"No record in history tells of 300 soldiers defeating 10,000. We must publicize this triumph!" he declared.
Other nobles quickly voiced their agreement. The Count of Demonic from the Kingdom of Elonia nodded.
"Without a doubt! This is a monumental achievement, especially after the string of defeats we've endured."
The Duke of Capone from the Kingdom of Lania offered a small smile.
"Indeed, this victory is especially reassuring. It marks our first major success through an aggressive strategy, making it even more significant."
"Three hundred against ten thousand—this is nothing short of a miracle!" one noble exclaimed.
"All thanks to Sir Michael! Young as he is, every battle he has fought in has ended in resounding success. A true rising star—a new hero for our time!"
As the nobles heaped praise upon Michael, Dominic, his father, quietly smiled. Pride radiated from his face. The inclusion of prominent nobles' offspring in the Special Task Force had proven a wise decision, as their families now worked tirelessly to elevate Michael's accomplishments.
"How about calling this victory the Battle of Elandor?" suggested one noble. "After the plains where the Special Task Force fought so valiantly."
The proposal was met with unanimous approval. Both the Elonian Kingdom, eager for a morale boost after repeated losses, and the Kingdom of Lania, hungry for their allies' success, celebrated this monumental achievement.
For political reasons, the fame of Michael and the Special Task Force grew rapidly. Michael, in particular, became the center of attention, hailed as the hero of a new era. Every battle he fought resulted in complete victory, earning him titles such as "Star of a New Age," "Child of Fortune," and "The New Hero."
Yet amidst the joy, Crown Prince Randolph couldn't conceal his displeasure. His lack of involvement in forming the Special Task Force gnawed at his pride.
In the Rock Bear Tribe's Encampment...
Inside a tent adorned with the Rock Bear Tribe's banner, an elderly woman clutched a shattered branch in trembling hands. This branch, once imbued with her granddaughter Kalina's life force, lay broken. Its state left no doubt: Kalina was dead.
"Who..." the old woman muttered, her voice shaking with grief. "Who killed my Kalina?"
Images of her granddaughter's bright smile from days ago, as she prepared to join the supply unit's mission, filled her mind. "I should have stopped her," she thought bitterly, tears streaming down her deeply lined face. The sorrow and regret weighed on her like a stone in her chest.
Clenching her teeth, the woman wiped her tears and steadied herself. With her staff in hand, she left the tent and headed to the chieftain's quarters.
"Ah, High Priestess Babaru, what brings you here?" the chieftain, Yandor, asked, startled by her appearance. Babaru had been vehemently opposed to the tribe's participation in the war and had remained confined to her tent since their departure.
Babaru's gaze burned with anger and grief.
"My granddaughter is dead," she declared. "She left to support Sakar's unit, but the branch tied to her life force has shattered. She's gone."
Yandor shot to his feet, his expression grim. Sakar, his brother, had led that unit, which also included his youngest son, Karato.
"Are you certain? What could have happened?" Yandor's voice trembled. Memories of Sakar's confident assurances came rushing back.
For Kalina, a shaman and priority for protection, to have perished, it was unlikely that Sakar and Karato had survived either.
Babaru, consumed by fury, shouted, "Do you think I would jest about this? Kalina was all I had left! You know I lost my children and their spouses to this war. Now my granddaughter too... Find out who killed her! I will tear them apart myself!"
Yandor sighed heavily.
"It was supposed to be a simple support mission for the supply unit... I'll investigate and send our elite warriors for vengeance if needed."
"No!" Babaru cried, her rage boiling over. "Just tell me who killed her! I'll take care of the rest myself. I'll even offer my body to the gods for vengeance!"
She clutched a sacred artifact passed down through generations of the Rock Bear Tribe—a relic of their goddess. As the tribe's high priestess, Babaru knew the dangers of invoking divine power. But what did her life matter now?
Her eyes burned with resolve. Even if it cost her life, she would repay this blood debt.
The astounding achievements of Michael and the Special Task Force quickly spread across the continent. The unbelievable tale of 300 soldiers annihilating 10,000 enemies while suffering only 12 casualties shocked everyone. Interest in Michael soared further when it was revealed that their victory included the capture of 200 warriors from the Rock Bear Tribe, one of the Five Great Tribes.
Though the Special Task Force had intended to continue their covert operations, their success was too monumental to remain under wraps. The people, weary from repeated defeats, needed a beacon of hope, and Michael's triumph became the centerpiece of a widespread propaganda campaign.
Elonia Kingdom, Royal Palace
King Henry III sat in council with his ministers, deliberating on how to reward Michael and the Special Task Force. It had already been publicly announced that rewards would be granted without discrimination of origin, including titles and land grants.
"Everyone," Henry began, "what are your thoughts on how we should proceed with these rewards?"
The precarious state of the war made it unwise to grant overly generous rewards. However, if the rewards were insufficient, who would be motivated to contribute to the war effort?
Mark, the chancellor and a longtime confidant of Henry, smiled knowingly. "Your Majesty, many of the nobles here have sent their kin to the Special Task Force. Who among us would dare discuss rewards for our own blood? Perhaps we should first address the compensation for the Lania Kingdom's participants."
Henry's eyes swept over the gathered nobles, understanding the chancellor's subtle hint.
"Do not worry about fairness," he declared. "It is only right to reward meritorious service appropriately. I trust you all to handle this matter impartially."
The mention of "impartiality" elicited a subtle reaction from the council. The seasoned politicians understood the weight of that word, knowing it was both a command and a warning.