A quick tally overnight revealed that the three Legions had lost at least thirty to forty thousand men. The vast majority were Auxiliary Soldiers and serfs used as cannon fodder on the front lines.
The Empire had no shortage of such cannon fodder; you could find droves of them in the back alleys of any major city.
As for the serfs... as long as the nobility refrained from slaughtering them indiscriminately, they would simply breed and produce more.
The battle’s outcome, however, was astonishing.
They had claimed 33,000 Half-Beastman heads! They had also captured over two hundred Centaurs; more than three hundred Minotaurs and Bearmen; over six hundred Fox People, Rabbit People, and Cat-eared People; and thousands of Gnolls and Kobolds.
Furthermore, they had seized a vast amount of weapons and equipment. These spoils of war would significantly swell the coffers of the Imperial Legions, and they served as a testament to the Imperial army’s bravery and combat prowess.
Most of these spoils would be distributed as rewards to soldiers who had distinguished themselves in battle, or sold off to arms dealers and Mercenaries.
The surviving soldiers cheerfully sorted through the spoils of war, while others mournfully buried their brothers-in-arms.
Meanwhile, the three Legion Commanders and their officers began to consider their next strategic move. This victory was only the beginning.
Occupation, defense, and development were matters for the nobility, while the Legions were responsible for fighting on the front lines. The royal family had to repeatedly assert its absolute military might to keep the entire empire in check.
After making his rounds and gathering the information he needed, Henry stopped by Boman’s to mooch a meal. He also won seven Dinars in the process and returned, quite pleased with himself, to practice with his Two-Handed Sword.
News had just arrived that there would be a victory banquet that evening. Henry planned to attend with Bain, Claude, Philip, and Vasco, the captain of his New Recruit Team.
Vasco was the most exceptional Warrior in the New Recruit Team, perfectly suited for the role of captain in both command and combat.
Although Vasco had undergone "loyalty" training, Henry was willing to grant his utmost respect to anyone who proved their allegiance.
Henry planned to rename the New Recruit Team to the Skilled Infantry Team. Based on their equipment and performance in battle, they were already qualified Skilled Infantry.
’What kind of new recruits wear two layers of armor, iron helmets, vambraces, and military boots?’
’What kind of new recruits have Iron Shields, fine-patterned swords, and high-quality javelins and warhammers?’
’Kitted out like that, no one would bat an eye if you called them Senior Infantry.’
’Huh? They’re mine? Oh, never mind then.’
Bain was overjoyed at the news of a feast, declaring that his injured arm wouldn’t stop him from out-eating Boman!
Claude and Philip were thrilled to learn they would be accompanying Henry to the banquet. This was a clear sign of his trust and recognition.
Vasco showed little reaction. As far as he was concerned, his only job was to complete Henry’s orders. The only exception would be if casualties grew so high that his unit’s morale collapsed.
That evening, the three Legion Commanders made good on their promise, providing the soldiers with a feast they would remember for a lifetime. Of course, the Private Armies of the several hundred nobles attached to the three Legions were not afforded the same luxury.
In theory, the Empire had only enacted the Pioneer Bill; it hadn’t issued a formal call to arms for the nobility. An invitation had been extended, but it could be refused.
The ones who showed up were all looking to make a profit and get a piece of the pie. Many minor nobles, not just the Border Nobility, had brought their men to join the war.
Meanwhile, in a temporary pavilion, the victory banquet for the officers was underway. All the officers were commended and given generous rewards.
Alberti, the influential commander of the Eleventh Legion, raised his cup and spoke. "This time, we successfully forced the Half-Beastmen into a pitched battle."
"And just as our fathers did before us, we have defeated them once again! Praise Caladia! Praise our great King!"
"Praise Caladia! Praise our great King!"
Sebastian raised his glass. "The nobles’ Private Armies also made outstanding contributions. Your elite soldiers distinguished themselves all across the battlefield."
"Take, for example, the lord of Westwood Laine, Knight Henry Bro—the most brilliant Knight in the battle on the right flank!"
"To the mighty Henry Bro! An honor!"
"An honor to the nobility! Knight Henry!"
Henry raised his cup, acknowledging the cheering nobles and officers. It was an olive branch from Sebastian, a chance to let their prior unpleasantness be bygones.
Soon, the attendees broke off into numerous small groups, boasting of their prowess and recounting their battlefield exploits.
Yet, amid the celebratory atmosphere, some began to worry about the battles to come.
After all, the Half-Beastmen would not give up so easily. Over the past two hundred years, the Empire had conquered hundreds of thousands of square kilometers of uncharted territory.
This expansion had created countless new minor and mid-level nobles, and brought with it more cities, villages, pastures, farmlands, orchards, and fisheries.
Thus, everyone knew the benefits of expanding the Empire’s territory!
The Half-Beastmen were certain to rally a stronger force for a counterattack. If the Imperial army’s arrogance went unchecked, it would surely face a crushing defeat!
Elsewhere, Bain was already competing with Boman and Fass to see who could debone a chicken leg the fastest. Since he was injured, Bain had recruited some backup: Vasco.
"This is our infantry captain! Let’s see which of us can eat more!"
Philip, meanwhile, went to mingle with the officers, hoping to pick their brains and learn more about command tactics.
Claude stuck close to Henry’s side, keeping his wine cup full.
"My Lord, I never expected to eat shrimp in a dump like this."
"Even in times of famine, some people will always eat well. We have three Legion Commanders here, and one of them is a Directly Affiliated Marquis."
As the two were enjoying their food, they saw Glen approaching with a plate of small cakes and a bottle of wine.
"Well, look who it is! Knight Henry, champion of the East!"
Henry didn’t respond, continuing to eat as if Glen hadn’t spoken.
Glen chuckled, pulled over a stool, and sat down. "Henry, what’s your plan moving forward?"
Henry glanced at Glen. "I’m the Quartermaster for the Seventh Legion’s right flank. I’ll be managing logistics, of course. What else would I do? Fight?"
Glen laughed heartily and raised his cup. "Henry, you’re the most valiant noble in the Seventh Legion. If you’re stuck managing logistics, how could the rest of us possibly show our faces on the battlefield?"
Henry watched Glen drain his cup, then said coldly, "Do you take me for a fool? You used me as a pawn during the meeting in Autongard. You think I don’t see you setting me up to take the fall if there’s a problem with logistics?"
Glen gave a hollow laugh. "Henry, have you been listening to rumors from the other nobles? They’re just trying to drive a wedge between us alumni..."
Henry slammed his cup down, staring into Glen’s eyes. He spoke each word with chilling precision. "For our shared mentor’s sake, this is the last time. We have a saying where I’m from: you don’t get a third warning. Next time, I will cut off your head."