"We've struck it rich, struck it big!"
Baron Hatton was overjoyed in the castle, so much so that he barely glanced at the maids around him.
"Don't get ahead of yourself. Out of that 100,000 gold, 70,000 belongs to me."
Ryan replied coolly at his side.
"What?!"
Hatton froze, staring at Ryan with barely veiled hostility, as if the young baron were a thief who had robbed him of his fortune.
"Baron Hatton," Ryan said, calm and matter-of-fact, "you must understand: I'm the one who won this war. Strictly speaking, all of the war reparations should be mine. I've simply chosen not to claim them in full."
"Furthermore, at least 70% of the weapons and armor on the battlefield should be considered my spoils."
"And finally, Baron Hatton, you invited me into this war—so aside from the agreed-upon grain, you'll also need to provide a portion of the gold to reward the victory my forces delivered."
