Chapter 94
Chapter 94
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 94
Chapter Title: Reserve Army Training
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"Huh? Reserve army training?"
"What's that? Wait, there's a Reserve Mobilization Act?"
The old Hundred Household Captain families of Rozin District—now the local lords—could only blankly repeat the words after the utterly unexpected inspection visit from Rozin City Hall.
These were families whose ancestors had come to this land with Duke Sion in the past, pledging loyalty to the duke's family in exchange for receiving thirty percent of the produce from twenty to thirty households as a boon.
Even though the Hundred Household Captain system had been abolished decades ago, they still served as landlords in each village and town, often doubling as militia captains.
But with monsters suddenly multiplying and no orders coming from Rozin City—the district head—they had been at a loss, simply gathering all the able-bodied men they could.
Then, out of nowhere, city officials showed up and said this.
"Oh, it's been so long ago you've forgotten. Look here—there's an article stating that those registered as militia captains must be called up twice a year as reserves for training, to prepare for wars or disasters equivalent to natural calamities in the Dukedom or relevant district, right?"
"……?"
"Villages need to muster at least twenty adult males, towns at least fifty. Haven't you been doing it?"
"……???"
Most wore expressions that plainly said, 'What the hell is that?' but the ordinance the official presented was very real.
In other words.
"No way—your grandfather was the Hundred Household Captain, right? That's why you've been getting thirty percent of the villagers' produce as pay from the start, for about twenty years. That was all funded by taxes, you know? And you still get a pittance in subsidies every year? What does that make you if you take it? Yep, quasi-public servant."
"No...."
"No roster? No problem. You can make one right now. Just fill the numbers."
"R-Really?"
"Yes, yes. Of course, you'll have to do the training. Got gear at home? Oh, even if not, it's fine. The city provides basic equipment for reserves."
"Hoo. So we just do the training?"
"With all the monster chaos lately? They've dispatched combat-ready troops and top-notch instructors from Shionia. Just two weeks of solid training."
"Well, in that case... hell, let's give it a shot!"
No cost to them, and they even provided gear—what was not to like for the local lord families?
No, it was actually a good thing.
Monsters were already a growing threat, and smaller hamlets were suffering real damage—having regular troops from the dukedom's capital come help was a godsend!
But that was just what the lords thought.
"Oh, Father Sara! What are we supposed to do if you go like this?!"
"Waaah! Daddy!"
"Dad! Dad!"
Villages: twenty able-bodied men. Towns: fifty or more.
Not a huge number on paper.
But villages had fifty to sixty households, towns two to three hundred. Arithmetic meant one adult male from every three or four households was suddenly getting dragged off(?) to the army.
"Come on, hurry!"
"Move it, you bastards!"
"Eek! Spare me, sir!"
"Daddy! Daddyyy!"
Heart-wrenching separations unfolded everywhere, impossible to watch without tears.
To anyone watching, the soldiers ruthlessly kicking the able-bodied men were the villains, and the screaming men being hauled off were pitiful commoners oppressed by the powerful.
But a closer look at the reality painted a completely different picture.
"Bilbo Winston. No, you're only twenty-six—why are you so damn sluggish? And look, you volunteered for the militia seven years ago?"
"Uh, back then the militia seemed cool...."
"You little shit, the militia got you out of village communal labor, and you got priority perks from threshers to wells, didn't you?"
"D-Did I?"
"Did I, my ass! Anyone would think we were dragging you off by force!"
"Sorry...."
Exactly.
The militia had been voluntary recruitment from the start—a competitive spot with all sorts of perks.
But since they almost never actually fought, the twice-yearly training had devolved at some point into casually gathering in the village for chit-chat and loafing before heading home.
Hell, even those gatherings were rare.
So when they tried to actually train the militia today, this tearful sea erupted.
The women panicked at the burly, fierce-looking regular troops demanding their men come out, bawling on cue. The kids just cried because their moms or sisters were.
But the tears didn't last.
"Oh no! Without our eldest son, who'll harvest? Who'll feed the oxen? Waaah!"
"According to the Reserve Act, neighbors in the village will handle it. And take this."
"Huh? Wh-What's this?"
"One mal of rice—about fifteen kilograms. It's issued to households of men participating in training per the Reserve Act."
"Bilbo, come back safe. Fulfill your duty as a proud subject of the Dukedom."
Fifteen kilos of rice wasn't much. But no one in the world hated freebies.
