Chapter 88
Chapter 88
"Ha!"
Thud-thud-thud-thud.
Thwack!
Though he tried his best to spur his horse and raise his crossbow, the bolts flew slightly past the target and embedded themselves in the ground.
"Ah..."
A sigh of disappointment escaped the lips of Norden, a rookie soldier who had only been training for a year.
But his situation was still better than most of his peers.
Thwack-thwack-thwack!
Bolts flew wildly, missing the mark by embarrassing margins. Some couldn't even properly grip their reins, still struggling with the pain of bouncing in their saddles.
That was normal.
Firing accurately from horseback after just a year of training—even with a crossbow rather than a longbow—was no easy feat.
Yet Norden's gaze wasn't fixed on his "normal" peers but on the few who effortlessly achieved the impossible.
"Charge!"
"Fire!"
Not only did they hit their marks head-on, but even when galloping at full speed without reins, nine out of ten bolts struck true when fired backward.
'Knight trainees.'
Those recognized for their talent were exempted from guard duties and focused solely on training.
But Norden had heard most of their training consisted of stamina, swordsmanship, and lance drills.
Inspired by their overwhelming victory in the last battle, he had devoted as much time to crossbow training as they had—if not more.
Yet these three hundred still outperformed him.
During the battle against Silvan, more than half of them hadn't been this skilled.
The only explanation was an undeniable gap in talent.
'Those are the ones who'll become knights.'
Between the mercenary-turned-instructors who had served with the Grand Prince from the beginning, half the veteran soldiers, and these knight trainees, the MacLaine forces now boasted over nine hundred crossbow cavalry.
Excluding the knight order, they were the strongest force in MacLaine's army.
Everyone in MacLaine knew the story of how the Grand Prince had saved their family from crisis with just three hundred crossbow cavalry.
Being recognized as one of them was tantamount to being acknowledged as an elite.
And it wasn't just about honor.
After the last battle, crossbow cavalry were officially paid more than double the wages of regular soldiers.
So—
'After all that effort...'
Norden couldn't hold back his frustration and hung his head.
He had spent the past year painfully aware of his lack of talent for knighthood.
Even excluding freaks like Victor, who became knights overnight, he could see the trainees improving day by day.
So he had lowered his goal to joining the crossbow cavalry—and even that seemed out of reach.
He felt utterly pathetic.
If he failed this time, the next selection would include soldiers from Silvan—many of whom were already experienced cavalrymen.
'I have to feed my family.'
His father had been bedridden with illness for three months now.
His mother, pregnant with their fifth child, could barely work the fields as her due date approached.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to hold back tears, but they spilled over anyway.
"Damn it..."
He hurriedly wiped his eyes when a booming voice suddenly caught his attention.
"Stop! You, you, you! And those three—plus anyone with similar results—round up a thousand! Focus solely on mounted and crossbow training for now, no more sword or lance drills!"
The Grand Prince, observing from a distance, pointed in several directions—and unless Norden was mistaken, one of those fingers had definitely singled him out.
"M-me?"
"Yeah. Looks like it."
The instructor beside him sighed and patted his backside.
"Ah—YESSSS!"
Norden cheered, but—
"Don't tell me there's another war coming..."
The veteran mercenary-turned-instructor, already battle-worn, stiffened at the Grand Prince's orders, catching the scent of blood yet again.
"What about the knights from Silvan?"
"They've fully integrated into the order. They saw the senior knights receiving mithril swords and even being taught the Iron Blood Sword Technique. Morale is high."
"I see. Any other issues?"
"No problems—only good news."
A faint smile appeared on the lips of Heinkel, captain of the knight order, as he reported to Logan.
"Good news?"
"Thanks to Lady Ellen's participation in training, the other knights have been motivated."
"Really?"
"Well, it's mostly just 'I can't lose to a girl' for now."
Logan chuckled at the unexpected positive effect.
"That's good. So the total number of knights is...?"
"One hundred fifty-two, including myself."
"Excellent."
Leaving Heinkel's confident expression behind, Logan turned his attention elsewhere.
"A thousand crossbow cavalry and a hundred fifty knights. What about maintenance costs for horses and equipment?"
