manynovel Chapter 99 Tiberius: Excellent treatment!
Chapter 99 Tiberius: Excellent treatment!
Tiberius pushed three silver goblets filled with deep red wine across the table, then leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over the three men enjoying roast lamb, chicken soup, and fried fish fillets. The candlelight flickered on his young face, yet revealed not a trace of childishness.
[Damn, Jules is really lucky to have such a nephew!] Habroy looked at Tiberius’s rather mature and confident appearance and couldn’t help but feel more envious of Jules.
For Habro, a twelve-year-old commander who was both brave and resourceful enough to win the Battle of Stoneraven Town was simply too fantastical.
"Alright, friends," he began, his voice carrying just the right amount of warmth, "I admire your talent, and even more so your—" He paused deliberately, a knowing smile playing on his lips, "—wisdom and vision. By choosing the Lightning Brigade, by choosing me, you have chosen the future!"
He first turned to Habroy, whose face was covered in grime.
"Brother Habroy, I know what's bothering you. Pensions, military pay, and that considerable loan you owe... Besides, your financier is currently stuck at the Three Tax Offices, and it seems unlikely you'll receive the remaining payment. Isn't that right?" Tiberius pointed out Habroy's current predicament incisively.
Yes, he's about to go bankrupt. And in the most humiliating way—merchants have tangible assets as collateral, nobles have land and slaves. But a mercenary's only collateral is his martial arts skills, which are worthless.
"Yes." Although somewhat embarrassed, Habrol nodded.
He is now truly at his wit's end, with his mercenary group facing a mountain of debt.
Without Tiberius, he would have truly abandoned his mercenary group and borne the infamy of "failing to settle pensions and military pay," rendering his reputation and career, which he had worked so hard for most of his life, utterly worthless.
Tiberius clapped his hands lightly, and two servants responded by carrying in a heavy wooden box.
"The box contains a full thousand Ries gold coins, brand new and of excellent quality. Take it and use it to pay the families of our fallen comrades first, and then use the rest to pay their outstanding military pay."
As the box lid opened, the reflection of the gold coins illuminated Tiberius's smiling eyes and Habro's tear-filled pupils.
"As for your personal debts? Following me will never leave you at a disadvantage. This war between the Kingdom of the Three Daughters and Valantis is far from over."
[As expected, it worked!] Tiberius thought to himself, looking at Habro's face, which was filled with gratitude and relaxation.
The pressure from creditors and the hopes of the soldiers could drive a commander to despair.
Of course, Tiberius also had his own ulterior motives: he hadn't helped Habro pay off his own debts, which meant Habro would have to continue fighting alongside Tiberius. He hoped to use the spoils of the War of Valantis to pay off Habro's debts.
In short, Tiberius wanted Habro to not only join the Blitzkrieg, but also to obey his orders, so that Tiberius's will would supersede the old soldier's petty selfishness.
His gaze shifted to Dmitri, who was sitting upright.
"Dmitri, I know the treatment of officers in Mil: a centurion's salary, plus the land reward the city-state should give them upon retirement." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and pointed to the military camp outside.
"I'll give you the salary of a centurion, and you deserve it; I know that with your military achievements and the current need for mid-level officers in Mil, you'll be a centurion when you return to Mil, and the treatment and salary of a centurion are what you deserve. As for the land—" He made a writing gesture.
"I'm not as stingy as the Mil people, who wait for you to retire. Here's what we'll do: after the war, whichever piece of land you choose, come to me with the deed, and I'll pay for it for you."
Dmitri's taut jawline softened slightly, and he raised his glass to Tiberius in a solemn toast: "For your patronage."
Tiberius felt a sense of relief.
【Very good, it's done.】
[For someone like Dmitri, spoils and wages are important, but even more important is respect and a stable expectation of success.] Tiberius thought to himself.
Unlike veteran mercenaries like Habro, Dmitri was a true regular soldier who valued stability more than money and spoils of war.
Stability is key to Dmitry's success.
Finally, Tiberius turned his gaze to the slightly uneasy Lezapo. The logistics officer was nervously wringing his hands.
