The soldiers gazed eagerly at Reiner, mounted on his tall warhorse. Even before joining the army, they had deeply revered their lord. This was a belief that came straight from the hearts of people living in this era.
They truly believed that nobles were all the Holy Father's exalted children, and that it was only right for them to rule over lives as lowly as weeds. As long as the nobles could make their lives even slightly better, the soldiers would offer their loyalty and serve their masters.
They were that simple. Even the most fierce-looking men treated their lord with utmost respect. When they removed their felt hats, bowed low, and saluted Reiner, they looked so guileless that Reiner could not bear the thought of sending them to the battlefield as cannon fodder, generation after generation.
They had grown accustomed to this way of life. For hundreds of years, the nobles of the continent had treated these serfs as cheap expendable goods. Perhaps, in the nobles' eyes, they were worth less than a single arrow, because arrows cost money, while serfs cost nothing.
In his previous life, he had been the same kind of person. If someone showed him even the slightest kindness, he would practically tear out his heart for them. He truly could not bring himself to hack someone into pieces over a disagreement.
He also knew that a person with his temperament had no hope of rising above his station in this life. But one's personality had already taken shape from the moment of birth, and only time could change it.
"Long live the Baron!"
"For victory!"
"Kill them!"
The soldiers shouted in scattered voices. They sounded somewhat disorganized, but anyone could hear the high morale contained in those cries.
The soldiers carried fine spears as they formed a simple battle formation and charged the enemy. Reiner had already dismounted. Although riding a horse reduced fatigue and provided tremendous impact, as the lord, he had to fight alongside his soldiers. Riding a warhorse would easily separate him from them.
A lord was nothing more than a great landowner with a legally recognized army. He had to make the army under his command wholeheartedly support him. Reiner was doing exactly that now. Perhaps when he had first returned, the soldiers had acted only out of duty, but now they had begun to feel genuine affection and support for him.
As long as Reiner could bring them greater benefits and lead them to more victories, they would support him even more.
Reiner wore heavy armor and charged at the very front of the formation. Several of his retainers, also clad in chainmail and carrying longswords, guarded him on either side. These retainers were sons of self-farming families with considerable acreage or second sons of knights under Reiner. They possessed decent combat ability. Though they could not compare to knights, they were at least stronger than many regular soldiers.
The soldiers charged after Reiner toward the enemy. The knights had already torn the Krad People's formation to shreds. At least the enemies in front of Reiner had almost completely collapsed, scattering in panic as they searched for somewhere safe, like marmots confronted by powerful predators. They had no intention of resisting and only wanted to escape.
"Monsters! These Redka People must be monsters!"
"Save me! Please, save me!"
"Don't leave me! Take me home!"
"Mother!"
The Krad People screamed and wailed for their parents. They had been scared witless by these "monsters" they had never seen before. The knights' attack had been terrifying. Its overwhelming momentum and unstoppable force left them unable to summon even the slightest desire to resist.
Screams and wails rang out without end. Countless enemies had their ribs, arms, and legs broken, yet remained barely alive. They clutched their mangled limbs or dragged out their own entrails as they let out shrill, agonized cries.
Reiner suddenly swung the one-handed longsword in his hand. The enemy in front of him, trembling violently with fear, was beheaded in a single stroke. Before he could even understand what had happened, bright-red blood sprayed from the artery in his neck.
The blood that spurted four or five meters into the air immediately stunned the Krad People. The knights' charge had caused even greater losses, but its effect had ultimately been intimidation through sheer momentum.
This time, however, a bloody headless corpse appeared before everyone's eyes. Some people who were too close to escape in time were even splashed across the face with blood.
The enemy suffered an even greater blow. Blood was now displayed directly before their eyes, rather than only trickling from a few wounds as before. The blood-soaked head rolled across the ground with a hollow rumble. Separated from its body, it was like a tumbleweed drifting helplessly in the wind.
"Damn it! Abandon the attack! Rescue the rear immediately!" The Highlander leader was no veteran lord who had fought for years. His understanding of warfare was barely any better than that of an ordinary soldier who had just vomited his guts out. Knowing a few basic principles was already the extent of his ability.
The Krad People in front had not moved. The Highlander leader was fairly shrewd, ordering the soldiers at the front to hold back Morland Family's main force while sending the rest of the army to reinforce the rear.
He even withdrew more than a dozen of the few physically robust tribal warriors. He hoped their "powerful" fighting ability could turn the tide and completely crush the detestable Redka People.
The battle had reached its fiercest point. At the same time, however, a person dressed in a shabby cotton jacket appeared atop the drawbridge gate inside Morland Castle.
He was not only short; his hunched posture made him look even more furtive. He kept glancing around, as if afraid someone might suddenly appear beside him.
Using the shadows cast by various parts of the castle wall to conceal himself, he evaded the few guards patrolling the battlements and slowly moved toward the control mechanism for the drawbridge gate.
A smile appeared on his face beneath the shadows. He was almost at his destination. Understanding the structure of the drawbridge gate was the purpose of his visit.
Just as he reached the shadows outside the drawbridge gate's control room, a large foot suddenly kicked him in the back from behind. He stumbled forward. If not for his agility, he would have fallen against the wall. Even so, his position had been exposed.
The castle guards immediately surrounded him. He was only a spy, not some wall-crawling ninja or powerful knight. Faced with five or six guards, he was helpless, even though they were merely freemen temporarily conscripted from the territory.
He could only surrender helplessly. He still valued his life greatly and did not want to die here.
"State your name, affiliation, and purpose!" the man who had discovered him asked expressionlessly. The questioner was none other than Reiner's spymaster: Logan, formerly the Bar Empire's spymaster stationed in Resa. A spy of his rank could be considered an outstanding professional in the field. Discovering a spy like this was child's play for him.
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