Meanwhile, upon receiving Velin's orders, the eleven knights and Orlando divided their forces, assigned targets, and set forth without delay to exterminate the remaining six goblin tribes.
As night fell within the Boulder Tribe's opulent cavern, Velin, Baird, and Hibrael sat by the fire, roasting meat as they reviewed the battle.
"My lord, in this engagement we lost twelve slave cannon fodder. Eight perished instantly, while the remaining four suffered amputated limbs. Having become utterly useless, I ordered their execution."
"Well done. Show no mercy to these bandit slaves. If they serve no purpose, kill them outright to avoid wasting provisions." "Velin nodded in agreement upon hearing Baird's disposition.
Seeing this, Baird continued, "This engagement resulted in the elimination of three hundred and twenty-one goblins. We seized 142 gold coins, 382 silver coins, over fifteen hundred copper coins, two thousand two hundred kilograms of grain, five hundred kilograms of dried meat, and three hundred kilograms of salt..."
"Hold on! Salt?" Velin snapped to attention, waving his hand to cut Baird off. "Three hundred kilograms of salt? That much? Is there a salt mine nearby?"
Baird shook his head. "My lord, I'm not aware of any. It might be in the vicinity. Send men to search tomorrow, and we should find it."
"Make a note of it. If we find that salt mine, I'll strike it rich."
Baird observed Velin's foolish grin with some curiosity. Salt mines contained harmful substances and were of low value, fetching merely eight copper coins per 500 grams on the market.
He then continued reporting the seized supplies.
"Thirty inferior iron swords, sixty spears, fifteen sets of leather armour, twenty hides from unknown creatures, two tonnes of iron ore, six low-grade magic crystals, 15 kilograms of fruit wine, and three common-grade wands."
"The total value of these items is approximately 821 gold coins."
In this realm, one gold coin equates to ten silver coins, and one silver coin exchanges for one hundred copper coins.
The spoils from this engagement were quite substantial.
However, the Boulder Tribe stood as the most formidable tribe within this hundred-square-kilometre region. Whether the combined wealth of other goblin tribes could match this haul remained uncertain.
"My lord, the tally of goblins slain by the serfs is still being compiled. It will require some time."
Subsequently, Velin and Baird commenced their review and analysis of the engagement. Hibrael sat quietly to one side, observing and learning whilst taking notes.
Several kilometres from the Boulder Tribe, a small goblin settlement stood. A goblin warrior at the wooden gate scanned the horizon, awaiting the chieftain's return.
Suddenly, a disturbance rippled through the distance. Mistaking it for the chieftain's arrival, two goblin warriors hurried forward to greet him.
"Pfft—"
Orlando dispatched the emerging goblin warriors mid-ride, his pace unabated as he pressed onward atop his red-scaled steed.
The armed serfs trailing behind him trampled over the goblin corpses, advancing towards the goblin settlement.
Soon, the tribe—home to over a hundred goblins—lay razed to the ground, flames ravaging the surrounding thatched huts.
"My lord, not a soul remains," reported a serf who stepped forward.
"Have you searched thoroughly?" Orlando's youthful face wore a grave expression as he questioned the serf.
"Absolutely certain, my lord. Even the goblin infants were slain."
"Clear the battlefield. Gather all supplies. We ride back to the Boulder Tribe tonight."
"Yes, my lord."
Mounted on his steed, Orlando observed the bustling serfs around him, his mind already weighing the gains and losses of this operation.
Over three hours earlier, during the assault on the first goblin settlement, he had observed from behind three knights, studying their tactics.
This time, however, he had led fifty serfs into battle alone. By launching a night raid, they had penetrated deep into the settlement's heart before the defenders could react or organise their defences.
He understood that his ability to independently lead this assault on the small tribe, with three knights voluntarily holding the rear guard against unforeseen threats, stemmed entirely from his status as a guardian knight.
Without his lord's protection, he was merely an ordinary slave, utterly incapable of earning the respect of the lofty knights.
"One day," he vowed, "through my own efforts, I shall make my lord proud."
Orlando clenched his fist, his resolve firm.
…
The following morning, Velin awoke in the cave. Sunlight streaming in made him realise it was late.
