Henry nodded slightly. This estimate was roughly what he had expected. More than twenty thousand Denar was an enormous fortune even for an old-established Baron.
"You've worked hard. You can rest for a while now and relax."
"Thank you for your concern, Master."
After Claude left, Henry lay down to rest.
Henry's eyelids gradually grew heavy, but his thoughts surged like the tide. Humans were strange creatures—often too sleepy to keep their eyes open, yet most prone to endless fantasies at such times.
He thought of his territory, his loyal Soldiers, and vast stretches of fertile, unclaimed land. Bountiful wheat fields, prosperous cities...
"Master, urgent intelligence from the North." An anxious voice came from outside the tent.
Henry abruptly sat up, dressed, and allowed Claude, who was standing outside the tent with an odd expression on his face, to enter.
"What could be so important that you woke me in the middle of the night?"
"It... it's the North, Master. Sybil has come under attack from ogres."
Henry's expression darkened. These Foreign Races really had something wrong with their heads. Even the Half-Orcs, whose strength was on par with the Empire's, had been beaten flat. Yet these ogres, who had always been beaten down by the Empire, still dared to kick up a fuss?
"Where did the news come from? Who said it? Is it accurate? How has the Legion reacted?"
Henry was very calm. First, Sybil was far from his fief and had nothing to do with him. Second, ogres were far inferior to Half-Orcs. They lacked iron weapons and logistical bases, so they could never amount to much.
"The news came from the Barracks of the Eleventh Legion. It may be true, because the Eleventh Legion's logistical troops have already begun packing up."
Henry nodded. If they were