Chương 217: 217：The Adjutant's Terrifying Conclusion

Cedric, standing off to the side, was equally awestruck. Rubbing his weather-beaten face, he couldn't help but smile bitterly to himself. If my heavy infantry ever caught wind of these rations and veteran pensions, they'd mutiny on the spot and defect to Soren's banner without a second thought. Carrying a lingering sense of profound shock, the three silently concluded their inspection of the camp. On the night before their departure, a freezing wind ravaged the skies above the swamp.

Yet, inside Soren's moisture-proof, stilted wooden cabin, it was as warm as spring. The residual heat channeled from the geothermal fire-vein baked the room comfortably. Soren had laid out an informal banquet across a massive wooden table, personally hosting Leona, Elena, and Cedric. Firewood crackled cheerfully in the hearth. A massive, sizzling haunch of roasted Taman Boar, dripping with rich oils, was served.

Using a fine-steel paring knife, Soren personally carved the most tender cuts of meat and distributed them to his guests.

"Come, try some of our home-brewed rum. It'll chase away the chill of the Misty Swamp," Soren offered with a warm smile, raising a wooden mug brimming with amber liquid. After a few rounds of the strong liquor, the atmosphere in the room completely thawed. Everyone present was a seasoned warrior who lived on the edge of a blade; fueled by the alcohol, they soon began speaking their minds freely. Cedric's square, chiseled face was already flushed red.

Letting out a slight burp, he slammed his mug down and violently slapped his thigh.

"Commander Soren, I won't lie to you..." Cedric took a deep breath, his expression turning deeply serious as he stared straight at Soren. As a Commander leading the Ironpeak Duchy's most elite heavy infantry legion, this man—known for his unyielding, iron-boned pride—actually lowered his head in genuine admission.

"After watching your camp these past few days, I, Cedric, am utterly and completely convinced of your superiority." He let out a bitter laugh, gesturing with his hands.

"In the past, I always believed that warfare was simply about donning the thickest armor, wielding the longest spears, and lining up in rigid formations for a brutal, head-on slaughter. But after seeing your mixed-battalion..." Cedric took another heavy gulp of rum, his words dripping with a rare, profound sense of inadequacy.

"I've run the simulations in my head countless times. If we were to cross paths in complex wilderness terrain, even if my main Ironpeak Heavy Legion numbered in the thousands, we absolutely wouldn't even be able to touch the hem of your coat!"

"Your longbows concealed within the fog, combined with the indiscriminate area-of-effect coverage from your magic rangers' Wind Blades, and those ruthlessly insidious goblin traps blocking our advance..."

"The multi-arms coordination of your few hundred men would be more than enough to form an absolute, inescapable death trap for my heavy infantry."

"In a real battle, we would be kited and bled dry from a distance until our entire army was wiped off the face of the earth!" For the Legion Commander of a High Duchy to openly admit at a dinner table that his thousands of men couldn't defeat a few hundred required an extraordinary amount of courage. Hearing this incredibly high, reverent appraisal, Leona and Elena also stopped what they were doing, nodding in deep, solemn agreement. Soren, however, merely offered a faint smile.

Not a single trace of arrogance marked his face; instead, he took the initiative to refill Cedric's mug, acting exceedingly humble.

"You flatter me, Commander Cedric. Being able to secure such an advantage is entirely reliant on the swamp's toxic fog barrier and the treacherous terrain."

"If this were a head-on clash on an open plain, my brothers wouldn't stand a chance against the mountain-shattering charge of Ironpeak's heavy infantry. At the end of the day, these are just unorthodox, dirty tricks we dug out of the mud purely to survive." Hearing Soren's humble words, which offered him an incredibly generous out, the respect in Cedric's heart only grew deeper.

"Cheers! To slaughtering our enemies today, and to surviving tomorrow!" The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Cheers!" Four wooden mugs clinked crisply together, splashing amber liquor. Accompanied by hearty, uninhibited laughter, the group drank merrily by the hearth, temporarily tossing the absolute cruelty of the battlefield out of their minds. Deep into the night, the mildly intoxicating banquet finally concluded. Cedric returned to the guest stilted cabin arranged by the territory. The biting cold wind seeping through the cracks in the window made him shudder violently, instantly sobering him up.

He rubbed his throbbing temples and vigorously scrubbed his face with a cold, damp towel. Turning his head, he looked at his adjutant, Cullen, who was currently sitting beneath an oil lamp, organizing his inspection notes.

"Cullen," Cedric's voice dropped to a low whisper, his face entirely shedding its drunken flush and returning to the cold, stern visage of a frontline commander.