He spoke, his tone still calm, yet it made the logistics officer instinctively straighten his back. "We all know that being a logistics officer is a lucrative job. The flow of supplies, the kickbacks... are incredibly high."
Upon hearing this, Lezapo nearly jumped out of his chair. Before he could defend himself, Tiberius gestured to him, and Lezapo raised his hand to stop the other from speaking, smiling knowingly.
"Those of us who work in logistics handle so many supplies that it's inevitable that our fingers will get a little oily. That's normal. Nobody can escape it."
"Your salary will increase by a quarter. And—" He met Lezapo's gleaming gaze.
"I'll allow you to take kickbacks, as long as you guarantee the quality. Inferior armor will kill my soldiers, and coarse rice will cause a riot. Want to continue taking kickbacks? Fine, but you must first ensure the legion survives, and survives well! If it delays the war..."
Tiberius didn't finish speaking; he simply put down his wine glass, but Lezapo was already drenched in cold sweat.
For Lezapo, this straightforward deal was more intimidating than any moral admonition.
After hearing Lezapo's "oath of loyalty," Tiberius rose and raised his cup, the candlelight flickering on the rim, as he smiled at the three people before him.
After this banquet, the three of them finally established a superior-subordinate relationship with him.
As the saying goes: if you grab his balls, he'll have no choice but to obey.
"Let's drink to the wise choice. After all—" his smile suddenly turned sharp, "those who can sit here and drink together are all intelligent people."
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After the three had eaten and drunk their fill, Tiberius saw them off.
The curtains fell behind them, shutting out the lights and smells of alcohol inside, and also locking away that heart-pounding realm built of promises and golden chests.
Under the night sky, the three of them stopped in their tracks, as if they needed a moment to adjust to the crisp, cold air outside and the turbulent emotions churning within them.
Habro was the first to act. He wiped his face hard and exhaled a long breath of stale air, reeking of alcohol, into the dark night sky. The breath condensed into a small cloud of white mist in the cool air.
He looked down at his rough hands and the box of gold coins, then glanced back at the still-lit tent, lowered his voice, and said in a tone that was a mixture of excitement and relief:
"Damn it... I've gambled countless times in my life, but this time... my palms are sweating!" He clenched his fists tightly, as if to confirm that what had just happened was not a dream.
"A thousand gold coins! He didn't even blink before bidding! This kid... no, our commander here, he's got guts, and he's got real talent!" His face relaxed, revealing an almost ferocious smile.
"Following such a leader, at least I don't have to worry about not getting paid after the war, or being discarded like trash by my own people! It's worth it!"
Dmitry's reaction was much more restrained. He still stood ramrod straight, but his tightly pursed lips and slightly flickering eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. He didn't look at the tents, but rather at the scattered lights of the camp in the distance—the soldiers he was about to train.
"The treatment of a centurion...land..." he repeated the two words in a low voice, so soft that only he could hear them. For a Mil officer with no connections, this had once been an unattainable dream.
Although the regulations stipulated that every Mill officer would receive land upon retirement, in reality, the amount of land allocated to them decreased over time.
When I retire, that'll be a long time coming.
Moreover, given Dmitri's situation, he would never get a piece of fertile land; those lands had already been taken by those with connections.
Dmitri turned to look at Habro and Lezapo, his tone regaining its usual composure, but with an added resolve: "He gave us dignity and a future, so we will repay him with absolute loyalty and victory. From this day forward, there is no more Dmitri the Mil officer, only Dmitri of the Lightning Regiment." He clenched his left fist and slammed it into his chest.
"To hell with that idiot Mitristar! I've found a far more worthy general to serve!"
Lezapo's reaction was the most complex. He subconsciously rubbed his fingers together, as if they were still covered in the imagined "slickness." There were even fine beads of sweat on his forehead, whether from the tension just now or from the lingering fear and excitement now, it was hard to tell.
"He...he actually allowed it..." he muttered to himself, an expression of disbelief on his face.
"He knows everything, he sees things more clearly than I do..." This feeling of being completely exposed sent a chill down his spine, but the ensuing "permission" was like a pardon, freeing him from both moral constraints and the predicament of reality.
