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A heavy silence followed the sudden performance. The declaration of offering the Khan’s position to the Emperor was an unexpected move by the tribal chiefs, not something coordinated with us in advance. Even a political monster would find it difficult to react instantly to such a major event.

Besides, if I, who was watching from the sidelines, didn’t know what to say, then how much more would it be for the Invincible Duke who witnessed it firsthand?

Thankfully, the chiefs consistently mentioned that they were requesting this of the Emperor; if they hadn’t, it might have seemed like they were urging the Invincible Duke to become their Khan.

That would’ve created an atmosphere where we’d need to march back to the capital immediately.

A Khan, huh.

My mind raced at this unexpected turn of events. The nomads asking the Emperor to become Khan meant adding another title to the Emperor’s list. The Emperor already held several royal titles, so would adding one more make a difference?

...It does.

Sadly, it did. The empire doesn’t officially recognize the title of Khan. Whether the Emperor accepted this title or not could reshape the entire geopolitical landscape of the continent.

Even if the Emperor rejected the title, it wouldn’t change the Empire’s control over the North. The influential tribal leaders had already been granted noble ranks, making them Imperial vassals. Their lands would naturally integrate into the Empire.

However, if the Emperor accepted the title of Khan, the narrative would change.

The North would no longer be seen as a conquered frontier—it would be acknowledged as a legitimate state, formally merging with the Empire.

It might seem like a trivial distinction, but in politics, those nuances snowballed into larger shifts.

The North would no longer be a leaderless land—it would become a governed province.

That was problematic. If the Emperor’s claim to the title was weakened—or if the nomads later decided to ‘restore their own Khan,’ the North could break away. Worse, it wouldn’t be the scattered, disorganized steppe of the past—it would be a unified North, solidified under a single banner.

That said, there were undeniable advantages. Recognizing the Khan title would solidify Imperial control. It wasn’t just making influential figures nobles, but becoming a legitimate ruler endorsed by the North.

It’s complicated.

Still, it wasn’t an issue to be handled simply. It was the most solid control mechanism for the North while the empire was strong, but it could also fly back as a fatal dagger if the empire wavered in the future.

“It is only natural for those without a rightful leader to turn to His Majesty.”

Finally, the Invincible Duke spoke, seeming to have finished his calculations.

“I will report your loyalty and determination to His Majesty.”

The chiefs did not protest at the safe response; after all, a subject could not simply decide to bestow an honor upon their ruler. Only the Emperor could make that choice.

And the next morning, the Emperor’s response came.

From this day forward, His Majesty, Emperor Amanca XVI of the Kefellofen Empire, shall also bear the title of Khan Corvus of the North.

Now, it’s a horse race of Khans.

A battle between an imported Khan and a domestic Khan. The thought was enough to send a shiver down my spine.

***The fact that Amanca XVI of the Kefellofen Empire became Khan Corvus of the North spread throughout the North. The Empire itself didn’t need to play any part in spreading the word.

After all, the tribal chiefs who made the endorsement declaration were more desperate than the empire. The chiefs, who huddled together in the camp saying they wouldn’t leave until they heard the Emperor’s answer, evolved into living loudspeakers as soon as they heard the Emperor’s acceptance.

If the Emperor had rejected this endorsement, there might have been talk within the tribes like, ‘Wasn’t that too much, even if it was for the tribe’s safety?’

They must’ve felt happy to have overcome such pressure and become meritorious subjects in the Khan’s endorsement. After all, the line between a lackey and a founding hero was often paper-thin.

“This war will end before autumn passes.”

The Invincible Duke set his own deadline for this newly established Khan horse race. Although there were still a few months before autumn ended, it was a bold statement considering that the last war took two years.

However, no one denied the Invincible Duke’s statement. That was how much this Khan endorsement removed most of the shackles the empire had been wearing.

“All tribes have sworn to join the battle. They say they’ll bring down the fake Khan and achieve peace.”

With the Emperor now holding the title of Khan, the tribes that had surrendered threw away any last hesitations. Unlike when they had prioritized their own survival, they now openly pledged themselves to the cause of destroying Dorgon.

As a result, the Empire’s available forces skyrocketed.

The surrendered tribes were no longer a burden requiring protection and surveillance—those troops could now be redeployed elsewhere.

Additionally, the influx of nomadic cavalry meant the Empire could effectively prevent Dorgon’s forces from loitering around the borders.

And most importantly, the Empire no longer had to pretend to be stronger than it was.

We had minimized frontline adjustments for fear that surrendered tribes might desert again if they saw imperial forces struggling against Dorgon.

