harleyscars Chapter 68 Post-War Summary
Chapter 68 Post-War Summary
On the training field, Tiberius held a wax tablet in his hand, on which symbols and diagrams were densely written with charcoal sticks.
"Report on the battle achievements and results." His voice rang out clearly in the silent field, making sure everyone could hear it.
"Report on collective achievements."
"First, the first spearmen and the first crossbowmen," he said, his gaze sweeping over the two square formations responsible for the right flank and center of the battle. "Holding their ground firmly, they effectively thwarted multiple enemy assaults and covered the left flank attack. Collective merit, three points. The collective score is the highest."
The soldiers in the selected ranks instinctively straightened their backs even more.
"Second, third, and fourth spear squads," he said, looking at the soldiers on the left flank who were leading the counterattack, "the left flank's diagonal attack was brave and fearless, and the breakthrough was decisive, laying the foundation for victory. Collective merit, two and a half points."
"The third and fourth crossbowmen on the left flank provided timely fire support and effective suppression. Collective merit, two points."
His gaze shifted to the soldiers pushing vehicles and building fortifications: "Vehicle battalion, quickly construct barriers to ensure the stability of the front line. Collective merit, one point awarded."
Next were the light infantry: "The light infantry unit, stabilizing the flanks and harassing the enemy, performed better than expected. Collective merit, 1.5 points."
The free men whistled to express their joy.
Finally, he looked at the soldiers wielding massive shields, who resembled mobile city walls: "The shield bearers, protecting the crossbowmen and deflecting arrows and javelins, have made invaluable contributions. Collective merit, 1.5 points."
He paused, then added, "The second crossbowmen team, along with their corresponding shield bearers and loaders, fired accurately and effectively in rotation, continuously suppressing the enemy formation. This collective achievement is worth two points."
Then, his voice rose slightly, carrying a rare hint of approval: "Patrol cavalry," his gaze fell on the twenty Dothraki riders, "guarding the perimeter, delivering messages promptly, the final flanking attack... done exceptionally well. The enemy's right flank was torn apart by you like a hot knife through butter. A great achievement."
A slight smile appeared on the Dothraki's sallow face. They had expected to be punished for disobeying orders.
"Then there are personal achievements."
"Young Master Lisanlo," Tiberius specifically awarded the credit to Lisanlo. "He led from the front, performed exceptionally well, killed two men in battle, and his bravery and fearlessness have greatly boosted the morale of the entire army!"
A flush immediately rose on Lisangluo's pale face. His vanity was greatly satisfied, and he unconsciously puffed out his chest even higher.
"Spearman Barrick single-handedly felled five enemy soldiers attempting to break through the line of fire, effectively stabilizing the battle line. He is awarded a major commendation."
Barrick's dark face instantly lit up with excitement. He straightened his strong chest and roared with all his might, "I will die for you, my lord!" At this moment, the whippings of the past seemed to have turned into worthwhile trials, and a sense of honor of being recognized arose spontaneously.
Tiberius continued reading:
"Crossbowman Cato, with three volleys of fire, killed seven enemies; his accuracy was exceptional."
"Greatshieldman Ruggus finished off a greataxeman with a javelin."
"Light infantryman Aji finished off an elite swordsman with a bow and arrow."
Throughout the process, all soldiers were allowed to sit down and rest, which was Tiberius's requirement: on the battlefield and training grounds, Tiberius wanted them to remember their identities, but when it came to recording merits, he demonstrated the characteristics of military democracy.
The soldiers who received individual commendations couldn't hide their excitement and pride; even those whose names weren't called yet listened intently, their eyes filled with a longing for honors.
Tiberius finished reading, put down the candlestick, and looked at the countless eyes watching him from below.
"Collective merit points," he announced, "will be converted into extra food, drink, and money for distribution." He paused, lowering his voice but adding weight to it, "and..." he drew out the last syllable meaningfully.
"You and your families are one step closer to freedom."
These words were like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, stirring up huge ripples in the hearts of all the soldiers. For the first time, hope was presented to them in such a clear and quantifiable form.
"As for individual merits, depending on rank, the reward ranges from five to fifty silver coins."
Finally, his voice lowered, carrying a barely perceptible heaviness: "Forty-two fallen brothers... double the compensation. Their families will receive it. I will distribute it personally."
He didn't offer any further words of comfort, but the words "personally distributed," along with his past history of using bloody methods to protect the interests of soldiers, convinced everyone that this compensation, earned with lives, would not be reduced by even a penny.
When the postwar matters were mostly settled, Lisanro Rojaer approached Tiberius and made a request that surprised even Tiberius.
"Tiberius," Lisanro's voice was still a little hoarse, but his eyes were unusually serious, "Those fallen soldiers, I'm thinking... could we... bury them? Right next to the camp."
Tiberius raised an eyebrow, looking at Lisanro. Normally, the bodies of mercenaries or slave soldiers were either cremated in a group or hastily buried somewhere; cemeteries were rarely specially arranged.
Lisanro seemed to sense Tiberius's confusion. He lowered his head, scribbled the dirt on the ground with the tip of his boot, and muttered, his voice not loud, but clear enough: "They... died for me. If it weren't for them, I would be the one who died in the Bloodbath... I might be just like that idiot Mario, only capable of building a useless army, and I would be the one humiliated and even killed today."
Tiberius was silent for a moment. He hadn't expected a spoiled brat like Lisanlo to make such a suggestion, so he nodded. "Alright."
So, at Lisanro's insistence, all the soldiers of the "Lightning Regiment," including the lightly wounded, participated in this simple funeral. The forty-two bodies were carefully washed, wrapped in clean cloth, carried to a selected open space next to the camp, dug pits, buried, and filled with earth. There were no elaborate ceremonies, only silent labor and pervasive sorrow. Lisanro personally added the first shovelful of earth to each grave.
As Tiberius watched the faces of those whose faces were gradually covered by mud, a thought suddenly popped into his mind:
Did I do something wrong? If it weren't for me, would they have avoided losing their lives in that bloody battle?
But Tiberius quickly dismissed the naive idea from his mind, an idea that made him laugh.
Having come this far, let's stop talking about "compassion," "kindness," and "universal values"!
Suddenly, the system started buzzing again.
[What happened?] Tiberius opened the system and found that he had a new title:
The Cold-Hearted One!