Vared approached cautiously, carefully slipping on black leather gloves to guard against any venom or magical effects the book might carry. Then, summoning his courage, he lifted the heavy tome.
Nothing happened.
Next, to verify his prize, Valed dismissed his magical vision and ignited a pallid wizard's flame. As he prepared to read by its light—the moment he glimpsed the title on the cover—his eyebrows shot up in disappointment. A memory surfaced of a conversation he'd had earlier with his sister, Isabella.
At that time, Valed and Isabella were reading in the library of the ancient castle. Valed held a history book, cramming the basic lore of this world. Isabella, meanwhile, was engrossed in a pharmacology text.
That day, Valed happened upon a chapter about the Sigma Empire. He was deeply intrigued by this largest empire established by humans of the old world—and also an enemy of Sylvania. Thus, he read with intense focus. In Valed's view, an empire capable of subjugating Sylvania, several other human nations, the northern barbarians, and the vast hordes of orcs and monsters must possess extraordinary qualities.
Yet as he delved deeper, Valed discovered the empire's political system was utterly primitive and backward. It was fundamentally a thoroughly feudal state.
The Sigma Empire was less an empire than a confederation of ten nations. Ten electors collectively elected one of their number as emperor. The emperor held only nominal authority over the electors and command in wartime. In peacetime, the emperor collected not a single penny in taxes from the electors and could not conscript a single soldier.
Among these ten electors themselves, factions were equally entrenched. **Free cities, religious leaders of various pantheons, and smaller noble fiefdoms all operated largely independent of imperial authority. Beneath the lesser nobility lay minor nobles, petty nobles, and finally, knights.
Beyond these nominally imperial forces, the Sigmar Empire harbored numerous hostile factions within its borders. Bandits lurking in the forests were as numerous as cattle. Moreover, within many imperial provinces, savages influenced by the forces of Chaos roamed freely. The vast forests in the empire's northwest were home to countless tribes of forest goblins.
Vared had asked several people about the contents of this book, and all confirmed its accuracy. This left Vared stunned in disbelief—how could a nation besieged on all sides, even from within its own borders, survive so tenaciously until now? What a miracle this was!
Of course, this wasn't the end of it. After reading this book, Valed recalled his eighth rant about the backwardness of the Sigma Empire's feudal system, which he had learned about earlier.
"Actually, sis, don't you think this is rather problematic?"
"What's problematic?"
"I mean, those human knights—they hone their martial skills day in and day out, decade after decade. Always waiting for their lord's summons. Then, once called, they must rush off without pause. Barely stepping onto the battlefield, before they can even achieve anything, they're suddenly dead. Don't you think that's terribly unsettling?"
"Why would you think that? Isn't it just fine?"
So different values really do make communication difficult... Recalling the strange expression his elder sister had worn when she heard his question, Valed couldn't help but feel speechless.
Loyalty, fine; the vassal's duty, that's correct too; the pursuit of glory—yes. But all for the feudal lord's idiotic reasons. Five acres of salt-encrusted wasteland, a ramshackle wooden fortress, a few jars of wild honey—even a single gesture or word could spark a dreadful war. No matter how you looked at it, it couldn't bring Valed any joy. If wars were fought over such trifles, then what had his previous life been—battles against the Zerg across star-spanning battlefields?
Vared had always believed war should be grand and sweeping—an all-out, unprecedented clash between two races, fought for survival, honor, and gain. Not over five acres of salt-encrusted land.
Thus, when Valed reached the deepest chamber of this tomb and discovered that all his arduous efforts had yielded nothing more than a copy of
The Imperial Knight Enfeoffment Code of 791, the future Count of Kastanin's fury was beyond measure.
"This thing is worthless except for burning!" Valed snatched the book in rage and hurled it to the ground. He had indeed intended to burn the tome. But then he reconsidered: even a fly is meat. While practically worthless, as an antique it might fetch some price.
