Chương 254: 254： Discard the Slave Mentality, Embrace Dignity

The soldiers of both sides held nothing back, eagerly swapping tales and techniques of brutal close-quarters combat against the Orcs. The Greywater veterans were exceptionally generous. Rummaging through their packs, they pulled out captured black iron longswords and shoved them directly into the hands of the Steppe warriors still clutching shattered blades. They even took the time to personally demonstrate how to properly angle the heavy weapons to deflect an Orc's crushing blows.

The leaping flames of the bonfires illuminated faces full of genuine smiles. For the barbarian warriors of the Steppes, this camaraderie felt entirely alien, yet incredibly warm. Ever since they arrived at the southern frontlines, they had endured relentless discrimination from the regular armies of the Ironpeak Duchy. The high-and-mighty noble officers had constantly mocked them as filthy, unwashed savages.

But tonight, sitting amongst these Greywater elites—a force boasting combat power at the very apex of the continent—they saw not a single trace of disgust or arrogance. For the first time in a long time, they felt true respect. They felt the dignity of being valued and acknowledged as fellow warriors.

"So this... this is what a true brotherhood looks like..." Vice-chief Sangho muttered. Examining the pristine black iron blade in his hands and watching the Greywater soldiers seamlessly mingling with his men, his solitary eye couldn't help but well up with tears.... The next morning, the howling blizzard over the Broken Blade Mountains finally ceased. The heavy clouds fractured, allowing a pale, sickly shaft of morning light to spill over the ruined pass.

The biting wind still cut like a knife, but the thick stench of blood in the air had long been frozen into dark crimson ice crystals by the morning chill. Soren stood atop a section of the crumbling wall, his black windbreaker cloak snapping wildly in the morning breeze. He was looking down, inspecting his chipped steel longsword, his eyes tracing the dark, dried blood coating the blade. The crunch of heavy footsteps in the snow sounded from behind. Soren turned.

Led by Chieftain Talon and Vice-chief Sangho, a dozen Steppe barbarian commanders—their bodies wrapped tightly in blood-soaked bandages—marched forward in a perfectly neat line, stopping directly in front of him. These massive, burly men of the Steppes had sunken eyes swirling with complex emotions. There was profound grief for their fallen brothers, and seething, visceral hatred for the Ironpeak Duchy's shameless betrayal.

But above all, as they looked at Soren, their eyes overflowed with absolute reverence and awe. Thud! Talon took the lead, his knees slamming heavily onto the frozen earth. Immediately after—Thud! Thud! A cascading wave of kneeling echoed out. To Soren's astonishment, it wasn't just the dozen commanders. Behind them in the pass, from every corner of the ruins, all the surviving Steppe warriors simultaneously set down their battered weapons.

In absolute, flawless unison, they dropped to one knee facing Soren, forming a breathtakingly majestic formation.

"Brother Talon, what is the meaning of this..." Soren frowned slightly, stepping forward quickly to help him up.

"My Lord! Please, let me finish!" Talon reached out, his massive hands gripping Soren's wrists like a vise. After a night of screaming, his voice was raw and gravelly, yet his tone possessed an ironclad resolve.

"Last night, if you hadn't arrived like a godsend in the snow, every single one of us would have been chopped into mincemeat by Orcish axes." Talon sucked in a deep breath of the freezing air.

"Those cowards from the Ironpeak Duchy hide behind their fancy armor and heartlessly left us to die in the blizzard! It was you who showed us what a true commander is! What true brothers are!" He snapped his head up. In those fiercely untamed eyes, there was now only absolute submission.

"With the Eternal Sky as my witness! I, Talon, in my capacity as Chieftain of the Steppes, formally beg of you!"

"Please, allow the entirety of our Steppe warrior forces to fall under your banner! Let us join Greywater Village!"

"From this day forth, our blades swing for you! Our blood spills for you! Wherever your sword points, that is where the sons and daughters of the Steppes shall lay down our lives!"

"We pledge our lives to Lord Soren!" Behind him, hundreds of Steppe warriors roared in unison. The sheer volume shook the snow from the mountain peaks and pierced the heavens. This was the oath of the abandoned. More importantly, it was the absolute surrender of their hearts, won over by Greywater Village's prejudice-free, ride-or-die brotherhood. Listening to this heaven-shaking oath of fealty, Soren maintained the cold, majestic composure of a supreme commander on the outside.

But inside, absolute ecstasy erupted like a volcano!

