Another crowd had gathered around Commander Adams. Facing him in combat were Patte and
"Fall back, leave this to me."
Patte and Jim let out a breath of relief and hurriedly retreated. Even though it was two against one, Commander Adams, a three-star Silver, was putting vastly more pressure on Patte, a one-star Silver, and Jim, a two-star Silver. Had it not been for the fact that Patte was a shield guardian, and secondly possessed that artificially trained dynamic vision ability, the two would have long since been unable to hold against Commander Adams's attacks.
"You?" Commander Adams recognized the blood-soaked Lorist, froze for a moment, and hurriedly turned his head — but the surrounding guards and soldiers blocked his line of sight.
"Don't bother looking. Your two Gold-rank shield guardians are already dead. I killed them," Lorist said flatly. "Are you satisfied now? Nearly all your Flying Feather Mercenary Company men are dead — very few are left alive. And my family soldiers have fallen in large numbers as well. All these people lost their precious lives for nothing simply because you stubbornly refused to surrender. Now it's your turn. You must be delighted, aren't you?"
"You're lying — how could you possibly have killed them? You must be bluffing, right…" Commander Adams hadn't really been listening to what Lorist was saying. The moment Lorist mentioned that the two Gold-rank shield guardians had been killed by him, Commander Adams first stood there in stunned shock. After a long moment, he jumped up and shouted in rebuttal.
"Would there be any point in lying to you? You should take a look around, and it'll be clear. Fall back, you lot — let this son of a bitch get a good look." Lorist gave the order with venom in his voice.
The guards and soldiers retreated over ten paces, loosely forming a wide circle. Commander Adams raised his head and looked around — blood flowed everywhere, the corpses of Flying Feather mercenaries lay scattered all over the ground. Soldiers in iron armor were searching the bodies on the ground; when they found one of their own, they carried them to the side, and when they spotted a wounded member of the Flying Feather Mercenary Company, they simply raised their swords to grant a swift end. From time to time, a final scream before death rang out…
"This… this… how could it be like this…" Commander Adams staggered back two steps as though struck by a heavy blow, his face turning deathly pale. At the start, he had still been directing the Flying Feather Mercenary Company as they gained the upper hand. It wasn't until Jim and the other mercenaries joined the fray that he recalled how Jim had deceived him. Had it not been for Jim and those mercenaries, he never would have let his guard down and allowed his company members to enter the tent area to rest — and thus fallen into the trap.
At that moment, Commander Adams forgot all about his duties. He only wanted to tear Jim and those mercenaries apart, so he abandoned Pat right in front of him and went to settle the score with Jim. Fortunately, Pat didn't give up and kept pestering him, joining forces with Jim to take on Commander Adams. They fought savagely, driving the battle to a fever pitch and making Commander Adams forget to check on the situation around him. By the time he came to his senses, he was already facing Lorist — and had just heard the devastating news Lorist had delivered.
"My children... my Flying Feather Mercenary Company..." By now, Commander Adams was utterly despondent. He stared at Lorist, his eyes gradually reddening with blood. He only wanted to kill this pretty boy in front of him, this detestable Baron
"I'll fight you with everything I have!" Commander Adams charged forward with his sword.
Lorist surged to meet him. The two streaked past each other in an instant, and Commander Adams's head soared high into the air. His headless body sprayed blood as it charged forward over a dozen steps before collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.
It was finally over. Lorist felt utterly exhausted — bone-deep weariness in both body and soul. He could only thrust his longsword into the ground to prop himself up and keep from collapsing.
...
Sedekampu ran down from the city wall and hurried to Lorist's side. "My lord, you..."
Lorist said wearily, "Sedekampu, I'm fine. I'm just exhausted. Help me find somewhere to sit down..."
Before long, a chair appeared before Lorist's eyes. After sitting down, he said, "Sedekampu, send someone to fetch Steward Kedan and Butler Boris. I have instructions for them. Then go compile the casualty report from the battlefield. I need to know the extent of our losses as soon as possible."
"My lord, please give your orders." Steward Kedan and Butler Boris arrived. Facing the bloody battlefield, Kedan seemed relatively composed, but Butler Boris had gone pale, looking thoroughly nauseated and fighting hard not to vomit.
"Steward Kedan, go to the encampment outside the city and organize the able-bodied men who came with us to the castle construction site immediately. First, establish several garrison units — one hundred and twenty men per squad. Form as many as you can. Draw the needed weapons from the storeroom. Once the organization is complete, take over the city's defenses."
"Yes, my lord. I understand. I'll see to it right away." Steward Kedan bowed and hurried off.
