The Lord Of Blood Hill-Chapter 24: Loyalty to Oneself

"Do you know what this means?" Fabio's father asks.
Fabio nods, "I know."
Count Obiken, sitting behind his desk, looks up at his youngest son. "Have you decided?"
"Yes! When the time comes, I have a plan to escape. I will..."
Obiken raises his hand to stop Fabio from continuing. "Enough! You don't need to tell me the rest of your plan. Whatever you decide to do, don't tell anyone! No one! Understand?"
Fabio nods, "I understand."
Obiken studies him for a moment before changing the subject. "I'll present the conditions you've proposed at the command center. There shouldn't be any obstacles."
As Fabio bows and turns to leave, Obiken adds, "Come back safely. I'll give you a chance to prove yourself."
Fabio pauses briefly, then turns and heads back to his camp.
Count Obiken watches his son's retreating figure, not withdrawing his gaze for a long time.
"Go. Protect young Fabio. He hasn't fully understood what I meant. If he still doesn't get it in the end, help him understand."
The shadowy figure in the corner nods to Obiken and then disappears into the darkness.
Back in his tent, Fabio meets with Henwell privately.
"Everything is pretty much set. Just as you said, the command center should agree to my requests. Now, we need to intensify the training of those serf soldiers, aiming to turn them into real warriors."
Henwell shakes his head.
"There's not enough time. Forget about training in combat skills and formations; those can't be learned in a short period. In the coming days, you need to select enough able-bodied men from the serf army."
"I believe the generous conditions you've offered will encourage them to volunteer. Other nobles won't put up much resistance either. After all, if they want to keep their own serf soldiers, they need to stay behind and cover the retreat."
"The lives of these noble lords are valuable. Choosing to live rather than risking their lives to save their conscripted serfs is a no-brainer. They'll cooperate with you and might even owe you a favor."
After taking a sip of water, Henwell continues his analysis.
"Our task isn't to pick the most elite soldiers, but to select those who can retreat with us. That requires long-distance marching. Stamina and endurance are crucial. This isn't too challenging for the serfs; what's tough is maintaining formation while retreating."
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"From now on, you need to personally lead the chosen serf soldiers in running around the camp every morning and evening."
Fabio looks puzzled. "Running? Will that work? What about learning combat skills?"
"The instincts in life-or-death situations will teach them how to wield weapons. But an orderly retreat doesn't come naturally. We've experienced two major retreats, and you've seen it—if they scatter, it's a disaster."
"So, they need to get used to marching in formation, at least not running off chaotically. Controlling their breathing rhythm and pace will determine if we can escape smoothly. Not just the serf soldiers, but your personal guard must run too. Their horses will be needed to transport supplies and armor."
Fabio decides to trust Henwell but can't help asking, "Henwell, I want to know why you chose to help me? We've been working together for a while now, and I have some understanding of your character."
"You're very smart, a prodigy who usually likes to show off. Yet you've always kept your talents hidden, afraid to let others see your brilliance. Now, you could easily retreat with me and the main forces, so why step forward and offer me advice?"
Henwell has already prepared his response.
"I keep my talents hidden because I'm just a child. This is a battlefield; if we were in a peaceful environment back home, I might show off my cleverness. As for why I chose to assist you, it's because of my precocious nature—I have ambitions beyond my years."
"My father died in battle, and if I return to the Kingdom of Billie, I have no inheritance rights and would fade into obscurity. Now, following you, I've seen a huge opportunity."
"If you succeed, you'll be rewarded and, upon returning to the Duchy of Vorry, you'll be entrusted with important roles. An inherited title is already destined for you. When I grow up, you can help me earn a knight's title. I'm considering your future, as well as my own. Our interests align."
Fabio is taken aback by Henwell's answer. He looks at the tall young man with surprise, feeling as though he's not standing before a mere teenager, but rather a mature adult.
After a brief pause, Fabio draws his sword and places it on Henwell's shoulder. Henwell immediately understands the gesture and kneels on one knee, resting his left hand on his right shoulder.
"Henwell! By the honorable name of my family, Rhine, I accept your loyalty. I, Fabio, vow to treat you as a brother, with the divine and the honor as our witnesses."
Henwell bows his head, "I will protect you, Lord Fabio, and may you achieve greatness and bring glory to your family."
Fabio pulls Henwell up. "Alright, little Henwell, from now on, you're my brother. No more hiding your talents. Our fates are tied together now."
Henwell responds, "Rest assured, my lord. I'll do my best."
In his heart, Henwell thinks, as long as you don't betray me, there's a chance for me to rise in the future. If luck is on our side, even the position of Grand Duke might not be out of reach for you to experience.
The next day, Henwell begins assisting Fabio in selecting able-bodied men. With military supplies handed out on the spot, main army rations, and full standard equipment, they manage to recruit nearly ten thousand strong men in just one day.
Thanks to orders from the command center, no noble obstructs this recruitment drive. In fact, the nobles not only refrain from opposing but also approach Fabio, offering their assistance for anything he might need.
By the afternoon, Fabio personally leads the serf army, running laps around the camp. In the evening, Henwell brings Fabio hot water to soak his feet. Fabio's voice is hoarse from shouting; he realizes for the first time how challenging it is to organize people to run in formation.
It takes the entire afternoon just to form them into squares, and once they start running, the formation falls apart within 500 meters. Covering a mere five kilometers results in dozens of men collapsing, which Fabio finds astonishingly difficult to comprehend.
On the following day, Fabio heeds Henwell's advice. He assigns his personal guards to various formations, with each guard responsible for leading forty serf soldiers on their runs. Once in the morning and once in the evening. Finally, by the third day, none of the serf soldiers get lost during the run.