Chapter 2: Knight
Lothar was starving.
Training was exhausting. Coupled with today's decent lunch, he was eating rather hastily.
Just then, he heard a sharp tap-tap—someone knocking on the table. When Lothar looked up, the Count glanced at his eldest son, Otto, then started speaking.
"His Holiness the Pope has called for a new Crusade."
"In the distant East, the Egyptians have allied with the Sassanid Empire. These evil, fire-worshipping heathens have spent decades gnawing away at the Eastern Empire's territories in Anatolia. They persecute our Christian brethren, block the pilgrimage routes, and have the Kingdom of Jerusalem completely surrounded."
The Count paused briefly before continuing.
"The Eastern Empress, and the Grand Master of the Templars, Gerard, recently sent letters to the Pope, urging all God-fearing knights to aid the Eastern Empire in liberating Anatolia and reopening the path to the Holy City of Jerusalem."
"The Franks have already mustered over two thousand knights and hired two witch advisors for their campaign. They are ready to set off."
Otto, visibly excited, interjected: "Father, when will our German Crusaders depart? We can't let them take all the glory!"
Count Werner frowned, sighing in disappointment. He ignored Otto and turned to Lothar instead.
"Lothar, prepare to leave."
Lothar, who had been listening intently, was taken aback. "Me?"
The Count's eyes bore into him. "Fighting for God is the duty of the House of Habsburg. As the second son, this responsibility falls to you."
He then shot a cold glance at Otto, who seemed about to protest. "You need not think of it. Our family has already fulfilled its obligations to the Lord."
Lothar fell silent.
Indeed.
This isn't the era of partible inheritance—where lands were divided among all sons. Here, primogeniture reigned supreme.
This rule stemmed from the fact that splitting lands weakened noble houses, making them vulnerable in an era of constant warfare and shifting allegiances.
For a second son like Lothar, there were only two paths:
Become a knight under a lord, earning lands and titles through battle and merits. Enter the Church, becoming a monk and devoting his life to God.
His two younger brothers, for instance, were studying at an abbey. If the family prospered and they proved capable, they might one day rise to become bishop-lords—feudal rulers with clerical authority.
But Lothar had no such choice.
He was Otto's spare—the backup heir should his brother die without issue. Thus, the clergy was closed to him.
As for the Crusade…
It was a perilous path, but one that could bring overnight wealth.
Had Count Werner not joined the last Crusade, the Habsburgs might still be impoverished minor nobles, chewing on coarse black bread.
Nowadays, in Germany and France, all lands had been carved up. Even as a knight serving another lord for years, securing even a meager fief was far from guaranteed.
For Lothar—who needed land and prestige to unlock his system—swearing fealty to another lord paled in comparison to the potential rewards of fighting heathens in the Holy Land.
As for the risks…
Great achievements never came without danger.
Having been reborn in this world, Lothar had no intention of living an ordinary life.
"I understand, Father. I'll go." He lowered his head and took a spoonful of thick pea soup.
Then—
Count Werner suddenly barked: "Kneel, Lothar!"
Startled, Lothar set down his spoon. Realization dawned, and he quickly pushed back his chair, kneeling before the long table.
The Count stood, drawing his longsword and resting the blade on Lothar's shoulder.
"Lothar von Habsburg, in the name of the warriors, I grant you courage. In the name of the Father, I grant you justice. In the name of the Mother, I grant you the duty to protect the innocent."
"Now swear by the Eight Virtues of a Knight: That you will strike down heathens and God's enemies, defend the weak, and purge the wicked."
Lothar spoke solemnly: "Father, I swear by God and the Eight Virtues: I shall be merciful to the weak, brave against the strong, righteous in judgment, loyal to my oaths, and just in all things—until death."
SMACK!
The Count's palm struck Lothar's face with a sharp crack.
"Remember, as a knight, you will face countless trials. May you always uphold these principles."
'That stung.'
Lothar kept his expression steady. "I will. For my liege."
The Count's stern expression softened slightly. He presented the sword horizontally.
"Then take your blade, Sir Lothar. The firmness of your character may yet be unclear to me, but in skill at arms, I am certain you are worthy."
It was an arming sword—the classic knightly weapon.
Unlike the hand-and-a-half swords Lothar usually trained with, this one was strictly single-handed, meant to be paired with a kite shield or heater shield.
Lothar accepted the sword and its scabbard, fastening it at his waist.
The Count sighed. "You need not call me 'liege.' All I can grant you is the title of knight—no land. Three of our household knights still lack fiefs after years of service. If new lands are won in war, they must come first."
"I understand."
"Before you depart, choose two capable squires and whatever gear you require. Choose wisely—even the poorest knight needs squires. They are your legs and your shield."
"Thank you for your generosity, Father."
Lothar's gratitude was genuine. Count Werner's treatment of him—a second son—wasn't exceptional, but it was fair.
As for the knighting ceremony?
It was rushed. No bishop presided. No elaborate rituals or ceremonies. And the most crucial part— no fief.
Yet Lothar's heart raced as a crisp system notification chimed in his ears.
On his status panel, the "Title" shimmered silver.
Knight.
[You have activated the Nobility System.]
[You have received your first squire: 'Banu' (6-Star Squire).]