"What are the casualties?" Kailar was not surprised by the knights' injuries or even deaths. Given the knights' relaxed attitudes, casualties were inevitable. Underestimating the enemy always comes at a heavy price, no matter who it is.
Facing Kailar's question, the knight lowered his head in shame: "Yes, one hundred dead, twenty injured…"
"That's only natural." Kailar elegantly sipped some wine from his flask, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. To be honest, his action was quite impolite, but to others, it carried a strange sense of grace: "You, with your complacency, faced aggressive wolf cubs that had just grown their teeth and were itching to bite, yet you were careless and filled with foolish, ignorant sympathy." Kailar's elegant posture belied his harsh words. His sternness made the Knight Captain's face flush red and sweat profusely. He didn't even dare to look at His Majesty, who sat at the highest position, silently sipping wine and gazing in a daze at Bergen Island in the distance.
"The most crucial point is," Kailar put down his flask and looked at him with a serious expression. Although Kailar's eyes were dead and merely served as a beautiful and aesthetic presence to fill his eye sockets, that sharp gaze still pierced through his eyelids directly onto the Knight Captain's face, making his facial muscles tense even more: "As a soldier, a warrior, a noble, and a knight, you actually failed to absolutely obey orders! I am deeply ashamed of you. Where is your chivalry? Your performance is even worse than a foot soldier's!"
Kailar's severity made the Knight Captain kneel on the ground, his hands clasped at Kailar's feet: "I am very sorry, Your Excellency."
"Your Excellency" is a title for someone of high status but without a specific official position.
Kailar's gloomy expression softened slightly. He pondered for a moment, then shook his head and said, "Never mind. The knights who died this time will still be treated according to the specific military merit standards. Take them back and bury them properly. Their armor and shields, horses and banners must be carefully handed over to their families' sons. You will be punished to do this. You were their leader; you are responsible for their deaths."
"Thank you, Your Excellency," the Knight Captain raised his head gratefully and said loudly.
Armor and shields all bear family crests, serving as proof for a noble family to pass on their title to the next generation. Horses are expensive, warhorses even more so, making them extremely valuable resources that cannot be embezzled. Banners are even more important symbols.
According to Red Leaf Ridge's military merit calculation regulations, any warrior who dies for Red Leaf Ridge's Camelot is awarded two ranks of nobility and granted land or an equivalent amount of money. However, there is one strict condition for not receiving these death benefits: warriors who disobey combat orders. This is very strict. In fact, Germans are not without intelligent people, but in the face of seemingly suicidal missions during World War II, they still rushed forward to their deaths without hesitation, precisely because of this.
Kailar allows the incompetence of commanders to lead to the deaths of warriors, but he absolutely does not allow warriors to achieve victory by acting on their own initiative. This is the mindset of those in power, which has been absolutely applicable from ancient times to the present.
One reason is the ease of rebellion, and the other is that such thinking is too dangerous.
Kailar could allow a squad leader to win a local battle with his own wisdom, but he could not forgive that squad leader for disobeying orders and going against his superiors to win a victory.
This is a matter of principle.
Therefore, the Knight Captain was extremely grateful to see Kailar actually violate his principles and show compassion for those knights who died in vain. He vigorously knocked his head on the deck, and the deck clattered loudly due to his helmet.
"Alright, you may withdraw," only then did she, as the Knight King, lower her head and say.
"Yes," after another bow, the Knight Captain stood up and turned to walk to the other side, where a boat was waiting to take him to shore. To prevent Barbarians from ambushing, Kailar's tactic of mooring ships outside the harbor was quite ruthless.
"Kay, why didn't you punish them?" Artoria had been a king for so long that she naturally knew that some things could not be leniently overlooked just because people died. Knights who died because they touched upon policy, to put it bluntly, died for nothing. Anyone who stands in the way of major policies and the tide of the times will be crushed into pieces by the surging torrent.
That's why she didn't understand.
"It's a matter of morale. A combination of kindness and severity is the way of a king," Kailar said with a smile. Her last sentence just now, "You may withdraw," was a stroke of genius. It instantly made the Knight Captain let out a huge sigh of relief and also completed the aspect of a king's majesty in the combination of kindness and severity.
Kailar was very satisfied with her performance just now. He picked up the flask again, took a light sip, and looked at Bergen Island: "However, after a brief period of killing and refreshing, the knights should more or less understand who they are facing, right? This battle will soon draw to a close."
"Haha, a stable rear will be established today," Artoria raised her wine glass and said softly, "Cheers."
"Cheers!" Kailar smiled, clinked the flask against her glass, and then drained the red wine in his flask.
Kailar was right. Under the stimulation of their comrades' tragic deaths, the knights finally remembered whose cubs these little devils were: the children of a group of barbaric invaders they had fought for decades. They were little devils from hell who, after a period of growth, could turn into demons!
So, obey the wise man's command, kill!
Killing was simple. The knights wore heavy armor; the so-called axes meant nothing to them. Muscles, strength, armor, and martial arts were not on the same level. The so-called war was merely a one-sided slaughter.
But for this kind of slaughter, they felt no pressure, because they too had once been "slaughtered." Their companions, relatives, and brothers, who had become cold corpses, constantly reminded them like a nightmare: if you're not careful, you'll end up like me next!
So, comrades, do not hesitate, do not stop, do not be confused. Raise the greatsword in your hand, and kill!