Chapter 18
Episode 18
A week had passed since Logan's return to the territory.
While Logan focused on his own training, occasionally checking in on Ronian, Victor, and the mercenary band, the first shipment of Karok meat from Kyle and ironwood materials from Tritan Territory arrived at MacLaine Territory.
At this, Logan summoned Hamar and handed him a blueprint.
"What is this?"
Hamar frowned as he examined the blueprint spread before him.
"I tried to draw it as detailed as possible within the limits of my knowledge."
Though Logan was no professional craftsman, having used the weapon for decades allowed him to produce a rough blueprint at an amateur technician's level.
Of course, by Hamar's standards, it was still a crude mess.
"You want to attach a cartridge to the crossbow's rear for bolt storage and automatic reloading? And the bowstring should be triple-layered to fire three shots in rapid succession?"
Hamar alternated between staring at the blueprint and Logan's face, his expression one of utter disbelief.
"Even if such a mechanism were possible, rapid-fire would snap the bowstring. Are you planning to make a disposable weapon?"
"Uh..."
"Not to mention, strapping a wooden box right behind it would make it awkward for the shooter. Who in their right mind would design such nonsense—"
"Me."
"Cough—Ahem. Now that I look again, the idea is quite ingenious."
That "nonsense" will later become our kingdom's nightmare, you fool.
Fortunately, the issues Hamar raised were ones Logan could address.
"Reduce the bolt size to shrink the cartridge. And yes, it's meant to be disposable—but make the cartridge modular so it can be reloaded after each shot."
"...What?"
"For convenience, let's call it a 'magazine.'"
Hamar's eyes flickered wildly at this solution—not born from superior craftsmanship, but from a simple shift in perspective.
"Th-That's impossible! I heard some goat-footed contraption recently managed four or five reloads per minute, but this is leagues beyond—!"
By his understanding, even a skilled crossbowman could barely manage two shots per minute with current single-shot designs.
The crossbow Logan described was something that defied common sense—something that belonged to a future era.
Hamar might have believed it if Logan had claimed it was a magic-infused artifact.
"And you're saying this can be achieved with just one cartridge?"
"Absolutely. Just build it first."
Unable to argue further against Logan's confidence, Hamar fell silent.
Even to him, Logan's explanation didn't sound like mere speculation—it carried the weight of firsthand experience.
"Hmm. A revolutionary weapon requiring just a cartridge, a few gears, glue, and bowstrings... This does spark my competitive spirit. Fine. I'll make it."
"How long do you think it'll take?"
"You ask me to create something unheard of, and now you want a deadline?"
"It's just a weapon humans have already made."
"...What? That's impossible! Where? By whom?!"
"You don't need to know. If you can't do it, just say so."
"Grr... Fine, fine. One month. I'll make something far superior within that time."
Provoked by the challenge to his dwarven pride, Hamar declared boldly.
Only then did Logan allow himself a satisfied smile.
Crossbows, while powerful enough to pierce armor, were largely relegated to hunting due to their slow reload speed—rendering them impractical in large-scale battles where volleys of arrows were far more efficient.
But a decade later, when the Empire waged war, they fielded repeating crossbows in mass numbers.
These crossbow units could match knight orders in certain conditions—without relying on mages.
A weapon that could, under the right circumstances, allow a single soldier to hold off a knight.
One of the two key reasons the Empire dominated the early invasion wars.
Of course, by the war's later stages, most nations had replicated the design.
Post-war, even the earliest models became common—if slightly pricey—standard gear for low-rank mercenaries.
But at this point in time...
The mercenary band alone could deal a crippling blow to Count Tesron's forces in the territorial war.
Given his past-life memories, this wasn't an unreasonable expectation.
No, getting too optimistic would be dangerous.
Hamar might fail to perfect the repeating crossbow, or the mercenaries might struggle to wield it effectively—or it might simply take too long.
But those variables were already entrusted to Hamar and Kai. There was little more Logan could do.
So I'll prepare another contingency.
Assuming the worst—that the mercenary band failed to fulfill its role—he needed a backup plan.
For that, Logan sought out his father again.
"You want to join the knight order's training?"
"Yes."
Logan's expression was resolute, his gaze unwavering.
But Patrick, staring at his son with impassive eyes, responded with something unexpected.
"Rumors say the abandoned southern villa has become the Grand Prince's playground."
"Huh?"
"You renovated the quarters, filled the storerooms with strange goods, and even stationed your mercenary band there. Lately, I hear you've practically moved in. Why not train there?"
"...Those mercenaries are just low-rank sellswords. The true strength of our family—and this nation—lies with the knight order, does it not? I wish to train alongside them and understand what it truly means to be a knight."
Though embarrassing to voice, these were precisely the words calculated to please his father.
"...I acknowledge your martial skill, but your presence may discomfort the knights. You'll receive no special treatment—you'll be treated as a recruit. Are you prepared for that?"
Naturally, the answer was affirmative.
"Of course."
Logan nodded without hesitation.
