Translator:Transn
Editor:Meh
"Your Highness, what's the meaning of this?" Carter thought Prince Roland was arbitrary before, but now he thought the prince had become divorced from reality.
With regard to how to train a soldier, the chief knight thought that no one would be more professional than himself. His family had a complete set of training method, where a boy of 10 years old could be trained as a soldier, and would master all kinds of weapons in five years. If the soldier was further trained for five years, he would then be a top soldier, a knight who knew all rituals of upper class—of course, the trainees could not come from a civilian family.
[Look at these idiots! They only think of eating eggs!] Carter thought, [Besides... the eggs are so expensive!]
Roland responded casually, "Just watch them, and remember they must be trained in this way for the next few days. Of course, I'll make some changes, and I'll list down the details on paper."
During the cold war era, it was impossible to train a group of qualified soldiers in two or three months. And Roland had never thought of that, as he did not need that kind of Spartan warriors who were strong enough to tear a beast apart with bare arms. The individual soldiers did not have to be strong, but they had to be disciplined and execute every order without fail.
The power of a unit was usually much stronger than individual strength. This was decided by social norm and acceptance. So he needed to form them into a unit quickly. The modern military training, with some modifications to suit the current situation, was a good choice. In his personal experience of military training, it took only half a month to integrate students from all over the country into a cohesive unit. The effect was very obvious regardless of the process.
Only when this group of people completely understood the importance of discipline, could Roland implement the next step of his plan.
Van'er still failed to get the second egg at the end.
They had to stand twice as long as the previous round, and it did not end until someone's legs went weak and trembled.
Just then, Prince Roland announced to have a rest and ordered the attendants to serve lunch. People's anger at the weakling was successfully transmuted into the eagerness toward food. Of course, Van'er began to suspect that His Highness probably had never intended to let them get a second reward.
Lunch was packed in four large pots, which was transported by carriages to the outside of the town. In addition to food, they also brought a lot of wooden bowls and spoons.
Van'er licked his lips, ready to rush to the carriages with the others, but was held back by the chief knight.
His Royal Highness ordered all the people to line up in four rows and come forward one by one for bowls and spoons. Whoever dared to disturb the order would be forced to be the last one to get his food.
The crowd hustled and squeezed, and lined up into four rows. Van'er was lucky enough to stand in the forefront of the outermost row. Of course, some people were not satisfied with their positions. The sound of quarrels and fighting was heard in the rows. Soon the knights and several guards rushed into the crowd and kicked the troublemakers out.
[Fool,] thought Van'er when he glanced at the man who started the riot. That was Insane Fist, the most aggressive street fighter in the town. He used to stir up trouble everywhere with his brute force, but now he had to squat in the corner with swords pointed at him. Look how pitiful he was now.
He felt that he had already figured out what His Royal Highness liked.
He liked order.
They had to stand upright in a straight line, line up to get food, and always follow orders... Van'er had heard from some knowledgeable businessmen that some of the noble had a strange habit: they could not tolerate disorder and once something was out of place, they could not help rearranging things.
In Van'er's mind, this kind of person was purely bored and had nothing better to do. So they would deliberately create some trouble to occupy their mind.
He did not expect that His Royal Highness was such a person.
When the lids of the pots were opened, Van'er smelled the strong flavor of food.
When the flavor spread in the wind, he almost lost himself in it. The crowd also became restless, but soon the knight roared to keep them quiet. [We probably have to line up again,] Van'er thought.
Sure enough, Prince Roland required them to line up for their portions of food just like before.
Their mouths were watering and their stomachs were growling. But thinking of what happened to Insane Fist, they had to line up and wait patiently.
The pots were filled with hot oatmeal. To Van'er's surprise, there was even dried meat in the porridge! Even if he only got one thin slice, but that was meat! In addition, he even got an extra egg like he wished for.
Van'er gobbled down the porridge, even licking the bottom of the bowl once. He swallowed the entire egg without biting. Since he ate so fast and carelessly, his tongue blistered quickly.
After putting down the pot, Van'er patted his belly and made a satisfied hiccup. He had not enjoyed such delicious food for a long time. And what was even more incredible was that he even felt a sense of satiety. Compared with brown bread, the sweet meat porridge tasted like heaven. He even thought, if he could eat such food every day, what would it matter if he had to fight against the demonic beasts in the front?
After lunch, they had a long period of rest. They were brought back within the city wall, walking all the way to the camp of the battalion. A burly man of foreign nation came out and began to teach everyone how to set up tents.
Van'er knew him—nearly everyone in the town knew Iron Axe. With regards to his superb archery skill, he even far surpassed the most experienced old hunters in the town. [Wait a moment, so now Iron Axe is serving Prince Roland? It seemed that I saw him by the side of the knights before.] Van'er frowned and thought, [What's His Highness planning? Iron Axe is a man of Sand Nation.]
"Do you really intend to appoint a man of Sand Nation as captain?" Carter had the same question. "He doesn't belong to Kingdom of Graycastle. And he isn't even from our continent."
"The witches don't belong to the Kingdom of Graycastle either," Roland said, "but they all belong to Border Town. Besides, aren't you watching them for me?"
"But, Your Highness..."
"Don't worry." Roland patted the knight's shoulder. "The origin of a person doesn't matter in Border Town. As long as they don't violate the law of the kingdom, they're still my subjects. If you're really worried, you can choose two more excellent captains. Anyway, the team will continue to expand in the future, and you can cultivate some promising ones now. I have written down the training regulations. Compared to the people of Sand Nation, I think you'd better be more concerned about this."
Carter took the parchment roll from Roland's hands. Skimming through the contents from beginning to end, he got a nasty shock. The training contents were almost unheard of. For example, they needed to run laps around Border Town in the afternoon from 2 p.m. till sunset. The regulations emphasized that everyone had to complete this, and they were allowed to help each other on the way. If they persevered and no one gave up, they would get an extra egg for dinner. Another example, when the whistles were blown at night, everyone had to get dressed and fall in as soon as possible. With these kinds of training exercises, Carter was afraid that most people would quit in a few days.
The first few rules were already hard to understand, and the last one completely confused him.
"Every day after dinner, they're required to go to Mr. Karl's college for cultural training."
"Your Highness... What do you mean by cultural training? Do you want to teach them to read and write?"
"I hope so, but the time is too limited. Karl could only teach them some simple words and numbers so that they can read and write orders. I'll personally explain this part to Karl. You just need to send them over."
"But, why do you want to do this? It's of no use in fighting against the demonic beasts."
"Who said so?" Roland yawned. "A unit good at fighting must also be well educated. That's the experience learned from history."