After the War
Behind the defensive line, the tense and oppressive atmosphere vanished, replaced by a sense of relief and excitement at surviving a disaster.
"They've driven them back! They've really driven them back!" Charlotte, gripping her sword hilt, watched the Sauron army retreat in disarray like a receding tide. She let out a long sigh of relief, a bright smile spreading across her face, as if the fatigue of the past few days had lessened considerably.
"These Sauron Barbarians are nothing special! They still got their heads smashed and bled in front of your defenses, Karl!"
Edgar, though maintaining the composure expected of a steward, relaxed his tightly pursed lips and a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "It was indeed a hard-won victory. Thanks to the Lord's skillful command and the soldiers' valiant efforts, we were able to defend our homeland. After this battle, Carnford's reputation will surely spread throughout the Northern Territory."
Old Morrell was more practical. He rubbed his hands together, calculating with a mixture of excitement and heartache. "Winning is good, but the costs... arrows, gunpowder, timber for repairing the fortifications... and the compensation for the fallen soldiers, that's another huge expense. We need to get the workshops running at full capacity as soon as possible..."
While everyone was immersed in the joy of victory and discussing it, Karl stood silently in place, his sharp gaze still sweeping across the battlefield, as if confirming something.
Just then, the mysterious Intelligence System in his mind once again displayed clear information:
[Mission Objective]: Resist the attack of the Sauron (Completed).
[Reward information has been distributed]
[Intelligence Content]: Two days ago, Earl Rochefort learned of the movements of the Sauron army and the siege of Carnford. The Count judged that this was a feint by the main Sauron force before heading south or a move to eliminate a threat on the flank. He has decisively ordered the assembly of the elite mobile forces of Fran City, led by trusted generals, to rush to Carnford's aid.
The main force of the reinforcements consists of two full-strength cavalry battalions and one reinforced infantry battalion, with a total strength of about 1,200 men. Judging from their marching speed and the possible obstruction by the Sauron, their vanguard light cavalry can reach the outskirts of Carnford as early as noon tomorrow. If the Sauron besieging forces do not retreat in time, they will face the danger of being attacked from both sides.
A glint flashed in Karl's eyes, and the last weight in his heart finally lifted.
Just as he predicted! The Count was no ordinary man; he couldn't possibly be unaware of the risks and opportunities inherent in such obvious military movements and the siege of Carnford!
He ignored the excited chatter of Charlotte and the others around him, and simply said, "Clean up the battlefield, treat the wounded, reinforce the fortifications, and prepare for a night attack."
After saying that, he turned around and quickly walked onto the position.
Below the tower, both inside and outside the defensive line, a scene of bustling activity and brutal chaos unfolded.
After the initial passion of battle fades, what remains is stark casualties and suffering.
The air was thick with the pungent smell of blood and gunpowder, mixed with the suppressed groans and cries of the wounded soldiers.
Military doctors, along with militia members and women who knew a little about bandaging, moved between the battle lines and the makeshift shacks used as a wounded soldiers' camp, busily treating the wounded.
"Quick! Hold him down! Pour the medicine down his throat!"
"Militia Potion! Does anyone have Militia Potion?"
"His leg is broken! He needs a splint! Hurry!"
"Water... give me water..."
Shouts, urging voices, and words of comfort mingled together.
Soldiers covered in blood and lying on the ground were everywhere, some unconscious, others staring blankly at the sky.
Stretcher teams continuously carried the seriously wounded down from the front lines, while the accompanying doctors and villagers knowledgeable in herbal medicine were busily cleaning, suturing, stopping bleeding, and setting bones.
The precious Militia Potion was given priority to soldiers who had lost too much blood and were critically injured. The medicine's healing effect temporarily stabilized their lives, but the intense pain and weakness continued to torment them.
Karl walked silently among the wounded soldiers, his face grave.
He bent down to examine a young militiaman whose abdomen had been cut open and whose intestines were faintly visible; a military medic was desperately stitching him up.
Karl gently patted the soldier's cold hand and whispered, "Hang in there, you'll survive."
The soldier opened his eyes with difficulty, saw that it was the Lord, a faint light flashed in his eyes, and he nodded with effort.
He then walked up to a soldier whose shoulder blade had been shattered by Battle Axe and who was convulsing in pain. He took out his spare Militia Potion from his pocket and carefully fed it to the soldier.
The medicine took effect quickly, and the soldier's pain lessened significantly, and his breathing became much more stable. He looked at Karl, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. He could only look at him with grateful eyes.
"Take good care of your injuries. Carnford needs warriors like you." Karl's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a calming power.
Wherever he went, wounded soldiers and medical staff looked at him with respect and gratitude.
The Lord personally visited the front lines to comfort the wounded and even offered his own medicine, which deeply moved the soldiers, and their morale quietly rallied amidst their suffering.
At that moment, the old knight Brendan dragged his weary steps over, his armor stained with blood and dust, his face etched with exhaustion and sorrow.
"My lord," Brendan's voice was hoarse, "Initial count... the casualties are heavy. More than fifty dead, over forty seriously wounded and incapacitated, and almost everyone lightly wounded. The losses in the combat units are particularly severe, with nearly a third of the pikemen lost..."
He paused, his tone filled with deep unease. "Although the Sauron have retreated, their main force hasn't suffered serious losses, especially the Berserker... If they disregard casualties and launch another attack like this tomorrow... we, we might not be able to hold out."
Karl listened quietly, his face showing none of the worry or panic Brendan had expected.
He reached out and patted the old knight's sturdy but slightly trembling arm armor, his tone calm yet carrying a strange certainty. "Don't worry, Brendan, the Sauron won't launch another attack like this, their siege will soon be lifted."
Brendan paused, his eyes filled with doubt, not understanding why his Lord was so certain.
Karl didn't explain much, but simply turned his gaze to the Sauron Army formation in the distance, which was retreating and regrouping in an orderly manner.
The intelligence provided him with a panoramic view of the game.
His gaze then fell on a young soldier, Roderick.
He was leaning on a long spear, limping as he helped the medic carry the wounded. His face showed a mixture of exhaustion and lingering fear, but also a hint of the determination that comes after battle.
Karl remembered his name; the young man had acted bravely at the breach in the defense.
"Roderick," Karl called out to him.
Roderick was startled and quickly turned around, bowing somewhat awkwardly. "My... Lord!"
"You fought very well at the gap today, very bravely," Karl said, looking at him with certainty. "I saw your fighting spirit, and Carnford is proud of a warrior like you."
Roderick's face flushed crimson instantly, and he stammered, "I... I just did what I was supposed to do... Sir!"
"Your courage will not have been in vain." Karl nodded. "Take good care of your injuries."
Looking at Roderick's excited and honor-filled eyes, and then glancing around at the soldiers who, though exhausted, had firm gazes because of his affirmation, an idea gradually became clear in Karl's mind.
Money and provisions can hire soldiers, but they cannot forge a truly soulful and cohesive army.
With basic survival and compensation guaranteed, cultivating a sense of honor and public recognition will be more effective means of motivating soldiers and enhancing their loyalty.
He decided to establish a system of military merit medals as soon as possible.
Awarding badges or ribbons of honor to those who fought bravely, providing additional rewards and promotion opportunities for those who made outstanding contributions, and even recording their names and deeds and erecting monuments in the fortresses in their memory.
Every soldier who shed blood and sacrificed their life for Carnford should feel that their value is recognized and their dedication is remembered.
This may be the key difference between the Carnford Army and other Lord' private armies and mercenaries in the future.