"I've received word from the family head. But are you truly certain you don't require special accommodations?"
"Absolutely."
"Hmm."
The readiness of Logan's reply—even the unexpected politeness from the infamous troublemaker—did little to ease the frown of Heinkel, captain of the MacLaine Knight Order.
Even if he says no special treatment, how can we possibly ignore him?
He was, after all, the lord's son.
And given recent events, the knights' opinions of him were far from favorable.
It'd be easier if we were just ordered to pamper him.
The middle-aged knight, whose brown hair was streaked with increasing silver, clutched his head as if feeling each new gray hair sprout in real time.
But as if reading his thoughts, the troublesome figure before him spoke words that eased his mind.
"One week. If I fall behind even once during knight training in that time, consider this matter void, and I'll withdraw voluntarily."
"...Very well."
In that moment, Heinkel made a silent vow.
Starting tomorrow, training intensity will triple for the next week.
His fists clenched unconsciously.
If this is just some performance to improve your image, you'll regret it, Grand Prince.
He could already hear the screams of his men, but Heinkel burned with determination.
However, Logan's motives weren't as simple as improving his reputation through training.
The knight order remains the family's backbone. Regardless of others, I must secure their loyalty.
In the worst-case scenario—if his prepared weapons weren't completed or failed to meet expectations—Logan planned to join the knights and take to the frontlines himself.
Even if his current skills fell short of his father's, he was confident he surpassed most knights.
So I'll forge bonds with them now through shared hardship.
It was also crucial for his personal training.
Now, I focus on strengthening my own combat prowess.
The Force Core he'd honed through the Divine Sword Secret Art could grow through meditation alone, without physical training.
But at its core, it was still Force—physical conditioning remained paramount.
Thus, formal knight training would greatly benefit him.
He hoped this would become another variable in his favor.
But his resolve would unleash a storm upon the unsuspecting knights.
"Starting today, Grand Prince Logan will be joining our knight order training."
"What?"
"W-What did you say?"
"Did I hear right? The Grand Prince? Training?"
Murmurs erupted.
At dawn, Heinkel's announcement sent shockwaves through the assembled MacLaine knights.
As Patrick had feared, the reaction was far from positive.
"That delinquent?!"
"Just because he beat Dominen, he thinks he can play at being a knight?"
"I heard rumors the Grand Prince's gone mad—guess it's true."
"Who cares? Training's about to get easier."
"Don't be stupid. You know the captain—it'll only get worse."
As if answering, Heinkel grinned ominously and added:
"That's why we're introducing new training regimens starting today."
"Whaaat?!"
"Captain! That's not fair!"
"Damn it, I knew it."
Protests erupted from all sides, but Heinkel ignored them effortlessly.
"I trust you'll uphold your pride as knights. Surely none of you would embarrass me before the Grand Prince?"
The hidden meaning wasn't lost on the knights, who smirked in unison.
"Fine. Let's all suffer together. How long do you think the Grand Prince will last?"
"I give him three days."
"Two."
"Then I say one."
"Half a day... too much?"
"Nah, he might quit on the spot."
Snickers and jeers spread through the ranks.
But those mocking voices fell silent in less than half a day.
The madness began with endurance horseback riding.
Not riding horses—but carrying horses.
An insane drill unfamiliar even to the knights, eliciting screams within moments.
"GAAAH!"
Though sedated, each horse weighed at least five times more than a knight.
Running through mountainous terrain with a horse on one's shoulders was torture enough to make even Aura Users scream.
But what truly drove the knights to despair was something else entirely.
How is he so fast?!
This doesn't make sense. Is that really the delinquent?
Wasn't he just some lunatic?
The very Grand Prince who'd subjected them to this torment was leading the pack.
They gritted their teeth and chased, but the gap only widened.
Even the mid-level Aura Users serving as instructors gaped at Logan in disbelief.
The most stunned of all was Heinkel himself, the architect of this torture.
This can't be real. What the—
Designed to quickly weed out the troublesome Grand Prince, the drill now saw Logan leading effortlessly—smiling, even—while the knights behind him twisted in agony.
At this rate, it was the regular knights who'd drop out first.
As Heinkel watched anxiously, one knight finally staggered, groaning.
You pathetic—!
Forgetting his own role in creating this impossible trial, Heinkel glared resentfully at the failing knight.
But there was no turning back now.
Drawing upon his Aura, Heinkel bellowed loud enough to shake the mountains.
"All of you—HALT!"
The knights collapsed in unison, gasping with relief.
"Ten-minute break."
"Ughhh!"
Heinkel ignored their groans and casually addressed Logan.
"How are you holding up, Your Highness? It's grueling, isn't it?"
Naturally expecting complaints, he planned to use them as pretext to reduce the intensity before his men broke.
"Ah, it's manageable."
"I figured we should lower the... What?"
"Excellent training. Truly, knight order drills are invigorating."
"...Excuse me?"
The architect of this madness stared in disbelief, while the surrounding knights gaped at Logan as if he were insane.
But he meant every word.