"We can easily handle twice that amount right now."
Dwain, listening nearby, was just as confident as Heinkel.
But Logan's reaction was slightly different this time.
"Only twice...?"
"Only?! We already have nearly three thousand horses in the territory, and more keep arriving. The cost of managing the pastures alone—"
"Ah, misspoke. More money will come in the future anyway."
"...You're making me nervous again. What's going on? Are you really preparing for war?!"
"What do you think I'm doing right now?"
"......"
Dwain was momentarily speechless at Logan's brazen attitude, but fortunately, someone else voiced his concerns.
"You said yourself we need to build strength to defeat Bifrost! We're still far from ready. Even if we strike Pereta, Bifrost won't just sit back—!"
"I know."
"...Then why are you saying this?!"
"But sometimes, you have to act even when you know you're not ready. There are moments when..."
The words sounded almost like a lecture coming from the young Grand Prince.
"For us, that moment is now."
But faced with Logan's unusually grave expression, the two retainers couldn't bring themselves to argue further.
Perhaps the atmosphere had grown too heavy.
Logan glanced at them and smirked slightly.
"Don't worry too much. I have a plan. Don't you trust me?"
At his confident declaration, the two retainers could only nod weakly.
'If we just avoided war, there'd be nothing to worry about in the first place.'
But that truth could never be spoken aloud.
"Now, let's check the other side."
Unaware—or perhaps ignoring—their conflicted feelings, Logan moved with enthusiasm.
Clip-clop. Clip-clop.
The lively sound of hooves echoed across the field.
A few cavalrymen galloped with lances in hand.
Though not knights, their momentum was fierce.
In formation, their thick lances swung toward soldiers holding shields as large as their own bodies.
CRASH!
"Guh!"
"Ugh!"
Most of the shieldbearers couldn't withstand the impact and tumbled to the ground. From the sidelines, Kai, who had been watching, roared at them.
"Get your heads straight! You think lying around like that will keep you alive on the battlefield?!"
His scolding continued mercilessly.
"Taking a lance head-on? I told you to shift the angle right before impact!!"
If it were that easy, everyone would be a master of shield techniques.
Even Logan found it hard to imagine maneuvering such a massive shield with that level of precision.
"Aren't those shields too heavy?"
"In my day, I deflected knights' charges with shields twice that weight. That's how I earned the nickname 'Knight-Killer Mercenary.' Compared to that, this is nothing. Tch. Henry! Get up, quick!"
...Well, if anyone could do it, it would be this monster.
"At this rate, their joints are going to give out."
"A little sprain? Just slap some salve on it."
What kind of monster was this guy?
Logan stared blankly at Kai, but the fallen soldiers were already scrambling back to their feet and reassuming their stances.
'They're not even Aura Users—how are they shrugging off that kind of impact?'
At Logan's stunned expression, Kai grinned.
"They may be too slow to fire a crossbow properly, but I picked the toughest bastards for this. They're training with potion-infused herbs to prevent lasting damage. Once they're ready, they'll be able to stop at least one knight's charge, just like you wanted."
Logan doubted it was just "toughness" or "herbs," but he didn't press further.
"If they can manage that, it's enough. What about the other soldiers' training?"
"Crossbow cavalry have doubled their mounted training time. Regular soldiers have doubled their marksmanship drills. Even the knight trainees are prioritizing crossbow cavalry training for now. Want to see?"
"Of course."
Thud-thud-thud-thud.
A group of cavalrymen charged in formation.
A hundred riders galloped in a straight line, raising their crossbows in unison.
Then—
"Fire!"
Thwack-thwack-thwack!
Bolts flew straight into iron targets 400 meters away.
Hardly any missed.
Meanwhile, on another field, fully armed soldiers with crossbows weaved through haphazardly placed obstacles.
After navigating the course, dozens of soldiers spun at their instructor's command and fired without hesitation.
Thwack!
The volley struck straw dummies dead-center—an impressive sight.
Soldiers not assigned to either training ground practiced endlessly, pulling back crossbow-like strings to build endurance.
Training, standby, rest, and strength exercises.
