The news spread through the camp like a gust of wind.

  A rider from the city of Re-Robel had arrived carrying a letter bearing the seal of Armand Valcere. The letter was first read before a group of nobles, and soon afterward it began to spread by word of mouth throughout the entire camp.

  No one remembered the exact wording.

  But two important details were clear to almost everyone.

  Three days.

  And fiefs.

  That was all.

  Yet somehow it was enough to change the atmosphere of the camp.

  Less than an hour later, many groups of nobles had already gathered around their campfires.

  Voices rose everywhere.

  “Which lands do you think will be confiscated?”

  “Probably the eastern territories. I heard the castle there has already fallen to the rebels.”

  “The east?” another man frowned. “That land is full of rocks. If I had a choice, I’d rather take something along the river.”

  Someone laughed.

  “Then you’d better find yourself some more farmers first.”

  Laughter spread through the group.

  One young noble had even begun discussing the construction of new watchtowers if he truly received a domain. Another talked about digging additional defensive moats, as if the land were already in his hands.

  Listening to them, Philip felt a strange sense of dissonance.

  If someone did not know the context beforehand, they might have mistaken this for a gathering of landowners discussing harvests.

  War, at least for the moment, seemed to have been pushed aside.

  Philip did not join those conversations.

  He sat near the edge of the camp, where the firelight only reached faintly.

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  From here he could still hear voices, though not clearly enough to catch every word.

  A single thought kept repeating in his mind.

  If the rebels were truly easy to defeat…

  Why would Armand Valcere promise to distribute fiefs?

  A Count with the authority of Armand—at least from Philip’s limited understanding of the nobility—would normally choose the simpler path.

  Defeat the rebels.

  Confiscate their lands.

  Then keep everything.

  No promises needed.

  No sharing required.

  Thinking this way might seem a bit cynical. But in noble society, cynicism was sometimes a necessary habit.

  Philip looked toward the lively groups of people still discussing their prospects.

  Perhaps they had not thought about this.

  Or perhaps they had… but were deliberately ignoring it.

  People tended to focus on the reward in front of them. Especially when that reward was land.

  Near the center of the camp, Roland was speaking with several nobles.

  Philip was not close enough to hear the entire conversation, but a few sentences still reached him.

  Roland repeated a detail from the letter.

  “Three days.”

  He spoke clearly.

  One noble asked something—perhaps about punishment.

  Roland replied calmly.

  “If we are not present before the deadline… the matter of fiefs will become meaningless.”

  Someone asked another question.

  Roland paused briefly before continuing.

  “If the Count wins this battle…”

  He did not finish the sentence immediately.

  “…I believe he will remember who came—and who did not.”

  It was not a threat.

  Just a rather simple observation.

  Yet it seemed to be enough to make several people around him fall silent.

  After a while, the topic of conversation began to shift.

  Instead of discussing future domains, the nobles started talking about preparing to march. Some suggested departing earlier. One even considered sending a messenger back to his territory to summon more soldiers.

  Philip watched the scene for a while.

  Gradually, he began to understand what was happening.

  Armand Valcere’s letter, when examined closely, was actually doing two things at once.

  First, there was the reward.

  Fiefs were always something that easily caught the attention of nobles.

  But rewards alone were probably not enough. Without pressure, many people would wait to see how the situation developed before making a decision.

  Which was why there was the second element.

  Three days.

  A rather short deadline.

  Placed side by side, these two elements created a rather interesting effect.

  The reward made people want to participate.

  The time limit forced them to act quickly.

  Philip shook his head slightly.

  Perhaps it was not an especially complicated plan. But it had to be admitted that it was quite effective.

  With nothing more than a single letter sent from the fortress at Re-Robel, the Count had completely changed the atmosphere of the campaign.

  Philip even began to consider another possibility.

  Perhaps right now, across many territories around Re-Robel, nobles were hurriedly gathering their armies.

  Not just a few symbolic soldiers.

  But most of the forces they possessed.

  All to ensure that when the battle began, they would not be absent.

  Philip looked toward the dark road beyond the camp.

  If that speculation was correct…

  Then in the next few days, this place would likely become far more crowded.

  And when too many nobles gathered on the same battlefield…

  The most dangerous thing might not only be the rebels.