Yet Harald's tone turned grimly cold in an instant, like the bitterest wind of the north, crushing the cheers beneath it. "But—!"
The entire gathering fell silent at once.
"Anyone who, before the two armies, shrinks back, flees in battle, or shakes the army's morale—whether he is a legion commander, a tribal chieftain, or an ordinary soldier—will be beheaded on the spot! Every male in his household will be reduced to slaves for the harshest labor, and the women demoted to camp prostitutes, never to rise again for all eternity! I always keep my word!"
Rewards and punishments were clearly defined; favor and authority wielded together. Supreme temptation paired with the cruelest punishment—this was Harald's unfailing method for controlling this complex army that worshipped valor and plunder.
"For His Majesty! For Sauron!" Svein was the first to draw his War Saber and raise it toward the sky, letting out a fanatical roar.
"For His Majesty! For Sauron! Flatten Carnford!" The other generals, whatever they might truly have thought, were swept along by the atmosphere. Sincerely or reluctantly, they joined in with loud cries.
Ulf's face remained dark, but he too placed a hand over his chest in salute, signaling his obedience. At the very least, on the surface, the entire army had to contribute to the coming assault.
The earth-shaking battle cries rang out once more, their waves of sound rolling onward as though they would overturn the lead-gray clouds and surge straight toward distant Carnford.
Harald slowly exhaled the stale breath in his chest. He looked once more at the city that remained silent as a mountain amid Sauron's war cries. Fervent slogans could stir spirits for a time, but to truly gnaw through this hard bone required real blood, lives, and resolve.
He knew that once this reward