Forced March

In about ten minutes, all the Moreland Family soldiers who were still able to stand had gathered before Reiner. Their bleary eyes quickly sharpened in the bitter cold.

In fact, if not for the freemen and serfs conscripted by the knights, as well as the serfs Reiner had conscripted, slowing them down, the entire army would have needed only five minutes to assemble. After all, even freemen were utterly incapable of matching regular soldiers in combat ability and discipline.

The soldiers gathered there were deeply puzzled. They had just won a battle and had been sleeping soundly in their tents, so why had Baron woken them at a time like this?

Suppressing the anxiety in his heart, Reiner shouted to the assembled soldiers, "Soldiers!"

"I know your hearts are filled with questions. You don't understand why I called you all out of bed at a time like this. I understand your thoughts perfectly!"

"But our castle is about to be attacked! Our homes are about to be ravaged by a pack of jackals! If we don't return to the castle and repel the enemy, everyone's homes, including mine, will be destroyed! The women will be violated by those damned enemies, and the innocent children will be used by them for their amusement! The blood of the women and children will flow across the ground, and their souls will curse you! They will hate you! They will hate their husbands and fathers, and hate you for failing to save them from the enemy! If you don't care about that, then you can return to your tents and go back to sleep! I swear you will suffer no punishment for it!"

Reiner shouted himself hoarse. At first, he had been thrown into a panic by the impending siege of the castle, but he quickly adjusted his mindset and began rallying the soldiers' morale.

He knew that the soldiers were exhausted, and that being forcibly awakened from sleep would likely leave their morale low as well. If he took such an army back with him, it would be of little use even after they reached the castle.

How could an exhausted, depleted, and dispirited army stand against an enemy in perfect condition? Therefore, Reiner had to rouse the soldiers' spirits.

After hearing Reiner's words, the soldiers began whispering among themselves. They wanted to protect their homes, but they were still somewhat uncertain.

"Soldiers! Don't doubt the truth of my words! This is absolutely real! We must return to the castle to protect our families! Defend our homes! Knights! Defend your fiefs! Defend your honor! Don't let cowardice bring shame upon your families!"

"Honor is my life! I will defend my Liege Lord with my life!"

The knights drew their swords and held them before their chests. The firelight shone across their Longswords, proving the resolve in their hearts.

"Defend our homes!"

"Drive out the invaders!"

The soldiers raised the spears in their hands and shouted excitedly. Protecting their families was far more important than sleeping a little longer.

"Good! Now, wounded soldiers will remain here. Those who can still fight, follow me back to the castle and defend our homes!"

Thus, more than two hundred of them embarked on the journey back to the castle on that dark and windy night. Though their bodies were exhausted, they did their utmost to overcome the hardship.

At the same time, Baron Lobean's army had already set up long ladders against the castle walls. Seeing that the portcullis remained completely still, the expression on his face changed.

He had believed this plan to be foolproof. The spy was an elite agent he had borrowed from Count Zebo, and he could not believe that anyone in the tiny Morland Castle would be able to discover him.

Ahead of him, his soldiers scrambled up the long ladders toward the top of the walls. Baron Lobean had promised that once the castle was breached, they could force themselves upon the women inside and divide the spoils however they pleased.

Those were noblewomen whom this group of serfs had never even dared dream of possessing. With such a promise, they immediately became as frenzied as if they had been injected with stimulants, scrambling madly up the walls.

Below the walls, Baron Lobean no longer thought about such things. Riding his warhorse with his head uncovered, he held a riding crop and said to a middle-aged man beside him who wore Leather Chainmail, "Thank Count Zebo for me. I'm more than happy to serve him in the Northern Frontier. Tell him not to worry. Neither the Moreland Family nor the entire Northern Frontier will be able to stir up any trouble, so long as our agreement continues!"

"Yes, my dear Baron. I'll convey your words to the Count without changing a single one. Now, please allow me to leave your army and deliver this news to Count Zebo!" The middle-aged man bowed as he spoke. The large beard around his mouth fluttered in the wind, making him look somewhat disheveled.

Baron Lobean nodded proudly, signaling that the man could do as he pleased without saying anything more.

The middle-aged man turned away expressionlessly, bringing his two attendants with him as he prepared to leave.

However, when he turned his back, a trace of anger and indignation appeared on his face. Yet, because of Baron Lobean's authority and strength, he did not dare reveal it openly.

Watching the serf conscripts desperately climbing the walls via the three long ladders, Baron Lobean furrowed his brows. He was reluctant to send his knights or the standing army he personally funded to attack such walls. Even sending up the serf conscripts pained him somewhat. After all, he had chosen the method that would result in fewer losses, but it seemed not to have worked. Left with no choice, he could only send the serf conscripts up first.

Knights and regular soldiers were extremely valuable, while the serf conscripts were different. They were merely fulfilling their obligations to him. They had to serve their masters, and in Baron Lobean's eyes, these people were no different from weeds in a field. It did not matter if some of them died. In a few years, more would grow back. Their only value was to be exploited by the nobles and give everything they had for the nobles.

In fact, in his eyes, these people were worth less than arrows. Arrows cost money, while these serf conscripts did not.

Such thinking was absurd and appalling in Reiner's eyes—and in the eyes of all modern people—but in this era, it was the prevailing attitude among the nobility. The vast majority of nobles acted this way.

The freemen were no different. They had to purchase their own weapons to improve their chances of surviving on the battlefield. Many freemen consequently went bankrupt, but times had changed. This was no longer the age of endless warfare, when nobles had to rely on physically strong freemen to fight. The nobles were eager for them to go bankrupt.

Only then would they sell their land and become the nobles' serfs, increasing their masters' income. Otherwise, they would remain like the lowest-ranking vassals they were now, forcing the nobles to take their feelings into consideration.

To the nobles, only armies armed with their own money were worth preserving. The same applied to knights.

"Faster! Warriors! We have to move even faster! Our families could be suffering at the hands of the enemy at any moment! The sooner we return, the safer our families will be!"

Reiner rode atop a draft horse. He had removed all his armor and was wearing only several layers of warm clothing as he shouted to the soldiers jogging behind him.

By then, the Moreland Family soldiers were already beginning to pant. Marching through snow consumed an enormous amount of energy. Reiner's regular standing army was faring relatively well. They were well trained and physically strong, and could fully endure this marching pace.

The serf conscripts, however, were utterly exhausted. They were already undernourished and weak, and jogging through the snow had nearly drained every last ounce of strength from their bodies.

The freemen were doing somewhat better than them, but they were panting heavily as well. After all, they still could not compare to regular soldiers who trained every day.