I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 366 My Things and the Ransom

Lord Cassani, "escorted" by two Bagnian soldiers, walked toward the brightly lit prisoner-of-war area at the edge of the camp.

The heavy stench of blood and sweat in the air was replaced by a new smell... the smell of disinfectant and burning charcoal. This peculiar temperature brought a slight relaxation to Casani's tense nerves.

The scene at the prisoner-of-war camp far exceeded his expectations; Prince Chris had actually sent people to manage the prisoners of war in Leteria.

The prisoner-of-war camp did not present the widespread wailing and chaos that Qassani had anticipated.

Instead, the area was well-organized. A huge campfire dispelled the chill of the night and illuminated the area.

The most conspicuous things were several makeshift sheds made of waterproof tarpaulins, with figures moving inside and the faint sounds of suppressed groans and calm commands coming from within.

"There are still people here."

The soldier leading the way spoke in a flat voice, pointing to one of the sheds.

Kasani hurriedly went over and lifted the coarse cloth curtain. A stronger smell of medicine mixed with the stench of blood hit him as he went in, and he was stunned.

A few kerosene lamps were lit inside the shed. The light was not bright, but it was enough to see that rows of makeshift stretchers or straw mats were filled with wounded Leterian soldiers.

Their uniforms were tattered and stained with blood and mud, but their wounds had been cleaned and wrapped with clean, though rough, but clearly new, linen bandages.

Several men in green uniforms with white bandages on their arms moved among the wounded soldiers. They were clearly Bagnya's medics. These respected men were squatting on the ground, deftly re-bandaging a soldier's bleeding leg wound, while others distributed bread and water.

These are all NPC medics trained by the players. Tonight, their side has too many wounded soldiers, and the medic players don't have time to "use" these Leterian materials. So, they decided to let their trained medics "enjoy" them.

Kasani went over to take a look and saw that the bread was white bread, not black bread... The Bagnians are really rich.

A young medic glanced up at Kasani, his eyes showing no hostility, only focused exhaustion, before lowering his head again to tend to the wound… He was too tired from working overtime that night.

He carefully cut open the old bandage, revealing the gruesome but cleaned wound underneath, sprinkled some yellow powder on it, and then wrapped it with new strips of cloth.

Lord Casani was shocked when he saw this... He had never seen, or even imagined, that the victors would "waste" such precious medical resources on ordinary, worthless enemy soldiers.

Clean bandage? Medication?
This is a privilege usually reserved for knights and nobles in the Leterian army.

Kasani glanced instinctively at the faces of the wounded soldiers, and besides pain, there was also a hint of bewilderment and... an unbelievable, faint gratitude.

If the Leterian army had captured the Minesians, the latter would have had to go to work that very day.

Wounded soldiers?

How could there possibly be wounded soldiers or prisoners of war?
Wounded prisoners of war are of no value, and Retalian soldiers will dispose of them on the battlefield.

"The nobles and knights are prisoners over there."

The soldier's voice interrupted Qassani's shock, pointing to another area simply enclosed by a wooden fence.

Kasani took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart, and strode towards the noble district.

The atmosphere here is completely different from that of ordinary soldiers.

There were no shelters; the prisoners, dressed in thin clothes and long robes underneath, sat on the ground or leaned against the fence.

Although they were equally exhausted and wounded, their treatment was clearly better than that of ordinary soldiers. There was more dry grass on the ground, each person had a water bag and food, and most of their wounds had been treated, with the bandaging techniques being as meticulous and professional as those in the medical shed.

Several noble knights, dressed in tattered clothes but whose identities were still discernible, were talking in hushed tones, their faces a mixture of humiliation, anxiety, and relief at surviving a calamity.

Upon seeing Lord Casani appear, especially his envoy's attire, which, though travel-worn, still exuded elegance, the noble captives instantly became excited and struggled to their feet.

"Lord Kassani!"

"Your Excellency, was Prince Seba sent you?"

"Thank the Sun God, when can we leave this place!"

Lord Casani forced himself to remain calm, his eyes quickly scanning the crowd, trying to identify the familiar or somewhat familiar faces.

Count Ekar Schwarzberg, his leg clearly broken, sat pale on a chest, but his eyes remained sharp. And there was the young Baron Hyde, his handsome face marked with a scab of blood.

As he observed, Kassani's heart pounded faster and faster. His gaze swept across one face after another, shifting from anticipation to anxiety, and finally sinking into icy despair.

No...no Edmund!
That face he had seen since childhood, with the stubbornness typical of young people, is not here!

Fear coiled around Kassani's heart like a cold, venomous snake.

Could it be... really...? No! Kasani dared not think further. D'Ammon's horsemanship and swordsmanship were among the best of the younger generation; how could this be...?

"Sir, who...are you looking for?"

One of the knights noticed Kasani's dejected state and asked in a low voice.

Kasani opened his mouth, but his throat was too dry to make a sound; he could only shake his head weakly. Overwhelmed by immense disappointment and sorrow, he nearly collapsed.

