Chen Mo's newly acquired barony covered less than ten thousand acres—only about six or seven kilometers across. The population barely reached three or four thousand. Even under normal operation, the territory could only sustain a few hundred soldiers at most.
In medieval Europe, life was harsh and resources were scarce. Supporting a standing army placed a heavy burden on the people. Most nobles kept only a handful of full-time troops, calling on peasants to fight when war came.
In this era, knights were the core of all military power. The number of knights a lord commanded defined his true strength.
Armed with longswords, clad in heavy armor, mounted on powerful warhorses—a knight was an unstoppable force against infantry.
But that same strength came with enormous cost. Even though knights provided their own arms and armor, their upkeep alone demanded massive expense. Feeding, housing, and maintaining their equipment consumed more gold than most manors could spare. Even wealthy nobles could not afford to keep too many of them.
Knights were the strongest weapons on the battlefield, and at the same time, the most valuable assets of any noble house.
The richer the noble, the more knights he could sustain—and the greater his might.
Many lesser nobles, however, lacked the wealth to field such warriors. Their armies consisted mostly of footmen. When facing a noble army filled with armored cavalry, they could only fortify their castles and hope to survive. Infantry could never stand against knights in open battle—the result was always the same: a crushing defeat.
Chen Mo's barony had once held eight knights, considered a respectable force among nearby fiefs. But all eight had perished in the recent war against the invading werewolves.
The most powerful ruler in this region, Count Valen, commanded fifty knights, nearly a hundred squires, and over a thousand elite infantry—enough to withstand most werewolf attacks.
Knights stood just below the nobility in rank—technically a part of it, yet still its lowest rung. They were professional warriors, bound by oath to serve their lord in battle.
Some earned land through outstanding merit, becoming minor lords themselves. That was the only path for a commoner to ascend into nobility.
Yet, becoming a knight was far from easy. A knight had to acquire all his own equipment—horse, armor, sword, shield, and lance—and every item cost a fortune in that primitive, labor-starved age. A single warhorse could cost twelve gold coins, the equivalent of six strong oxen.
A sword cost seven gold coins, and a full set of armor—helmet, breastplate, and greaves—ran as high as twenty-four gold coins, the price of two warhorses.
Altogether, arming a knight cost nearly fifty gold coins—enough to buy more than twenty oxen.
For a peasant family, that sum was astronomical. Many farmers couldn't even afford a single cow. Fifty gold coins represented decades of backbreaking labor.
Even many small nobles couldn't bear such expense. Thus, knights were few, and the chance for a commoner to rise was slim. Most knights were born into knightly or noble families. From childhood, they trained in riding, swordsmanship, and combat, until their families equipped them for service.
For poor knightly families, it was worse—they often owned only one ancestral set of gear, passed from father to son. If a family had two sons and not enough gold for a second set, the younger one simply lost his right to become a knight.
Andrew—the man Chen Mo had saved—was one of those younger sons.
Trained as a knight since youth, he was strong and skilled, yet his family could not afford armor for him. Unable to become a knight, he enlisted as an ordinary soldier under his lord's banner, hoping to earn merit and be rewarded with knighthood.
Years passed. He fought countless battles, killed many enemies—even personally slew a werewolf—but his status never changed. What he gained were scars and wrinkles, not glory.
Knighthood, honor, noble ladies, grand tournaments—all of it seemed like a dream too far away.
Disheartened, Andrew abandoned the army and the home he'd fought for. He came to this quiet village, ready to yield to fate—to live as a peasant, grow old in peace, and let the dream die.
But fate had other plans.
When Chen Mo appeared, Andrew saw hope again.
He had witnessed Chen Mo's power with his own eyes. Now, Chen Mo was their new lord—and he had entrusted Andrew with important responsibilities. Gratitude and loyalty surged within him. He swore to serve Chen Mo to the death—not only to repay his debt, but to finally chase the dream of knighthood once more.
That dream, as it turned out, was already half fulfilled.
The fallen baron and his eight knights had left behind nine sets of armor and weapons—damaged, but priceless nonetheless.
Chen Mo didn't even glance at them. He granted all nine sets to Andrew and the eight men he had rescued.
Those men owed their lives to Chen Mo. Their loyalty was absolute.
Of course, they were not true knights yet. Andrew had the strength of one, but the others lacked the training.
A true knight was made, not named. From childhood, they trained in endurance, riding, swordsmanship, and unarmed combat. A qualified knight could wrestle a wild boar to death bare-handed. Simply wearing armor did not make one worthy of the title.
Still, the eight men were not without promise. When the werewolves attacked, most villagers panicked—crying, fleeing, begging for mercy. But these men had stood their ground, fought back, and under Andrew's command, held off the beasts with crude weapons and sheer courage.
That courage was exactly what Chen Mo saw in them.
They were brave, loyal, and possessed the spirit of warriors. That was enough for him. Strength could be built over time.
And besides—Chen Mo still had many powerful treasures hidden within his mysterious space, waiting to be used…