The principle of "small matters are discussed in rge meetings, while major matters are discussed in small meetings" also applies on the continent of Asnt .

  With hundreds of nobles gathered to discuss strategies, they could debate until next month without reaching a conclusion.

  This was already evident in the kingdom's noble council. Even trivial matters could drag on for three to five months.

  After calming the crowd, Count Piers left with a select group of noble representatives, while the rest, including Hudson, remained in the hall for dinner. Only a few, such as Chelse representing the alliance, were invited to the private discussion.

  Apart from Chelse, the rest were influential figures within the province. The w of the jungle was on full dispy here.

  Hudson had no expectations for the outcome of the discussion. Chelse's earlier behavior made it clear that he cked the confidence to argue forcefully.

  Still, having a representative was better than having none. At the very least, they could voice the basic demands of the group.

  After all, they were nobles. Appearances mattered, and the influence of over a hundred small nobles in the alliance couldn't be ignored.

  No matter how much the rewards were discounted, there would still be some recognition of their contributions. How it would be assessed depended on the magnanimity of those in the meeting.

  To keep everyone motivated, fairness and objectivity were essential. This shouldn't be a problem, but the real issue was the upcoming battle arrangements.

  To avoid becoming cannon fodder, Hudson didn't even bother eating. Instead, he transformed into a busy bee, flitting around the hall.

  This was a test of a family's soft power. Armed with letters of introduction from Baron Redman, Hudson began visiting old acquaintances and retives.

  While this wasn't the best occasion for building retionships, it was still important to make an impression. On the battlefield, these connections could mean the difference between life and death.

  It had to be admitted that having a rge family was an advantage. If nothing else, there were plenty of retives.

  Hudson encountered three individuals bearing the Coslow family name, one of whom served under Count Piers.

  As for other distant retives, the numbers were even greater. If he really wanted to stretch it, he could probably cim a third of those present as kin.

  Of course, these connections worked both ways. In the absence of conflicting interests, everyone was happy to use this opportunity to expand their networks.

  After all, given the current situation, they might be marching to war tomorrow. Having witnessed the rebels' ferocity, no one dared to take things lightly.

  Building more connections was always a good idea. Even a st-minute prayer to the Lord of Dawn was better than none.

  By the time Hudson finished making his rounds, he had exchanged greetings with almost every noble present. How much this would help depended on how the situation unfolded.

  Overall, Hudson was satisfied. No matter how dark the underbelly of the noble world was, on the surface, everyone pyed the part of a gentleman.

  Offering a helping hand when possible to earn favors was a common practice among the nobility.

  Those who repaid kindness with betrayal were rare. Once exposed, they would be ostracized, and their decline was only a matter of time.

  Especially when the favor was public, it had to be repaid.

  Before the discussion concluded, Hudson stuffed a few pieces of roasted meat into his mouth, washed it down with a gss of juice, and left with the crowd.

  It wasn't that they were being disrespectful. With the heavy losses suffered during the day, morale was fragile, and the commander couldn't afford to be absent for too long.

  As soon as he stepped out of the fortress, a pungent smell assaulted his senses, making him nauseous. The flickering fmes in the distance nearly made him vomit.

  "Burning corpses" was an unavoidable part of warfare. No one knew exactly how many had died in the day's battle, but it was certainly a rge number.

  Instead of burying the dead, they were being burned on the spot. This wasn't due to any knowledge of hygiene but because, in a world of magic, corpses could become deadly weapons.

  Especially when dealing with a cult like the Skull Society, the risk of necromancers turning these bodies into undead minions was too great.

  Hudson thought he heard faint screams and saw figures moving within the fmes.

  His instincts told him he wasn't mistaken—they were burning people alive. Anger welled up in his heart, but it was quickly extinguished by reason.

  If he had to guess, the soldiers tasked with burning the corpses had been careless. They had likely mistaken unconscious rebel soldiers for dead bodies and sent them to the pyre without finishing them off.

  What could Hudson say to that?

  "Go over and remind them to finish off the bodies before burning them?"

  Saving them was out of the question.

  Those tainted by the cursed artifact would gradually lose their minds and turn into killing machines, even if they survived. The only way to save them was through purification by a high-ranking priest.

  There was indeed a high-ranking priest in the fortress, but he was already overwhelmed with treating injured nobles. Even the wounded from the Crimson Knights only received attention from ordinary priests.

  For the allied soldiers, those with severe injuries were often given a mercy killing by their comrades. Who had time to care about the rebels?

  Apart from menting the cruelty of the world, Hudson could do nothing. Though a voice in his heart urged him to change this world, reason firmly held sway.

  With his own survival hanging by a thread, harboring a saintly heart would only ensure he didn't survive past the third act.

  As someone who valued his life, Hudson chose to turn a blind eye and quickly returned to camp.

  As the victors, even if it was a pyrrhic victory, they were entitled to the spoils. However, after tallying the loot, Hudson was deeply disappointed.

  The magical cores and crystals he had fantasized about were nowhere to be seen. Clearly, such high-value items, useless to ordinary people, weren't brought to the battlefield.

  The monetary gains were also meager: a little over a hundred gold coins, eight hundred silver coins, and a pile of copper coins that weren't worth much.

  Fortunately, Hudson didn't have to pay for the funeral expenses or soldiers' wages. Otherwise, this paltry sum wouldn't even cover the burial costs.

  Two dead horses, likely the mounts of some allies, had already been turned into meals by the soldiers.

  There were some gains in weapons and armor, but due to fierce competition, what they managed to scavenge was limited.

  "Thirteen sets of armor, thirty-five machetes, twenty-eight battle axes, ninety-six spears, sixteen crossbows, five knight's swords..."

  Looking at these pitiful numbers, Hudson couldn't help but wonder if fate was urging him to emute Nurhaci and start a rebellion with "thirteen sets of armor."

  But that was just a passing thought. Trying to py the "commoner rising to power" card on the continent of Asnt would only end like the rebel soldiers burning in the fmes.