His son, his only son, was he really like those broken wreckages on the battlefield, forever left in that cold earth?
As Kasani grew increasingly sorrowful, he felt his vision blurring, and the surrounding noise seemed to fade away.

Just then, a small commotion and the screeching sound of metal scraping against the ground came from the entrance of the prisoner-of-war camp, accompanied by a loud, carefree voice that sounded like the heavy breathing of a wounded soldier, yet was unusually energetic.

"Hey...make way, delivery to your door, a high-value prisoner of war, fresh off the press!"

Everyone's attention was drawn to it.

A figure wearing tattered, blood-stained, and muddy armor was seen limping in, dragging—or more accurately, half-dragging and half-carrying—a knight dressed in magnificent but equally tattered plate armor.

The newcomer was none other than Crazy Slasher of the Street. The deep, bone-revealing wound on his thigh seemed to have reopened, and blood stained the temporary reinforcing strips of cloth. However, the expression on his face was as if he were showing off his spoils.

The knight he was dragging had a tilted helmet, large patches of dark red blood clots on the gaps in his mask, and a horrifying tear in his breastplate. He was almost unconscious and only managed to stay upright by hacking his way through the street.

But the family crest on that armor, the red and white elk pattern of the Hohenzollern family, was dazzlingly clear in the firelight.

Lord Casani's pupils suddenly contracted, and his heart felt as if it had been clenched and then suddenly released by a giant hand.

Overwhelmed by immense joy, he instantly broke down all defenses. He completely forgot his noble composure and his status as an envoy, and like a madman, he pushed aside the Bagnian soldiers blocking his way and stumbled forward.

"Edmund, my son!"

The old, hoarse cries, tinged with sobs, sounded particularly jarring in the now-silent prisoner-of-war camp.

Lord Cassani rushed forward, his trembling hands too afraid to even touch his son's blood-stained face, but instead gripped Edmund's cold, mud-covered arm guards tightly.

He raised his head and looked at the street where his son had been hacked to pieces, his eyes filled with an extremely complex mix of emotions... There was extreme gratitude, deep sorrow, overwhelming relief, and even a hint of awe for the enemy who had caused his son such serious injury.

Kasani's lips trembled; he wanted to say something, but couldn't utter a single word.

The man who had been hacking away down the street was startled by the old man's sudden action and instinctively released his grip on Edmund.

Lord Casani quickly used all his strength to support his son's limp body. The heavy armor made him stumble, but he held on tightly, as if he were holding a rare treasure that had been lost and found again.

The Bagnian soldiers and medics around them stopped what they were doing and watched the scene in silence.

The noble prisoners remained silent, their eyes filled with complex emotions.

After hacking through the street, he scratched his head, looked at the old nobleman who was holding the unconscious knight and crying like a child, then looked down at his still bleeding thigh, shrugged, and turned to leave.

The man who had been hacking through the street was a little confused about what was going on, but treating his injuries was the priority. He didn't want to become a cripple, so he put aside this unexpected turn of events, dragged his injured leg, and limped toward the medical tent, leaving behind the father and son who were tightly embracing each other, looking as if they were in another world.

……

Lord Cassani left the prisoner-of-war camp almost unnoticed by two Bagnian soldiers.

He was filled with mixed emotions. The elation of regaining what he had lost had not yet subsided when the heavy reality weighed on his heart. As an envoy, he had to face the young but unsettling Prince Chris and fight for the chance to survive and be free for all prisoners of war, including his own son.

When Lord Cassani re-entered the commander's tent, his arrogance had been replaced by exhaustion and a barely perceptible plea. He took a deep breath, adjusted his expression, and stepped into the brightly lit space once more.

Chris remained seated behind his desk, seemingly unchanged, only now looking at a different document. Hearing footsteps, he looked up, his gaze calmly sweeping over Lord Casani's reddened eyes and slightly disheveled appearance, offering no questions or words of comfort.

"Lord Casani, it seems you have confirmed the situation of the prisoners of war."

Chris's voice was flat and emotionless, as if he were stating a trivial matter. "Well then, we can talk about the terms."

Lord Casani straightened his back, striving to maintain the last shred of dignity befitting an envoy.

"Sir Chris, thank you for treating the prisoners of war, especially the wounded, which demonstrates your kindness as a commander."

"Now, please state your terms, and the Retalia Empire will pay a reasonable ransom to redeem our nobles and soldiers."

"kindness?"

Chris's lips curled into a very faint, ambiguous smile, which vanished in an instant.

"What an extravagant compliment, as for the ransom..."

He put down the documents in his hand, crossed his hands on the table, and stared sharply at Cassani.

"My conditions are very simple and clear."

"First, I don't want money from nobles and knights as prisoners, I only want their warhorses."

Chris's voice was clear, powerful, and unquestionable.