And so the non-separation separations settled down quickly.
Some households even urged them to whip their usually lazy sons into shape this time.
Of course, with the real monster threat, most families were worried sick—but even they relaxed a bit seeing the Sparrowhawk unit members dispatched in groups of five or six to each village.
To ordinary folk, the Sparrowhawk troopers—fully armed in expensive-looking gear, riding gau—looked no different from knights.
In the end, villagers figured real monster hunts were for those knights, and their husbands or sons would just train under these reliable knights.
The conscripts(?) thought so too.
They just figured since they were heading to Rozin City for once, it'd be some proper training unlike before.
"While I'm in Rozin, I should buy a hairpin for my fiancée."
"Heh heh! Gift leather shoes to next-door Karin, and she'll fall head over heels for me?"
Able-bodied farmers like them couldn't visit Rozin often—it was a half-day hike minimum, a full day at worst.
So some treated the trip as a shopping outing more than training.
But the able-bodied men from district villages faced harsh reality in Rozin less than a day later.
"Wh-What's that?"
"Beggars?"
"Hey, look. Corpses. They're corpses."
"Ugh!"
The men arriving in Rozin were all from decent-sized villages.
Villages started at fifty households and two hundred people minimum.
Even three-to-four-hundred-person villages rarely got hit by small monster packs. Even now with monsters surging, they just prowled around.
But the smaller hamlets—the ones first hit by the kobolds and goblins that Shion and the Sparrowhawk units had wiped out—were different.
Over ten such hamlets in Rozin District alone, with barely twenty to thirty young strongmen each.
What the freshly arrived men saw were victims and refugees from those raided hamlets.
"……."
The Rozin guards who escorted them spoke to the shocked, silent men.
"You're lucky. If your villages were a bit smaller, you and your families would be in that pile."
"……."
The guard—speaking in a cocky drawl—continued.
"Train properly. Two weeks, but just give it your all. Oh, see those guys over there?"
The men's heads swiveled like meerkats toward where the guard pointed.
"Those guys? Half of 'em were in the same boat as you just ten days ago. Hard to believe, huh?"
"Wow......"
The men's eyes—especially the greenhorns just past sixteen but under twenty—sparkled.
"One! Two! One! Two!"
Over two hundred soldiers marched in perfect step to the cadence.
With black helmets protecting forehead to nape while exposing ears and faces, matched with same-color gambesons, they looked majestic.
And smack in the center of each gambeson: the Sparrowhawk emblem.
Not embroidered like formal unit members, but it stunned the militia men anyway.
"Those regular army? Same unit as the knight sirs who brought us?"
"Those are Sparrowhawk trainees. Talented ones with great attitudes, training to join the unit. Some are guards like me, some village militia like you."
"Wooow...!"
The younger ones stared with even greater envy and admiration. The guard said slyly.
"Wanna hear something even cooler?"
"……?"
"Trainees get paid. A hundred dien a month."
"Oh?"
A hundred dien wasn't objectively huge.
Most men here farmed or herded others' cows and sheep for at least two or three times that monthly.
But earning money in cool helmets and armor?
And they weren't even full members—just trainees?
"Th-Then if you officially join the unit?"
"Well, training alone doesn't make you official. Train three months without quitting, pass the test. Then you get the shoulder patch."
The men's eyes locked on the red epaulets on the shoulders of Sparrowhawk troopers riding gau proudly.
"Base pay a thousand dien a month, plus allowances at least fifteen hundred total? And ten percent of monster byproducts from hunts goes to participating members—that's a nice bonus. So minimum two thousand a month?"
"Tw-Two thousand dien!?"
"Gasp!"
Choking gasps erupted here and there.
Most were farmborn, raised tending fields and livestock, destined to die doing the same.
Tripling income? A pipe dream.
"Sigh, Sparrowhawk guys have girls swarming 'em. So jealous. Alright, let's move."
As the guard spoke, the men walked but kept staring at the trainees.
Sure enough, as the guard said, passing maidens squealed or shot flirty glances at the trainees.
"Huff! Huff!"
The twenty-ish greenhorns flushed red, some snorting with newfound fire.
'I'll do it too! I'll join the Sparrowhawk Unit!'
'Earn big bucks! Wear cool armor!'
The guard—no, Miska, ex-Zanstrik mercenary turned undercover Sparrowhawk trooper—glanced back at the obviously like-minded greenhorns and smirked.
The instructors were always right.
(To be continued)