Though the neighboring Sigmar Empire, a feudal state with dire finances, held no interest in such relics nor the means to purchase them, Further south, however, lay the commercial republic of Tylir, populated by culture-loving folk, and the Arabian Kingdom, where many nobles cultivated artistic tastes. Surely, there would be those willing to pay a good price for this tome.
This thought brought Valed considerable peace of mind. His gaze softened as he looked at the codex. He calculated the time again. Only half an hour had passed. There was no rush to examine the other burial artifacts in this tomb. Glancing through the book wouldn't be such a big deal... He could consider it expanding his knowledge.
With these thoughts, Valed picked up the Code of Knightly Enfeoffment and began reading. Immediately, this reserve mage, highly sensitive to magic, sensed something was amiss.
This book was peculiar—though untouched, it seemed harmless. Yet upon opening it and beginning to read, Valed realized the characters inscribed within were not words at all. Not the Old World's common tongue, not Elvish, not Dwarvish, not the Basic Language of the Undead, not arcane runes, not ancient scripts of any kind, not even Chaos Speech...
What this book recorded was the rules themselves, the essence of order, the shaping and standards of power... These abstract, metaphysical concepts—things beyond description by language—were all directly infused into the book as pure, free magical wind. And this book, though tangible, was itself an abstraction—it was the very vessel of
"the rules."
"This thing... it's a twelve-dimensional materialized artifact..." When Valed finally managed to close the book, the already meager magic within him was completely drained—no, worse than that. His pallid complexion and sweat-drenched forehead revealed that his physical stamina had also been severely depleted. Yet, despite his worsening condition, Valed couldn't suppress a smile.
"A vessel of pure law... In this world's terminology, it's called Concept Armament, right? And it pertains to knighthood... In this realm, there's likely nothing more valuable than this. With just a slight modification, I could use this to 'confer knighthood'... How ironic. Just moments ago, I was mocking the knightly class for their clumsiness and obsolescence. Yet for the foreseeable future, I'll likely be conquering realms with undead knights 'consecrated' by my own hand." The thought drew a few cold chuckles from him.
But another consideration wiped the smile from Valed's face: "Still, this codex's power isn't as great as it should be. If my guess is correct, this codex is likely not the original. It's probably one of the replicas. That explains its weaker abilities and higher mana cost... Still, it's worth it... And if this is a copy, then the original is most likely in the main tomb. Ultimately, it'll be mine anyway."
Striking gold right from the start, coupled with this reversal from hell to heaven, instantly lifted Valed's spirits. Beyond that, through this Knight's Codex, he could also largely deduce the identity of this tomb's occupant.
Though the body belonged to a mere six-year-old child—unlikely to have access to extensive knowledge—common sense was something one inevitably absorbed. And as it happened, this tomb's occupant was powerful enough to reach the level of "common knowledge."
The man named Aranson. He was the greatest, most cunning, and most successful emperor of an entire era in this world. The empire he founded was the very one that constructed the vast, continuous network of magnificent burial chambers within Silvania. The Knight's Codex he designated was accepted by all human nations as the so-called "absolute truth."
Though subsequent history witnessed cataclysmic upheavals, the empire crumbled, and even the world's political fabric transformed, the knightly system endured. It remained everlasting. Even within non-human nations and political entities, military units, social classes, or titles bearing the name "knight" emerged.
When every sentient being across the world came to recognize the term "knight"... The copy of the Knight's Codex, originally intended as a burial offering—a book that had rotted beyond recognition over endless ages—was thus reborn. It ascended to the exalted status of a "Rule Carrier."
"So lucky, so lucky, so lucky, so lucky, so lucky, so lucky..." Once Valed fully grasped the book's value, he clutched it like a madman, rolling on the ground. He regarded it as something more precious than his own life.
With this artifact, sufficient magic power, and corpses as raw material, Valed could effortlessly create an entire army of Black Knights—unlike ordinary Lich Lords or Vampire Lords, who could only use the remains of those who had been knights in life. With this rulebook as a vessel, Valed could "confer knighthood" upon corpses. He could elevate unqualified remains, thereby strengthening the knight units within his undead army.