The casualties are too great.
Arthur sat in the only house in the village that could still be called intact.
He was startled by the statistics.
Even with an overwhelming advantage of three hundred men against forty,
and the Burning Men Tribe savages fighting like cornered beasts due to their illness,
his side still paid the price of over twenty lives, and many more were injured.
Arthur had a headache; this also had to do with his method of managing the army. Thinking about it, stimulating them with money was not a long-term solution.
This group of temporarily conscripted soldiers, lured by money, were like true hungry wolves.
To snatch Credit (merit), they rushed forward like beasts, vying for first place.
Some even fought over the corpses of the Burning Men Tribe savages, and in the end, could only divide them.
There was no infighting or mutual killing over merit, which, under the current circumstances, could already be considered well-managed.
But there was absolutely no other way now.
Some people could command obedience through their surname, while he could only exchange gold for loyalty at present.
These three hundred men were, after all, not his own land's subjects; once the war ended, they had to return to their lord's land.
After all, three hundred able-bodied men, including their families, amounted to over a thousand subjects, which were valuable assets to a lord.
Arthur wanted them, but Daedings Family would not give them.
The plan had to speed up: building his own army.
Although Lady Roslyn had promised he could recruit soldiers from her villages and towns,
which farmer, untouched by war, would be willing to go to the battlefield and be beheaded?
The town's town official also made all sorts of excuses to shirk responsibility.
Arthur had an idea: recruit fleeing refugees.
Keep the able-bodied men and send their families to Dreadfort.
But Dreadfort currently had no land for cultivation.
Who cares? Give them an empty promise first.
When the time comes, what to do? Isn't it still up to him!
Feeling quite suppressed.
Arthur slammed the table, making a loud noise that startled Lucien, who was standing guard at the door, protecting Lord Arthur.
He rushed in, hand on his sword hilt, eyes alert, quickly scanning his surroundings.
Seeing no danger, he felt strange and rubbed his head with his right hand.
"What are you doing, Lucien! Hahahaha!" Arthur pointed at Lucien and laughed heartily, the feeling of suppression instantly gone.
Mainly because Lucien's current appearance was too comical: his entire body was wrapped in bandages, his face was invisible, only his eyes visible.
His right hand on his sword hilt, looking around.
Arthur had once heard a saying: a talent for one county is enough to govern a nation. Whether he could govern a nation, he didn't know.
But in the cold weapon era, he could indeed produce fierce generals.
When attacking the farmstead, Lucien drew his sword and, with a shout of "Follow me!", led the charge. To be honest, Arthur was a little surprised but didn't lose his composure.
Although he believed that in the cold weapon era, officers needed to stand where soldiers could see them,
that didn't mean he thought officers should lead the charge, especially since the situation inside the farmstead was unclear.
The first person to rush in faced unpredictable life and death, and must have embraced the will to die.
But the soldiers were willing to give their lives, and perhaps that was the reason.
Lucien was harsh on his soldiers, and they feared him, but also admired him.
He led by example, suffered over a dozen injuries, was covered in blood, yet his sword never fell.
Truly a brave man. If he hadn't met a discerning patron, he might have remained a farmer his entire life.
Arthur felt a little emotional inside.
Lucien was a bit embarrassed by Lord Arthur's laughter and removed his hand from the sword hilt.
His face was covered in bandages, making his expression unclear. He rubbed his head with his right hand and said:
"Lord Arthur, there was a loud noise from inside the room just now. I thought there were still savages hiding, trying to ambush my lord."
Arthur reined in his laughter a bit, but his face still held a joyful expression.
He waved his hand at Lucien, motioning for Lucien to relax: "It's nothing, nothing. It wasn't an ambush. I was just thinking about some annoying things and couldn't help but slam the table for a moment."
Then Arthur pointed at Lucien again: "But when you rushed in, all bandaged and looking so tense, it was a bit comical and made me laugh for a moment!"
Lucien was happy to hear Lord Arthur say there was no danger, and that his troubles seemed to have vanished with his own comical appearance.
He scratched his head and gave a simple, honest laugh: "If my appearance can make Lord Arthur happy, then it's worth it."
He knew Lord Arthur wasn't mocking him maliciously, and he too laughed in a simple, honest way, but with his face completely covered in bandages, his expression was unclear, making him appear even more comical.
But Arthur didn't laugh this time; his smile vanished, and he felt a little sad.
He looked at the strong farmer in front of him, covered in bandages, looking comical, yet willing to die for him.
He had just walked from the brink of death, bearing over a dozen wounds and covered in blood, yet he was the first to bring people to guard him.
He suddenly realized that he had always tried to disguise himself as someone detached from this world.
Everyone else was different from him, he constantly told himself.
But just now, his heart told him.
He didn't want Lucien to die.
Thinking of Lucien perhaps never getting up again in some battle, thinking that beneath that comical bandage was a life that could perish at any moment,
he couldn't laugh anymore.
Lucien watched Lord Arthur's sudden loss of smile, staring intently at him. He too couldn't laugh, appearing tense and restlessly anxious.
Just as he was wondering if he had done something wrong and feeling uneasy, he finally heard his Lord Arthur speak.
"Lucien, why did you rush in first when I ordered the attack on the farmstead?"
Arthur suddenly didn't know what to say and could only look into Lucien's eyes and ask.
Lucien thought Lord Arthur was blaming him for rushing into the village first, which might lead to a lack of command in his squad during the chaos, thus affecting the battle.
He lowered his head and said uneasily: "I was afraid they wouldn't dare to rush in and would delay my lord's matters, but if I went in first, they would definitely follow."
"I'm sorry, Lord Arthur, I was wrong..." His words were interrupted by a hand suddenly placed on his shoulder.
Lucien quickly looked up and saw his Lord Arthur's somewhat sorrowful eyes. He only heard a sentence that made his world clear and silent, echoing endlessly in his ears.
"Don't die, Lucien! Your lord still wants to share glory and wealth with you!"
Lucien froze completely.
His mind was blank, with only that sentence echoing in his ears.
The surroundings seemed utterly silent.
He wanted to speak, but he felt as if his throat was blocked by something, unable to make a sound.
He wanted to say, he wanted to say, "It is my honor to die for my lord."
But he couldn't utter a single word.
Lucien began to tremble all over, not from pain, but from excitement.
Because of a great shock he felt from a noble lord: being hoped for and cared for.
He was merely a farmer.
He suddenly knelt down, reaching out his hand, wanting to grasp Lord Arthur's clothes.
But then he stopped in mid-air, afraid his action would offend his Lord Arthur.
Arthur tried to help him up, but couldn't; he knelt too suddenly, too forcefully!
He could only open his mouth with difficulty, his voice thick with a nasal tone and choked with emotion.
"Lord Arthur, I, I will listen to you!"
Every word seemed to be squeezed from his lungs.
The choking made his words unclear.
But Arthur knew what he was saying.
"I, I will, I will live well!"