After a long wait, it was finally time to vote for Caesar. Captain Monte was the first to cast his vote. "I think this young man is still too inexperienced. He should gain another two years of training," he said, falling silent afterward. Monte wasn't sure if it was an illusion, but he felt that Young Master Soren glanced at him—whether intentionally or not—with a look that gave him an ominous feeling. However, he brushed it off, thinking it might just be his imagination.
Next, it was the turn of the vice-captain of the First Squadron. He was not unfamiliar with Caesar. He first met Caesar after the bloody battle on the Gordon Highlands. A blood-soaked Caesar had arrived at the newly established military camp. If not for the obvious insignia of the Kingdom of Garrel on his uniform, he might have been shot by archers before even approaching the camp.
At that time, he was merely a squad leader, guarding the camp gate with his men. Caesar, accompanied by another young man of similar age, had approached him and said, "Sir, is this the Second Battalion of the Second Legion of the Eagle Legion?" Upon receiving confirmation, Caesar collapsed. The squad leader quickly ordered his men to take Caesar to the military doctor. That incident left a deep impression on him.
Perhaps because of this initial encounter, Caesar had always shown him respect afterward, often greeting him warmly and occasionally gifting him little trinkets he had acquired from the battlefield. Just two days ago, Caesar had gifted him a bottle of wine and a small silver pendant with a distinct Shiloh style. Though not particularly valuable, these gifts represented Caesar's respect and goodwill.
"I believe this young man has a sense of responsibility. Although he is young, he is full of spirit. I'll cast my vote in favor." said the vice-captain of the First Squadron. He was careful not to contradict Monte directly but made his support for Caesar clear.
Monte began to see Caesar in a different light. He knew his vice-captain well—they had fought in the same trenches. If even he supported Caesar, the young man must have some extraordinary qualities.
Next came York and Carl, both of whom also expressed their support for Caesar. This was no surprise, as Caesar was from their unit. They could not turn their backs on one of their own. However, three votes were not enough to secure the position. The two candidates before Caesar had also received three votes each. Furthermore, the votes from Naima and Jelson, the two most popular candidates, had yet to be cast.
"I think Caesar still lacks managerial skills and needs more training," said the vice-captain of the Fourth Squadron, casting his vote against Caesar. At this point, it seemed unlikely that Caesar would win with only three votes.
"I think Caesar is quite good. His leadership and strength are more than enough to qualify him as a squadron captain," said Soren, who had remained silent until now.
The tent fell into a brief silence. York was the first to react, nodding in agreement. "Yes, I've watched Caesar grow up. He's capable in many areas. Master Soren is absolutely right." The others quickly followed suit, echoing similar sentiments.
"Yes, Caesar is indeed strong."
"His unit has the lowest casualty rate in the camp."
"This young man is not bad at all." Even the vice-captain who had voted against Caesar earlier joined in the praise.
"It seems Caesar is destined to become Soren's subordinate," thought York. The same realization dawned on the others present. Baron Kyle gave his son a thoughtful glance. His son had never participated in such votes before. Was it because Caesar was truly exceptional, or was there another reason? The Baron stared at his son, deep in thought. "It's time to give Soren some responsibilities," he decided.
After a brief commotion, the voting continued. At this point, Caesar had the most votes—four. With Soren's intervention, everyone present understood one thing: if Young Master Soren had chosen Caesar, then Caesar was guaranteed one of the two squadron captain positions. In the following votes, Soren remained silent, further solidifying their understanding.
Although Baron Kyle had implemented a seemingly democratic and fair voting system, everyone in the tent was either a vassal of the Baron or potentially a future vassal of Young Master Soren. True fairness was an illusion. Since their young lord had made his decision, they would follow suit.
In the end, the final results were four votes for Caesar and four votes for Jelson, while poor Naima only managed three votes, with even fewer for the others. Everyone knew that if not for Soren's intervention, the well-qualified Jelson would not have ended up with just four votes, and Naima would not have been limited to three. But the results were now set in stone.
"Then Jelson and Caesar will fill the vacant squadron captain positions," Baron Kyle announced calmly.
The Baron's commanding presence silenced the room. This was not about strength but rather the natural charisma of someone who had been in power for years.
"One more thing: the remaining soldiers from the Fourth Squadron will merge into the Third Squadron. Each squadron will send experienced veterans to reform the Fourth Squadron. Jelson will lead the Fourth Squadron as its captain, and Caesar will serve as the vice-captain."
Baron Kyle turned to Soren, his tone softening slightly. "Soren, you will oversee the Fourth Squadron while continuing your role as vice-captain of the cavalry unit. Don't disappoint me."
"Yes, Father," Soren replied with a slight bow.
"Dismissed. Will, you'll handle the fighting energy training for the newly appointed squadron captains. We'll meet at noon tomorrow to plan the attack on Phalanx City."
"Yes, my lord," everyone responded respectfully.
The meeting ended, and the squadron captains and Soren left the tent. Only Baron Kyle and his ever-silent old butler remained.
Guards entered to clear the table, followed by two maids who served the Baron a cup of red tea before silently retreating.
The Baron sipped his tea, lost in thought. After a long while, he finally spoke. "John, do you regret following me all these years?"
"I have served you since my youth, my lord. You elevated me from a slave to your butler. I have no regrets," replied the old butler.
"Twenty years have passed in the blink of an eye. The children have grown up…" the Baron said, his voice filled with emotion.
"You are a mid-level knight squire, yet you chose to remain my butler. I won't let your loyalty go unrewarded."
"Thank you, my lord," John said with a deep bow.
"Rise, John. You're getting old; don't strain yourself with these formalities," the Baron said gently.
"My body is still strong enough to serve you, my lord," the butler replied.
The Baron smiled and asked, "John, between your two sons—George in the cavalry and Warner in the logistics camp—which do you prefer?"
John paused before answering, "Perhaps Warner, because he's more filial."
Baron Kyle said nothing in response, sipping his tea in silence.