There Are Heroes, Too

The casualties were too high.

Suleiman sat inside the only house in the village that could still be called intact.

The figures made him uneasy.

Even with an overwhelming advantage of three hundred men against forty,

and despite the Burned Men Wildlings being afflicted with a terrible disease and fighting like cornered beasts,

his side had still paid a price of more than twenty men, with many others injured.

Suleiman felt a headache coming on. This also had to do with problems in the way he ran his army. Thinking about it, using money as an incentive was no long-term solution.

These temporary recruits, lured by money, were like true starving wolves.

Fighting to claim credit, they charged forward like beasts, each one eager to get there first.

Some had even fought over the Burned Men Wildlings' corpses, until in the end they had to divide them up.

The fact that there had been no brawls or killings over the credit was already enough to say that, under the circumstances, he had run his troops well.

But there was no other choice for now.

Some people could command obedience with their family name. At present, all he could do was trade gold for loyalty.

After all, these three hundred men were not his own subjects. When the war was over, they would have to return to their lord's lands.

Three hundred able-bodied men, along with their families, amounted to more than a thousand subjects. They were a lord's precious assets.

Suleiman wanted them, but House Deddings would never give them up.

He had to speed up his plans and build his own force.

Lady Roslin had promised that he could recruit soldiers in her villages and towns.

But what farmer who had never been affected by war would willingly go to the battlefield to get his head chopped off?

The town officials came up with every excuse to turn him down.

Suleiman had an idea: recruit refugees fleeing the war.

He would keep the able-bodied men and send their families to Foulkeep.

But there was no land in Foulkeep to give them to farm.

Whatever. He'd make them empty promises for now.

He could figure out what to do later. Wasn't it still up to him?

He felt stifled.

Suleiman slammed the table. The loud bang startled Lushen, who was standing guard at the door to protect Lord Suleiman.

Lushen hurried inside, one hand on his sword hilt. He scanned the room warily, his gaze sweeping rapidly from side to side.

Seeing no danger, he felt puzzled and scratched his head with his right hand.

"What are you doing, Lushen? Hahaha!" Suleiman pointed at him and burst into laughter, his oppressive mood vanishing.

Lushen just looked too ridiculous. His whole body was wrapped in bandages, and you couldn't even see his face—only his eyes.

His right hand was on his sword hilt as he looked around.

Suleiman had once heard the saying that a man of great ability in one county could govern a kingdom. Whether or not he could govern a kingdom, in the age of cold weapons, such a man could certainly become a fierce general.

When they had attacked the farmstead, Lushen had drawn his sword and shouted, "Follow me!" Then he had led the charge inside. To be honest, Suleiman had been shocked, though he hadn't shown it.

He believed that in the age of cold weapons, officers needed to be where the soldiers could see them.

But that didn't mean he thought officers had to lead the charge, especially when no one knew what lay inside the farmstead.

The first man through the door might live or die. He had to be prepared to die.

Yet the soldiers were willing to risk their lives. Perhaps that was the reason.

Lushen was strict with his soldiers. They feared him, but they also respected him.

He had led by example, taking more than a dozen wounds. He had been drenched in blood, yet his sword had never fallen from his hand.

A true hero. Without a patron who recognized his worth, he would probably have remained a farmer all his life.

Suleiman felt a little moved.

Lushen felt awkward under Lord Suleiman's laughter and took his hand off his sword hilt.

His face was completely covered in bandages, so his expression was impossible to make out. Scratching his head with his right hand, he said,

"Lord Suleiman, I heard a loud bang from the room just now. I thought there might still be Wildlings hiding somewhere, waiting to ambush you."

Suleiman's laughter subsided, but a happy expression remained on his face.

He waved at Lushen, signaling him to relax. "It's all right, it's all right. We weren't attacked. I just thought of something troublesome and couldn't help slapping the table."

Then Suleiman pointed at Lushen. "But the way you rushed in, all wrapped in bandages and looking so tense, was pretty funny. I couldn't help laughing!"

When Lushen heard there was no danger and realized that his ridiculous appearance had apparently made Lord Suleiman's troubles disappear with a laugh, he felt glad.

He scratched his head and gave a simple smile. "If I could make Lord Suleiman happy, then looking like this was worth it."

He knew Lord Suleiman wasn't laughing at him maliciously, so he joined in with a simple laugh. But with his face entirely covered in bandages, his expression was impossible to see, making him look even more ridiculous.

This time, though, Suleiman didn't laugh. His smile faded, and he felt a little sad.

He looked at the farmer, a big man wrapped in bandages and looking ridiculous, who was willing to die for him.

The man had just come back from the brink of death, with more than a dozen wounds and blood all over him, yet the first thing he had done was rush over with his men to protect him.

Suleiman suddenly realized that he had always tried to pretend he was detached from this world.

He had kept telling himself that everyone else was different from him.

But just now, his heart had told him something.

He didn't want Lushen to die.

He thought about how Lushen might never get back up in some future battle, about the life that could be lost at any moment beneath those ridiculous bandages.

He couldn't bring himself to laugh anymore.

When Lushen saw Lord Suleiman's smile suddenly disappear as he stared at him, he stopped smiling too. He looked tense and uneasy.

Just as he began to worry that he had done something wrong, he finally heard Lord Suleiman speak.

"Lushen, why were you the first to charge into the farmstead when I gave the order to attack?"

Suleiman suddenly didn't know what else to say. He could only look Lushen in the eye and ask him that.

Lushen thought Lord Suleiman was blaming him for charging into the village first, leaving his squad without a commander in the confusion and affecting the battle.

He lowered his head and answered uneasily, "I was afraid they wouldn't dare go in and would delay your plans, my lord. But if I went in first, they'd definitely follow."

"I'm sorry, Lord Suleiman. I was wrong—" His words were cut off by a hand that suddenly rested on his shoulder.

Lushen hurriedly looked up. He saw the sorrow in Lord Suleiman's eyes and heard words that seemed to make the whole world fall silent, echoing in his ears again and again.

"Don't die, Lushen! I still want to share wealth and glory with you!"

Lushen froze.

His mind went blank. Only those words kept echoing in his ears.

Everything around him seemed to fall silent.

He wanted to speak, but it felt as if something had caught in his throat, and no sound came out.

He wanted to say, "It would be my honor to die for you, my lord."

But he couldn't utter a single word.

Lushen's whole body began to tremble, not from pain, but from excitement.

A noble lord had made him feel the overwhelming shock of being valued and cared for.

He was only a farmer.

He suddenly dropped to his knees and reached out, wanting to grab the hem of Lord Suleiman's clothes.

But his hand stopped in midair, afraid that his gesture might offend Lord Suleiman.

Suleiman tried to help him up, but couldn't. Lushen had dropped to his knees too hard, with too much force!

All he could do was force his mouth open. His voice was choked with emotion and thick with tears.

"Lord Suleiman, I—I'll do as you say!"

Each word seemed to be squeezed out from deep within his lungs.

His sobs made his words indistinct.

But Suleiman knew what he was saying.

"I—I'll definitely, definitely stay alive!"