Logically, imperial forces wouldn’t be in danger from an offensive of just over 10,000 troops, but the empire and nomads had been watching a monster defy logic for two years.

We can breathe a little now.

It had been a tough time. During the last war, our strategy had been straightforward: Kill Kagan at all costs. With that goal in mind, we threw everything we had into the battlefield.

But this war was different. There was far more at stake.

We had to demonstrate the empire’s strength to give faith to the surrendered tribes, withdraw troops to ensure their safety and surveillance, patrol the borders like madmen to protect the barely-restored northern part of the Empire, and avoid large-scale conflicts as much as possible to minimize the impact of mobilizing an expeditionary force. ..

The headquarters had to sigh at the miraculous situation of having to fight while considering all these conditions. Even in games, achieving all additional conditions was usually harder than just clearing the stage.

But now, we could throw off that oppression and shackles. It was time to crush Dorgon under sheer numbers.

We can’t create a better situation than this.

Dorgon’s forces, expected to be 60,000 to 70,000, had fallen to about 14,000. In contrast, the empire had over 200,000 expeditionary forces, plus the surrendered tribes participating.

On top of that, the Khan endorsement had sent Imperial morale soaring. A commander’s duty was to fight under the most favorable conditions possible, and it was impossible to imagine conditions better than these. Now was the time.

The war is ending.

I hadn’t seen Dorgon since the Battle of Sarei, but it wouldn’t be long now. We would be able to end it soon.

“Well then, I’ll be going. Today wasn’t the day, but let’s have a proper fight next time.”

Since he said that himself, he wouldn’t run away.

Someone who would run away at this point would never have started a rebellion in the first place.

***Maybe it was because I hadn’t died with the others, but I was hearing all sorts of strange stories now.

A Khan, huh?

There had been many who claimed the title of Khan, and many more who had been formally chosen as one, but I never thought the day would come when a non-nomad and an imperial would be endorsed as Khan.

Just a few years ago, I would have thought it was impossible. But today, justification and practicality had made an imperial Khan possible. Heaven had allowed it.

“They say those who have plenty get more, and that’s true.”

Dashan showed no reaction to my joking words.

He didn’t curse the Empire for stealing his people’s legacy, nor did he blame himself for failing to stop it. It seemed like he was speechless because his common sense was crumbling. A pity.

“If he’s an Emperor and also a Khan, then what should we call him? Should we say the Kagan 1?”

“Khan!”

However, even Dashan, who had been in shock, couldn’t help but react to the words, shouting in panic.

“It’s a joke. Besides, the Emperor himself would probably hate the title.”

Right, Kagan must be a nightmarish word for the empire and the Emperor. He wouldn’t want to be called by such a name.

Unless he had a perverse taste, that is.

“The enemy?”

“They’re reorganizing their frontlines. It looks like they’ll make their stand on the plains soon.”

I nodded at those words. If the Empire had chosen to remain on the defensive even now, that would have been suspicious.

This meant my task of traveling between different frontlines and securing my alliances was finally over. Well... I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or brace myself for the final battle.

“We hold our position until the Empire moves. There’s no point in exhausting ourselves before the grand finale.”

“Yes, Khan.”

I approached Dashan, who bowed his head in response, and patted his shoulder. During the last war, we bonded as fellow Keshiks, and as homeless companions afterwards. Now, he was suffering as my loyal adjutant.

And now that I was entrusting him with a burden that was hard to bear, I felt both sorry and grateful.

“If you change your mind, tell me anytime.”

I chuckled as I watched Dashan bow without any reply.

I knew his mind wouldn’t change, but I still wanted to ask again.

***As the empire showed signs of movement, we slowly started our preparations.

There are still so many of us.

Although our numbers had decreased due to the battles so far, over 10,000 troops had still gathered. It was surprising how so many madmen like me remained.

“If you gather five people together, at least one of them will be trash.”

“What bullshit are you spouting?”

Suddenly, I remembered something Carl Krasius said in the past. His mouth had always been a destructive force in its own right. He said all kinds of absurdities, but for some reason, that one stuck with me.

Maybe it was because I secretly agreed with it. And now, I was watching that truth unfold before my very eyes.

It’s about one in five, indeed.

Anyway, that damned bastard. The fact that he was right just annoyed me even more.

I ran my fingers over the spellbook hidden in my coat. Only one had been made—because if it failed, then it would mean the heavens themselves had rejected our cause.

It will succeed.

There was no basis to it, but I felt strangely confident.

This spell had been prepared to mark our finale, so it wouldn’t fail.

Footnotes

1. also means Supreme Ruler