“Count Ekar Schwarzberg, the ransom is five hundred adult, healthy, and excellent warhorses.”

Lord Casani's heart tightened; the figure far exceeded his expectations, but considering the Earl's status and importance, it was still within the negotiable range.

Chris continued without pausing.

"Four viscounts, each with two hundred warhorses."

Lord Casani frowned even more; this was almost half the price of an earl, and the viscounts' worth had clearly been inflated.

"Fifteen barons, each with one hundred warhorses."

Lord Casani felt a wave of suffocation… Baron, a hundred horses?

This is practically robbery!

But Cassani held back and didn't say anything.

Chris glanced at Kassani's grim face and continued.

"Seventy-three knights with official titles, each with thirty warhorses... Oh, not seventy-three, but seventy-four."

One hundred and eighty squires, each with ten warhorses.

听完后，卡萨尼勋爵的脸色彻底白了，他飞快地在心中计算着：伯爵500，子爵4x200=800，男爵15x100=1500，骑士73x30=2220，侍从180x10=1800……

The nobles and knights alone would need to pay for a whopping 6820 warhorses... this...

"Mr. Chris!"

Lord Casani's voice trembled slightly with shock and anger.

"This...this is simply astronomical, Raeteria can't possibly..."

Chris raised his hand, interrupting him, his eyes remaining calm and unwavering.

"Lord Casani, please hear me out. This is the ransom paid by the nobility, entirely in the form of warhorses. I believe that the lives and value of these esteemed knights far exceed what a few horses can measure."

Chris laughed as he said this.

"After all, I only want some horses, which is obviously a more reasonable price than territory."

Lord Casani opened his mouth, but found himself unable to refute it, because Chris was indeed right.

Chris seemed oblivious to his embarrassment and continued speaking in his steady tone.

"As for the approximately two thousand ordinary soldiers captured..."

Lord Casani's heart sank to the bottom. The ransom for the noble knights was already astronomical, and what a disaster it would be if the ransom for the soldiers were to be paid.

"Their ransom."

Chris paused, as if pondering an insignificant number.

"Never mind, one person and one nag, or a donkey or an ox will do."

Lord Casani was taken aback, almost thinking he had misheard.

"Two thousand soldiers, give me two thousand head of livestock."

Chris picked up a quill and scribbled on a piece of paper.

"Or it could be converted into food supplies equivalent to half a year's worth for each person, such as wheat, rye, rice, or meat."

Compared to the exorbitant prices of the nobles' warhorses, this condition seemed unbelievably "merciful." Two thousand nags, or the equivalent of half a year's worth of grain, while still a considerable expense for a nation, was certainly manageable. Lord Casani could hardly believe his ears.

It seems that the other side really doesn't value the lives of ordinary soldiers much?

Chris didn't really care. He knew the situation in the Reteria Empire. The nobles would definitely redeem them, but as for the soldiers... it was uncertain whether they would care.

Chris put down his pen, gently pushed the paper listing the soldiers' ransom terms forward, and fixed his gaze on Lord Casani once again.

"However, the ransom for noble knights must be paid in full in the form of warhorses; that is the bottom line. The ransom for ordinary soldiers can be paid in a negotiable manner."

Lord Casani, these are my terms. You may choose to accept them, or…”

Chris didn't finish his sentence, but the unspoken meaning hung like a cold blade over Casani's head.

The Bagnians have captured so many nobles that the initiative is completely in their hands. Kasani doesn't even dare to say anything defiant now... his own son is still in the enemy's hands.

The tent was deathly silent, with only the occasional crackling of the candlelight.

Lord Casani's forehead was covered in cold sweat. He swallowed hard, his gaze shifting back and forth between Chris's calm face and the seemingly light yet incredibly heavy ransom list in front of him.

The ransom demanded by noble knights was exorbitant, while that of ordinary soldiers was lenient. This stark contrast, coupled with the final, silent threat, completely shattered his confidence in negotiations. Now, all he wanted was to get his son away from this hellish place as quickly as possible.

"...Your Highness, what do you have for the land...?"

"Are you referring to the lands of the Kingdom of Minicia?"

Chris declined.

"I'm sorry, I never joke about things that belong to me."

Lord Casani was speechless. He wanted to loudly warn Chris not to be too arrogant, but he didn't have the confidence or the courage to say it.

“...I need time...time to discuss this with His Highness Seba.”

"of course."

Chris nodded slightly, showing no surprise on his face.

You have until noon tomorrow. Please give me your reply before noon. If you agree, the handover of the first batch of nobles and the corresponding ransom must be completed before sunset.

The details of the ransom payment for the soldiers can be discussed later, if you do not agree…

Chris didn't say anything more, but simply picked up the water glass on the table and took a small sip. The calm action of a victor was more oppressive than any roar.

Lord Casani gave Chris a deep look, then said nothing more, bowed deeply, and turned to leave the tent with heavy steps.

He needs to go and meet with Prince Seba immediately.

(End of this chapter)