Chapter 80: Aftermath – Punishment and Rewards

A wave of relieved cheers erupted within Esola City, but clearly, the beastfolk’s jubilation did nothing to please the four elves.

The two mage-archers conversed in hushed tones, staying close together, while the mage-warrior and mage gradually made their way toward the city gates on their horses.

Gilgood, surprisingly, survived. His portly figure, clad in armor, rolled about like a ball, easily identifiable in the crowd. Wu Qingsong observed him, leading a group of half-elf officials, hurriedly open the gates and then bow deeply before the elves’ steeds.

From afar, Wu Qingsong could make out the mage-warrior apparently questioning Gilgood, who answered while shaking uncontrollably. Moments later, the elves spurred their horses forward, their massive hooves brutally crushing Gilgood, his body bursting as if inflated.

The half-elves shrieked in horror, yet the elves, completely unmoved by their response, arrogantly marched past them and entered the city.

“My God,” Wu Qingsong couldn’t help but exclaim. Though he believed that Gilgood, as Esola’s chief military officer, had been woefully inadequate in the city’s defense, contributing neither command nor support, such a public execution was…

Clearly, these elves were far from benevolent.

The events that followed were beyond their view, but it was likely to involve investigating the incident’s origins, holding relevant individuals accountable, assessing the damage, and most importantly, tallying the battle accomplishments and rewarding the meritorious.

Wu Qingsong harbored serious doubts about the likelihood of many people receiving praise from the elves, especially considering their severe treatment of Gilgood and the fact that Esola City was almost in ruins, strewn with casualties.

Unsure of what his role should be, Wu Qingsong reflected on his status. He was essentially just the leader of a mercenary troop assigned to the city’s defense. Officially, the command had been in the hands of the half-elf official who had abandoned his post in the heat of battle.

However, Wu Qingsong had a nagging feeling that this official might not survive much longer.

The surviving bear, horse, and pig folk appeared equally lost about their next steps. With no leadership, many dispersed in search of their families. The rest simply found places to sit down and began to share the food they had collected.

In chatting with them, Wu Qingsong found out that most of the horse and pig people, except for the bear blacksmiths, were residents of nearby villages. Their villages were likely destroyed in the insect onslaught, leaving the fate of their families uncertain. The initial euphoria of survival was soon overshadowed by the profound sadness of their losses. The beastfolk, haunted by the memories of their missing or deceased loved ones, sank into deep mourning.

Three of Ram’s wolf warriors had died in battle, and those remaining were all injured. Among Wu Qingsong’s houndmen, nine had lost their lives, with five more sustaining serious injuries and the others only minor ones. Their leather armor, though basic, had evidently offered them a higher chance of survival compared to the unarmored horse and pig folk.

The houndmen were genuinely overjoyed about their survival rate. The fact that so many had lived through such a brutal battle felt almost miraculous, especially for them who were typically cannon fodder. They collected the bodies of their deceased companions, wrapped them in cloth, and excitedly began to speculate about the potential rewards their mercenary group might receive.

Yet, Wu Qingsong couldn’t find it in himself to share their joy.

When he had received the messenger’s orders, he had thought the mastiffman’s mention of ‘thousands upon thousands’ was just an expression. At that time, he hadn’t realized that a mercenary troop could actually choose to flee under such circumstances. Had he known the extent of the dire battle that awaited, would he still have chosen to go to Esola City?

However, given that Ram had been in the city then, he probably would make the same decision again, if only to try to evacuate them before being surrounded by the antpeople.

“Given it was their first engagement, and in such challenging conditions, they did exceptionally well,” Harold remarked, seemingly misunderstanding Wu Qingsong’s contemplation.

Wu Qingsong shook his head, indicating his thoughts were not of dissatisfaction.

In reality, these houndmen, clad in their unified dark red leather armor, had gained substantial respect among the militia for their actions, outperforming even the physically stronger mastiffmen.

“What do you think those elves will do next?” Wu Qingsong quietly asked Harold. Ram, too, seemed anxious to hear the answer.

