Chapter 25 We Go Left

As always, the truth was irrelevant.

By the time they reached the mountainside and darkness descended over the forest, the troops began to set up camp.

The soldiers from Crassus Barony swiftly constructed their campsite using field shovels issued as part of their supplies. These versatile tools, carried alongside their packs, could dig trenches in peacetime and deliver a decisive blow in emergencies. Created under Michael's direction by every blacksmith in the castle, the shovels proved their worth. When heated over a fire, they could even be used to cook meat or pancakes.

After feasting on roasted meat brought back by knights and guards, accompanied by warm tea, the soldiers retired to their tents. With blankets spread beneath them and thick cloaks covering their bodies, the cold night became bearable.

The next morning, as Michael conducted roll call, he was startled.

He had brought exactly 100 soldiers, yet the count—performed by squires since few soldiers could count beyond 50—came to 116.

What in the world was going on?

The soldiers responsible for guarding the supplies and important figures were accounted for separately, so the number of soldiers should have been an even 100. They hadn't split like amoebas overnight.

After individually identifying the unfamiliar faces among the troops, Michael discovered the reason for the discrepancy.

"Where are you from? Whose domain do you serve?" he asked one of the strangers.

"I'm from a village with a huge oak tree," the man replied. "Don't know the name of the lord. Never met him."

Sixteen such individuals had joined their ranks—peasants who didn't even know which domain they belonged to, let alone the name of their lord.

Perhaps feeding the troops had been a mistake. Soldiers from other domains, drawn by the smell of roasted meat, had wandered over and failed to return to their camps.

"Sir Michael, could they be spies sent by the fanatics or Count Charles?" Alex, his squire, asked cautiously.

Michael chuckled.

"Spies? These fools? If they were actual spies, they would have killed a soldier and infiltrated discreetly. No one would employ such obvious fools as spies."

Had this been an era of espionage, Michael might have suspected a highly skilled infiltrator. But this was not such an age, and there was no significant gain to be had by infiltrating his camp. This was simply the result of poorly disciplined soldiers from other domains making foolish mistakes.

Someone might come looking for their missing soldiers eventually, but time passed, and no noble came forward to reclaim them. Whether due to desertions from other domains or the complete absence of roll calls elsewhere, it remained a mystery.

Here, Michael's modern perspective came to light.

Among all the participating domains, only Crassus Barony had not lost a single soldier during the march. Other domains had long been losing troops to sickness, malnutrition, or desertion, often dismissing their disappearance as unfortunate but inevitable. The disregard for human life was part of the culture.

Unaware of this broader context, Michael happily took in the stragglers. There was no need to make a fuss about returning them to their owners when no one came to claim them. In this world, the finder was the keeper.

This might not have been noble or knightly behavior by the standards of the time, but Michael had experienced a different world. His actions were not driven by greed but by a humanitarian impulse: these underfed individuals needed to be nourished before they could return to their original domains.

Distributing the surplus troops among his ten-man units, Michael was interrupted by the sight of a messenger riding toward him in haste, bearing Count Charles's banner.

"Orders from the Count!" the messenger announced. "The illustrious Count Charles has declared that any noble and their forces who arrive at Bartelberg Fortress within two days shall receive a share of all the land and wealth of Crowley's domain, divided according to their contributions! The exact distribution will be determined in a meeting upon arrival, so make haste to obey!"

The situation had shifted.

News of tangible rewards brought smiles to the faces of the nobles. What had been a duty-bound conscription now promised material compensation.

Crowley's domain contained not only the wealth of the barony but also the lands and assets of its knights, minor nobles, and merchants—dozens of holdings in total.

Moreover, Crowley Barony, renowned for its fertile lands despite being located in the harsh northern region, boasted some of the wealthiest villages in the area.

With the heads of the Crowley family already severed and the estate open for claiming, whoever arrived first would be the owner.

Even nobles who had just been lamenting the tragedy of Crowley's fall now licked their lips and gleamed with avarice. Count Charles, once the target of their scorn, suddenly became a figure of admiration.

The reputations of Baron Kensington and Michael, who had first proposed the plan, soared.

What had seemed an uncertain gamble had come to fruition.

Count Charles, notorious for his cunning, might have reneged on a private promise, but a public declaration was a different matter. No noble would break a vow made in the name of their house, lest they be condemned and exiled from noble society.

Michael grew uneasy at Count Charles's sudden decisiveness. Such acts of generosity were often a cause for suspicion.

However, he couldn't dampen the enthusiasm of the nobles, who seemed ready to dash to the fortress at any moment. To do so would risk undoing the goodwill he had painstakingly cultivated.

Still, there was cause for concern. The fanatics' strength appeared greater than anticipated. If they were as weak as some believed, would Count Charles have surrendered so quickly?

One of the ten most powerful nobles in the kingdom would not be so easily swayed. His resources and intelligence far surpassed those of the allied minor nobles.

Had Count Charles perhaps found an heir to the Crowley family? If so, by supporting that heir to inherit the lands and titles, the alliance could find itself outmaneuvered, reduced to dogs chasing after a cart.

But Michael shook his head. No, that was unlikely. Having lost their domain to the fanatics, the Crowley family would have no legitimate claim to it. Nobles were obligated to defend their lands, and a domain without an heir reverted to the kingdom.