The food served to the nobles was far more lavish than that of the soldiers outside.
There was a variety of exquisitely prepared dishes, and the sweet aromas of copious amounts of honey, wine, and condensed milk filled the air.
However, in stark contrast to the soldiers' merry atmosphere, the nobles' demeanor was insincere.
They praised Henry's generosity and expressed their immense gratitude for his invitation, yet aside from a few drinks, they ate almost nothing.
The exceptions were Boman and Bain, who were competing to see who could finish a small roasted suckling pig first.
The Viscounts and Barons raised their goblets, offered elegant congratulations, and toasted with Henry, but he could feel their coldness and distance.
'Damned nobles. Sooner or later, your heads will all roll.' Henry drank his wine with a smile, internally pondering the various ways they could die.
Henry mingled with the nobles. The Knights, on the other hand, seemed to hold a genuine fondness for him, offering heartfelt congratulations.
As for the minor nobles, no one dared to cross them. Any peer showing signs of rising to prominence was an object of their admiration and someone to curry favor with.
The Champion Banner Knight found Henry, offered his congratulations, and drained his cup.
"Sir Knight, the Legion Commander sends his congratulations, but he was unable to come. From the parchment you brought back, we've been able to extrapolate some of the Half-Beastman tribe's population, food reserves, and armament and armor coverage. The Legion Commander is still busy with numerous battle plans.
And with preparing your bounty and rewards, sir."
"Of course, officer. Please, enjoy the food to your heart's content. I hope you have a pleasant day."
After making his rounds, Henry returned to his tent to discuss their next move with Glen.
Since they had already worked together once, there was no reason they couldn't do so again. Glen believed Henry could lead them to victory.
"Where's Fass? Isn't he with you?"
Glen shook his head and took a bite of a cream-filled pastry. "I think he went off to compete with Boman to see who could eat the fastest. I believe your Attendant is involved as well."
Henry rolled his eyes, unwilling to waste his thoughts on the three childish fools. He turned to Glen. "When will the bounties and rewards be distributed? Has your relative, the Count, told you anything?"
"I don't know either, but it should be sometime today. Maybe they'll be distributed very soon?"
Henry nodded, tore a wing from a roasted chicken, dipped it in honey, and stripped the meat from the bone in a single bite, leaving Glen dumbfounded.
"Wow, Henry. You're not just skilled with a blade, you've got a dangerous mouth too."
Henry snorted, chewing the chicken. "I'm capable of far more impressive feats, but I don't think you'd want to experience them."
Glen quickly waved his hands in dismissal; he had no interest in men. In the Empire, any same-sex relationship, whether between men or women, often meant castration, criminal punishment, and death.
"By the way, Henry, we need more men. Our gains this time were huge, and completely worth it, but the serfs we used for the frontal assault are almost all gone. If this continues, we'll lose all our momentum."
Henry sighed without a word. He had been pondering the same problem.
"If we just buy serfs on the spot and send them to the battlefield, they're likely to mutiny. Not only would we be wasting our money, but our Private Armies could suffer heavy losses."
Henry nodded. "But the Mercenaries are even more unreliable, aren't they? When they operate on their own, they fight with daring and grit."
"That's because they're fighting for themselves. But when we hire them, they can get through a three-day battle without a single scratch."
Glen smiled. "Henry, I'd like to hear your thoughts."
"I don't have any great ideas, Glen. Right now, we can only rely on ourselves. I still have nearly two hundred men in my Private Army; I can handle some smaller skirmishes."
"If we continue to combine our forces, we could absolutely take on a small Half-Beastman unit head-on."
Glen shook his head and explained with a sigh, "Use our private soldiers in a frontal assault? A hundred-odd serfs can't sustain a real melee. They're only good for bolstering our numbers. If it weren't for a sizable Supervision Team, they would've fled long ago."
"I can't let all my Cavalry die here. They're my prized assets for keeping the nobles in my domain and the surrounding territories in check."
Henry lowered his gaze. "Then we can't continue working together, Glen. I'm sorry."
Glen sighed, ate a few more pieces of fruit, and left.
The feast in the camp lasted a full six hours before everyone finally began to disperse.
At the same time, Henry received his bounty and reward, delivered by Sebastian: thirty-five hundred Dinars and a letter of commission.
'Knight Henry Bro is hereby appointed Temporary Independent Quartermaster of the Seventh Legion's Right Wing, responsible for logistical transport and ensuring the integrity of the supply line. Effective from the start of the campaign, remuneration shall be one thousand Dinars per month, with access to Legion rations.'
Henry had mixed feelings about this appointment. He felt a sense of relief, but also a twinge of dissatisfaction.
'A Quartermaster. It's easy money, and it completely solves my manpower shortage. Logistics isn't the same as fighting a war; you just need people to move things around.'
'That's how war is. The logistics train just needs to handle transport, while the Warriors on the front lines have far more to worry about.'
'This post would allow him to make a fortune—enough to add at least two more villages to his domain.'
But what Henry really wanted was to be on the battlefield, to acquire more "treasures."
"No, wait. Who says the logistics corps can't fight? When a battle begins, I can absolutely take Bain and my Cavalry to join in."
Henry chuckled and shook his head. He summoned Claude and Philip, instructing them to distribute wages to the soldiers, give bonuses to those who had killed Half-Beastmen, and grant them leave to enjoy themselves.
Getting paid was always a joyous occasion. The soldiers were thrilled that Henry was distributing their salaries, and they planned to spend the night getting drunk at a tavern.
However, Henry suddenly heard the sounds of a dispute. He walked over and found Bain arguing with several soldiers.
"Bain, what's going on?"
Seeing Henry arrive, Bain hurriedly said, "My lord, these men are saying you're stingy. That you'd rather spend money feasting others than give them a higher salary."
Henry looked at the three Scouts standing before him with their heads bowed, his expression calm.
"Soldier, answer me. Did I short you on your wages?"
"No, my lord."
"Did I fail to provide you with armor and weapons? My own private soldiers?"
"You did, my lord."
With his hands on his hips, Henry advanced on the Scouts step by step. "Then tell me, did those of you with meritorious service in battle receive your bonuses?"
"W-we did."
Henry slapped a hand down on one Scout's shoulder. "Then tell me this: at the feast today, did you eat your fill?"
"Of course. We are grateful for your generosity," the Scout replied through gritted teeth, the force of the slap making him wince.
SLAP!
Henry slapped each of the three Scouts across the face. "You are all free men. Now, take off your armor and weapons. Leave your salary and bonuses behind to repay me for the feast. Then get out of my sight, and don't ever let me see you again."