I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 219 Loser's Treatment

As evening fell, just as Chris was achieving victory, a sudden downpour began. In the transition from autumn to winter, such a torrential rain, which made it impossible to see one's hand in front of one's face, soaked everyone on the battlefield to the bone.

The torrential rain caused Chris a lot of trouble.

The rain poured down, as if a hole had been torn open between heaven and earth. Chris stood inside the makeshift command tent, watching the rain seep in through the gaps in the canvas, forming trickles on the sand table and scattering the small flags representing the enemy's position.

"Your Highness, the Third Infantry Regiment reports that two-thirds of their gunpowder is damp!"

The messenger rushed in, soaking wet. Many messengers before him had brought in lots of mud and water, which caused him to slip and fall in front of the sand table.

This is yet another piece of bad news.

Chris frowned and looked outside the tent.

In the rain, soldiers were frantically covering artillery pieces with tarpaulins. The wheels of a six-pound field gun were stuck in the mud, and seven or eight gunners were scrambling around it like ants in water.

"Pass down the order: remove the wheels from the artillery pieces, then we can leave them alone; they won't get lost. Also, have the engineers dig drainage ditches immediately!"

Chris pulled on his rain cloak and headed outside to check on the situation of the various units.

"Notify all troops to cease pursuit and establish defensive camps on the spot!"

As soon as he stepped out of the tent, his boots sank into mud half a foot deep.

In the distance came the terrified neighing of warhorses... The heavy cavalry players, who were the pride of the Han-Tang Warriors, were struggling in the mud. Their priceless sturdy horse armor had become a burden, making it difficult for their warhorses to move.

"The medical tent is flooded! The wounded need to be evacuated!"

"The wagons of the third supply corps are stuck in the valley!"

Amidst a barrage of bad news, Chris suddenly notices a strange phenomenon.

Despite the cold rain, the captured Miniese soldiers adapted quite well.

Under the tent that Chris had set up for them, a dozen or so people skillfully built a charcoal fire, placed the pots that Chris had given them on it, and cooked all sorts of random things. Some even hummed boatmen's chants.

The people of Miniscia, who live on the rainy coast year-round, seem to have long been accustomed to this damp and cold weather.

Although the Minieses were shivering from the cold, they appeared unusually relaxed at this moment, even having time to invite passing Prince's soldiers in for a drink.

"report."

The clerk strolled over, holding a soaking wet battle report. In the rain, wearing a raincoat, he exuded a composure ingrained in his very being, meticulous and methodical.

"A group of defeated Republic soldiers broke through the encirclement under the cover of rain... According to reports, they headed east."

Chris suddenly found it a little funny.

Don't get me wrong, Chris wasn't laughing at the clerk, he was laughing at himself, back when Minicia had desperately tried to head east to Wattradnoi.

Now that these Minisians have surrendered, they found an opportunity within the prisoner-of-war camp to escape eastward.

"Your Highness, shall we pursue them?"

No, ignore them.

Chris disagreed.

“In this kind of weather, if I let them run, whether they run to Wotradnoi or back to Minicia, they’ll be amazing if they don’t freeze to death or die of disease.”

The trouble that the torrential rain brought to Chris was obvious: the gunpowder got wet, the soldiers got cold, and even though he had ordered sweet ginger soup to be made and blankets to be distributed, many soldiers still started to sneeze and have a low fever.

Chris didn't care that most of the spoils were lost or that many Minisians escaped in the rain.

The former is just a small amount of money; having it is fine, but losing it is no big deal. As for the latter... running around in such heavy rain, one's brain is not working properly.

Chris isn't a bloodthirsty person. At most, he'll just stay and do some manual labor, like mining and road construction. No one will die anytime soon. Once the ransom from Minicia arrives, he'll release the prisoners of war and won't keep them to eat his rice.

Moreover, these escapees might not be able to reach Wattradnoy safely. Before today, he had sent Connie with men to Wattradnoy. According to the confessions of the Republic Army prisoners of war, she should have captured the city by now, barring any unforeseen circumstances.

Chris didn't think a city that had sent out its last remaining troops and was also full of starving people could be considered impregnable.

"There is one more thing, Your Highness."

The clerk continued his report in a measured manner. "The officers of Miniscia have protested, demanding treatment commensurate with their status, the same treatment as soldiers, as it is an insult to their noble and officer status."

Chris raised an eyebrow as raindrops dripped from the edge of his cloak onto his boots.

"Oh? What kind of treatment do they want?"

The clerk took out a waterproof notebook and opened it.

"They demanded single tents, a daily ration of wine, and the right to retain their personal swords."

Chris was aware of this rule. The war between the Bohemian Empire and the Reteria Empire was also a kind of noble war. Officers and nobles who were captured were often treated with dignity in exchange for ransom.

But he has no interest in playing this game of the aristocracy now.

Because Chris's rule was not based on nobility at all.

“Tell them.”

Chris casually flicked the water droplets off his cloak.

"If you want treatment different from that of a common soldier, make them write IOUs, with prices clearly marked, and sell them everything belonging to our army for a hundred times... no, a thousand times more."

At the same time, labor cannot stop; those who do not work do not eat. Without killing anyone, find something for them to do. If they refuse, strip them naked and parade them around, whip them with water-soaked whips—use the same methods the nobles use on serfs.

The clerk meticulously recorded the notes and then added to them.

"They also requested to retain their family crest rings and medals, as well as their personal sword."

Just as he finished speaking, a commotion arose under the nearby rain shelter. Several Minisian officers were seen shoving and pushing the players, and a lieutenant colonel with a mustache was shouting, his face flushed red.

“This is my ancestral crest ring, passed down through generations of my family. You uncouth barbarians are not worthy to touch it!”

The player with the ID "King of Scavenging" snatched the ring and looked at it in the firelight.

"Wow, it's inlaid with real gemstones! I'd value it at fifty silver dollars...it's worth something."

Chris walked over and took the seahorse emblem ring from the player. Just as the lieutenant colonel was about to show his gratitude, Chris casually tossed the ring to the clerk.

"Register them and then have people redeem them according to their contribution points."

"Your Highness! This is against the rules!"

The lieutenant colonel was so anxious he was jumping up and down.

Chris looked at him with a half-smile.

"Lieutenant Colonel, are you sure you haven't made a mistake?"

He abruptly stopped smiling, his cold expression colder than the rain.

"This isn't a martial arts tournament between nobles, but a war of aggression you launched... Now that you've been defeated, stop putting on airs like nobles."

He turned and gave instructions to the clerk.

"Register all Minisian officers, confiscate valuables, and remember that all spoils of war must be turned over to the public. No matter who it is, if they want something, they must exchange it for their merits after the war."

As for your belongings... come back with money to redeem them later, if you're not willing.

Chris glanced at the muddy camp.

"You may go out and spend the night outside. If you can endure it, I won't mind giving you whatever you desire."

In the rain, the once arrogant noble officers, under Chris's cold gaze, all hung their heads like drowned rats. They looked at each other, wanting to protest, but not daring to.

Chris is now the victor, commanding a large army and wielding absolute power. The Minisian nobles are also afraid that if they anger him, he might do something that will make them lose face.

However, there was one thing they truly couldn't tolerate.

"Your Highness, we have one last request... We want to separate from the people of the Republic; they are not worthy to be next door to us!"

(End of this chapter)