"Butler Boris, the newly arrived slave laborers over there are your responsibility. Arrange their food and lodging. Make absolutely sure they don't cause trouble or start any incidents. Is that clear?" Lorist instructed.
"My lord, I understand. I'll keep them quietly in the camp." Butler Boris bowed and turned to walk toward the far side of the valley clearing where the slave laborers sat, having just witnessed a bloody battle. He had barely gone a short distance before he could no longer stand the stench of blood and began vomiting.
Reddy helped the bandage-wrapped Ovikis hobble over toward Lorist's position. Ovikis wept with tears and snot streaming down his face like a child, utterly grief-stricken.
Lorist lowered his head in somber silence. A large portion of the fallen guards and garrison soldiers had been former bandits who had followed Ovikis to join Lorist's ranks. No wonder he was crying so bitterly.
After much effort, Reddy and Ovikis finally reached Lorist. Ovikis dropped to his knees before Lorist, clutching his lord's leg and sobbing uncontrollably: "My lord, they're all dead — Pite, Mankel, Anker, Weissen... *waaah*..."
Lorist knew every name Ovikis had called out. They were Ovikis's old subordinates, fellow villagers, men who had deserted the army with him and then brought their families to become bandits together...
Lorist reached out and gently patted Ovikis's shoulder, murmuring: "It's my fault. I shouldn't have looked on the bright side of everything, thinking the mercenaries would surrender once they were surrounded. I forgot that a cornered dog will still leap over a wall..."
"Reddy, you did well. Are the wounds on your body alright?"
"It's nothing, just some small wounds. They'll heal in a couple of days. My lord, I just killed a Silver-tier mercenary! This is the first time I've beaten an opponent above my level, and I'm so happy," Reddy said, his face alight with excitement as he recounted his achievement.
Lorist smiled. "I saw it. Very good. But you mustn't become proud. After all, a big reason you won this time is because your opponent had nowhere to run. We had already secured victory over the entire battlefield; the outcome was decided. Your opponent was in a panic, and that's how you won. If he had steadied himself, he could have dragged the fight on and maybe even added a few more wounds to your body. You need to train even harder in the future, understand?"
"I will, my lord," Reddy promised, his expression solemn.
"Come on, help this fellow over to the side first, then have someone bring him a sleeping mat. He's going to cry himself to sleep..." Lorist said, looking at Ovikis, who had slumped onto his knee and begun to snore, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
"My lord, this guy was just bragging to me that he cut down seven men. I thought he was full of hot air, but looking at him now, it might be true. He has three very long gashes. They've just been medicated and bandaged, and he drank a healing potion. It's no wonder he wants to sleep. If he hadn't kept crying over all his dead subordinates, he'd probably have passed out already." Reddy had someone bring a sleeping mat from the original tent area and placed it under Ovikis, letting him continue his loud snoring beside them.
Jostk walked over and lowered his head, looking very embarrassed. "My lord, I've failed your trust. Two or three got away..."
"What happened?" Lorist asked, feeling puzzled. 'Two or three' sounded odd—either two or three, it should be easy to specify exactly.
As Jostk explained, Lorist understood. Jostk had followed the plan to force twenty or thirty Flying Feather mercenaries outside the walls to dismount, discard their weapons, and surrender. But the sounds of fighting from behind had startled him. Shortly after, the command from Se de Camp on the wall to fire the ballistae made him realize the plan had gone awry. He turned to see a chaotic melee below, and when he saw Lorist locked in battle with two Shieldbearers, it was clear something major had gone wrong.
Without hesitation, Jostk drew his bow and shot two Flying Feather mercenaries in the midst of the fight. But in an instant, those mercenaries had mingled with the guards and city defenders, making it impossible for Jostk to shoot freely without restraint. He could only aim when there was space in the crowd or when a Flying Feather mercenary had just killed an opponent and was momentarily exposed. This gave the Flying Feather mercenaries who had already surrendered below the walls an opening. Seeing that Jostk on the wall had turned to shoot and was no longer watching them, they secretly mounted their horses and fled outward.
The sound of galloping hooves as those mercenaries escaped caught Jostk's attention. He turned and fired sharp arrows at the fleeing men. But the Flying Feather mercenaries were cunning; they scattered widely as they fled and didn't all run in the same direction. A few veteran mercenaries, in particular, rode their horses not in a straight line, but constantly changed direction, making it much harder for Jostk to hit them.
