Of course, it would be best to give the credit to John Price and Thomas Harris, so that while they owe you a favor, they can also have a promising future. This way, at the very least, when you return from Luoyang in the future, you’ll still be able to find these two here.

Thinking of this, he glanced sideways, quickly let go with one hand, and called over another of the Jiangdong Tiger Generals who was chatting and laughing with others: “Brother Demou, look, all thirty-some riders last night were warriors who risked their lives—how could it be my reputation alone? For example, Thomas Harris George Harris was the first to propose the night raid, and he also made many kills last night. Both are tiger warriors, and today they stand side by side, complementing each other perfectly. You must get close to them.”

John Price and Thomas Harris exchanged a glance and each saluted.

However, unlike Thomas Harris, who puffed out his chest and belly, looking spirited, John Price still maintained a humble posture and then said, “John is an assistant official to the Chief Clerk of Right Beiping. When the lord is worried, the minister should die. In that situation, it was only right to fight to the death. I truly dare not claim any credit.”

As soon as he said this, Edward Benson and Thomas Harris both suddenly understood.

This actually touches on a special political ecology of the Eastern Han, namely the famous dual-monarch system.

What is the dual-monarch system? For the scholars and officials of the Eastern Han, they generally had two objects of loyalty, both akin to monarchs.

One, of course, was the emperor of the Han dynasty—no need to elaborate.

The other was their sponsor.

The Han dynasty used the recommendation system for official appointments, so whoever recommended you for office was your greatest benefactor. In fact, for the recommended, the sponsor held an authority similar to that of a monarch, parent, or teacher.

For example, why did the prefect have so much power at this time? Why did people in the Han generally regard the commandery as their country and the prefect as their sovereign? The answer is simple—most commandery officials in the Han were appointed and employed by the prefect.

Behind this phenomenon was actually a forced compromise after the centralizing ideology of the Han was shaken by the power of local magnates.

In fact, the reason Edward Benson felt that by recommending these two, they would never escape his grasp when he returned, was precisely because of this social reality.

By the same logic, John Price and the weak James Benson—the former was the subordinate, the latter the sponsor—so at present, there was a clear, if not intense, monarch-minister relationship between them. That’s why, when James Benson behaved so weakly atop Lulong Tower last night and was ignored by the officers below, John Price, a mere junior official, would step forward and beg to fight—it was truly a case of “when the lord is humiliated, the minister dies.”

Speaking of the prefect and James Benson, it must be said that this clan uncle finally did something right today—after the great victory at Lulong Fortress, which concerned the joint efforts of two commanderies, he had already sent fast riders to invite the prefects of Right Beiping and Liaoxi to come and inspect the enemy heads and discuss the aftermath of the battle.

With such a rare victory, these two “lords” should be arriving in person very soon.

This made things easier for Edward Benson, as he no longer needed to escort several carts of valuables through the chaos all the way to distant Yangle.

Meanwhile, while Lulong Fortress was filled with joy and excitement, the Xianbei who had been fleeing all night finally stopped running… though they were in a sorry state.

“Dog slave!” Frank Moore lashed a filthy, sheepskin-clad herdsman. “Go break the ice and fetch water—Lord Philip King needs to clean his wounds!”

At his command, a dozen lowly deserters and herdsmen immediately scattered to the Luan River to break ice and fetch water. Just as Frank Moore turned back with a forced smile, he was struck with a whip himself.

“You go too!” A fully armored soldier from Philip King’s tribe, holding a horsewhip, looked impatient.

Frank Moore clutched his bloodied cheek, hair disheveled, and couldn’t help glancing at Philip King sitting nearby. But Philip King’s face was torn open on one side, the other side had a gaping hole, and after a night of fleeing, his whole face was swollen and he couldn’t speak at all.

Frank Moore even guessed that this lord was barely conscious now—how could he expect any justice?

“Aren’t you going yet?” The armored Xianbei soldier grew even more impatient and lashed out again.

Ashamed and angry, Frank Moore saw there were five or six armored warriors nearby and dared not protest, so he hurried off in embarrassment.

The north wind howled, and the Luan River, bursting out from the Yan Mountains, was a natural wind tunnel. A dozen Xianbei, fleeing from the main camp, not even fully dressed in robes, pants, or shoes, had to break ice and fetch water in such a place. After much effort, they smashed open a thick slab of ice with stones, but before they could fill their skins with water, a gust of wind froze it over again, forcing them to break up the ice with their hands.

In the bitter cold, many were wounded, and soon their hands were raw and bloody, their feet slipping on the ice, unable to squat steadily.