Chapter 109
Chapter 109
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 109
Chapter Title: Tactical Training
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"Everyone! Who is the one who saved our territory? In those days when we suffered under Sarisa Count's tyranny, too scared to even eat a single meal a day! Who was it that shared grain with us!"
"It was our lord, of course!"
In the small plaza in front of the castle, a woman shouted and a man answered. It sounded like a scripted conversation, but passersby began to stop one by one and watch them.
"Just thinking about Sarisa Count squeezing every last grain from us makes my teeth chatter!"
The woman launched into a tirade against Sarisa Count. Most of it was exaggerated, but stories based on real events, spiced up just right, drew even more interest and sympathy.
Some people thought, Was it really that bad? only to nod silently as vague memories surfaced—Yeah, it kinda was... Meanwhile, the shills in the crowd put on a passionate performance, cursing Sarisa Count.
"And now! The Wayne Viscount's family next door is slandering our lord and threatening our territory!"
"How are they threatening us?"
At the shill's question, the woman beckoned to a child standing quietly beside her.
"This child lost her family to mercenaries sent by Wayne Viscount! He ordered them to plunder our villages just to intimidate our territory!"
There was no proof—it was just words—but after the Sarisa Count stories had won everyone over, her claim felt like undeniable fact. The castle folk latched onto this new target for their ire and began cursing Wayne Viscount.
"That damned bastard!"
"Death to Wayne Viscount!"
The little girl in the woman's arms burst into tears. She was far too clean and plump for someone who'd supposedly lost her family to mercenaries. But her cute, pitiful sobbing melted hearts, and no one dwelled on the details.
As anger toward Wayne Viscount and his territory boiled over... someone shouted at the woman.
"So what are we supposed to do about it?"
The woman, who had been hugging the tearful child, sprang up as if she'd been waiting for that line.
"We must take revenge on Wayne Viscount!"
But how could commoners avenge themselves on a noble? No matter how furious they were, it was impossible. Faces twisted awkwardly, but the woman shook her head.
"Everyone! We can't do it ourselves, but we have our lord! The most merciful and valiant man of all! And right now, he needs our strength!"
As her words ended, officers who had been hiding at the back of the plaza stepped out. Dressed sharply—unlike their usual attire—they unrolled sheets of paper and spoke. Of course, they couldn't read, so they were just reciting memorized lines.
"Enlist now and even recruits get a pound a month! Join for the glory of Lucas Territory and our merciful lord! This is our chance to repay his graces!"
"What the hell is that?"
"As you can see, recruitment officers, my lord. You ordered us to secure more troops, didn't you?"
True enough... but wasn't this basically a scam? I was speechless. The plaza was right by the mansion, so I'd watched the whole embarrassing show from start to finish.
"Still, hiring performers has boosted enlistments dramatically. Most are idiots, sure, but train them up and they'll earn their keep."
Gringem said it without batting an eye. As the next recruitment skit began, I was about to order them to stop when a cavalryman who had just passed through the gates caught my eye.
He looked familiar—the rider I'd dispatched to the capital with the letter about Sisella's claim. He rode straight to the mansion, entered my office, and knelt.
"My lord! A letter from His Imperial Majesty!"
"Well done. Go rest."
The rider, who looked like he'd had a rough trip—beard unkempt—bowed and left. Alone in the office, I opened the emperor's letter. Carefully breaking the seal stamped with the imperial crest, I found my sent documents... and a new sheet of paper.
The emperor's reply. My heart raced. If he rejected Sisella's claim... this territory war might fizzle out pointlessly.
[Regarding Wayne Sisella, whom Viscount Lucas Kyle is protecting...]
"Yes!"
I cheered at the first line alone. He'd named her Wayne Sisella—not just some woman. The emperor was acknowledging her claim.
Now it was a real territory war—one worth the name. A fight over lands. They had no legitimate claim, so they couldn't touch my territory outright. Bastard? Only if the emperor said so.
A week later, Wayne Viscount—having received the emperor's letter—surprisingly agreed to specifics on the territory war's date and location without much fuss.
"The site will be the plains near the territory border, ten days from now. Marching there takes at least two days, so finish all preparations three days prior."
"Understood!"
The assembled knights replied with confident faces. Behind them, mercenary captains and military officers too. They looked puzzled about being summoned—nobles rarely called commoners to strategy meetings.
But I hadn't called them for nothing. Everyone had a role. Nobles might think wars revolved around them, but these mid-level folks handled the details.
Sergeants major play big roles in armies too. Undervalued and kicked around, but they're crucial.
"From today, you'll discuss tactics with me. I'll also teach you to read—learn it."
"Pardon?"
"I want an army that moves as one. That means raising your skills. No force, though—opt out if you want. What's it to be?"
Stunned by the noble offering free literacy and tactics lessons, they whispered among themselves. But who wouldn't jump at that? My mercenary captains had already learned basics from Cutter anyway.
"We'll do it!"
They accepted.
"Battalions, attention!"
Hundreds of troops lined up on the plains outside the castle. Excluding patrol mercenaries, but still no small force.
"Salute the lord!"
"Sir!"
Their roar echoed to the castle walls. Soldiers and mercenaries alike wore uniform gear—slight variations aside. I'd supplied the Landsknechts' equipment too.
Uniformity mattered on the battlefield. Ragtag gear lacked intimidation. Matching outfits moving in sync made enemies think, Those guys look tough—should we even engage? regardless of actual skill.
"War is coming soon."
Soldiers exchanged glances. They'd guessed as much, but facing it head-on as soldiers was different.
"Some of you are fresh recruits. You—how long since you enlisted?"
The young-faced soldier I pointed to straightened rigidly and shouted he'd just hit two weeks.
"Hah! Greenhorn!"
"Kid can't even mop yet!"
Veteran mercenaries and older soldiers laughed. Even to them, two weeks was rookie status.
I raised a hand to quiet the chatter and addressed them.
"Enlistment date doesn't matter! What counts is unbreakable courage! Soldiers who face the enemy's spears head-on for their comrades and territory, even at their throats! That's the warriors I need!"
Silence fell. Mercenaries were battle-hardened, but most soldiers lacked real combat experience.
"Over the next five days, you'll undergo combat-like drills and tactical training to become true elite troops! Ones who'll fight brilliantly on the battlefield! And I promise: I'll lead from the front, ensuring not one of you dies in vain!"
Tedious, grueling training ahead—but their eyes gleamed. Nobles always demanded commoner sacrifices. I'd pledged to fight at their forefront.
Anyone who knew me nodded. No one here hadn't heard my reputation.
"Many tactics exist, but with no time, master one. Recognize this shape?"
"That's..."
Soldiers and officers alike trailed off at my diagram. A simple square—their drilled formation. But they stared blankly.
They say most Americans are ignorant; here, that's average. They learn by doing, not diagrams or text, so shapes and writing confused them. No wonder this world's armies struggled with flexible tactics mid-battle.
"Fine. Memorize it. Now, small-unit tactics drill. Form square—fastest time."
"Yes, sir!"
"Move! Lord's orders!"
No confusion now—they snapped into action. Landsknechts clearly outpaced regulars in form and speed.
Real combat experience and heavy training paid off. Military officers, faces flushed with embarrassment at being outdone, yelled they'd win a rematch.
But that wasn't the lesson. I kept soldiers in formation, pulled officers aside, and showed the diagram again.
"This is small-unit tactics! This is large-unit! Know the difference? Why small-units work against cavalry?"
"No, sir!"
Good—honest ignorance beat fake certainty. I began teaching tactics for the mind, not just the body. To understand, not just mimic.