Knight: Becoming King of the World

Claude and Bain both cried out in alarm. The contents of the message were simply too shocking.

’The Third Legion, while en route to Tiyaer to rest and refit, was ambushed by several thousand elite, armored Centaur Legion soldiers. They lost all of their supplies and suffered a total rout. Only a few hundred Cavalry managed to escape. The Legion Commander is missing, his fate unknown.

The Eighth and Ninth Legions have now entered the battlefield to resist the Half-Beastman counterattack. The Twenty-Third Legion remains stationed in eastern Danustika, protecting the southeastern regions of the Empire.’

For this news to have reached Henry’s hands, a week must have already passed since the event occurred.

"My lord, the Third Legion has had it so rough. If I remember correctly, they were ambushed by Half-Beastmen back in the summer, and now they’ve been completely crushed. Sigh."

Bain’s heart ached for the soldiers of the Third Legion. They hadn’t died on the battlefield, but on the road while being rotated out.

Henry slowly opened his eyes. He closed the window, lit a candle, and sat down, sipping his warm black tea.

He had waited so long, and now, the news he’d been waiting for had finally arrived: an Imperial Legion had been defeated. What’s more, it was a complete rout, a fact that left Henry very satisfied.

Don’t misunderstand. It wasn’t a case of being Immovable as a Mountain while allies were in peril, nor was it a desire to be a turncoat. It was that pride comes before a fall!

The Empire had been too successful, the battles too easy. Just look at those nobles and officers, every last one of them had gotten impossibly cocky.

More than eighty thousand men had died in just two major battles! What kind of casualty rate was that? Both of these "grand" victories were built on a mountain of serf corpses!

Henry had never once boasted about his so-called title, the "Star of the Battle of Zhiluo." He knew the Legion had only won because tens of thousands of serfs had served as cannon fodder at the front!

The casualty statistics looked good only because the serfs and Auxiliary Soldiers weren’t included in the official count.

The Empire needed a defeat to serve as a wake-up call for everyone. The Empire was strong, but it was not overwhelmingly superior to the Half-Beastmen.

Now, with four Legions gathered on the battlefield, it was time for Henry to make his move.

Tommy, who had been in the warehouse taking inventory of jewelry and luxury goods, also hurried over. His face turned grim after he was briefed on the situation.

"Tommy, have someone inform Count John to prepare food and supplies. I’m leading my troops into the war."

"As you command, my lord."

"Bain, send Philip to the taverns. Tell those thrill-seekers that if they want to go to the front, they can follow along with us, but I’m not guaranteeing their rations. This is not a contract for hire.

You and Claude are to gather eight hundred serfs to serve as logistics and transport personnel."

"As you command, my lord."

Henry’s aristocratic bearing grew more pronounced by the day, and the people around him became increasingly deferential.

Fortunately, Henry wasn’t an arrogant man. Otherwise, these family partners would have become nothing more than yes-men.

"Ailia, you should go and get ready as well. We’ll be departing in a few days. Leave two maids behind to clean the castle, and tell Orianna to pack plenty of spices and cooking utensils."

"Yes, my lord."

Everyone departed, leaving only the sound of Henry’s breathing and the crackling of the firewood in the study.

’Dean, will you fly into a rage? You, so high and mighty, so unquestionable... We’re talking about tens of thousands of elite soldiers lost, before and now... Tens of thousands of families have lost sons, husbands, and fathers. What will you do?’

Henry toyed with his noble’s insignia as he sank into thought.

News that Henry was about to lead an army to war swept through Westwood Laine in an instant, igniting the passions of the thousand or so outsiders in the taverns.

’He’s finally going to war! We were just about to run out of money waiting!’

These were the down-on-their-luck nobles who still had some savings. The truly penniless exiled and disgraced nobles had already started working for Henry, or had bought a plot of land and decided to just give up.

Some nobles were so poor they had become Henry’s tenant farmers, forced to rent a piece of land just to survive.

「Three days later.」

The army was assembled and ready to depart. The previous evening, the eight-hundred-man force led by John’s second son had arrived safely, along with a massive quantity of military supplies.

"Move out!"

This time, Henry left two New Recruit Teams behind to protect Westwood Laine. They only needed to focus on defense; John would be sending men to help with the garrison.

In the bitter cold of the snow-covered landscape, Henry led his massive force of over four thousand men on a difficult march toward Autongard.

Although the first snow would soon melt, the muddy, wet ground still hampered their marching speed.

The wind howled, whipping up flurries of snow that made it nearly impossible to open one’s eyes. The soldiers wore heavy cotton-padded clothes, their breath forming white plumes in the frigid air.

Winter was the "springtime" for Half-Beastmen. Their thick fur made them more resistant to the cold, giving them a slight advantage.

Henry rode at the very front of the column. He looked at his own elite troops and the respectable-looking forces of John’s second son, and nodded to himself in approval.

As for the disgraced nobles and Mercenaries who looked like they were on a picnic... Henry didn’t want to look at them. ’A bunch of fools marching to their deaths. Do they really think the Half-Beastmen are pushovers?’

The morale of these other groups was high, however. In their eyes, they were going off to earn money and make a name for themselves.

’These arrogant westerners have no idea how terrifying the Half-Beastmen truly are.’

The journey was uneventful. When Henry’s army arrived at Autongard, they found the city under martial law. A cavalry patrol stopped his column far from the gates.

Only after a series of complicated identity confirmations and announcements was the force permitted to approach and make camp.

"How many nobles have come? Why are there so many troops camped outside the walls?"

"Sir Knight, I don’t know. I’m just a soldier."

Henry didn’t press him and led his army to set up their encampment.

Judging by the banners alone, it looked like several hundred nobles had brought their forces. Their numbers were not small, either. It wasn’t like last time, when it was just a band of battered survivors gathered for revenge.

Henry immediately shooed away the disgraced nobles and Mercenaries. If they dared to get close again, they shouldn’t blame him for being ruthless.

"Mace, just have the army make camp here. Don’t wander into anyone else’s camp. I’m going to inquire about the latest news."

"I understand, Sir Henry."

Mace Hoyland, John’s second son, followed Henry’s orders to the letter, bordering on hero-worship.

"Gods, Henry! You actually brought such a huge army this time? It’s incredible!"

Henry, who had been about to enter the city, suddenly heard someone call his name. He turned and saw it was Fass.

"That’s right. I don’t want a lack of manpower to affect our gains like last time... Where’s Boman?"

Fass pulled his thick fur coat tighter around himself, his nose red from the cold. "That guy Boman? His wife just gave birth. I heard she got pregnant at the start of the year. A boy and a girl. He’s on his fief with his wife and kids, so he probably isn’t planning on coming."

"That’s for the best. Family is important. What’s the current situation? Why the martial law?"

Fass frowned and said with some uncertainty, "It seems... we’re going to be fighting a defensive war now."