When Jostk shot at them, he fired a total of thirty-two arrows, but only twenty-six Flying Feather mercenaries fell from their horses. Two of them had fled the fastest and were lucky enough to escape beyond Jostk's range, vanishing without a trace. One more had taken an arrow but still clung to his horse's back and rode off — whether he was dead or alive, no one knew. That was why Jostk had said only two or three got away.
"It's not your fault. The plan I drew up was flawed. I didn't anticipate that these Flying Feather mercenaries would disregard the threat of the castle wall ballistae and fight to the death in response to their captain's rallying cry. That was something none of us foresaw…" Lorist shook his head with a bitter smile and sighed.
"Are the casualties heavy?" Jostk asked.
"I don't have the details yet. I've already sent Sedecamp to do a headcount. We should know before long. I just hope the number of fallen soldiers isn't too high…" Lorist answered, his voice tinged with bitterness.
After a while, Sedecamp and Pat came before Lorist.
"Report," Lorist said, looking at Sedecamp.
"My lord, our household has lost fifty-six soldiers. Eighty-nine are wounded — of those, seventeen are crippled, and thirty-eight are critically injured. Whether they can be saved is still unknown… Among the fallen, fourteen were personal guards; the rest were garrison soldiers. Thank heavens for the iron armor, or the casualties would have been far worse." Sedecamp's voice grew quieter and quieter as he spoke, heavy with grief.
The guards — the two hundred and eighty personal guards and garrison soldiers who had formed the cordon around the tent encampment — had suffered over fifty percent casualties. An entire small squad had been effectively wiped out. No wonder Aurvick had been crying so bitterly.
It took Lorist a long while to rein in his emotions. "And the Flying Feather mercenaries' casualties?"
"My lord, the Flying Feather mercenaries who entered the valley, including their captain, numbered one hundred and seventy-two in total. Twenty-three have surrendered and are now prisoners. The rest are all dead — there were no wounded," Sedecamp replied.
Of course there were no wounded left — whether lightly or gravely injured, once the guards and soldiers clearing the battlefield found them, their eyes burning red with fury over their comrades' heavy casualties, they stabbed the wounded Flying Feather mercenaries a few more times to send them on their way rather than offering any mercy. If those twenty mercenaries hadn't stood in the way, those twenty-three prisoners might very well have been cut down as well…
"What's that piece of paper you're still holding — what is it?" Lorist asked.
Sedecamp held three sheets of paper in his hands. The first detailed their own casualties, the second the Flying Feather mercenaries' losses, and the third was covered in writing. Each time Lorist had asked a question, Sedecamp had flipped to a different sheet. Now seeing that there was still a third page with quite a bit written on it, Lorist inquired about it.
"My lord, this is the kill count that Pat compiled," Sedecamp said.
Lorist's curiosity was piqued. "Let's hear it. How was it tallied?"
Sedecamp looked at the paper and said, "My lord, you killed the most — forty-one Flying Feather mercenaries in total, including their captain and those two shield-bearers from the start. Next is Lord Josk, who shot fifteen — those are the easiest to identify, since the corpses still have arrows sticking out of them. Lord Aurvick killed seven, Reddy killed five, and Pat killed the fewest with just two, though he did keep that captain busy. Additionally, the city wall crossbows killed fourteen Flying Feather mercenaries. Those twenty mercenaries only managed to kill seven between them, but they did capture twenty-three prisoners…"
Lorist was quick at mental arithmetic and calculated the result almost immediately. "So that means our leaders combined with the city wall crossbows and the mercenaries killed a total of ninety-one Flying Feather mercenaries. Add the twenty-three prisoners and that reaches one hundred and fourteen. The entire force was only one hundred and seventy-two, which means our two hundred and eighty guards and soldiers only inflicted damage on fifty-eight of them — many of those killed only after the battle was over during the cleanup. Meanwhile, we took over one hundred and thirty casualties of our own. That's nearly a three-to-one loss ratio. Our combat effectiveness is simply terrible."
When Lorist said this, Josk, Pat, and Reddy standing nearby all flushed with shame. Their guards and soldiers normally strutted around in iron armor looking imposing and mighty — who would have thought that a single battle would expose them as all show and no substance? They had outnumbered the enemy two to one, had the devastating advantage of the city wall crossbows, and their equipment was far superior to the Flying Feather mercenaries', who only wore leather armor. Granted, the number of awakened battle-aura users among them was lower than among the Flying Feather mercenaries, but such casualty figures were still embarrassingly poor.
"In the future, we need to greatly strengthen our battle formation training and put in more effort honing combat skills," Lorist summarized, and wanting to spare everyone further embarrassment, he lightly let the matter drop.
……