Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 433 - 284: Have Faith in the Wisdom of Future Generations_2
"Why bother with so many questions? I’ll slaughter them one by one! Slaughter, slaughter, slaughter!" Boudica said nonchalantly. Her philosophy was simple: just kill all the enemies and that would be the end of it.
Lance grinned but said nothing, continuing to tell the story of Hamlet and answering questions for Geralt and the other.
「Hamlet, the training camp.」
After the fight, they packed up and headed back. Thankfully, with the help of the captured convoy, the wounded didn’t hinder their march. They quickly made it back to town via the old road before dark.
Reynard and Barton also rushed back and learned about the battlefield situation from Dismas.
It had been straightforward: under the leadership of My Lord, they had decimated most of the Heretics. Thanks to the enemy’s foolish decisions, they captured the small town without a single death, apart from two severely wounded and a few lightly injured.
Reynard had fought too many battles to care much about this particular victory or defeat. He was more interested in the twisted sacrificial rituals of the evil cult, which treated people as food, preserving them like cured meat.
However, Barton felt an indescribable frustration upon hearing of their triumphant battle. He wished he too could kill enemies to repay the Lord and contribute his strength to Hamlet.
Unfortunately, his artillery corps was understaffed and hadn’t even managed to establish a proper structure. With only three cannons at his disposal, it was difficult to make a significant impact.
He knew that deploying such an artillery corps into battle would be useless and could only lament his situation in silence.
This was undoubtedly a victory. However, fighting was not enjoyable, even if the enemy was utterly reprehensible. The bloody carnage also added pressure to the soldiers.
The common method for armies to vent was to engage in burning, killing, and looting, thereby transferring the soldiers’ frenzy onto the common folk, who ultimately bore the suffering.
This wasn’t just an unwritten rule under the Nobility’s system; the Church’s armies were much the same. Even though their "God" would supposedly take the blame for them, it left them with no moral burden.
But once the evil in human nature was unleashed, even devout Crusaders could descend into madness.
As for someone like Reynard, who clung to his self-awareness, he was certainly considered an insufficiently "devout" heretic.
But no matter how rotten those other armies were, Hamlet’s army emphasized military discipline. Lance would never allow his soldiers to engage in such actions.
To help them release their stress, nothing was more practical than a victory feast and material rewards.
Lance had already arranged all of this; the moment the troops returned, various supplies were shipped into the training camp: barrels of beer, bags of wheat flour, fresh seafood, and livestock fattened on the farm.
At this moment, seeing the gleaming sharp knife, the big fat pig seemed to realize it wasn’t there for dinner—it *was* the dinner. It suddenly broke free from the butcher’s hold and charged out, squealing loudly.
The runaway fat pig couldn’t be stopped by several men and even knocked over a soldier, making him the butt of jokes. Considering they hadn’t suffered such a setback even when fighting Heretics, this incident immediately spurred the soldiers’ competitive spirit. They began to pursue and attempt to corner the pig.
"Catch it!"
"Quick, don’t let it get away!"
Several men rushed forward, some grabbing its ears, others pulling its tail, while two or three attempted to tackle and subdue the pig.
"HAHAHA!"
"Got it! Got it!"
"Quick, quick, quick! Get the pot and boil some water!"
The captured fat pig let out desperate squeals as it struggled frantically, its short legs kicking up clouds of dust.
Meanwhile, the boisterous soldiers caught the attention of the women preparing the feast nearby. These women were actually quite open-minded, despite the Church’s oversight.
"Look at those lads, they’re so sturdy. Much better than that wimp I’ve got at home."
"HAHAHA, why are you blushing?"
"Listen to your auntie’s advice: marrying a man from the army is much better than marrying anyone else."
"Exactly! It’s definitely easier than us having to toil in the fields. To be blunt, even if something goes wrong, My Lord will take care of you."
Some of the married women jokingly encouraged the nearby unmarried girls, saying that among Hamlet’s young men, soldiers were the most sought-after. This was because the preferential treatment for military families was genuine.
The young girls couldn’t help but cast glances at the frolicking soldiers, their eyes briefly touching upon those muscular bodies before darting away. The older women around them, however, paid the girls no mind and continued their own bantering.
"If only I were single, I’d find one too."
"You? One probably wouldn’t be enough for you; you’d need two."
"HAHAHA..."
The women’s boisterous and suggestive jokes caused the inexperienced young girls’ cheeks to blush, but they also began to dream about their future lives.
Having witnessed too many tragedies while fleeing their homes as refugees, they were now content with a stable, peaceful life where they could eat well and keep warm.
All of this was bestowed upon them by their Lord.
Praise the Lord...
The commotion also alerted Reynard and the others, who were reviewing the battle. They grabbed their weapons and rushed out, only to discover it was just a pig.
The strict military discipline made the soldiers immediately cease their horseplay upon seeing their superiors emerge. If it weren’t for needing to hold down the pig, they probably would have snapped to attention and reported in.
"Damn it!" Dismas cursed under his breath before reluctantly lowering his musket.
Balistan and a few others also adopted a serious demeanor. Horseplay was forbidden in the military. Previously, such behavior would have been met with harsh punishment and extra drills. However, they had just won a significant battle today, and, as they say, even the condemned deserve a breather.
"Alright, alright."
Reynard gestured for them to relax. "Go tell everyone the awards ceremony is about to begin."
"Yes, sir!"
Relieved as if they had received a pardon, several soldiers quickly dragged the fat pig back.
What is an award ceremony? Lance knew very well that to build an iron army, in addition to meeting material needs, it was also necessary to provide spiritual motivation—namely honor and glory—to strengthen their sense of identity and belonging.
Lance had presided over several such ceremonies before. He awarded soldiers who had demonstrated exceptional bravery in battle, granting them rewards in front of the entire army, along with personally signed commendation certificates.
Unfortunately, the small town did not yet have the means to produce exquisite medals, nor did Lance have the skill to design them. In fact, they did not even have a flag to represent Hamlet.
This rundown little town faced many challenges in its quest for a renaissance.
Lance was no longer required to do everything himself; for a small battle like this, his personal presentation of awards was unnecessary. Once a solid foundation was established, he would need to project more authority. This way, when soldiers achieved significant merits, the high-level recognition bestowed upon them would feel more impactful.
For now, he just needed to prepare some signed blank certificates; names would be filled in for those selected. He and a few others in the room had just been finalizing that list of awardees.
Soon, all personnel had assembled on the training camp’s parade ground. The soldiers stood at attention in perfect formation, as straight as javelins, a stark contrast to their earlier frolicking.
At that moment, they all focused intently on the platform ahead, waiting to see if their names would be called.
On the platform, Dismas and the others wasted no words, directly announcing the names of the award-winning soldiers, proclaiming their achievements and the reasons for their awards.
"Gavin, killed ten enemies..."
"Gal, responded swiftly in support..."
Those who had distinguished themselves in battle were also announced and commended for their achievements. Although they might not receive certificates, they would receive their due bonuses according to regulations and gain priority for promotion.
The soldiers whose names were called strutted up with heads held high, barely concealing their ecstatic joy.
The finale naturally belonged to the two soldiers who had suffered severe injuries while holding back the enemy. They certainly deserved a first-class merit, an honor earned with their very lives. They were still confined to hospital beds, so their comrades had to accept the awards on their behalf.
As for the entire squad that discovered the tunnel, they were recognized with a collective third-class merit.
Many soldiers standing below looked at those on the platform with envy. They couldn’t help but feel motivated, resolving that next time, they too would strive for such an award.
