Fallen Leaf Town

  After a fierce struggle, the battle ended with the colpse of the rebel forces. The town was recimed, but Chelse, the knight, found no joy in the victory.

  The town was eerily empty. Not only were there no treasures or valuables, but even the granaries had been set abze by the rebels.

  If it weren't for their quick reaction, salvaging some unburned grain from the fmes, their efforts would have been in vain.

  Clearly, the rebels had been prepared. Knowing they couldn't hold Fallen Leaf Town, they had evacuated the supplies in advance.

  Gncing at the townsfolk kneeling in submission, Chelse reluctantly abandoned any thought of looting. There was no way around it—the people before him were either too old or too young, making it impossible to justify plundering them.

  Of course, the main reason was that these people were simply too poor. There was no wealth to extract. Even if they were sold as sves, no one would want them.

  "Commander, the rebels were clearly prepared. What should we do now?"

  Baron Mechel asked bitterly.

  They had taken such a risk to loot, only to end up with a pile of grain, as if they were desperate for food.

  This wasn't the barren northwest. As lords of the southeastern province, the "granary of the kingdom," who didn't have several granaries full of grain?

  To put it bluntly, even if there were no harvests for two or three years, they wouldn't face famine.

  Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't be a problem, but this time they had sneaked out to loot. Carrying this much grain would severely limit their mobility.

  Frowning, Chelse said with a grim expression, "We can't take all this grain with us. Out of respect for the Lord of Dawn, let's do a good deed and leave it for them.

  It's only been five days since the battle at Fort Ethel. Even if the rebels were prepared, they couldn't have moved all their supplies to their stronghold so quickly.

  Let's move on to the next location. If we find nothing, we'll head toward Dadier City. Even if we don't find anything, we can still rendezvous with the supply train in time."

  Without much hesitation, everyone agreed. They had come all this way; they couldn't leave empty-handed. Without some loot, their spirits would remain unsettled.

  After a brief rest, the Fifth Army set out again. They came in a hurry and left in a hurry, "waving their sleeves without taking a single loaf of bread."

  As the noble lords departed, the townsfolk, now free from restraint, sprang into action, rushing to cim the grain.

  An elderly man, driven by hunger, grabbed a handful of roasted rye and stuffed it into his mouth. Moments ter, he began foaming at the mouth.

  This was just the beginning. One after another, townsfolk who had eaten the grain colpsed.

  "The grain is poisoned!"

  ...

  Meanwhile, in the Fifth Army's Camp

  Perhaps their luck had run out. Just as Hudson ordered the camp to be set up and meals prepared, a gryphon rider began circling low above the camp.

  Hudson's instincts told him that the Fifth Army's looting expedition had been exposed.

  There was no helping it. Despite his best efforts to cover for his allies, the truth had inevitably come to light.

  To buy his allies more time for looting and to ensure the safety of the supply train, Hudson had deliberately slowed the march.

  They would march in the morning and set up camp by noon. The afternoons were split between drills and ideological training, keeping everyone too busy to entertain idle thoughts.

  Hudson had calcuted that, at their current pace of twenty miles a day, they would reach Dadier City in six days, just in time to supply the main force.

  It was a win-win situation for everyone. But then, for reasons unknown, Count Piers suddenly sent a knight to urge the Fifth Army to pick up the pace.

  With the army commander absent, Hudson had no choice but to handle the situation. Although he came up with what he thought was a fwless excuse, the fact that they had only encountered one noble along the way made it obvious something was amiss.

  If nothing else, the gryphon rider circling above was the result of that knight's report.

  At less than ten meters above the ground, even the worst archer could take a shot. After a moment's hesitation, Hudson decided against silencing the gryphon rider.

  With so many witnesses, keeping it a secret would be impossible. The rebels didn't have gryphon riders, so ciming it was a case of mistaken identity wouldn't fool anyone.

  For nobles, deceiving superiors was standard practice. Even if the truth came out, the entire Fifth Army would share the bme.

  With so many involved, Count Piers wouldn't be able to enforce military discipline, no matter how much he wanted to.

  Despite the earlier conflicts between the army commanders over interests, if Count Piers tried to punish the nobles of the Fifth Army harshly, they would quickly unite against him.

  In the world of nobles, there were only interests, not right or wrong. Small and medium-sized nobles relied on the great nobles while also banding together to resist them. This political bance was essential for their survival.

  The same principle applied at higher levels. Great nobles relied on the kingdom while also uniting to resist the king, maintaining the kingdom's political bance.

  To Hudson, the kingdoms of Ystnd were like companies, with the nobles and the king as shareholders.

  The difference y only in the size of their shares. In essence, they were all owners of the company. When it came to interests, they would argue and compete as needed.

  The majority shareholders held more power, but the combined shares of the minority shareholders far exceeded theirs, allowing them to veto the majority's decisions.

  While there was a hierarchy in status, they fundamentally had equal rights to negotiate.

  Even the king couldn't execute a noble without cause. Even if a noble committed a serious crime, it had to be confirmed by the noble council before execution.

  Of course, this was all on paper. What happened behind the scenes was anyone's guess.

  In theory, vioting military orders on the battlefield could result in immediate execution. In practice, it was far more complicated.

  As long as the offense wasn't a cardinal sin and the offender wasn't particurly unpopur, a host of retives and friends would step forward to plead for leniency.

  Especially in cases of collective disobedience, as long as it didn't lead to disastrous consequences, the matter would usually be downpyed or swept under the rug.

  Compared to vioting military orders, killing Count Piers' gryphon rider would have far more severe consequences. The former was a matter of duty, while the tter would become a personal vendetta.

  As he watched the gryphon rider fly away, Hudson began pnning how to handle the fallout. Notifying his allies to return was clearly impossible, and he had no idea where the looting force was headed.

  With a resigned sigh, Hudson decided to let things py out. Whatever happened, he was powerless to change it.

  Even if Count Piers held him accountable, it wouldn't be a major issue. At most, he would be guilty of failing to report, which paled in comparison to vioting military orders.

  As for the others, they would have to fend for themselves. They were all adults. From the moment they decided to loot, they should have been prepared for the consequences.