Seeing that the enemy was starting to get serious, Robson prepared to withdraw.
After all, West City still had over a dozen nobles defending it together, and the total number of soldiers exceeded ten thousand.
The goblins getting onto the walls before had been a pure accident. Only Baron Oli had been defending the walls at that time.
But now, everyone was on the walls. It would be a huge loss of face if they were all wiped out by a pack of werewolves in a single wave.
Especially with Robson's brilliant example to live up to, every one of the nobles was now giving it their all.
Robson exchanged a few words with Baron Oli, then headed down from the wall.
There were still many military matters that Robson needed to handle, such as the upcoming strategic retreat.
Even if they managed to break out, they would still have a journey of several hundred miles ahead of them, and it was unlikely they would receive supplies immediately upon arrival.
This meant that for a long time to come, they would have to depend on the supplies they had gathered right now.
Fortunately, a big shot from the logistics department had come to help him handle it all.
'The head of logistics for the entire Sunset Fortress has come over. Now I can get whatever I want just by asking.'
When Robson returned to camp, Viscount Fuman was in the middle of the encampment, poring over account books. The Viscount was so focused that he failed to notice Robson's approach.
"My Lord Viscount, thank you for your hard work," Robson said.
"Knight, these numbers don't look right," Viscount Fuman said with a puzzled expression.
'The accounts are wrong?' Robson was taken aback.
Even in this other world, accounting remained one of the most critical issues for an army, and this was especially true in the Frank Kingdom.
The Noble Council had even developed a rudimentary form of an audit department.
'Incorrect accounts usually meant a commander was embezzling funds. It couldn't possibly be a simple mistake, could it?'
In his past life, Robson had gone to university. And while he might not have learned anything practical during those four years, he knew his multiplication tables by heart. More importantly, he had been a bureaucrat in his past life; he wouldn't make such a minor error.
'So it can't be that someone is embezzling, right? Am I embezzling from myself?' Robson's brain struggled to keep up.
Viscount Fuman sighed at Robson's perplexed expression.
"How can a single unit consume 500 pounds of meat in a day? Knight, hmm... some things are fine to do during peacetime, but this is a critical moment."
'So he really thinks I'm embezzling?'
Although Viscount Fuman didn't say it outright, the implication was perfectly clear.
"My Lord Viscount, you must be joking. The soldiers really did eat all that meat."
"If you don't believe me, you can go count the number of stoves. Besides, even if I took it for myself, I wouldn't be able to sell it," Robson said with a wry smile.
"This… you really used 500 pounds of meat in a single day? And this—you requisitioned a hundred sets of leather armor just yesterday! Do you have any idea what a hundred sets even entails?" Viscount Fuman exclaimed, agitated.
Listening to Viscount Fuman's questioning, Robson felt a little sheepish. He had been in charge of finances himself in his past life, so he completely understood how the Viscount felt at that moment.
But understanding was one thing; getting him to lower his standards was another. That was impossible. After all, these soldiers were the guarantee of his, Lord Robson's, safety and livelihood. There was no room for error.
"We were defending the city yesterday, weren't we? It's a critical time; we can't let the boys' quality of life suffer," Robson said.
"Knight, allow me to be blunt. At this rate of consumption, we won't last more than a few days even if we make it to the Siriel Defense Line," Viscount Fuman sighed.
"Hey, now, what's this talk? Don't we have you here? My Lord Viscount is a man of immense abilities. I'm sure these little problems are nothing to a man like you," Robson said with a laugh.
'What a joke. The head of logistics himself has come to manage my supplies, and I'm supposed to be stumped by a few grains of rice?'
'I had to worry about logistics before you came. Now that you're here, I still have to worry about logistics? Then didn't you come here for nothing?'
Viscount Fuman was momentarily at a loss for words. He was here to take refuge, not to actually perform logistics work for a Knight.
But upon careful consideration, it seemed he really had no way of refusing.
He wasn't Robson's direct superior, and noble titles were only really useful in peacetime. In times of war, it all came down to who had the bigger fist.
Moreover, in the current situation, he was the one who needed Robson to protect him and get him safely to the Siriel Defense Line.
Of course, Viscount Fuman believed Robson would escort him even if he did nothing—it was a favor Robson owed him, after all. But favors eventually run out, and there was no guarantee that the Siriel Defense Line would be much safer than Sunset Fortress.
"Fine. I will handle it. But I hope, Knight, that you can be a bit more frugal with the military supplies," Viscount Fuman said.
Robson naturally agreed to everything.
"Then please come with me to the supply depot, Knight," Viscount Fuman said.
"We get to go pick things out from the depot ourselves?" Robson said, a grin spreading across his face.
"We might as well put them to good use. They'll have to be destroyed anyway if we don't take them," Viscount Fuman said.
Robson couldn't agree more.
'These supplies would just be left to rot anyway. Better to give them to him, Lord Robson. At least he could kill a few more Beastmen with them.'
With a sense of resignation, Viscount Fuman led Robson to the supply depot, only to run into Viscount Leo, who had also come to request supplies.
The moment Viscount Fuman saw Viscount Leo, his face turned as black as the bottom of a wok.
"Leo, what are you doing here again?"
Judging by Viscount Fuman's tone, this was not the first or second time Viscount Leo had paid a visit.
Robson raised an eyebrow. He was also an old acquaintance of Viscount Leo.
The military rations he had bought to raise his soldiers had come from Viscount Leo.
While all nobles dabbled in greed to some extent, this particular lord was drenched in it. The stench was so strong that even within aristocratic circles, his reputation was less than stellar.
"For supplies, of course. Fuman, cut the chatter. I'm a busy man. Hurry up and prepare the items on this list." Viscount Leo slapped a list down in front of Viscount Fuman.
Viscount Fuman's expression was ugly. Even though they were both Viscounts, Leo was a military noble from the north, whose title was earned through merit in battle. Fuman, on the other hand, was a commercial noble from the south, with a semi-capitalist background.
The difference wasn't obvious in peacetime, but during war, the disparity in their standing was immediately apparent.
"Leo, at a critical juncture like this… I'm afraid this isn't a good idea…" Viscount Fuman said with a frown.
"You know?" Viscount Leo asked, a trace of surprise in his voice. He then looked at Robson standing behind Fuman, and his face took on an expression of sudden understanding.
"Trying to hoard it all for yourself?" Viscount Leo scoffed.
Viscount Fuman didn't want to get tangled up with him any longer, so he led Robson deeper into the depot. Not to be left behind, Viscount Leo followed.
Robson had expected a conflict to erupt between the two, but to his surprise, as soon as the guy entered the supply depot, he headed straight for the iron helmets.
Robson almost burst out laughing.
They had to run over ninety kilometers during the retreat. In the entire fortress, apart from the Extraordinary Knights of the Sunset Knight Order, who would dare claim their army could run nearly a hundred kilometers while wearing a full suit of heavy iron?
Forget ninety kilometers—in Sunset Fortress, any troops that could run even one kilometer in that gear were considered hardened elites.
Since their objectives were different, Robson naturally saw no need to start a conflict.
With Viscount Fuman's help, Robson went straight for the fine leather armor, dry rations, and Magic Arrows.
Robson also had his men haul away the last ten Magic Crossbows. They could be transported by cart, so they weren't too cumbersome.