"Putting aside the polite flattery at the dinner table, looking purely through the eyes of a tactician... after deconstructing and analyzing this army over the past few days, what is your true assessment?" Adjutant Cullen paused his quill. Looking up, his face was etched with a profound, lingering shudder. He took a deep breath, answering bluntly with a single word:"Terrifying." Cullen stood up and walked over to Cedric. In his agitation, even his voice trembled slightly.

"General, I have conducted a comprehensive review across three primary dimensions. The structural paradigm of this military force has completely transcended the conventional definition of an army."

"First, their combat effectiveness is monstrously warped." Cullen slapped his palm against the table.

"Relying on a total force of less than four hundred men, they divided their forces to strike. Not only did they obliterate over two thousand heavily fortified Orc elites, but they also struck deep to uproot the towering walls of Bloodhorn Keep."

"Such a horrifyingly efficient penetration-and-strangulation kill-to-death ratio... Even if we dragged out two fully manned, main-force legions from the Ironpeak Duchy for a frontal assault, we absolutely couldn't execute it this cleanly." Cedric nodded in silent agreement.

"Second," Cullen's face revealed a mix of terror and secret admiration as he pointed toward the night outside the window.

"Greywater Village's territorial infrastructure and absolute cohesion. You saw it yourself, General. They implement a lifelong pension for the crippled, combined with exorbitant alchemical potions used as standard medical relief... the bond between the military and the civilians here is utterly unbreakable!"

"With a single command from Soren, even the elderly, the weak, the women, and the children who have lost their ability to work would eagerly drag the enemy down to hell with them. Let alone..." Cullen wiped a sheen of cold sweat from his forehead.

"... the perimeter of their village. Those [Hidden Poison-Spike Pitfalls] and chevaux de frise concealed beneath anti-perception magical arrays... It is an omnidirectional slaughter zone! Without sacrificing a force at least three times their number, an invader wouldn't even be able to touch the village's borders." Cedric exhaled a long breath of frigid air.

"And the third point?"

"The third, and the absolute core of it all..." Cullen whispered in deep reverence.

"Is Viscount Soren himself. Setting aside his terrifying individual CQC capabilities that allow him to instantly slaughter Orcs, his command art in tactical warfare and his strategic layout are already at the apex of this era."

"He values human life as highly as gold, yet he perfectly understands how to treat the enemy's lives like absolute weeds through fragmented deployment and combined arms strangulation tactics! He is a man who possesses the absolute posture of a Supreme Commander... and an exceptionally terrifying one at that." Listening to his adjutant's detailed, highly incisive analysis, Cedric turned to face the pitch-black canopy of the swamp night.

"Indeed..." he murmured softly, his internal evaluation of Soren elevating to the absolute highest peak.

"To have such a man as a brother-in-arms is the greatest fortune in the world. But if the day ever comes when we unfortunately become his enemy... I fear no one on this entire continent would ever be able to sleep peacefully again." The next morning, around eight o'clock. The thin swamp mist that had shrouded the area all night finally began to dissipate. Pale morning light spilled over the gentle dirt path on the north side of Greywater Village, an area bristling with spiked barricades.

The moment of parting had finally arrived. The warhorses snorted impatiently, blowing plumes of white steam into the freezing air. Cedric, Leona, and Elena stood in a line, holding their mounts by the reins. Leona's vibrant crimson hair danced wildly in the cold wind. With a swift motion, she vaulted into her saddle, her fiery red cape cutting a sharp, heroic arc through the air. She lowered her gaze to look at Soren standing below.

"Soren, the brothers back at the Crimson Moon headquarters miss you quite a bit," Leona bit her lip. Her face displayed a heavy mix of resentment and hopeful expectation, looking as though she was silently cursing him for hoarding all the good stuff for himself.

"If you ever have the time, you must come back and visit the headquarters! And, of course... if you could bring along some of those supplies we so desperately lack, that would be even better." Soren let out a knowing smile. He understood perfectly well exactly what his female Commander and superior was hinting at. He immediately agreed with a hearty laugh:"Absolutely. I will personally dispatch a shipment of winter supplies back to the Crimson Moon Knights."

Hearing this guarantee, Leona breathed a long sigh of relief. A radiant, stunning smile finally bloomed across her features. Elena, sitting gracefully upon her horse, clasped her hands over her chest. She delivered a flawlessly standard blessing of the Church of the Bright Moon toward Soren.

"May the radiance of the Bright Moon forever illuminate the path you walk, Lord Soren." Finally, it was Cedric's turn. The towering, rugged Commander did not mount his horse. Instead, he stepped forward and gripped Soren's extended right hand with crushing force. Then, stepping a half-pace back, he violently slammed his right fist against his own breastplate. Bang! It was a peer-to-peer military salute—the highest, most sublime gesture of absolute respect shared strictly among knights and Supreme Commanders.