The retreating troops of the Locke forces, though disorganized, had not completely lost their structure under the knights’ efforts to regroup them. Meanwhile, Virut and the other knight squires were once again relegated to the grim role of executioners as they followed orders to clean up the battlefield.

Rows upon rows of surviving soldiers from the Holy Cross Kingdom were pressed to the ground and executed systematically. With time on their side, the Locke soldiers even felled trees to construct crude crosses. When captured nobles were dragged before these crosses, panic and shouting erupted among them.

“What are you doing? I am a baron! I demand the treatment befitting a noble! Take me to your commander!”

“A noble, huh? Hah, I’ve killed plenty of nobles before. Hang him up!”

“You madmen! Aren’t you afraid of being captured? You’ll end up swinging on one of these yourself!”

“Captured? Northland knights don’t surrender. Either kill me on the battlefield, or I’ll hang you myself.”

The knights of the House of Augusta executed Duke Derrick’s orders to the letter. Every noble from the Holy Cross Kingdom was hung upon the crosses. Compared to the grim cairns of severed heads below the crosses, this was considered “noble treatment.”

As for accusations of cruelty? These peasant conscripts might have been brutal during their capture, but now, they seemed utterly pitiful. Besides, morality had no place here. History is written by the victors, and mercy only exists in textbooks. Those who dared retaliate against the Northland knights would face severe consequences—if they even dared try.

With the battlefield cleared, the knights’ company even hauled away spoils of war. By the time the forces of the Holy Cross Kingdom arrived at the scene, all that remained was carnage.

When the first soldiers, bearing torches, stumbled upon the site of the executions, they were struck dumb with fear. Even the noble commanders accompanying them were so horrified by the gruesome spectacle that they retched on the spot.

“Locke soldiers, you’ll pay for this,” one noble swore.

When the bodies of their comrades were taken down from the crosses, rage and terror mingled in their hearts. How could these Locke soldiers dare such audacity?

The aftermath of the skirmish made the Holy Cross Kingdom’s forces more cautious. Their advance slowed, and even minor pursuits were abandoned in favor of meticulous vigilance. The nobles, in particular, dreaded the thought of meeting the same fate as their hanged peers. The loss of peasant lives was one thing; their own "noble" lives were another matter entirely.

The Holy Cross Kingdom’s hesitation played right into the Locke soldiers’ strategy of delay. Their goal was simple: buy time until reinforcements could arrive and tip the scales of war in their favor.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“The Locke forces are stalling, waiting for reinforcements from their homeland. Once those arrive, we’ll lose our advantage,” a strategist explained to Grand Duke Fernandez.

This tactic was no secret. The challenge was countering it. Without a drastic shift in resolve among the Holy Cross officers, there was no effective solution.

“Locke reinforcements won’t arrive so quickly. The barbarians aren’t fools,” the Grand Duke observed. He understood the bigger picture. The barbarians had orchestrated this entire conflict to weaken both kingdoms. Allowing either side to grow too strong would defeat their purpose. The barbarians would only support the Locke forces enough to maintain a fragile balance.

For now, there was time.

“Let them stall. The more aggressive the Locke forces act, the less I can afford to lower my guard. Spring planting season is near—they’ll be more desperate than we are,” Fernandez concluded.

For him, losses on the battlefield were a tolerable price for ultimate victory.

The standoff continued for a month. Periodic spring rains disrupted the Holy Cross Kingdom’s plans, delaying the planting season across the Saint Millette province. Even if crops could be hurriedly planted in summer, a poor harvest was inevitable.

During this month, the Holy Cross forces suffered thousands of casualties in skirmishes, though their advance remained steady. The Locke forces were also drained; reports estimated at least 3,000–5,000 casualties, including significant losses to Viscount Derrick’s personal troops. Some estimates suggested his forces had lost as much as 20% of their strength—higher if one included troops trapped in Birchhold Fortress.

Despite these hardships, Grand Duke Fernandez gained valuable experience. Managing tens of thousands of troops honed his skills in large-scale command. He believed he could now lead an army of ten thousand with ease. His confidence grew as his forces regained control over half the Saint Millette province.

However, for the common folk of the reclaimed lands, life under Holy Cross rule was harsher than ever.

During a rare dry spell, the Holy Cross forces finally breached Augusta Castle, a partially completed fortress. Fernandez himself led his commanders into the stronghold. The unfinished buildings spoke volumes about Viscount Derrick’s ambitions.

“Once we’ve retaken the Saint Millette province, I’ll make this castle my capital,” Fernandez declared with satisfaction. Derrick might be a military genius, but in the end, strength ruled the world. Geniuses, too, must bow to power.

Any thought of recruiting Derrick into his ranks was long forgotten. Fernandez’s focus now lay solely on conquest.

Further good news awaited him. The castle contained a significant stockpile of supplies, including several dozen sets of unclaimed heavy armor. The Locke forces had retreated so hastily they hadn’t taken these vital resources.

“Your Grace, this seems odd,” one general remarked. “The Locke forces should have anticipated this castle’s fall. How could they abandon such important equipment?”

It was a valid concern. If the retreat had been deliberate, leaving behind such valuable resources might be a ruse.

Fernandez dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense. This is nothing but a mistake. They’re losing ground—errors are bound to happen.”

However, to maintain appearances, he issued orders for heightened vigilance. “Strengthen our scouting efforts. If there’s any scheme, we’ll uncover it. As long as we avoid mistakes, we’ll win.”

His confidence was unshaken, and reconnaissance revealed no signs of treachery. Instead, the commanders marveled at Derrick’s achievements in fortress construction, convinced they had outmaneuvered a genius.

Taking advantage of the brief respite from rain, Fernandez led a parade of Saint Millette nobles through the newly captured territory, basking in his growing dominance.