Funeral

Karl soon joined the soldiers and shared a simple but filling breakfast with the men.

Before the unit officially departed Black Crow Outpost, Karl made a point of doing one more thing.

He gathered every soldier who was not on duty and led them to a secluded clearing behind the outpost.

Several graves had already been dug there.

Four bodies wrapped in clean white cloth lay beside the pits. They were the four transport convoy guards who had fallen in yesterday's battle.

According to Barton, two of the four fallen guards still had family back home. Barton had arranged for their bodies to be cremated, and someone would deliver their ashes to their families along with compensation.

The other two, however, were wandering mercenaries with no family or friends. No one had come to claim their bodies.

Karl decided to hold a funeral for them himself.

The soldiers silently formed a circle and watched as the four cold bodies were slowly lowered into the graves.

Standing before the graves, Karl spoke in a calm, clear voice that carried through the cold wind to everyone's ears. "Though these four warriors were not directly under my command, they displayed the same fearless courage in yesterday's battle. They fought alongside us until they shed their last drop of blood."

"Their sacrifice bought us the time and space to strike back. Without their desperate battle, many of us—myself included—might not be standing here today."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the solemn faces. "They may have no family to remember them, but their achievements must not be forgotten. From this day onward, this outpost and this land they defended with their blood will be their final resting place! Their names will be carved upon this gravestone!"

He gestured toward a rough but smoothly polished stone beside him. The outpost clerk had already carved the two men's names into it:

Tom Smith

Will Carter

As well as the words, "Fell in the Battle of Riftstone Canyon."

"Everyone!" Karl suddenly straightened, his voice rising sharply. "Salute these brave martyrs!"

Swish!

In an instant, every soldier—whether Karl's men, Richter's City Defense Army, or even some of the outpost guards—raised their arms in perfect military salutes, paying their highest respects to the four fresh graves.

The scene fell silent, broken only by the howling northern wind.

The young knight Roland watched the scene, his eyes reddening despite himself. He clenched his fists tightly, his heart surging. To follow a lord who respects every soldier like this—even dying on the battlefield would be worth it!

The simple funeral ended. Earth slowly covered the heroes' bodies, while the gravestone stood before the graves, silently telling the story of what had just happened.

Only after finishing everything did Karl feel as though a weight had been lifted from his heart.

He bid farewell to the outpost commander and convoy captain Barton, who thanked him repeatedly, then led his revitalized troops—whose cohesion had reached unprecedented heights—onto the road back to Fran City.

Sunlight shone upon the marching column, stretching their shadows long behind them.

The entire unit seemed to have undergone a baptism, becoming tougher and more united.

Karl knew that after being tested by blood and fire, as well as today's funeral, the soul of this army had finally begun to truly take shape.

On the road back to Fran City, the system in Karl's mind updated again right on schedule:

[Daily Mission Updated]

[Mission Details]: After the battle, report the results to Earl Rochefort. (Incomplete)

However, because he had gotten up late and the unit's departure had been delayed, despite hurrying all the way, they did not reach Fran City until the afternoon.

Karl had Roland and Brendan lead the troops back to the barracks to rest, while Richter led the City Defense Army back to their station to report in.

He himself once again headed alone toward the cold Governor's Office.

The one who received him this time was still that same cold-faced, businesslike clerk.

Karl tried to pry some information from him about the Count's mood today so he could make preparations in advance, but the clerk's mouth was as tightly sealed as Fran City's walls. He merely replied mechanically, "His Lordship is working. You may go in directly."

There was no useful information to be had.

Karl could only brace himself and follow the clerk toward the Count's office.

He secretly felt relieved. At least the Count did not seem to be meeting with his mistress this time, so Karl probably would not stumble into his bad graces over that.

To his surprise, the clerk led him directly into the office instead of making him wait outside.

This minor change in treatment stirred Karl's thoughts. Could it be that, after this mission, the Count has developed at least some basic trust in me?

Inside the office, Earl Rochefort sat behind a broad oak desk, frowning as he reviewed a thick inventory list. A quartermaster stood beside him, and the two occasionally spoke in low voices about stocks of weapons, gunpowder, and food.

Karl quietly stood by the door without disturbing them.

He noticed that the Count was exceptionally focused and shrewd when handling official business, completely unlike the lecherous bureaucrat he usually appeared to be.

A man capable of securely holding the position of Governor of the Northern Territory could not possibly be a complete fool.

The Count seemed not to have noticed Karl's arrival at all—or perhaps he was deliberately leaving him to wait.

Karl stood there for a full half hour. Only after the Count had confirmed every matter with the quartermaster and dismissed him with a wave did he seem to notice Karl for the first time, lifting his eyelids and giving him a cold glance.

"Is it settled?" There was no discernible emotion in the Count's voice.

Karl immediately stood straight and answered respectfully, "It is settled, my lord. The transport convoy arrived safely at Black Crow Outpost, all supplies remain intact, and the ambushing kobolds have been completely wiped out. Their numbers were estimated at between seventy and eighty."

"Then what?" The Count set down his quill and leaned back in his chair, fixing Karl with a sharp gaze. "Do you have some dream lover at Black Crow Outpost? Were you so reluctant to leave that you had to fool around there for the night before returning?"

Karl's face immediately showed a trace of embarrassment. "My lord, that was not the case..."

"Since it wasn't!" Earl Rochefort suddenly slammed his palm onto the desk with a loud bang, startling Karl.

The Count's face instantly turned frosty as he roared, "Since it wasn't, why didn't you immediately send someone back to report to me?! Do you know that from yesterday afternoon until noon today, with no news at all, I sent five scouting teams along the route to look for you? I was afraid your entire force had been wiped out! Even if you decided to continue escorting the convoy to ensure nothing went wrong, you should have immediately—at once—sent a messenger back to report that you were safe! This is the most basic common sense and discipline!"

The clerk beside him added in a low voice at just the right moment, "His Lordship was very worried about this."

Karl lowered his head and sincerely admitted his mistake. "I am sorry, my lord! I did not think things through. I was focused only on handling the aftermath of the battle and calming the troops, and I completely overlooked the importance of reporting in time. Please punish me!"

He really had forgotten about it. At the time, he had been completely immersed in the joy of victory and forgotten the most important military rule: report promptly.

Seeing Karl's sincere attitude, Rochfort's anger seemed to lessen somewhat. Still, he kept a stern face and snorted. "Since this is your first offense, and you completed the mission reasonably well, I will let it pass this time. But if you ever delay military intelligence again, I will not be lenient! Now, give me a detailed account of the entire battle."

Just then, someone knocked on the office door.