Chapter 592 - 362: POW Camp? Recruit Barracks

Chapter 592: Chapter 362: POW Camp? Recruit Barracks

For Sir Willy, the humiliation of his capture was far worse than the rout on the battlefield.

According to tradition, there was a set procedure for when a noble was taken prisoner.

First, they could not be treated like ordinary prisoners—tied to a single rope and herded along in a line.

They had to be given a horse. A noble’s exalted status demanded that they maintain their dignity at all times. Even as a prisoner, a noble was expected to ride a horse and not be quartered with the common captives.

Their place of confinement had to be clean and comfortable. They were to have their own room, be provided with quality meals daily, and be free from any form of abuse. Furthermore, any reasonable requests they made were to be met.

Finally, they would simply wait for the terms to be negotiated, pay the ransom, and regain their freedom.

This was how it had always been for nobles in war. No matter how brutal the fighting, the mortality rate for nobility was typically not very high.

After all, demanding a ransom was simply a more profitable approach. It brought in wealth without creating a blood feud that might lead to one’s own people being executed if they were captured.

Thus, the greatest losses from being captured were merely financial and a great deal of shame.

For a noble, losing face was still a significant blow. The experience of being captured would follow them in social circles for the rest of their life.

Still, it was better than being dead.

Therefore, after his failed escape attempt, seeing no hope of salvaging his dignity, and being sold out by other deserters, Sir Willy decided to give up completely.

He strode out of the warehouse with his hands clasped behind his back. Although he was only wearing the padded gambeson from beneath his armor, it didn’t diminish the air of dignified grace with which he carried himself.

He sauntered slowly before the search party. "Gentlemen, my congratulations. You have captured me, Sir Willy. Now, if you would be so kind as to fetch me a horse."

At this, the warriors of the Northern Domain were all completely stunned.

What was this act?

They had been rounding up prisoners all afternoon and through the night. They had seen men beg for mercy, play dead, sell out their comrades, attempt bribery, and resist stubbornly.

But this was the first one to brazenly give *them* orders.

’Just who is the prisoner here?’

"Reporting! Squad Leader, what’s with this guy?" the rifleman asked, a look of confusion on his face.

The soldiers in this squad were young, around eighteen or nineteen. Only the squad leader, a veteran of the Northern Domain’s bandit suppression campaigns, was an experienced "old-timer" of twenty-five.

So whenever they had a question, they asked the squad leader.

"He says he wants a horse. He’s a noble, you see," the squad leader said, unfazed.

"Oh. So, do we give him a horse?"

The squad leader shot the rifleman a look you’d give an idiot. "He asks, you give? Get the balloon! He just told us he’s a Sir. That makes him a high-value target."

The Warriors immediately understood. They shoved Sir Willy to the ground, bound him tightly, and attached several Magic balloons to him.

At this, Sir Willy finally panicked.

"What are you doing? You can’t treat me like this! I’m a noble! I am Sir Willy! This is against the rules!" he yelled, struggling wildly on the ground.

"Rules?" The squad leader laughed. "Your rules are the very thing we’re here to tear down."

With that, he placed a Teleportation Talisman Stone on the chest of the now-floating Sir Willy.

...

When Sir Willy regained consciousness, he found himself in a large, open field. Deepwater City, previously just a distant silhouette, was now right before his eyes.

He realized he was floating in midair, slowly descending. Around him were many other soldiers from the Alliance Army, also tethered to balloons.

On the ground below, people who must have been from Deepwater City were using long poles to snag the balloons and pull them down.

Sir Willy understood. He hadn’t just been taken prisoner; he had been transported like a piece of cargo.

’What a profound humiliation!’

’The Northern Domain and Zog aren’t just fighting the Sutton Royal Family—they’re fighting the entire Continent!’

’Madmen! Traitors! Ignorant beasts!’

Sir Willy cursed them endlessly in his mind, completely oblivious to the fact that as the loser in this conflict, demeaning his opponents was tantamount to demeaning himself twice over.

After being hauled to the ground, the process of registering prisoner information began.

Just as before, Sir Willy’s title as a knight earned him no special treatment.

The Transcendents were transported back by balloon mainly to prevent their escape and to keep them separate from the Ordinary prisoners, thus avoiding uncontrollable conflicts among the captives.

These soldiers, hailing from various regions, were both prone to violence and generally ill-mannered; conflict among them was practically a certainty.

A brawl among Ordinary people was one thing, but a Transcendent fighting an Ordinary person could easily lead to unnecessary casualties.

After all, everyone in the POW camp was part of the Northern Army’s "reserve force"—they just needed a bit of ideological re-education.

And so, Sir Willy was thrown into the prisoner-of-war camp.

There was no private room, no servants to wait on him—it was all a level of squalor he had never before experienced.

Twenty men slept in a single room on a large, communal sleeping platform. Three meals were served at fixed times each day, with no choice of menu.

And there was forced labor.

’They were actually forcing a nobleman to perform manual labor?’

Working on an assembly line, going down into the mines, operating a sewing machine, herding cattle and sheep on a ranch—it was this sort of work, ten hours a day, six days a week.

Sir Willy considered this just another form of humiliation. The noble code of conduct forbade many forms of labor, viewing them as a stain on one’s status.

What infuriated him even more was that many people in the POW camp actually worked with great enthusiasm.

This was because by working, they could accumulate points. Once they reached the required score, they could regain their freedom.