The Militia

"Are these the people you recruited?" Roland looked at the ragged group of commoners in front of him and had the urge to turn around and leave.

"Your Highness, they were selected exactly as per your requirements," Carter said, counting on his fingers. "Males, non-criminals, between the ages of eighteen and forty, physically intact... I have checked them all meticulously."

Well, Roland knew not to expect too much. After all, the productivity in this world was so low that even having enough to eat was a challenge, let alone dressing well. Being treated like a prince made him overlook these things. Once he stepped out of the castle, he could see beggars barely dressed and struggling to survive everywhere. In fact, even in the capital city of Graycastle, there were professionals known as corpse collectors who went around picking up the starved corpses lying in the streets and cremating them.

So, what was the combat style like in this world? Roland closed his eyes and thought carefully. Hmm... it was probably something a little more advanced than brawls between thugs. Generally, when a lord decided to launch a war (or a brawl - Roland didn't think such fights could be called wars), he would gather the vassal nobles in his jurisdiction, and these nobles would then summon vassal nobles of a lower rank in their own territories. For example, a duke would summon counts from his underlings, counts would summon viscounts and barons, and so on.

Most of these nobles had a group of knights and mercenaries as their personal force, and they formed the main combat strength. They were well-equipped with armor and excellent weapons. At the same time, they would conscript peasants and farmers from their territories to fight alongside them - basically, they acted as supply transporters for the troops and filled the front lines when cannon fodder was needed. The casualties in such battles were the highest among these cannon fodders. In battles between nobles, as long as one didn't die on the battlefield, they would usually be captured and well-treated to facilitate ransom.

Roland naturally didn't expect the nobles from Border Town to help him in the fight. In fact, they had no relationship with Border Town. Most of them were barons who were subordinated to the lord of Longsong Stronghold, and their territories were also in the jurisdiction of the stronghold.

Building a force entirely composed of commoners was an imaginative thing in this era. They were ignorant, illiterate, couldn't understand commands, and had no professional combat training. How could they compare to knights who started practicing swordsmanship at the age of ten?

Carter approached Roland and whispered, "Your Highness, this idea is not feasible to begin with. Just look at them. Who among them can even hold a sword? They would probably scatter at the sight of demonic beasts, which could even affect the stability of the defensive line. I suggest hiring professional mercenaries from Willow Town or elsewhere to guard the walls instead. These people can be used for miscellaneous tasks."

"No, I will use them," Roland refused firmly. He had no favorable impressions of those mercenaries who worked for money. Moreover, his purpose in building an army was not just to deal with demonic beasts - throughout history, a strong and vibrant force had to come from the people, whether it was feudal armies, modern armies, or contemporary armies. This rule had been proven countless times.

"Alright, as you wish," the knight shrugged. "I will start training them on how to hold a sword tomorrow, although I doubt it will be of much use..."

"Hold a sword? No, first, have them form up and run," Roland suddenly thought that perhaps the chief knight himself had never experienced these training contents, so he changed his words. "Call that hunter we found before, you can learn from both of us."

Vanna's experience today was more unbelievable than what he had experienced in the past twenty years combined.

He actually saw the Fourth Prince of the kingdom, Prince Roland Wimbledon, up close. The prince walked past him and even smiled at him. My goodness, was the prince drunk?

Three days ago, when the Fourth Prince gave a speech in the square, Vanna knew that this winter would be different from previous years. They wouldn't be going to Longsong Stronghold but would spend the long winter here instead. He didn't quite understand the prince's reasons, but he wholeheartedly agreed with this decision. Vanna's younger brother had died in the slums of the stronghold two years ago, a whole month without food supply. With the few copper coins he earned from unloading cargo at the harbor, he could only buy some black bread to share with his brother. But that winter was too cold, the shacks in the slums were leaking everywhere, and they couldn't even maintain their body temperature. After his brother fell ill and became comatose, he never woke up again.

In Border Town, at least he had a house made of mud bricks, and he didn't have to fear the heavy snow for several days in a row. He also saw the harbor stacked with wheat imported from elsewhere, which was being gradually transported into the castle. So, when Vanna heard about the recruitment of militiamen by the Fourth Prince, he rushed over immediately.

Of course, the reason he abandoned his work at the quarry and rushed here was also due to the tempting salary of ten silver royals per month. This was already equivalent to what an experienced mason would earn! He couldn't miss this opportunity, as he had plans to marry Cheryl, a tavern maid, next spring. He couldn't afford to save too little money now.

As for what these militiamen were supposed to do, he hadn't paid much attention. It was either carrying things for those noble gentlemen or assisting the patrol soldiers, but surely, they wouldn't make them climb the city walls and fight against the ferocious demonic beasts.

The screening process was quite strict, and Vanna felt a little fearful of the knight with gleaming armor. Luckily, he passed the inspection with his sturdy physique, while many emaciated individuals were carried out of the group by the knight. In the end, there were only around a hundred people left who came to apply.

But Vanna never expected that the person to train them would be the prince himself!

The successful candidates were brought to the grassland west of Border Town, with the city walls under construction behind them and the endless Misty Forest in front of them.

The prince commanded everyone to line up and then went to rest on the side. It had rained a few days ago, and the ground was still wet and muddy. The water seeped into their feet through the gaps in the shoes, making him feel uncomfortable all over. Not to mention, the standing posture the prince requested wasn't ordinary. Their hands had to hang straight down on both sides of their thighs, and their spines had to be erect and straight.

Vanna felt exhausted after standing for just fifteen minutes, it was even more tiring than taking turns using a sledgehammer to break stones. But he clenched his teeth and tried to hang on because the prince had said that whoever moved, there would be one less egg for lunch. Oh God, he hadn't tasted the flavor of an egg in a long time. Clearly, others had the same thoughts, despite wobbling, most of them persevered.

It wasn't until the prince announced a short rest that Vanna realized he had sweat on his back, even though he hadn't stood for a long time, at most for fifteen minutes. Those who didn't hold on until the end felt regretful, as if they watched the round eggs move further away from them.

But Vanna didn't quite understand, what was the use of practicing this? Could they carry more bags of dry rations by just standing?

If it wasn't for the revered prince personally training them, he would have started shouting.

Never did he expect that after a short break, the second command announced by the prince was even more ridiculous. He commanded everyone to line up once again, and this time, if nobody moved, they would all get an additional egg during lunch. As long as one person gave up, everyone would lose the chance for an extra egg.

Vanna heard a collective gulp.

Damn it, was this some trick popular among the nobility? Manipulating everyone like puppets with a carrot on a stick, he wasn't a foolish donkey!

...But what if, what if everyone could actually achieve it? Wouldn't there be two eggs to eat later?

It was truly the devil's temptation. Vanna wiped the drool at the corner of his mouth and, for the sake of eggs, he gave it his all!