"I got them!" Soren clenched his fists tightly in his mind. He knew exactly how unfathomably valuable this unit was! These men had no decent armor, hadn't eaten a full meal in days, yet relying purely on their terrifying willpower and sheer physical grit, they had stalled five thousand heavily armored Orcs at a bottleneck for days! They were utterly fearless, warmongering, and bloodthirsty! This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

If he could combine this monstrous combat potential with Greywater Village's abundant logistics and black iron weaponry, it would undoubtedly forge the most terrifying, blood-curdling vanguard on the entire continent!

"Talon, that you have made this decision brings me profound pride." Soren stood up straight, his hands clamping down hard on Talon's shoulders, forcefully hauling the massive chieftain to his feet.

"Greywater Village cares nothing for background, and nothing for race!"

"As long as you are willing to entrust your back to your brothers, you are the most lethal vanguard of my Greywater Village! On behalf of the territory, I welcome you with open arms!" Hearing this absolute validation, Talon, Sangho, and the others were moved to tears. But soon, Talon's expression dimmed. He lowered his head, his voice dripping with sorrow and immense guilt.

"My Lord... the tragedy is that out of the three thousand fine men we brought from the northern steppes... after fighting to this point, barely a fraction remains." Trembling, Talon reported the heart-wrenching number:"Those who survived, those who can still draw breath, including the critically wounded... the exact count is only eight hundred and thirty-six men." Eight hundred and thirty-six.

That ruthless number drifted through the freezing wind, carrying with it the bloody, unwilling cries of thousands of fallen souls. Soren's heart sank heavily. Three thousand prime warriors, brutally ground down to a mere eight hundred. The Ironpeak Duchy high command's scheme of using the Orcs' blades to cull the barbarians was profoundly venomous! At that moment, Vice-chief Sangho glanced at the awe-inspiring Black Steel Elites standing behind Soren.

He swallowed hard, finally unable to hold back the deepest, most agonizing concern harbored by all the Steppe warriors.

"Lord Soren... we know Greywater Village is wealthy. But... we are outsiders after all..." Sangho's voice grew quieter, laced with deep-seated insecurity and apprehension.

"We don't dare ask to eat as well or dress as well as your core elites. As long as... as long as in future battles, you don't make us face Orcish axes bare-chested. Even if you only issue us a few battered leather tunics and feed us table scraps, the brothers will be fully satisfied." The psychological trauma left by long-term discrimination and being treated as disposable cannon fodder by the Ironpeak Duchy's regular army had made these once-proud warriors painfully cautious.

Hearing this, Soren's face instantly darkened. He didn't placate Sangho. Instead, he took a heavy step forward, his commanding, oppressive gaze sweeping across the faces of all the barbarian commanders as he barked:"Take that subservient slave mentality the Ironpeak Duchy beat into you, and throw it in the damn trash!" The furious reprimand stunned Talon and the others.

Pointing directly at the Black Steel Elites behind him, Soren delivered an absolute, ironclad promise in front of everyone:"When I lead an army, I treat every single man as equals! There are no 'core elites' and no 'disposable meat shields' under my command!"

"I'll be fully transparent with you. Due to the incredibly strict material requirements of our forges, the top-tier [Black Steel Full-Plate] and the [Winch-drawn Heavy Repeating Crossbows] are currently limited in number, meaning they can only be prioritized for our absolute frontline shock troops." Soren's tone shifted, brimming with absolute confidence.

"But! I swear to you! The moment you step foot into my Greywater Village, every single Steppe warrior will bid farewell to the days of fighting without armor, scrounging for arrows, and starving!"

"All eight hundred and thirty-six of you, regardless of whether you're lightly or critically wounded, will be immediately outfitted and upgraded with [Black Iron Half-Plate] and heavy [Gambesons]! There will be meat at every meal, and you will eat until you're stuffed!"

"In Greywater Village, you will enjoy the absolute equal treatment of brothers-in-arms! If anyone dares to discriminate against you, I, Soren, will be the first to chop off their head!" Unparalleled shock. Talon, Sangho, and every single man of the Steppes present had their psychological defenses utterly obliterated by this overwhelmingly reassuring promise.

"Black iron weapons for everyone... gambesons for everyone... eating until we're full..." Young Barlow clenched his fists tightly, tears falling uncontrollably, pattering onto his boots. This wasn't just a massive upgrade in military equipment. This was the supreme dignity of finally being treated as human beings, of being treated as true brothers!

"We pledge our lives to the Lord!!" The fervent roars echoed into the heavens once again. But this time, there was no hesitation, no lingering doubt. This was the absolute, unreserved devotion of the entire Steppe warrior force!