Chapter 61: Chapter 52: We Will Definitely Win This War
The two laughed for a while before they stopped teasing Mace. A man who dared to draw his sword on the battlefield and lead a charge was a qualified Warrior.
"Mace, let’s split the spoils like this: I’ll take sixty percent, Fass will take twenty, and you’ll get twenty. How does that sound?"
"Of course. That’s very reasonable. Your bravery and your elite troops were the key to victory."
Once the three of them agreed, their respective stewards went to tally the day’s spoils together, preventing any future disputes over an uneven distribution.
The men’s Attendants and officers were also taking stock of the soldiers and serfs who had died that day, as well as the wounded. The physicians and apothecaries traveling with the army were as busy as bees.
Thomas and his son could dress a soldier’s wounds in just a minute or two. He was a well-trained physician, through and through.
These soldiers had already received emergency treatment on the march, so their lives were at least saved. How long it would take them to recover, however, depended on each man’s constitution.
The only thing Henry and the others could do was ensure the wounded were well-fed, hoping they would regain their combat effectiveness as soon as possible.
The three men’s dinner consisted of roasted rabbit, buttered bread, and hot chicken soup. It was quite delicious, as they were not short on seasonings.
"Henry, what’s wrong? What are you thinking about?"
Henry took a sip of chicken soup, a wave of warmth spreading through him. He replied, "I was just thinking. The forces we’ve faced so far have been ordinary Half-Beastman armies. What if we run into elite Armored Centaurs? How would we stop them?
What about armored Minotaurs? Or Bearmen? I don’t think our Crossbowmen could inflict any effective damage on them, not unless we lavishly used Armor-Piercing Arrows like the Imperial Legions.
And the Tiger-men... they’re the Half-Beastmen’s primary assault troops. If they charged our lines in iron armor, could our infantry hold?"
Fass heard this but didn’t quite understand Henry’s worries.
In his view, the main front was a matter for the Legions. The Private Armies of nobles like them weren’t trained for large-scale warfare.
A noble’s Private Army was typically used to fight off bandits, keep the peace on their lands, and intimidate neighboring nobles.
Henry didn’t say anything more and went back to eating.
After the meal, Fass and Mace left. They needed to return to their own tents to wash up and wipe away the Half-Beastman blood spattered on them.
The two consecutive battles had left Henry physically and mentally exhausted. After Ailia helped him clean up, he lay down on his cotton pallet and fell asleep almost instantly.
Ailia covered Henry with a wool blanket and settled down to rest by the stove.
[Battle Won. Overlord Training Points +6]
[Personal Experience +2130]
[Experience from Troops +3771]
The next day, Henry’s army force-marched for the entire day, their goal to catch up with the Eighth and Ninth Legions.
Henry couldn’t afford to lose men in minor skirmishes. The losses from one such encounter might not seem like much, but they would quickly add up.
What he needed was a major battle, not these constant small-scale clashes.
The sun hung high in the sky, its hot rays baking the earth, driving away the chill and leaving the soldiers feeling pleasantly warm.
At noon, the dispatched Scouts sent word back: they had spotted the Private Armies of some minor nobles ahead, which meant the main Legions were just beyond them.
Only then did the three of them relax. They were no longer in such a hurry; at their current pace, they could make camp with the main army that night.
Only an army of seventy to eighty thousand camped together could give them a sense of security in this unknown Half-Beastman territory.
Finally, at dusk, the sight of the Eighth and Ninth Legions, already encamped, appeared on the distant horizon.
Henry sent Bain ahead to coordinate with the main force and arrange a place for them to camp. A cheer erupted from the army; the feeling of safety allowed them to relax.
Henry led his troops slowly toward the camp. The banners of the Eighth and Ninth Legions, the king’s own standards, fluttered in the wind.
The Legion soldiers were arrayed in neat formations, and defensive lines had been established around the camp. The Private Armies of the minor nobles had also organized themselves to help with patrols and sentry duty.
As they neared the camp, Bain rode out to meet them, accompanied by an officer who also appeared to be an honorary noble.
Henry exchanged brief greetings with him and was informed that their campsite was ready.
Upon reaching the designated area, Henry’s soldiers began unloading supplies and setting up camp. Making and breaking camp was second nature to them, and their proficiency was nearly on par with that of the Imperial Legions.
Henry briefly discussed the battle situation with the officer and learned that things were still grim.
Night fell, and bonfires lit up the entire encampment, making it as bright as a city. After announcing his arrival and waiting for over two hours, Henry was finally able to meet with Count Soslan.
"Legion Commander, I’ve finally managed to meet with you."
Fass had come along as well and saluted Count Soslan. Mace, however, had not. He was not yet a landed noble—just the second son of a Count who had registered for the Pioneer Nobility.
’This Pioneer status wasn’t so easy to obtain. Sure, a commoner could apply, but what were they supposed to use for pioneering? Their heads?’
Even minor nobles had a hard time qualifying. Without a sufficient number of troops, start-up capital, and a personal record of honors, the public registry office wouldn’t grant you the status of Pioneer Nobility.
"Henry... Henry Bro? I hope I have your name and family correct, Warrior. I’m exhausted. I have to see an untold number of people every day."
Soslan was a veteran commander of the Imperial Legions. His face was now lined with wrinkles and his hair was graying, making him look like any other old man.
"Legion Commander, I apologize for disturbing you so late, but I have intelligence to report. I was attacked by Half-Beastmen—twice. I suspect there are Half-Beastman forces raiding our supply lines in the rear."
Soslan nodded, indicating that he was already aware of the situation. He had sent two battalions—a thousand Light Cavalry in total—to patrol the rear. That was the most he could spare.
As for the nobles who had been attacked, there was nothing Soslan could do. The main battle had yet to begin, and already the Private Armies of five Barons and one Viscount had gone missing.
"Legion Commander, I’d like to know how much longer it will be until we reach the battlefield."
"Soon. One more day at most. The Half-Beastmen have taken notice of us. This battle... it might turn into a chaotic mess."
Henry nodded. ’With a potential 270,000 combatants on both sides, it would be impossible to command them all in a single, head-on engagement. There would have to be several main fronts and countless smaller battlefields.’
’In other words, this would be a battle of encirclements and counter-encirclements running in parallel. It could only be described as a chaotic melee.’
"We must win this battle. The Half-Beastmen want to settle things with us, once and for all.
If we win, it will mean a decade or more of peace. You Border Nobility will be able to reclaim vast tracts of land and develop your holdings.
If we lose..."
Soslan fell silent, unable to bring himself to imagine such consequences.
"No," Henry said firmly. "We will win!"