“Likely, they’ll first destroy the passage that allowed the insectoids to reach the surface,” Harold suggested. “They probably won’t have the inclination to chase down the scattered insectoids across the countryside. Such tasks are usually assigned to mercenary groups. But given the situation, the mercenary groups near Esola might have been entirely wiped out, and those who escaped probably won’t dare to return. Next, the elves might offer attractive terms to lure other mercenary groups, especially those without established territories, to take on this task.”

“Do you think they will stay here long?”

“I’m not sure, but elves generally don’t stay away from their imperial city for extended periods,” Harold explained. “To them, anywhere outside the imperial city is too filthy to bear.”

“How did they manage to get here so quickly?” Ram asked.

If elves always responded this swiftly, the Silver Moon Wolf Clan would not have lasted until now. In her view, elves were typically apathetic to worldly matters, or else the world would not be as it currently was.

“I doubt they came all the way from the imperial city, the timing doesn’t add up,” Harold said. “They might have just been passing by and happened upon the situation. News about them should spread quickly, anything involving elves always garner widespread interest.”

Wu Qingsong pondered how many of the insectoids his team had killed would be credited to his Thirteenth Mercenary Group. With Gilgood’s public execution, he was curious whether the commitments made by Gilgood’s subordinates on his behalf would still be honored and what kind of recognition his mercenary group might receive.

Just as Wu Qingsong was considering how to seek out more information, Gilgood’s foxman assistant came rushing to him in a hurry.

“Mr. Philip?”

“Mr. Tagraedi! Please, come quickly! Lord Osaga has summoned you!”

“Osaga?” Wu Qingsong thought the name sounded somewhat familiar, but he couldn’t place where he had heard it. 

“Is this a good or bad thing?” he asked quietly.

The foxman, clearly agitated and visibly affected by Gilgood’s execution, shook his head, unable to provide a clear answer. His behavior was drastically altered from what it had been previously.

Wu Qingsong felt that his performance in the defense was at least passable and hoped that he wouldn’t be on the receiving end of any harsh measures.

Quickly leaving instructions with Harold, he followed the anxious foxman toward the city hall. Along the way, they passed buildings that were heavily damaged, with beastfolk busy clearing debris and searching for usable materials amidst the ruins. The air was filled with cries of mourning, adding to the heavy atmosphere.

The city hall itself was a scene of devastation. Bloodstains and the remains of insects were evident all around. The corpses of numerous beastfolk were being carefully arranged on the streets and the square. In contrast, the insectoid bodies were indiscriminately piled by the roadside, awaiting disposal.

The city hall’s iron doors were misaligned, bearing obvious signs of impact, and the surrounding columns were scarred with evidence of biting and hitting.

It was not hard to envision the intense battle that had once unfolded here.

In the audience hall, half-elves were present in abundance, all donning armor. Yet, many clearly hadn’t seen combat. Wu Qingsong even noticed the half-elf who had previously left the defense line in his charge. Contrary to his earlier belief of ‘ill health,’ this half-elf now stood timidly among his peers, his face marred by anxiety.

The foxman, hesitant to enter the hall, merely announced from the doorway.

A half-elf in a golden full-body armor glanced at Wu Qingsong and loudly proclaimed, “Commander of the Thirteenth Mercenary Group, Woody Tagraedi, is summoned.”

“Let him enter,” came a voice from within.

The half-elf in golden armor nodded at Wu Qingsong, motioning him to proceed. The other half-elves around whispered quietly, casting peculiar looks at him.

Far from a hero’s reception, this atmosphere filled Wu Qingsong with a sense of foreboding. He glanced back at the foxman, only to realize he had quickly disappeared into the corridor outside.

“Move along,” the one in golden armor murmured sternly at Wu Qingsong’s ear. “Remember, you shoulder your own burdens. Don’t implicate others.”

As Wu Qingsong stepped into the hall, he caught sight of a familiar figure, prompting an internal exclamation, ‘Damn, that guy is still alive!’