Each unit was divided into four groups, each training rigorously.
Except for veteran soldiers maintaining security in MacLaine's three castles and town, every soldier in the territory was undergoing this regimen.
This training system had been in place since before Logan left for the capital after the battle with Silvan—now fully established.
Patting Kai's shoulder, Logan left the training grounds.
Next, he had to meet his father.
"New training?"
"Yes."
"...You do realize our knight order already undergoes some of the most grueling drills compared to others, right?"
"Of course."
"And you want to add more?"
"You'll understand once you hear it."
Logan explained his plan, and the discussion was brief.
"Oh-ho. This could work."
With that single remark, another hellish training course was added to the MacLaine Knight Order's regimen.
"Gah!"
A sheer cliff face—20 meters high, nearly vertical.
A knight leaping between handholds was struck on the helmet with a wooden sword just before reaching the top.
As the armored knight lost consciousness and plummeted—
WHOOSH.
Patrick, a High Knight observing below, caught the falling knight effortlessly.
THUD.
"Oof. Kelron—failed. Disqualified."
"Ugh... D-disqualified."
Clearly dazed, the knight staggered back and slumped among his shell-shocked comrades.
Given that he had nearly died, his vacant expression was understandable.
"Gah!"
"Oof, another one!"
Another scream followed as Heinkel—with considerably more effort than his lord—caught another knight.
This one, too, collapsed limply onto the ground.
"Who came up with this insane training...?"
"Shh. Who else but the Grand Prince?"
"That damn prince..."
Twitch.
It wasn't exactly pleasant knowing every whisper was heard.
But Logan's father, who had clapped enthusiastically upon hearing the plan, looked thoroughly satisfied.
"Perfect siege training! Doubles as defense drills too. Aside from being slightly dangerous, it's brilliant!"
Slightly? Slightly?!
At this absurdly cheerful assessment, every waiting knight momentarily glared daggers at the back of their lord's head.
Of course, they averted their eyes the instant he turned around.
"Wake up, all of you! Front line—go again! Every failure deducts 10 gold from your monthly pay. Succeed, and it's a raise. Hanson, at this rate, you won't get a penny this month!"
The threat of pay cuts made even the failed knights look back up at the cliff.
But the sight was still terrifying.
Most were ordinary knights, while those wielding wooden swords at the top were sergeants—intermediate knights.
'How the hell are we supposed to succeed at this?'
Teeth gritted in frustration, they could only sigh in despair—until—
"Huh?!"
"Not bad..."
"Whoa...?"
One knight—noticeably smaller than the rest—scaled the cliff as if flying, rapidly closing in on the top.
"Fast, but..."
"Still won't make it."
Most watching assumed she'd fail.
This training was inherently unfair to the climbers.
It would only be feasible if the attacker was significantly more skilled or had numerical superiority—neither of which applied here.
But some were pleased just by the attempt.
"...She's impressive."
"Oh, finally admitting it?"
"With that determination, swordsmanship sense, and youth? How could I not? Her potential is limitless."
"I'm glad."
Logan smiled sincerely at his father's words.
If Patrick acknowledged her, it meant most of the MacLaine Knight Order did too.
Progress was much faster than expected.
So he could watch Ellen's attempt with amusement—until the very end.
"Gah—PTUI!"
Just as she reached the top, a glob of spit flew from the helmet of Intermediate Knight Kelly.
As his face twisted in disgust and he hesitated to swing—
CRACK!
The small figure clinging to the cliff—Ellen—swung her iron sword straight for his groin.
The terrifying sound suggested less "end of the bloodline" and more "end of life."
As Kelly recoiled in shock—
Ellen seized the opening, planted herself firmly, and leveled her sword at him.
"YES! Success!"
Though she cheered, most spectators could only gape in horror.
"...Wasn't she supposed to be a count's daughter?"
"Yeah... Supposedly..."
It was an absurd method—but success was success.
The problem?
Other knights began copying Ellen's tactics.
Soon, the training descended into outright filthy brutality.
The architect of this training could only clutch his head in dismay.
Ellen wasn't just adapting to the knight order—she was changing it.