The Lord Of Blood Hill-Chapter 16: The Noble Private Army

To Henwell, Fabio's efforts in teaching them battle formations and combat techniques seem futile.
Instead of wasting energy on these, it might be more practical to teach them how to recognize flag signals and commands.
Henwell believes that more practice in marching in formation could at least make them somewhat useful on the battlefield.
At the very least, it would make them appear more organized, possibly intimidating the enemy, or helping more of them survive when retreating.
Despite knowing these people aren't of much use, Henwell doesn't bother advising Fabio otherwise.
As the weather warms, the allied forces indeed mobilize, systematically dismantling the strongholds between Fire Eyes City and Wilderness City.
Finally, by early March, the allied troops arrive at the city's gates.
A large portion of the coalition's soldiers are stationed in camps outside the city, facing off with the allied front lines.
Fabio, too, is positioned outside the city, leading his contingent of serf soldiers.
Fabio is quite dissatisfied with the situation, often losing his temper and punishing the serf soldiers.
Henwell, on the other hand, thinks it's for the best; being in the city might not be safe.
Even though the coalition believes Wilderness City has tens of thousands of defenders and is nearly impregnable, Henwell isn't so optimistic.
If they can use spies to open the city gates and seize this fortress, why couldn't the enemy do the same?
After all, this city belongs to the Kingdom of Ika.
How many people inside are loyal to the kingdom?
What contingencies has the kingdom left in place?
The coalition isn't sure of these answers.
For these reasons, Henwell considers the city might become a trap. If they get trapped inside, escaping won't be easy. In contrast, being in the open fields allows for a quick retreat if things go south.
The grand battle doesn't start easily; after both sides are positioned, only small skirmishes occur throughout March.
During this time, Henwell witnesses quite a few spectacles: knight duels, warrior contests, and more. Fabio even leads the serf soldiers into battle once, resulting in a stalemate.
After both sides suffer significant casualties among their serf soldiers, each declares victory and retreats to back.
The ridiculous and tragic part is that the deaths of the serf soldiers are caused by the opposing elite guards.
Both sides tacitly avoid clashes between their elite guards and instead target each other's serf soldiers.
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Armored troops against unarmored ones—it's a fucking massacre! This isn't a battle; it's a contest to see who can kill the serf soldiers faster!
Henwell doesn't participate, after all, he's just a kid!
If he had to fight, it would have been fucking pointless to have saved Fabio in the first place.
Henwell steps forward to help Fabio remove his armor.
Fabio flicks the blood off his gloves and boasts, "Little Henwell, did you see that? I just carved through the enemy ranks twice, and not a single one could stop me. When my horse got exhausted, I fought on foot, and still, no one could match me."
Yes, yes, you're a real hero.
Henwell thinks sarcastically.
You had a great time taking down those poorly armed serfs.
And as for the horse being exhausted, you clearly fell off it.
If it weren't for the timely protection of the elite guards, you'd have been skewered by those serfs with pitchforks.
During the fight, even when brushing past the enemy's elite guards, there wasn't the slightest intention to attack.
Yet here you are, bragging.
Despite the sarcasm bubbling inside, Henwell puts on an excited expression and says in an admiring tone, "Lord Fabio, I saw it all. You were incredibly brave, and all the other nobles were praising your valor."
Fabio laughs heartily, patting Henwell on the shoulder.
"Go to the logistics and get some wine. I want to host a banquet for some friends tonight."
Henwell nods, "Don't worry. I'll take care of it."
In the evening, Fabio pulls Henwell aside for a drink before letting him go.
The other nobles, observing how efficiently Henwell manages Fabio's affairs, all agree that Fabio has a reliable attendant.
Listening to the nobles bragging in the tent, Henwell puts away his smile, sighs, and heads towards the serf soldiers' tent.
Henwell knows that it's not just Fabio hosting a bragging feast; the noble from the allied forces who fought today is no better.
A moment later, Henwell arrives at the large tent of the serf soldiers, raising his oil lamp.
He hands over a bundle, saying, "Those who are injured, come over."
Inside are medicines that Henwell requested in Fabio's name while arranging for wine and meat from the logistics.
The coalition provides medical supplies for the wounded, but they're often substandard, barely effective.
Ask about the army doctors?
Sure, they exist, but they're there to treat the soldiers.
Serf soldiers aren't considered people, so why would they need treatment?!
This isn't Henwell's malicious speculation; it's exactly what he's heard from the army doctors and logistics officers.
Now, Henwell is here to treat the serf soldiers. He's not a doctor, but he knows how to clean and stitch wounds.
On one hand, Henwell genuinely doesn't want to see these people just die. In his eyes, they're all living, breathing individuals.
If he doesn't help, these wounded soldiers would likely perish within a few days.
On the other hand, Henwell also wants to practice the wound treatment skills he's learned.
And perhaps most importantly, helping these injured serf soldiers now is a small effort for him, but it could earn their gratitude. In the future, if anything unexpected happens, these soldiers might lend a hand, whether because of his medical skills or out of gratitude.
Sometimes, the difference between life and death is just a helping hand away.
Under the dim light of the oil lamp, amidst the thick smell of blood, Henwell suppresses his discomfort and begins stitching up the gruesome wounds.
It isn't until dawn that Henwell finishes treating all the injured.
Amidst the voices of gratitude, Henwell drags his exhausted body back to Fabio's tent. He tidies up the mess there and then falls asleep right beside Fabio's bed.
Luckily, Fabio drinks so much the previous night that by the time he wakes up, it's already afternoon. Henwell, waking up earlier, has already prepared everything for Fabio's morning routine. Fresh clothes are neatly placed by his bedside.
Fabio, rubbing his aching head, says, "Little Henwell, without your help, I can't even imagine what I'd become. You saw Baron Vans last night, right? He used to be such a dignified man. I bet he hasn't changed his clothes in at least two weeks, judging by the smell."
Henwell smiles and replies, "Maybe Baron Vans is just so dedicated to training his troops that he doesn't have time to take care of himself."
Fabio laughs, "Hahaha... Henwell, you're amusing. Training his troops, you say? In the last battle, he didn't even dare to lead a charge. Last night, he even tried to secretly buy enemy heads from me. Since the war began, he hasn't killed a single enemy soldier, only civilians. Isn't that ridiculous? Isn't it pathetic?"