Knight: Becoming King of the World

Chapter 142: Chapter 121: No Shortage of Food or Supplies, So What Is Lacking?

Gabriel furiously shot to his feet and knocked over the chessboard in the soldier’s hands. This was a blatant humiliation!

’Henry had told them to play checkers before. I thought it was just a joke, but I can’t believe they’re actually doing it!’

The soldier was startled by the sudden movement. The board and pieces scattered across the floor with a crisp clatter.

The soldier warily took a few steps back, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword, his eyes filled with vigilance.

"Baron Gabriel, calm down," Knight Huno advised, his voice weak.

Gabriel took a deep breath. He didn’t want his actions to bring even greater trouble upon everyone.

The soldier looked at Gabriel, then at the others. In the end, he took no further action and turned to leave the dungeon.

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the stone chamber in silence.

By the candlelight, Gabriel looked at the scattered pieces on the floor, and the anger in his heart gradually subsided.

He bent down and began to pick up the pieces. The other barons silently joined him, their movements heavy, their hearts filled with loss and frustration.

Knight Huno leaned against a pile of straw, watching them with a hint of confusion.

’Can Count John win? He has to, right?’

Henry sat in his study, his brow furrowed. The quill in his hand hovered over the parchment, hesitating to fall.

The number of people in the castle was growing. Feeding and housing them, and dealing with the waste, had become an arduous task. This couldn’t continue.

Henry planned to send a batch of about eight hundred prisoners of war back to his fief. They could no longer remain in the castle.

The castle had limited capacity. With the increasing number of prisoners, the open grounds were almost completely occupied. Some soldiers even had to sleep in the arrow towers on the walls.

"My lord, the Grassland Warriors are ready," Philip reported from outside the door.

Henry put down his quill. "Come in, Philip."

Philip entered the study and said respectfully, "My lord, two units of Grassland Warriors have assembled. After we leave, the gate will be immediately sealed."

"Yes, Philip. Your mission is to safely escort eight hundred prisoners of war back to my fief. I know it won’t be easy. Don’t worry. I can understand if some prisoners die on the forced march. Your safety is the top priority."

"Yes, my lord."

Henry continued, "I will provide you with enough food and water. You must also remain vigilant and guard against any possible attacks."

Philip nodded. In his eyes, this mission was a sign of Henry’s favor, because the job was just too easy.

"Set out now. May the wind guide and protect you."

Philip turned and left the study. Henry habitually offered a silent prayer, hoping his men would complete their mission smoothly and return safely.

In the castle’s open grounds, the prisoners of war were bound with coarse ropes, shuffling along in thin, single-layered clothing.

They didn’t know what awaited them—forgiveness or punishment, freedom or death.

The Grassland Warriors had no time to sympathize with these prisoners. Their mission was to take them and safely escort them back to the fief.

Over eighty Grassland Warriors, clad in battle armor and holding their weapons, led strings of bound prisoners across the castle’s stone-paved roads.

After the Grassland Warriors departed, the castle’s villagers immediately sprang into action. They pushed carts filled with dirt and stones, using the materials to once again block the passage at the gate.

The villagers had no complaints. As they saw it, this was what they ought to do.

’Lord Henry had abolished so many taxes, and after all this time, he hasn’t seized our grain or possessions. He’s a great benefactor! What’s wrong with helping out a bit? Besides, this is for our own protection.’

’If the enemy actually wins, we’ll have to go back to paying all those miscellaneous taxes.’

They chatted idly as they filled the passage with dirt and stones.

"Say, do you think our lord’s army can beat that Count?" a young villager asked as he shoveled, a hint of worry on his face.

Although Henry’s two consecutive victories seemed impressive, in the eyes of these villagers, a Baron simply couldn’t defeat a Count.

They didn’t understand all that nonsense about fief attributes, population size, or the ranks of nobility. In any case, a noble with more land and more people was stronger than one with less.

"Of course, he can win! Didn’t you see those prisoners of war? Our lord captured all of them. The lord’s army is invincible!"

"Yeah, and just look at the lord’s soldiers! Look at their armor! How could those enemies possibly be a match for them?"

"I wish I could wear armor like that. Let me tell you, I was chatting with a soldier... guess what reward they get for killing one enemy?"

"What reward?"

"Two Dinars!"

"Wow!"

The surrounding villagers gasped in hushed amazement, their hearts filled with envy.

"Look at those prisoners of war, all downcast. They don’t look like warriors at all," a villager said, pointing at the prisoners about to be led away, a scornful smile on his face.

"Yeah, not only did the lord protect us, he also lightened our tax burden."

Everyone nodded in agreement. If Henry hadn’t sent someone to warn them, their grain and meager possessions would have long been looted by those "reinforcements" from the Ximira Castle barons.

