The frost giants' bodies lay sprawled on the ground, their enormous forms now lifeless, the air permeated with the smell of blood.
Soldiers busily cleaned up the battlefield, while knights tended to their comrades' injuries.
Thankfully, due to thorough preparation, casualties weren't severe.
Most had only minor frostbite or scrapes that could be treated with the ointments and bandages they carried.
Several physicians worked nearby, bandaging wounds and applying warm medicinal solutions to prevent cold energy from entering the body.
But the knight who had been thrown by the berserk frost giant was in extremely serious condition.
His face was pale, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His armor had been shattered by the giant, his chest deeply caved in.
It was obvious that his ribs were broken, and his internal organs likely severely damaged.
Although he still had faint breathing, whether he could survive remained uncertain.
A physician knelt beside him, his expression grave: "The injuries are too severe; conventional treatment can't save him."
The knights surrounding them looked uneasy; this was their comrade.
Just moments ago, they had fought side by side, and now he lay here dying.
"We can't let him die." Everyone looked up to find Vaerik standing nearby.
He slowly took out a dark green crystal vial from his coat, the liquid inside emitting a faint glow.
It was the extremely precious life potion, capable of rapidly healing wounds and even pulling those with severe injuries back from the brink of death.
This type of potion was treasured even by nobles, who wouldn't use it unless absolutely necessary.
Vaerik said nothing more, kneeling on one knee and personally pouring the potion into the wounded man's mouth.
As the potion entered, a miracle slowly occurred.
His once-faint breathing gradually stabilized, and a hint of color returned to his pale cheeks.
His sunken chest slowly rose, broken bones began to heal, and torn internal tissues gradually repaired.
His almost stagnant heartbeat regained strength.
The breath of life returned to this near-death knight.
"His life is no longer in danger," the physician sighed in relief. "But as for how well he'll recover, that depends on his fate."
The knights watched this scene, their gazes complex.
They looked at Vaerik with awe in their eyes, never expecting that he would use such a precious potion on a knight.
Their loyalty to Vaerik increased yet again.
"My lord..." Lambert said quietly, "such a potion shouldn't be wasted on him."
Vaerik stood up, with a faint smile: "He fought for me, for the Crimson Tide Domain. How is using it on him a waste?"
His gaze swept across everyone present, his voice firm: "Those who serve me loyally, I will never abandon lightly."
At that moment, all knights straightened their backs in silence.
They covered their chests with their hands in a knight's salute, responding without words, yet more resolute than any oath.
In truth, Vaerik also felt the pain of using this potion.
This was one of the life-saving potions his full sister had secretly given him before he left for the Northern Province, only three bottles in total.
The first bottle went to the unconscious Siv.
The second bottle to this severely injured knight.
Now, only one bottle remained in his possession.
Thinking of this, his feelings were complex.
It would be a lie to say he didn't feel the loss—this was something that could save lives. Kept for himself, it might save his own life at a crucial moment.
Yet he had used it this way, though he didn't regret it.
He had saved Siv, and perhaps someday, this little princess of the Cold Moon Tribe might bring some value.
He had also saved this knight, letting the soldiers of the Crimson Tide Domain know that their lord would not easily abandon them, gathering their cohesion.
"Well, I'll keep the last bottle for myself," Vaerik sighed gently, casually putting the empty vial back into his coat.
Next came the moment to reward merit.
Vaerik solemnly stood before everyone, as lord, personally presenting rewards to each meritorious person.
"In this campaign, we've eliminated four frost giants, and everyone has contributed!
Perhaps other lords wouldn't specifically hold a ceremony to reward merit, but I'm different. Merit deserves reward."
He paused, looking at the expectant eyes before him, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
"However, ahem, I think you all know—I'm truly poor."
The soldiers looked at each other, then someone burst out with a "pfft," laughing.
Vaerik shrugged helplessly: "But, since you've done well, there must be some benefits."
As his words fell, bursts of cheers and applause erupted.
The rewards were simple—fresh fish, game, grain, and a small amount of gold coins—but not a single person showed dissatisfaction.
Because they understood in their hearts that Vaerik had already done enough.
He wasn't a lord who only made empty promises; he was willing to save his soldiers.
Willing to reward them to the best of his ability after they had fought bloodily, even if money was tight.
Moreover, the vast majority of lords who sent troops to suppress foreign tribes or magical beasts wouldn't give soldiers and knights any rewards for their achievements.
After the battle, returning to recuperate was considered a favor.
But Vaerik was different.
Their lord would personally step forward, acknowledge their achievements, and promise more rewards in the future.
That was what they valued most.
"It's our honor to serve Lord Vaerik!"
"May the Dragon Ancestor bless the Crimson Tide Domain!"
All soldiers and knights had no complaints; they even felt grateful.
They happily accepted these not-so-generous rewards, their faces wearing satisfied smiles.
As for how to handle these giant corpses, that was a problem.
Food was scarce in the Northern Province, every piece of meat was precious. If they were ordinary game, they would have already been skinned and butchered, sent to the smoking house to be preserved as dried meat.
But frost giants were, after all, humanoid creatures.
Vaerik looked at those huge corpses, feeling somewhat resistant in his heart.
Moreover, although resources in the Crimson Tide Domain were limited, they hadn't reached the point of needing to resort to such means to fill their stomachs.
"We won't eat them; bring them all back for processing," he decisively ordered.
The knights had no objections; their lord always acted with principles.
But abandoning the corpses would be too wasteful.
After all, these frost giants' bodies contained enormous cold energy, and even in death, their flesh still contained special nutrients.
Thinking of this, Vaerik suddenly had a flash of inspiration: "Since we can't eat them, let's make full use of them. They can be made into fertilizer."
"Fertilizer?" Lambert was slightly startled, then nodded thoughtfully.
This was indeed a good idea. The giants' flesh was rich in magical elements; if processed properly, it should significantly improve the barren soil problem in the Crimson Tide Domain.
"Take them back and hand them over to Agricultural Officer Mike for processing."
So the soldiers began to clear the battlefield, dragging the giants' corpses onto improvised wooden frames, slowly transporting them back to the Crimson Tide Domain with horses.