The Trouble with Good Fortune

Night fell, and the slaughter drew to a close.

The remnants they had failed to catch by now would most likely escape them altogether.

Compared with the Tuwu People, the Third Army were the outsiders.

Luck had played a considerable part in their destruction of the two tribes.

If the enemy had not been so greedy and fallen for their ploy to lure them away from their stronghold, they would never have won such a great victory.

"Captain, what should we do with all this livestock?"

The battle had come so suddenly that the Tuwu People had had no time to move their livestock.

The animals had been domesticated, and their wild instincts had long since been bred out of them.

Even though the enemy had destroyed some of the fences during the battle, only a handful of animals had run away.

Most had foraged nearby and gradually returned after dark.

The plentiful spoils should have been a good thing, but having too much was a problem of its own.

"Hundreds of thousands of sheep, tens of thousands of cattle, and over ten thousand horses. That's a considerable fortune, and we can't decide what to do with it on our own.

"The grasslands are vast and sparsely populated. The news won't spread so quickly, and there won't be any danger for a while.

"Pick out some fat cattle and sheep to slaughter and give everyone a better meal. Keep the rest of the livestock for now, and deal with them once the army commander has made a decision."

Jasper thought for a moment before speaking.

His mouth had been rubbed raw from gnawing on dry rations every day, and he had long wanted a decent meal.

But Victor, the army commander himself, had led by example and shared the soldiers' hardships. Jasper, a mere captain, could hardly give himself special treatment.

Even when they occasionally caught some game, there were so many soldiers in the army that each man got only a few morsels of meat.

From today onward, those miserable days were gone for good.

The Tuwu People had to think about sustainability and couldn't slaughter cattle and sheep for food every day, but outsiders like them faced no such pressure.

They had stolen it all anyway, so they felt no remorse about slaughtering it.

The problem now was that they couldn't eat it all. They couldn't even come close.

They had captured so much from the Goshawk Tribe alone, and the neighboring Cors Tribe probably wouldn't be far behind.

If the Third Army took so much livestock along with them, they would become a new "nomadic tribe."

The officers and soldiers at the front were enjoying better meals, and Victor's side was no exception.

Those unlucky people from the Cors Tribe were still struggling to survive in the mountain wilderness, while the livestock left outside the mountains had already become the Third Army's spoils.

Howard's troops, who were responsible for blocking the entrance, had also received over a dozen cattle and more than a hundred sheep as supplies.

Other people's beef and mutton just tasted better than their own.

Victor picked up a leg of lamb, sprinkled some salt on it, and started stuffing it into his mouth.

It really hadn't been easy. He had suffered more over the past dozen days than he had in the previous twenty years of his life.

Though he couldn't stand the hardship of eating and sleeping in the open, he had still chosen to share the soldiers' hardships.

Keeping the troops' morale steady was one reason, but more than that, he wanted to set an example for the officers in the army.

If the commanding general didn't lead by example, those below him would follow suit, and the officers would all indulge themselves.

The limited supplies would end up concentrated in the hands of a tiny few, leaving a great many ordinary soldiers to go hungry.

No matter how good a tactic was, the soldiers were the ones who had to carry it out in the end.

If everyone was full of resentment and the army's morale remained unsteady for a long time, at most three or four tenths of its fighting strength would remain.

Forget showing initiative-even following orders by the book would be a favor to the empire!

"Army commander, a victory report from the front!"

"Our army took the Goshawk Tribe with minimal losses, claiming nearly ten thousand enemy heads and capturing ten thousand horses, over thirty-five thousand cattle, more than three hundred thousand sheep, fodder..."

Preston, the captain of the personal guards, read aloud, his face full of joy.

Although most of those killed were the old and weak, that didn't stop their heads from being counted.

In the past, whenever the empire sent troops onto the grasslands, men and women, young and old, had all been counted among the enemy killed.

If all those killed had truly been elite warriors, the Tuwu People should have been wiped out a century ago.

The military merits might have been worth a little less, but that didn't change how plentiful the spoils were.

To gain so much from destroying a single tribe would have ranked among the top three hauls in the history of the empire's northern campaigns.

Of course, that didn't mean the Third Army's achievement could be compared with those glorious victories.

The Holy Glory Empire was a special case. The reported number of enemy heads rose steadily, with each successive commander adding a little to the tally.

The opposite was true of captured spoils. Everyone played at subtraction, and the amount shrank a little with each successive commander.

An old empire was bound to have its fine traditions.

The Third Supplementary Army's circumstances were unusual. The army was over a thousand li from home.

Surrounded by enemies on all sides, they had no way to turn the livestock into money, however much they had.

Since it couldn't go into their own pockets, there was naturally no need to skim any off.

"Pass down the order. Have Jasper select a batch of fine cattle and horses to add to the transport train.

"Slaughter nine tenths of the remaining cattle and sheep, then salt and air-dry the meat.

"Keep all the warhorses for me. No one is to touch them without permission!"

Victor gave the order at once.

Warhorses were worth far more than cattle or sheep.

If they could bring them back home, an ordinary warhorse could sell for over ten gold coins, while it was normal for a fine one to fetch thirty to fifty.

Cattle and sheep were worth much less.

One ordinary warhorse could be exchanged for five or six adult bulls, or about thirty to forty sheep.

If they couldn't bring everything back, they would pick the most valuable things.

Everyone had risked their lives following him. They couldn't have come all this way for nothing; they had to make at least some profit.

"Army commander, beef and mutton spoil very easily when air-dried at this time of year.

"If we run into cloudy, rainy weather, it wouldn't be unusual for all of it to rot."

Preston spoke up to remind him.

Although he had never lived on the grasslands, he had plenty of experience curing meat back home.

In this world without refrigerators, curing was the best way to preserve livestock that couldn't be eaten in one meal after slaughter.

"I know it spoils easily, but at a time like this, we don't have a better choice.

"Tell the soldiers to prepare extra firewood and smoke the meat when it's cloudy or rainy.

"They can add more salt and hang it in the shade to dry, keeping it out of direct sunlight as much as possible.

"Let each unit work out the details for itself.

"Remember to remind Jasper that the salt seized from the enemy tents must be checked!"

Victor spoke with a helpless look.

Everyone knew summer was a poor time to make dried meat, but there was no helping it. The enemy wouldn't give them time.

With two tribes destroyed, it wouldn't be long before word reached the Golden Tent Royal Court.

Once they learned that enemy troops were causing trouble in their rear, they would surely send soldiers to hunt them down.

If they stayed in the mountains, they could rely on the terrain to maneuver against the Tuwu People.

But if they took a huge herd onto the grasslands and became herders, he had no confidence in stopping the enemy's attack.

Even if eighty percent of the beef and mutton rotted during curing, it would still be worthwhile as long as they successfully preserved the remaining twenty percent.

The meat had all been picked up for nothing anyway, so he wouldn't feel bad if it spoiled.

"Yes, sir!"