The Emperor was a man in his sixties. His gaze swept over Peter Brown and the others, and a smile appeared on his face.
"You all are the final victors of this Battle of Throne, receive your ennoblement..."
No surprises here, the five who finally obtained a colorful sphere were all ennobled as Centurions.
After the ennoblement, the Emperor looked at Peter Brown, then at the others, saying, "When the Foreign Tribes from the north invaded, I have already assembled an army of One hundred thousand; you will each have a thousand subordinates. I hope you fight for the country and achieve even greater merits!"
"Thank you, Your Majesty!"
Everyone gave a gesture of respect.
"Now, report to the Military three days later."
Having said that, the Emperor left briskly.
However, with Peter Brown's eyesight, he could tell that this Emperor was probably holding himself together with some kind of medicine and was indeed extremely frail inside.
