Harvest

"It's over, it's over, it's all over..."

The quartermaster slumped in the wagon, staring blankly at the chaos before him and the routed soldiers fleeing past them toward the rear. In his daze, he treated the viscount as his last lifeline.

"We should return to camp. I'll have those auxiliaries and laborers fortify the tents. There's also a ring of palisades and chevaux-de-frise outside. Once we get back, we can take our time and figure out what to do, so that we can—ugh!"

The viscount could not shake off the hand gripping his cloak. He casually thrust his sword into the quartermaster's babbling mouth. His movements were practiced, but the blade was too cold. It pierced the man's throat, chilling the quartermaster's burning hopes as hot blood surged up and choked them off.

"Here. You can have it."

The viscount cast off his leather cloak, covering the quartermaster's corpse with it, then shouted at the guards around him.

"Retreat! Hurry back to headquarters!"

With agility completely at odds with his build, he leaped onto the horse pulling the carriage. Looking back, he slashed through the leather straps connecting it to the wagon, then drove his sword into the horse's rump. The horse bolted in pain.

At the manor's main gate, the debris inside the gatehouse smashed apart by the battering ram had been cleared away, leaving a gap more than wide enough for one person. Led by Old Adam, seven heavy cavalrymen emerged. Clad in heavy armor and riding armored horses, the eight riders charged out to rejoin the main force.

Old Adam and the seven surviving heavy cavalrymen stared excitedly at their returning young lord. Their thousand words were reduced to action.

They formed a protective ring around the tip of the wedge formation, surrounding their young lord and making themselves the arrowhead of the entire formation.

Every knight was thrilled, and that excitement came from more than just killing. Vigorous exercise stimulated the human body to secrete dopamine, bringing pleasure.

The knights almost laughed as they pursued the fleeing soldiers. Longswords severed enemy heads, lances crushed enemy spines, and swinging maces flattened enemies, helmets and all. The delighted atmosphere excited every one of their cells.

The knights' relentless pursuit scattered the fleeing troops even farther, but most of the infantry and archers still charged toward the besieging camp below the hill under the leadership of their junior officers and minor lords.

Countless panicked soldiers trampled the winter wheat seedlings that had been planted only recently for the autumn sowing. Some even rolled and crawled across the ground, destroying large swaths of them.

"My crops! These damned murderers are all going to be buried in my fields to fertilize them!"

Old Adam's muttering sent chills down the spines of the knights, who were packed tightly together and riding close to one another.

These nobles, who normally did no productive work, understood for the first time a peasant farmer's attachment to his land and crops. They felt how simple—and terrifying—the resentment of a poor farmer could be.

The knights had not even reached the tents when the fastest archers had already rushed into the camp. Suddenly, shouts of battle rang out, throwing the already demoralized fugitives into even greater panic.

The hundred-odd infantrymen who had stayed behind and waited in ambush around the camp were precisely the ones who had dealt with them. Under volleys of arrows, no one could get within fifteen paces of the camp's palisades.

Some of those who ran fastest saw the ambushers killing people and tried to slow down or turn around. Others hesitated and milled about. The faster runners behind them crashed into them, creating a tangled mass.

The cavalry swept in from behind, and the routed soldiers could not even withstand a single charge.

Of the two or three hundred men who had arrived, only a few dozen scattered fugitives remained. Even they fell one after another under the pursuit that followed the division of the troops.

As the sounds of battle gradually faded, the midday sun had already fallen across the delighted faces of every victor.

The Baron stood before Viscount Swedish's main camp, examining the viscount's silver curved-saber banner. "Put it away. It's the finest spoils I've received this year."

He tossed the banner to an attendant. Seeing that the auxiliaries had also finished counting all the provisions and weapons, he stood on a raised platform and addressed the assembled crowd.

"Today, we bathed in the Holy Light and won another victory!

We were heroic, like demigods from an epic. We were bold, like legendary warriors who resisted evil!

We repelled the invading enemy and protected our people and land. We fought for justice, fearing neither hardship nor sacrifice!"

The Baron's speech was awkwardly saccharine, yet it possessed a strange infectiousness. Whenever he paused, everyone raised their weapons and shouted in response.

"We won today, so the spoils should naturally be divided among me and my vassals. In terms of rank, I am your liege. But on the battlefield, we are brothers, and we rely on one another.

Celebrate! Our great victory today!

Celebrate! Our heroic deeds!"

When they heard that the spoils would be divided, everyone was sincerely delighted. It seemed that the Baron's ability to unite them and his authority had once again been elevated at that moment.

Ergons was delighted as well, because he had gained two levels from this battle. Everyone under his command who was still alive had accumulated enough experience to level up. All that remained was for him to assign their upgrades.

Of course, he was also happy because, the first time he entered this camp, he had already picked up the most valuable spoils and stored them in his inventory. He had put the attribute points from those two levels into Intelligence and all four skill points into Item Management.

Each point in Item Management increased the number of portable items by six slots. Four points meant twenty-four slots.

Adding the twelve slots that had already been empty, he selected another thirty-six items from the spoils when the system sorted them after the victory. Only then did he let the Baron distribute the remaining goods.

Money went without saying. No matter how much money there was, it was only a number and did not occupy inventory slots, which was why the current scene had come about.

"However, you must step up the search for Viscount Swedish, who is still on the run. We haven't found where he hid his money. That damned pirate couldn't possibly have gone to war without carrying money. He must have hidden it somewhere, but I suspect only he knows where."

The Baron spoke with complete conviction, and everyone believed him. After all, bringing such a complicated combined force into battle meant that the daily pay and provisions had to be distributed properly.

So saying he had no money and still going out to fight was impossible. It was common sense—everyone knew that.

Ergons could hardly wait to return to the village and inspect his spoils. Using the excuse that he needed to fulfill his duties as host and reward the army, he returned to Tervain Village.

As for the spoils he had been allocated, he trusted his "inner circle" and did not quibble over them.

Everyone praised him for being magnanimous. After fighting alongside him this time, even some nobles who had not understood him before began to genuinely admire him.

Ergons directly withdrew all the soldiers to the manor's main keep, where he completed their upgrades.

Only seventeen soldiers of his Northern Legion had survived. This time, every one of them advanced to man-at-arms and received black cotton-padded sleeveless plate armor, protective helmets with flat tops, chain aventails, plate boots or greaves, and plate gauntlets or scale vambraces.

Their weapons were uniformly can-opening military picks, spears, and thick, fan-shaped shields.

Including the seven heavy cavalrymen who had survived in the castle, the eighteen heavy cavalrymen under his command advanced to knights. William, Old Adam—who had also completed a cross-class advancement—and two veteran soldiers of the Northern Legion leveled up on their own.

This brought the number of knights under his command back up to twenty-two.

Pastor Ramses Bolton and his attendant, Conner Brennan, were promoted to Battle Priest and Field Priest respectively. Like the soldiers of the Northern Legion, the two of them completely became his vassals.

These people had endured the test of war and become Ergons Tevalin's original core.

Of course, the reason Pastor Ramses Bolton, an atheist, had become completely convinced was that Ergons Tevalin had spoken with him privately.

In the room, Ergons revealed his true form and explained to Pastor Ramses Bolton the logic behind the vessel through which the Holy Light descended, as well as the price that had to be paid.

"If you become the vessel through which the Holy Light walks the world, then you and this body of yours will return to the embrace of the Holy Light. Do you understand? By becoming a vessel of the Holy Light, you can leave behind a legend in this world. Isn't that enough?"