As the Grassland Warriors shouted and led the prisoners away, the gates of Ximira Castle were blocked once more, as if to shut out all the blood and clamor from the world outside.

With the final stone set in place, the passage at the gate was completely sealed, and Ximira Castle returned to its tranquility once more.

But this tranquility was temporary. The shadow of war still loomed over the land, and no one knew when or where the next battle would break out.

Inside Henry’s study, the late autumn air had begun to carry a chill. The light from the fireplace added a touch of warmth to the room’s heavy atmosphere.

Piles of reports and ledgers lay before Henry. Claude sat across from him, holding the latest supply inventory.

"My lord, our army has suffered somewhat heavy losses in the recent battles. Since leaving Westwood Laine, we’ve lost over four hundred men in total... But, at the same time, we’ve also seized a large amount of supplies."

Henry looked up. His panel was quite intelligent. It didn’t provide a real-time record, but he could see the approximate casualties at a glance.

Although there were casualties, the soldiers’ abilities had also been honed. They could now survive more brutal wars and kill enemies more effectively.

"Tell me about the supplies in detail, Claude."

Claude cleared his throat and began his report. "All the storehouses in Ximira Castle are full. The warehouses in the castle, the warehouses in the barracks, even the stables and some empty rooms in the towers, are all piled high with supplies."

"What’s more, a lot of supplies are still on the carts because there’s simply nowhere left to put them."

Henry looked at the smiling Claude, equally surprised that his supplies had become so plentiful. ’Even the stables are full? How much grain and goods is that?’

"It’s true, my lord. The army’s spoils from this period have been too great. Combined with the logistics we brought with us, we have enough for your troops to hold Ximira Castle for two years."

A sharp glint flashed in Henry’s eyes. After a quick mental calculation, he came to a conclusion.

’I can’t calculate it precisely, but I’m definitely not short on food anymore!’

Although Henry wasn’t yet clear on the harvest from the various villages and farms under Westwood Laine’s jurisdiction, based on preliminary estimates, he had enough to sustain the ten thousand plus people in his territory until next spring or summer.

’I’m not short on food or various military supplies... so what am I lacking now?’

Claude thought for a moment before continuing, "My lord, your soldiers are very brave, but they also need rest. Although our medical supplies are sufficient, the men need time to recover, both physically and mentally."

Henry nodded. He knew Claude was telling the truth.

Even if these soldiers had undergone the unscientific "loyalty training" of the Overlord Training system, they were still human. Prolonged tension could lead to unnecessary injuries and illnesses.

"Organize a celebration tonight. The enemy won’t appear tomorrow. Wine, roasted meat, fruit... let the soldiers relax properly tonight."

Henry stood up and walked to the window, gazing out at the bustling soldiers and villagers.

"Claude, we have one more problem to solve."

Claude looked at Henry in confusion. "My lord, what problem is that?"

"We have too many carts. Let’s slaughter some of the pack horses for food. Since we’re defending this position, we can’t let them waste grain."

Claude nodded. Henry had a point. There were a few too many livestock in the castle. Dealing with the manure every day was already a headache, so slaughtering some would be a good thing.

As the arrangements were made one by one, time slipped away.

Moonlight spilled onto the ground. Bonfires were lit in the open spaces, illuminating the entire castle and driving away the night’s chill.

Soldiers and villagers gathered together, celebrating this rare moment of peace.

The aroma of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air, washing away the heavy stench of blood.

The soldiers shed their daytime solemnity, drinking freely with the villagers and enjoying this rare moment of relaxation.

"Come, a toast to the lord’s health! Cheers!" a soldier proposed loudly, raising his cup.

"Cheers!" the crowd responded, the clinking of cups making a crisp sound.

In a corner of the square, a few villagers began to play instruments, and a melodious tune drifted through the night sky.

They were self-employed farmers from the village who had some spare money. They were also among the few who could play an instrument. They were often hired to help out at weddings and births, which allowed them to earn a bit of cash.

People clapped and danced to the rhythm of the music. The steps were simple but full of life. The women, dressed in simple robes and skirts, had their hems fluttering like blooming flowers.

A song passed down through generations on the grasslands began to ring out. The soldiers joined in the singing, their powerful, robust voices blending more and more closely with those of the villagers.

On another side of the celebration, some soldiers and villagers sat in a circle, talking about heroic deeds on the battlefield.

’When you win a battle and survive, you have to brag about it! When you’re away from home, you make your own reputation!’

In the words of one tipsy Skilled Infantryman, he had killed a full ten enemies that day!

So heroic!

"Look, the moon is so beautiful tonight."

"Yeah, it’s so full..."