Lord: I Grind EXP with Warband Panel

But unfortunately, sometimes the Beast God wasn’t so helpful.

If they were facing an ordinary human army, the Peasants might have been intimidated by these suicidal Gnolls.

But to the veterans Robson had brought from Sunset Fortress, this was all child’s play.

They were already among the highest-level troops to begin with. Combined with their prior experience at Sunset Fortress and Mold Castle, dealing with these drugged-up combatants was second nature.

They made no move to push down the enemy’s siege ladders. This was a direct order. Though they didn’t understand why their Lord had given such a strange command, they still obeyed unconditionally—that was the benefit of having 70 morale.

Two Soldiers armed with shields and spears stood guard by each ladder, with Archers behind them striking at the enemy at the base of the ladders.

Even if a few Gnolls managed to scramble onto the walls, they were met by the eager nobles and reserve forces of Qimo Fortress.

No matter how potent the drugs these Beastmen had taken, it was all for naught if they couldn’t get onto the walls.

In fact, the loss of reason caused by the drugs had turned them into monsters capable only of blind charges. Devoid of thought, they could only wave their claws wildly as they threw themselves onto the enemy’s blades.

On his Mount & Blade-style interface, this manifested as a flood of green text that filled the screen.

When Robson enabled the audio notifications, his ears filled with the sound of one successful kill after another.

To Robson, it was the most beautiful music in the world.

’Just as I thought, combat is the fastest way to gain experience.’ He estimated that after this battle, the entire First Legion would reach Tier Three.

The initial batch of Tier Four Soldiers, who had already been on the verge of a breakthrough, now advanced. Even after subtracting those who had become Officers, Robson now had over 270 Tier Five Soldiers under his command.

Over 130 of them were Tier Five Frankish Elite Infantry, and over 140 were Tier Five Frankish Elite Shooters.

Robson could hardly imagine what it meant to have a force composed entirely of elites.

If this trend continued, his, Lord Robson’s, ascension to the Gold rank was just around the corner!

Robson’s progress with his Cultivation Technique had been moving at a snail’s pace lately. Aside from advancing his Magic class to a Tier Three Mage Apprentice, his experience bar for the Knight class hadn’t even filled halfway to the Gold rank.

For one, there was simply too much to deal with at Qimo Fortress, leaving Robson with no free time. For another, the amount of experience required to reach the Gold rank was simply astronomical.

In truth, Robson’s training progress was already incredibly fast. On the Southern Continent, if people weren’t so completely focused on the war, Robson would be considered a peerless genius.

The moment it became clear the Gnolls couldn’t breach the walls no matter what they did, the outcome of the battle was sealed.

Unable to surmount the walls, they were nothing more than a source of experience for Robson’s army, to be ground down and eliminated one by one.

The so-called drug only made them unafraid of death; it didn’t even make the Gnolls temporarily stronger. Daimon would never have parted with a blessing of that caliber.

This group of Gnolls numbered a mere two thousand; they couldn’t sustain many losses at all. Once the drug’s effects wore off, everyone would realize something was amiss.

Watching the scene unfold, Elimon knew in his heart that there was likely no escape for him today.

Thinking of his kin back in the tribe, his hatred for Daimon surged uncontrollably. He decisively raised his hands.

"Wait! I have intelligence for your commander!"

"Don’t kill me!"

With his entire tribe wiped out by Daimon’s scheme, Elimon had nothing left to lose. He surrendered on the spot, hoping to trade for his life.

The nobles of the Frank Kingdom didn’t have a habit of taking prisoners of war; they usually killed Beastmen on sight.

However, some nobles would spare high-level Beastmen, not for any other reason than to make a profit.

After all, the Frank Kingdom was a classic example of a militaristic but impoverished nation. Without some extra income, they couldn’t possibly support their massive army.

When these high-tiered Extraordinary individuals were sold to the Southern Kingdom, each one became a valuable addition to a family’s fighting strength. Some families even maintained their own legions of tamed monsters.

Even the Frankish Nobles themselves would subjugate some Beastmen. Initially, the King of the Franks had even considered a "Beastmen to rule Beastmen" policy, but it ultimately failed for various reasons.

Hearing this, the pursuing Frankish Nobles halted, but they all continued to watch Elimon with caution.

The races within the Beastman Empire each had distinct traits, such as the barbarity of the Pure-blood Purple-skinned Orcs and the recklessness of the Northern Bear Race.

Although Gnolls came in many varieties, they were largely synonymous with bloodlust and cunning. One could never let their guard down around such a creature.

The outcome was clear. Right now, Elimon truly just wanted to live; he had lost all will to resist.

....

"I hear you have something to tell me?" Robson asked, curiously sizing up the Gnoll before him.

Ever since he arrived in this world, he had never seen a Beastman prisoner.

’I thought everyone on their side held a deep-seated hatred for us, with no room for negotiation. I didn’t expect they had turncoats, too.’

"Yes, Lord. I know of the Prince’s—spit!—I mean, I know of some of the Beastman Empire’s plans!" Elimon said.

In fact, Robson wasn’t wrong. Both sides truly did harbor a deep-seated hatred and couldn’t stand one another.

But every situation had to be analyzed on its own merits. There were no traitors on the human side, not only because of the Frankish spirit, but more importantly, because the nobles on the front lines were intrinsically tied to their families.

If a defection were discovered, smaller families would face complete annihilation, and even the great nobles would be nailed to the pillar of shame.

But few on the Beastman Empire’s side defected, mainly because they had consistently been on the winning side of the war.

The hatred for humans within the Beastman Empire was nowhere near as profound as the Frank Kingdom’s hatred for them.

Most of them were forced onto the battlefield by the Beastmen in the upper echelons. They had always marched south as invaders.

In such circumstances, the hatred born from class conflict was even greater than their hatred for the Franks.

The Beastman Empire never cared for concepts like honor or shame; they only believed that the strong should rule!

This was the very basis of legitimacy for the Beastman Empire’s leadership, which also meant that in the middle and later stages of a war, defecting Beastmen were never a rare sight.

The Human Alliance wasn’t so much there to help as they were to get rich.

This was precisely Elimon’s situation. He betrayed his side without a moment’s hesitation.

If the Gnolls in his tribe hadn’t received the Beast God’s blessing beforehand, he would have tried to flee with all of them.

"Oh? Do tell," Robson said with great interest.

"Lord, can you guarantee my life?" Elimon asked, his gaze firm.

"Are you trying to bargain with me?" Robson said. "Do you think you’re in any position to do that?"

"I’m not, naturally. But my intelligence is," Elimon said, a cunning glint in his eye. "Trust me, Lord. A suitable payment will receive suitable service."

"Fine. I swear to the Lord of Dawn that if everything you say is true, I will find you a good buyer."