News of victory

Derek left a few riders to monitor the barbarian camp, ignoring the small groups of barbarian cavalry sent out for reinforcements. He then led his men to clean up the battlefield. They gathered about a dozen intact warhorses, while the rest would serve as a few meals' worth of horse meat.

Next came the task of collecting heads to count for merits. The remaining corpses were tossed into a pit and covered with some dirt. The weapons and leather armor taken from the bodies, though not to Derek's liking, could still fetch some money.

And then, they waited.

The elite infantry company did not disappoint him. This unit, the one that had been trained the longest and consisted entirely of his own men, arrived before midnight. However, even elite soldiers couldn't immediately go into battle.

They quickly set up a basic camp, hastily ate some food, and everyone wrapped themselves in their bedrolls to rest on the spot. The real battle would be the next day.

…

Dawn broke!

The barbarians had finally reached a decision, or rather, a compromise. Should they fortify and wait for reinforcements? They had no confidence in that. Don't misunderstand—they weren't worried about holding out for a few days. They simply didn't believe anyone would come to save them.

Anyone with common sense knew that the Kingdom of Locke's counterattack had begun, and it was unlikely that anyone would be concerned about these scattered troops. In fact, some barbarians had already fled, while those remaining were only hoping to seize more loot before leaving.

But Derek found this amusing. Whether the barbarians chose to fortify and wait, or abandoned everything to flee, either option would cause him some trouble. Only their hesitation brought him peace of mind.

"Indecision brings disaster. If they had either formed a defensive line, they might have inflicted more casualties on the enemy. Or, if they had abandoned everything and fled, they might have had a chance to escape with most of their lives. But wavering like this, wanting to run yet wanting to stay, will only lead to disaster. Remember this—if you ever face such a situation, you must be decisive."

Derek was giving a lesson on the spot, but the outcome of the battle would ultimately depend on how things played out.

Compared to the anxious night the barbarians had endured, Derek's men were eager and ready to fight, each one itching to tear into the enemy.

"Attack! This time, half of the spoils will be yours to keep!"

This was their first true battle, and the soldiers with him were his most loyal and long-standing followers. Derek knew that no amount of talk could compare to the reward they were about to receive. As expected, as soon as he said this, every man's eyes turned red with fervor.

As the elite infantry charged forward, a few cavalrymen patrolled the battlefield's perimeter, waiting for the barbarians to show any signs of weakness.

The barbarians had noticed this Locke army—or perhaps they had been expecting it all along.

"I told you already: the Locke cavalry has reinforcements. We should have abandoned everything and fled while we had the chance."

"Fortifying and waiting for reinforcements could have worked too. At least we could have inflicted some damage on them."

"Stop the nonsense! There are fewer of them than us—what are we so afraid of?"

"And even if we defeat them, there's definitely a larger force behind them. The longer we delay, the worse our fate will be."

Just before the battle began, the barbarians' army was suddenly embroiled in internal strife. Some abandoned everything and fled lightly armed, while others stayed behind, determined to repel the enemy. The most absurd part was that some barbarians stood around aimlessly, only scrambling to act when the infantry company approached.

"Unified command is crucial. A one-man decision might lead to mistakes, but at least it wouldn't result in chaos like this," Derek commented, though everyone already knew that the barbarians' command structure was a mess. The leaders of the smaller tribes couldn't agree on a single commander, leading to a fragmented strategy. Despite the barbarians' superior numbers, their fighting capability was now less than half of what it should have been.

The barbarians overturned their loot, trying to stack it into a makeshift barricade. But the elite infantry quickly vaulted over these obstacles. Even in such a disorganized situation, they maintained a relatively tight formation—starkly contrasting with the chaotic mob of barbarians.

"Attack!"

Under the command of their junior officers, the infantry swiftly cut down the enemy. The barbarians, upon clashing, realized these foes were unlike any they had faced before. The elite infantry easily overpowered the ordinary barbarians in strength, and their discipline and fighting spirit were unshakable.

Marching in perfect formation and clad in leather armor, the infantry were nearly impervious to the usual barbarian attacks. Once the barbarians grasped this, their formation became even more disordered. Derek quickly noticed their growing confusion and panic.

"Charge!"

The iron hooves of the warhorses thundered, like the final straw that broke the camel's back. The barbarians, who had already seen the power of the Locke cavalry, finally broke. The chaos intensified just as the cavalry reached them.

What followed was a massacre.

At the knights' command to surrender, some of the barbarian soldiers dropped their weapons and lay down on the ground. The entire battle was over in just half an hour. The infantry began clearing the battlefield, binding the surrendered barbarians together.

A quick tally of casualties revealed that they had lost two cavalrymen and over a dozen elite infantrymen that day, with twice as many wounded.

This victory was achieved by elite forces striking against overwhelming odds. Had the barbarians shown more resolve, casualties could have been far greater.

Derek assessed his own performance as merely satisfactory. A competent barbarian commander would have posed a much greater challenge. Nevertheless, it was a promising start, with around eighty heads taken and a similar number of prisoners. The rest had fled.

Unaware of other companies' results, Derek suspected his unit's swift success might rank among the best. With the victory report already dispatched, he was eager to press on.

Count Pereira's objective was clear: drive out the barbarians while inflicting maximum damage. As they cleared the area systematically, Derek knew maintaining momentum was crucial.

The main concern was advancing too far, risking isolation from the Second Legion and becoming vulnerable to barbarian attacks. After deliberation, Derek decided to push forward despite the significant risk. How else could he distinguish himself?

Bluntly put, this was gambling with lives for career advancement.

...

In the Northern Province, Count Pereira's Second Legion had set up only a temporary base, intending a brief stay. Once initial objectives were met, they would advance further.

He had marked three lines on the map. Crossing the final line would bring them to Ironwall City.

"We have ten days at most to concentrate our forces and engage the barbarian army," Pereira declared, knowing Ironwall City couldn't hold out much longer.

Ideally, within this timeframe, they could lure the barbarian army into movement, creating an opportunity for battle. With the First Legion's imminent arrival, their combined strength would be sufficient to confront the barbarians.

Failing that, they'd have to force a barbarian retreat - an unfavorable outcome that wouldn't dent barbarian morale. But Pereira was determined to try.

Just then, a messenger arrived.

"Sir! The Tenth Company has completed its mission—over eighty enemies beheaded and more than ninety captured."