Chapter 228 - 189: Student, Kneel Down
Henry patted Edmund’s shoulder, his expression softening slightly. "I know you mean well, but we need facts, not baseless speculation.
I’ll find some time to speak with Boras alone and get the real story."
Edmund nodded in agreement with Henry’s decision.
"Very well. I trust you’ll handle this."
Henry turned and looked at Boras again, his gaze pensive.
War made people’s behavior unpredictable. But in a world so full of uncertainty, anything was possible.
Astronomy always had an air of mystery, especially on the enigmatic and chaotic continent of Caladia. ’Perhaps Boras really did see something.’
As the feast concluded, the lively atmosphere in the camp gradually gave way to tranquility.
After reveling in the joy of victory and the comfort of good food, the soldiers began to disperse in twos and threes, seeking out places to rest.
Although it was a night of celebration, the shadow of war had not completely lifted. They had to remain vigilant. The soldiers chosen for the night watch felt a twinge of regret.
They couldn’t drink to their hearts’ content like their comrades, nor could they enjoy a relaxing, sound sleep.
They had to stay awake and patrol the camp’s perimeter to ensure no incidents occurred. Their figures looked lonely in the dying embers of the bonfires.
Meanwhile, the nobles’ Quartermasters, attendant stewards, and the vast number of Record Keepers had not stopped their work for the feast.
They were in every corner of the camp, hunched over their work by the light of oil lamps, engrossed in statistical records and calculations.
Although Henry had reformed his own fief and abolished the power-concentrating position of Record Keeper, he had chosen to retain the title within the nobles’ Alliance Army for ease of management during the war.
’Record Keeper sounds better than "bookkeeper," after all.’
These Record Keepers were responsible for documenting soldier casualties, the consumption and replenishment of supplies, the distribution of spoils, and more.
Their work was tedious. Every number they recorded affected the interests of both the soldiers and the nobility.
They had to ensure every record was flawless and every calculation precise.
Otherwise, losing their heads would be the price of failure.
When a noble lord says he’ll have your head, he means it.
Henry’s own figure moved among these busy men.
Henry didn’t rest. For some reason, he wasn’t the least bit sleepy. With nothing better to do, he decided to make a circuit of the camp, checking on the resting soldiers and the alertness of the men on watch.
During his patrol, Henry also made a point to check on the work of the Record Keepers.
Bookkeeping seemed complicated, but it was far from simple. From ancient times to the present, in this world and any other, the number of people who had lost their heads over this kind of work was simply incalculable.
Henry gave their records a cursory glance, asking about the state of their reserves and the resupply plans for when the army eventually split up.
Henry needed to have a firm grasp on the Alliance Army’s details. War wasn’t just about the slaughter on the battlefield; it was, more importantly, a battle of logistics.
As the night deepened, the camp’s bonfires slowly died out, and the sound of soldiers’ snores rose and fell in waves.
Henry stood at the edge of the camp, gazing at the starry sky, his mind filled with thoughts of the future.
’What is my purpose? How many more must I kill?’ He still didn’t know the answers.
He only remembered that when he had first come to power, he had simply wanted to use his martial prowess to gain a few more subjects, raise a little more livestock, cultivate a few more fields, and just eat and drink well.
Henry unconsciously drew a sharp breath of cool air, then turned and headed back to his tent to prepare for the new day.
Henry returned to his tent, where soft oil lamps and candles were already lit.
Ailia was waiting for him, hot water and a towel at the ready. A hint of concern showed in her eyes.
"My lord, you seem relaxed," Ailia said, her voice soft and tender.
Henry smiled and nodded, shrugging off his outer tunic—stained with dust, sweat, and wine—and handing it to Ailia.
Ailia skillfully began to wipe him down, her touch gentle so as not to cause any discomfort. Henry closed his eyes and surrendered to her ministrations.
Once she was finished, Henry changed into clean, soft, comfortable sleepclothes. He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the pillow Slaanesh had gifted him that day.
"Ailia, you should get some rest too," Henry said.
Ailia let out an imperceptible sigh, nodded, and quietly withdrew from the tent, leaving Henry to his privacy.
Henry lay down on the bed, resting his head on Slaanesh’s pillow. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to quiet his mind.
He didn’t know if Slaanesh would truly bring him any special dreams, but he decided he would find out tonight.
’Let’s see what kind of "masterpiece" one of the great Four Gods can cook up for me.’
As his breathing evened out, Henry’s consciousness began to fade.
He wasn’t sure if it was just a sensation, but he felt his body growing lighter and lighter, as if he were floating on a cloud.
The dreamscape began to blur, but he soon fell into a deep sleep.
In his dream, Henry saw all sorts of things: his own valor on the battlefield, the prosperity of his fief during times of peace, and the warm, tender moments he shared with Ailia.