The Black Crow Outpost's Reward

Karl stepped forward and said to the Guard Captain, "Captain, my soldiers have endured a hard battle and then rushed here on a forced march. They are exhausted. I wonder if the outpost might..."

Before he could finish, Barton immediately cut in. Patting his chest, he said to Old Jack, the Guard Captain, "Old Jack! Lord Karl and his brothers saved my life! Hurry up and bring out all the good food! Treat the brothers properly! Put all expenses on my account!"

He was now deeply grateful to Karl and wanted only to repay him as best he could.

How could Old Jack hesitate after hearing that? He immediately turned and roared at his men, "What are you standing around for?! Didn't you hear him? Get the pots going at once! Bring out the newly delivered white flour, butter, and smoked meat! Deal with that dead horse too—stew the horse meat into soup! Clear out the largest barracks for Lord Karl's troops to rest in!"

The outpost immediately sprang into action. Before long, several large pots had been set up, with flames blazing beneath them.

The newly delivered flour was quickly kneaded into dough and baked into huge, fragrant loaves of Rye Bread, their crusts browned and crisp.

Precious butter was spread over the hot bread, melting and soaking in at once, releasing an enticing milky aroma.

Large chunks of smoked pork and horse meat were tossed into the pots to stew. Though the seasonings were simple, the rich scent of meat still spread throughout the entire outpost.

Karl's soldiers and Richter's City Defense Army were invited into the spacious barracks to rest, and hot bread and Meat Soup were soon placed in everyone's hands.

Every soldier received a hefty steak and enough bread to fill his belly.

They sat together, devouring the hard-won food and sharing the small amounts of wine or liquor each had brought.

After fighting side by side, the barriers and unfamiliarity between them had long vanished. They now seemed like a single united force, calling one another brothers amid lively spirits.

Meanwhile, a small banquet had also been prepared in the outpost commander's room.

A fairly clean piece of coarse cloth had been spread over the long wooden table in the center of the room.

Several dishes sat upon it: a whole river fish roasted golden and crisp; a large platter piled high with sliced smoked meat and sausages; a steaming bowl of braised horse meat from Karl's unfortunate horse; a basket of freshly baked, finest white bread; and even a small dish of precious honey and a piece of cheese.

At the center of the table stood an opened bottle of wine. It was not some famous vintage, but at this bitterly cold Northern Territory outpost, it was already an exceedingly lavish gesture of hospitality.

The old outpost commander, Karl, Richter, Brendan, Roland, and Barton, who was there to keep them company, sat around the table.

The old commander raised his wooden cup and said apologetically, "Lord Karl, everyone, the conditions at the outpost are poor, and our preparations were inadequate. We have only these humble dishes. I hope you will not take offense. Thank you all for fighting so bravely and preserving the transport convoy and its supplies. Let me offer you a toast!"

His words came from the heart. If not for Karl, had this batch of winter supplies been lost, life would have become extremely difficult for him as the outpost commander.

Karl also raised his cup. Though exhausted, he was in high spirits after winning the battle and successfully winning over the troops. "You are too courteous, Commander. Being able to eat hot food and meat, with a place to shelter from the wind and cold, is already the best we could ask for. We merely did what we should have done."

Everyone raised their cups and drank. The wine was somewhat rough on the tongue, yet full-bodied as it went down, carrying the Northern Territory's distinctive sharpness. One cup warmed their entire bodies.

During the meal, Barton could not help vividly recounting the battle again. The old commander listened in repeated amazement and kept toasting Karl.

Richter and Brendan added a few details as well, praising Karl's command and courage without reserve.

The meal was simple, yet deeply satisfying. It lacked the refinement of a Royal Capital banquet, but the atmosphere of eating great chunks of meat and drinking deeply suited these soldiers who had just survived a bloody battle far better.

Once they had eaten and drunk their fill, overwhelming exhaustion came rushing in like a tide.

Karl was assigned the best guest room in the outpost, which was really just a cleaner bed in a room without drafts.

The moment his head touched the pillow, without even removing his clothes, heavy sleep completely swallowed his consciousness.

He had been through too much today: tense planning, bloody combat, a speech to win hearts, a long march... all of it had drained his strength.

He soon fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Outside, the frigid wind of the Northern Territory howled, yet it could not disturb his slumber in the slightest.

The next morning, when Karl opened his eyes, he found that daylight had long since flooded the sky beyond the narrow window. He could even hear the low conversations of soldiers outside and the clatter of tableware.

He abruptly sat up and rubbed his slightly throbbing temples.

The lingering effects of last night's wine, combined with the deep sleep brought on by extreme exhaustion, had made him oversleep for once.

"I actually slept this late..." He laughed at himself, threw off the rough but thick wool blanket, and got out of bed. Only then did he realize he had slept fully clothed, without even taking off his boots.

After splashing his face with the cold water in the room, completely driving away the last traces of sleepiness and drunkenness, Karl straightened his wrinkled armor and clothes, then pushed open the door and walked out.

In the open space outside, the soldiers were sitting together and eating a simple breakfast—still Rye Bread and Meat Soup, but in generous portions.

To his surprise, the troops seemed to have already finished preparing. Most of their gear had been packed, as though they had been waiting only for him.

When they saw Karl emerge, Brendan and Richter immediately hurried over.

There was a trace of apology on their faces. Brendan spoke first. "My Lord, you are awake. We arranged for everyone to eat and pack their gear first. We did not wake you in time because you were too exhausted yesterday, and we wanted you to rest a little longer. We made the decision without permission. Please punish us, my Lord."

Richter nodded in agreement beside him.

Karl looked at their nervous yet concerned expressions and could not help laughing. He reached out and gave both of them a firm pat on the shoulders. "Punish you? Why would I punish you? You did very well."

His gaze swept over the soldiers, who had waited without complaint, and he said sincerely, "I want my subordinates to be people who can think independently and take initiative, not puppets who can only mechanically follow orders. I am not a god. I cannot account for everything without oversight, and I would exhaust myself to death if I tried. Having capable assistants like you is my good fortune."

These words made Brendan and Richter breathe a sigh of relief. A warm feeling rose in their hearts, along with the sense that they were truly valued.

This Lord truly thought differently from others.