Knight: Becoming King of the World

In Orianna’s makeshift kitchen, Henry ate a simple meal of hot porridge and dried meat. The food was rather crude for a Baron, but in this frozen wasteland, it was invaluable.

Dressed in a heavy fur coat, gloves, and a hat, Henry stepped out of the warm tent. The first rays of the morning sun and a bone-chilling wind greeted him.

He took a deep breath, letting the icy air pass through his mouth and throat to fill his lungs. He then exhaled slowly, feeling his own tenacious vitality.

Henry was surprised at how quickly his stamina was recovering.

He had recovered from a battle of that intensity in just one night—something that would have been unthinkable before.

By now, some soldiers in the camp had already begun their day’s activities.

Some were maintaining their gear and checking their weapons for significant wear, while others were tending to the warhorses, feeding and grooming them.

Henry walked among them and, just as he expected, their morale hadn’t dipped because of the previous day’s battle. On the contrary, it seemed even higher, as if a night of rest had completely restored their vitality.

’Are you kidding me? The only reason I wasn’t bragging yesterday was because I was too damn tired. That was sixty thousand enemies! We only had a little over five thousand men, and we still won!’

’This was a battle they could brag about for the rest of their lives.’

’I’m one of Lord Henry’s men!’

Ratifa’s Personal Guard, in contrast, was in a completely different state. Their morale was visibly low.

It wasn’t that Ratifa’s Personal Guard was weak; a single glance revealed that their numbers had been reduced by more than half.

The faces of the surviving soldiers were etched with grief and exhaustion. They had lost many comrades, a heavy blow for any military unit.

The fact that their morale hadn’t completely shattered was a testament to them being the elite of the elite.

Henry walked among them, silently patting a few soldiers on the shoulder. He knew that words were meaningless at a time like this; they needed time to heal their wounds.

Besides, they weren’t his men. It wasn’t his place to say anything.

Henry continued his patrol of the camp. Claude and the army’s Record Keepers were busy tallying casualties and spoils of war.

The veteran Record Keepers had long grown numb and were no longer shocked by the figures. But the civilian Record Keepers on their first expedition with Henry couldn’t stop their hands from trembling.

’Good god, these guys are fucking killing machines!’

When Claude saw Henry, he came over to report that the data was still being compiled. A preliminary tally wouldn’t be ready until the afternoon.

Henry waved a hand, telling Claude not to rush. Henry already knew the exact casualty numbers from his panel; Claude simply didn’t.

Even after regrouping, both Skilled Infantry Teams could not be brought back to full strength. War always came with sacrifice. The state of his Personal Guard was even more dire; besides Vasco, every other member had been killed.

Vasco had overexerted himself and wouldn’t be able to fight again for at least ten to fifteen days.

’That kid is insane! He actually managed to keep up with me, fighting right to the very end! He’s got some incredible luck...’

Henry shook his head. This meant he would need to select new members for his Personal Guard.

Fortunately, the spoils of war included enough Legion infantry equipment to make it possible for Henry to replenish and expand his Personal Guard. Moreover, the Obsidian Weapons hadn’t been lost. They could be recovered, cleaned up, and used again.

’Ahem, it’s not that I’m poor. This is called... heritage! My deepest thanks to the elite Inferior Horned Beast army for this generous gift.’

The units of so-called "new recruits," who were equipped and fought like Skilled Infantry, also suffered heavy losses. The complete annihilation of entire units pained Henry; he was down five teams in an instant.

He decided to assign the survivors to the logistics corps to manage the Auxiliary Soldiers and serfs. This would pull them back from the front lines while also putting their experience to good use.

There was also news of losses among the troops he had hired out as Mercenaries. Henry lamented the loss of these two infantry teams.

They were troops with extensive experience in anti-bandit operations. Henry had planned to have them serve as a patrol force throughout his fiefdom once their contract expired.

The Grassland Warriors and Grassland Riders also suffered heavy losses. More than eighty Grassland Warriors and over twenty Grassland Riders had fallen, and a few Citizen Cavalry were lost as well...

From what Henry could see, the losses in horses were perhaps even greater than in men.

Horses were indeed precious on the battlefield, but they were also expendable. For the sake of victory, such losses were unavoidable.

Henry wasn’t the kind of man to value a horse’s life over a soldier’s. People came first; they were what mattered most. Without a Warrior to ride it, a warhorse was worthless.

He didn’t know how many "Overlord Training points" he would receive once the battle was tallied.

If the amount was too small, he might end up at a net loss. But on second thought, they had killed sixty thousand enemies in this battle. A result like that shouldn’t be a disappointment.

Henry ambled over to what had been Glock’s camp and climbed the watchtower, gazing out at the distant horizon.

Farther north, a sea of white stretched out before him. It looked pristine, yet its vast emptiness was unnerving...

’What’s out there? What is that place?’

Henry stood on the watchtower, the wind cutting like a knife across his face as his thoughts drifted even farther.