Outside, fourteen knights sat cross-legged on the ground. Knowing their lord's habits, they had not disturbed his sleep, instead whispering about the night's battle.
Velin dressed and stepped outside, his gaze immediately falling upon Orlando and several knights conversing in a relaxed circle.
A satisfied smile touched Velin's lips.
"My lord, good morning."
The knights rose to their feet and bowed upon seeing Velin.
"Sit, sit down, all of you. We're blessed with fine weather today."
Velin gestured for them to sit, then took his own place, smiling as he remarked, "It seems your operations yesterday went smoothly. That puts my mind at ease."
Baird then produced a sheet of paper covered in names and handed it over. "My lord, this lists the number of goblins slain by the serfs. Seventy-nine have met the criteria for manumission. Twenty-five killed more than three goblins, with one slaying eight – the highest tally among the serfs."
"Oh? Interesting. Summon her before me—I wish to see her."
A knight rose and turned to fetch the serf in question.
"What of the serfs' casualties?" Velin placed the yellowed paper upon his knees and inquired of Baird.
Baird promptly replied, "Your Lordship, seven fell in battle, and eleven were wounded."
"Not bad. Within expectations. After all, they are merely serfs. Though they've had over a month's training, one cannot set expectations too high." Velin offered a fair assessment.
At that moment, the departing knight returned to the cave entrance with a young serf in tow.
"My lord, this is the serf who slew eight goblin warriors," the knight reported, bowing before taking a seat.
"What is your name?" Velin scrutinised the serf, noting his thick golden hair, dark complexion, and unremarkable features—considered rather handsome among serfs accustomed to a life of toil.
"Master, this lowly servant is named Kyle."
The serf knelt on the ground, his voice trembling as he addressed Velin.
"Kyle, as the serf warrior with the highest number of kills, I offer you two choices," Velin said, holding up two fingers with a smile.
"First, I shall arrange for you to receive knight awakening training. Should you awaken magical power within half a month, I shall take you as my knight squire."
"Second, honouring my prior pledge, I shall remit your serfdom status, reward you with five silver coins, and grant an additional three coins as incentive."
Upon hearing this, Kyle pressed his face to the ground, his features contorted with inner conflict.
The surrounding knights turned their gaze towards the serf, eager to witness his decision.
Orlando, seated nearby, observed Kyle as if seeing his former self. Were it not for his master, he might now be living a life more wretched than that of livestock.
"M-Master... I... I choose the... first option."
"A wise choice." Velin pointed at Kyle, then turned to Orlando. "He is yours."
"Yes, my lord."
Orlando rose to accept the task. Though puzzled why the Master had chosen him over the seasoned knights present, he knew such orders demanded unquestioning obedience.
"Right then, gather the remaining serfs."
Velin stood, brushing dust from his trousers as he issued the command to the others.
Moments later, all one hundred and seventy-three serfs were assembled before the formation.
Before them, a wooden chest was opened, its gleaming silver coins drawing the gaze of every serf present.
"I made you a promise: three goblin heads would secure your freedom from serfdom. Beyond that, each additional goblin slain would earn you a silver coin. Today, that promise is fulfilled."
"In this battle, seventy-nine shall be pardoned. They are fortunate, but also valiant."
Velin then produced a list and proclaimed the names aloud. Each serf whose name was called wept bitterly, kneeling to thank their master for the pardon.
"Twenty-four among them shall receive silver coin rewards."
The remaining serfs watched enviously as their comrades stepped forward to receive coins from their master's hand.
"The fighting continues. Whether you escape serfdom depends entirely upon yourselves."
After the pardon ceremony, Velin delivered a brief speech to the remaining serfs, stirring their resolve.
Immediately, Baird assumed command, dispersing the serfs to scour the surrounding area for traces of salt mines. He promised a goblin warrior's head as a reward for anyone discovering one.
This announcement greatly spurred the serfs' enthusiasm, and they eagerly followed their squad leaders to search the tribal perimeter.
After all, discovering a salt mine meant claiming a goblin's head—a chance to earn their freedom and silver coins!
Meanwhile, Velin unfolded a map, contemplating where within this hundred-plus square kilometres to establish his village and forge his first domain.