"A 25% pay rise...and...that tacitly agreed-upon share..." He calculated quietly, his eyes gradually shifting from panic to shrewdness, even taking on a hint of fanaticism. "As long as things are done well, done well...yes, done well!" He grasped at this lifeline, constantly reinforcing the rules set by Tiberius.
Compared to Habro's exhilaration and Dmitri's loyalty, Lezapo felt a strange sense of security within a strict framework, and an unprecedented path to "openly" display his "talents."
After all, Lezapo preferred Tiberius, a “shadow tolerated under the rules,” to those generals who claimed to be “honest” but secretly demanded kickbacks from their logistics officers and then used them as scapegoats when things went wrong.
The three exchanged glances, needing no further words. Habro patted Lezapo's still somewhat stiff shoulder, and Dmitri nodded slightly to him.
The three of them, one for wealth and righteousness, one for fame and integrity, and one for profit and security, each with different desires, were all bound together by the same young leader using precise methods to ride the same chariot.
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Before the sound of the curtain falling had completely faded, Tippi's slightly straight spine suddenly relaxed as if a bone had been removed.
He slid halfway down the back of the chair, resting his head against the leather cushion, and let out a long sigh. Exhaustion finally crept into the corners of his eyes and brows.
[Damn it, I'm only twelve years old, and I'm being asked to manage three seasoned veterans who each have their own agendas, are incredibly capable, but definitely won't completely obey me! Gods above, what kind of pressure situation is this?] He complained inwardly.
Having gone through so much, Tiberius has transformed from the somewhat clueless and naive young man he was when he first arrived into a cold-blooded and decisive general.
To be honest, it really feels like a dream!
Am I born to be a general?
"Uncle..." Tiberius looked at Jules as he walked in. "How did I do?"
Jules stepped out of the shadows, the hem of his armor making a soft metallic scraping sound. He stopped beside his nephew, his calloused hand pressing heavily on the boy's thin shoulder.
"More than just passable!" Jules's cold voice rang out, but this time it was filled with pride. "You've managed to get three seasoned veterans to willingly sit before a twelve-year-old, offering their loyalty and swords to you—a feat I wouldn't have dared to even dream of at your age!"
Tiberius grinned. "Did I do a decent job? I really think I performed better than those geishas and actors in Rhys!"
Jules did not answer immediately. He walked to the table, poured a glass of water and pushed it over. His gaze swept over the three empty silver cups on the table before returning to Tiberius's face.
"It's not 'like'," Jules finally spoke, his voice as steady as a mountain rock.
"Remember, when you sit in the position of commander, 'like' means 'is.' Don't let anyone doubt your authority, and even more so, don't let anyone discover your weakness. Actually, training people is very similar to training horses. Horses will bully those who are new to riding them, and it's the same with people: if you are weak, they will be tough, but when you use toughness and benefits to drive them, they will naturally become weak."
As he spoke, he patted Tiberius on the back.
"Young man, remember this feeling—you must enjoy the thrill of taming a wild horse, but also endure the pain of the reins digging into your palms. That's the way of a general. Young man, you still have a lot to learn!"
"Tired? That's right! Managing people's hearts is more mentally taxing than wielding swords. But remember how you feel at this moment; this is the price of growth."
"Uncle, what would happen if you used that same line of dialogue on Miss Johanna Swin?" Tiberius retorted.
"You spoke so eloquently when you were lecturing me, it got my blood pumping, but why couldn't you say anything so 'passionate' to Miss Johanna? Anyone who didn't know better would think you were trying to train a female general! Who talks about military strategy and logistics with a woman on a date?"
"Well, she seems to be listening quite attentively..."
"That's because love makes heroes! Otherwise, what young lady would be interested in listening to you ramble on about military theory?"
"Doesn't that just prove how charming I am?" Jules said confidently.
"ε=(´ο｀*))) Sigh..." Tippi let out a long sigh of dejection.
He really didn't want to be a "general"; his real goal was simple: to survive, and at the same time, to live well.
But at that moment, Tiberius was thinking: "I wonder how many wild horses my hands, holding the reins, can tame?"