Chapter 118: From Militia Commander to General

Olivia, accompanied by Little Mouse, stood at the forefront of the welcoming party beside Ulyan. As Leo appeared, riding his horse at a leisurely pace at the head of the marching column, reaching the canal outside the northern edge of the Riverbend Peninsula, Olivia rushed forward without a second thought and threw her arms around Leo’s thigh.

Although the mount Leo was riding was a purebred Northern horse, it stood a full meter and a half tall. Olivia, at one meter seventy, was only a head taller than the horse’s back and could barely reach Leo’s waist. Leo grabbed her arms and lifted her effortlessly onto the saddle.

Little Mouse, having run over as well, stood by the horse’s side, wringing her fingers and gazing up at her sister Olivia with an expression of pure envy. Leo, holding Olivia, extended a leg and winked at Little Mouse. Understanding immediately, the girl grabbed his trousers and scrambled up with agility, planting a foot on his boot.

"Up you go!"

With a flick of his leg, Leo tossed Little Mouse into the air, caught her, and placed her in front of Olivia, embracing both girls at once. Amidst the disgruntled snorting of the horse, Leo rode across the drawbridge and through the stockade gate, returning to the Riverbend Peninsula.

The villagers from the three camps had gathered near the gate, their eyes filled with unhidden adoration. Seeing the sea of hundreds of people, Leo suddenly raised his fist and shouted, "Riverbend is invincible!"

The crowd, galvanized by his spirit, raised their own fists in excitement and roared back, "Riverbend is invincible!"

If the villagers had once viewed Leo as a capable militia leader who could protect them and guard their homes, they now undoubtedly saw him as a brilliant commander capable of leading them to victory against foreign foes. Watching Leo lead his majestic, high-spirited infantry into the settlement, Ulyan felt a profound sense of emotion. How had this reckless little brat suddenly come into his own? But he was his son-in-law and his future successor, and to see him excel and surpass his master was, of course, the best possible outcome.

Under the admiring gazes of the villagers, Olivia set aside her shyness. Sitting sideways in Leo’s arms, she felt the powerful, firm embrace of her beloved and reached out to pat him down, searching for injuries. Seeing no wounds and hearing no groans of pain, she finally let out a long, relieved breath.

During the time Leo had been away on the campaign, she had fallen asleep every night clutching Little Mouse, tormented by recurring nightmares. In her dreams, she constantly saw Leo being swarmed and torn apart by half a dozen towering gnolls, his blood splattering everywhere.

She had never seen a gnoll in person; the most vicious canine creature she had encountered in her life was Fisha’s father, the former kobold chieftain. The most gruesome sight she had ever witnessed was the scene of Leo being bitten by that chieftain. She had heard that every gnoll was stronger than Fisha’s father, and some gnoll brutes were as large as boars. This had led her to develop dark associations whenever she looked at the boar-men skulls hanging in the great hall.

That was a coalition of over a thousand alien foes, not a thousand rabbits! Even a common wolf pack of over a thousand could easily wipe out an entire village. It wasn't just her; nearly all the villagers had harbored such intense anxiety. Only Ulyan had maintained an air of confidence to keep morale stable, though he, too, had been deeply uneasy. While his pre-battle assessments suggested a high chance of victory, those were based on ideal conditions. Casualties were inevitable—the question was how many would return. As long as the losses didn't exceed one-third, it would be a major victory, worthy of a grand celebration. Even Rigolaf, famous for clearing out alien and bandit nests, would have been impressed.

This anxiety only faded at noon today, when the wildling scouts returned early with news. Little Mouse, however, had been the least worried of all; she had no concept of the scale of war, but shared Fisha’s unwavering faith in the clever and powerful Leo.

Although the villagers had been prepared by the scouts' report, they remained skeptical. The casualties reported seemed impossibly low. Seeing the troops return almost entirely unscathed, the villagers could hardly believe their eyes. Had it not been for the large haul of loot dragged back by pack animals, they might have suspected the army had turned and run before the battle even began.

The spoils left by the gnoll coalition were not particularly rich, as their equipment was quite primitive. Stone tools had been abandoned on the battlefield, and half of the iron items collected were in such poor condition as to be useless. Even the kobolds, who would take anything, had no interest in such scraps, selecting only a few of the boar-men’s heavy weapons as trophies of the great victory. Aside from the iron that would be melted down, the primary loot consisted of a large pile of hides. Whether bison, saber-toothed tiger, or bear, even if riddled with arrow holes, they could be repaired by the impoverished villagers into high-quality blankets or rugs.

Upon returning to Riverbend, Leo’s first order of business was to summon Fisha to lecture her on the importance of safety in production.

Sitting before the warm hearth of the great house, Leo gave Fisha a earnest lecture. "I’ve heard that in your kobold valley, one kobold dies every single day. How can that be? They are your kin, after all."

Whether it was cave-ins from mining or the various dangerous experiments Fisha conducted, news of kobold casualties kept trickling in. No one had cared much about what happened in the kobold valley as long as a steady stream of iron ore was delivered. But after this great battle, Leo decided to intervene, lest he end up suffering the consequences one day.

Fisha nodded happily upon hearing this. "That's right! My kin! One died, but I still have four hundred and ninety-nine left!"

Little Mouse, meanwhile, was silently calculating: five hundred kobolds, one dying a day, fifty being born a month... how many would be left in a year?

Leo was speechless, unsure if Fisha was bragging about her counting skills or the size of her tribe. "That’s not the point! The point is the mortality rate is too high! Just think, what if one day a massive explosion or collapse happens, and you’re gone too? How terrible would that be? You wouldn't even have left any pups behind!"

"You're already three and a half years old, a mature and steady kobold. You need to know how to ensure the survival of your race..."

"You’re right! So I need to find a husband!" Fisha thought for a moment and nodded emphatically.

Leo was suddenly struck by the realization that spring had arrived, all things were stirring, and it was the mating season. He scooted his stool back a few paces and warned, "Humans and kobolds cannot intermarry!"

Fisha hadn't even considered that. She pondered aloud, "The black-furred kobolds are too stupid, the golden-furred ones are too dull, and the fierce ones are too small. Oh, this is so annoying!"

With that, she grabbed Little Mouse and dragged her away, insisting she accompany her to the valley to pick out a husband.

Olivia, standing to the side, felt a mix of amusement and resentment, her expression shifting strangely. As she mended a piece of clothing, she said with a hint of sarcasm, "Even Fisha knows she needs a partner. Don't you plan on finding one?"

Leo scratched his head. "Do I really need to look?"

"Hmph." Olivia fell silent, waiting for Leo’s response.