatting with the soldier and sighed inwardly.

This guy has fought for the kingdom for over a decade and is utterly loyal to the royal family; he cannot be treated unfairly.

Once we return to the capital, I'll ask His Majesty to give him a better job.

When the procession reached the entrance of the city lord's mansion, Alfred dismounted and walked to Lance's side.

"Master Lance, come in and have a cup of tea."

Lance jumped off his horse, tossed the reins to the guard beside him, and said, "Alright, I'm thirsty."

The two entered the city lord's mansion one after the other. Graham followed behind, but Alfred asked him not to get close to them.

Graham looked completely bewildered. "This looks like my city lord's mansion, doesn't it?"

But I didn't think much of it; it's normal for two grown men to whisper to each other.

In the study, Alfred personally poured Lance a cup of tea and pushed it in front of him.

"Mage Lance, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Lance casually picked up his teacup and took a sip. "What is it?"

Alfred sat down opposite him and considered his words carefully.

"You deserve the most credit for this battle. I plan to have His Majesty bestow upon you a marquisate after we return to the capital."

"Oh? A marquis?" Lance raised an eyebrow. "Such a high title all at once?"

"What's so great about a title? What's so special about a marquis?" Alfred waved his hand. "A title alone isn't enough; you also need land—"

Lance held his teacup, looked at him, and said nothing.

Alfred stood up, walked to the window, and opened it.

The sunlight streaming in through the window illuminated the entire study.

"Look at this city." He pointed outside. "Relder City, the largest city in the Southern Territory. It has a population of one million, thriving commerce, and stable tax revenue. The magic array guarding the city is a bit old, but it's still in good condition and can be repaired and used again."

He turned around and looked at Lance.

"I have decided to report to the King and grant you this city."

Lance paused, then said, "Give it to me? What about Graham?"

"He has other plans," Alfred said. "This city was originally a direct royal domain; he was merely acting as its administrator. It's only fair that he grants it to you now."

"But Graham—"

"Don't worry, he'll get a better position than he has now." Alfred looked at Lance, who was thinking of Graham, his eyes filled with obvious affection.

What a loyal and compassionate person!

"It's good to have feelings—it's good—"

Lance put down his teacup, leaned back in his chair, and thought for a moment. "Such a large city, just given away like that? Will His Majesty agree?"

Alfred laughed. "My brother, put aside everything else, has good judgment. He'll definitely be willing to give."

Lance remained silent for a few seconds.

"Then I won't stand on ceremony."

Alfred laughed heartily, "That's more like it! A real man takes what he should take, what's there to be polite about!"

He walked up to Lance and extended his hand. "So it's settled then?"

Lance stood up and shook hands with him. "It's a deal."

Alfred grinned as if he'd found money, then turned and walked out.

"I'll write a letter and get this settled as soon as possible."

He walked to the door, then turned back and added, "Oh, and don't tell Graham about this."

"I'll talk to him myself later."

Lance nodded.

When Lance came out of the study, the corridor was quiet, and sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting patches of light on the floor.

He walked out along the corridor, his boots making a rhythmic clattering sound on the stone floor.

Just as they were leaving the city lord's mansion, they encountered someone.

It was a young guard, wearing a half-body leather armor and a long sword at his waist, hurrying towards the study with his head down.

He was running so fast that his helmet was askew, revealing a tuft of messy brown hair.

"Why--"

Lance stepped aside, and the guard did the same, almost bumping into each other.

The guard was so frightened that he took two steps back, and when he looked up and saw that it was Lance, his face turned pale.

"Lord Lance!"

He hurriedly gave a salute, but his helmet was askew, so he quickly straightened it.

"Why are you running so fast?" Lance asked. "Is there a dog chasing you?"

The guard swallowed hard, his expression subtly telling him, "It really is!"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if unsure whether he should speak.

Lance, seeing his hesitant and reluctant expression, suddenly became interested.

"What's wrong?" Lance asked. "Tell me, and we'll expedite this matter and try to resolve it as quickly as possible."

"Yes, there is something."

The guard, hearing Lance's strange words, scratched his head. "Several nobles have come to His Highness the Prince to complain."

"Tell someone a complaint?" Lance narrowed his eyes. "Tell someone a complaint?"

The guard didn't speak, but his expression became even more subtle.

Lance didn't think much of it, leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and spoke with a hint of boastful confidence.

Tell me about my experience as a —

He paused, cleared his throat, and said, "Ahem, as a righteous, brave, and kind-hearted philanthropist, I will definitely stand up for them if anyone bullies them."

The guard kept his head down, staring at the tips of his boots, and remained silent.

Why aren't you saying anything?

Lance tilted his head to look at him, frowning, and said, "Is that person very powerful? Tell me without hesitation, I'm not the kind of person who bullies the weak and fears the strong."

He pointed towards the study, "Besides, isn't the prince still inside? He won't abandon them."

The guard looked up, his expression no longer subtle; his lips trembled as if he had swallowed a fly.

"Ugh—"

"Those nobles—"

He swallowed again, as if he had made a great decision.

"We're reporting you, sir!"

Lance: "!"

His posture against the wall froze.

With her arms still crossed over her chest and her chin slightly raised, she looked as if she had been frozen in place.

The air suddenly fell silent for three seconds.

The guards kept their heads down, barely daring to breathe, staring at the tips of their boots, wishing they could bury their heads in the floor.

Lance slowly lowered his hands and stood up straight.

He cleared his throat, his expression shifting from its previous boldness to something complex.

"Sue me?"

Lance calmly asked, "Tell me what?"

The guard cautiously raised his head, saw Lance's expression, and quickly lowered it again.

"I'm not entirely sure either—it seems to refer to what you said before—"

His voice trailed off, "About wiping out a few nobles before—"

Lance paused for a moment.

No way, are these nobles' brains filled with shit?!

How dare they report me!

Lance was deeply shocked.

There's no need to mention why these noble families were wiped out.

Don't they know their own limitations? How dare they sue him?

Even if they didn't know that Lance was about to become a marquis, they should at least know how much weight Lance carried in the prince's eyes with his talent and achievements, right?

How dare you!

"Who are you, daring to accuse me, this official?"