Chapter 25: Training Plan

However, before facing the Supreme King Rodri head-on, John felt that he needed to make some preparations.

One of these preparations was the large military camp being built to the west of Dublin City.

The scale of this camp was unprecedented. John hoped it could accommodate three thousand soldiers, along with the merchants who would serve them.

John's reason for building this camp was not just to house soldiers. Another purpose was to train professional soldiers.

At this time, Europe was gradually emerging from the darkness of the medieval period. Land was no longer the only form of wealth; currency had become a second type of wealth, independent of land, and the social division of labor had become more refined.

The introduction of the shield tax for knights was an example of this change. Knights, who were originally the main military force of the state, were now increasingly focusing on economic activities.

In simple terms, they wanted to farm, not fight.

In the Kingdom of Sicily, where the monetary economy and commerce were more developed, there was also a state established by Norman conquerors. The royal government there had a powerful standing army, rather than a temporary army composed of feudal lords.

John's idea was to establish a standing army entirely under the royal family's control, not formed by feudal lords.

To achieve this goal, John had already quietly chosen the right candidates in his mind.

He looked at Breton, the mercenary leader, who was directing the soldiers in their construction work. The mercenaries from Brittany and the Irish soldiers all listened to him.

Originally, he didn't have such great authority, but during the march, this mercenary leader had built good relationships with almost everyone.

Suddenly, Breton turned around and saw John.

"Your Highness, are you here to inspect the project?" the mercenary leader asked.

John smiled and did not deny it. He walked up to Breton and, looking at the large construction site, said with a sense of wonder, "How long do you think it will take to complete this?"

"If we can maintain this number of workers, it will be completed in a month," Breton said with certainty.

"Good, just in time to give the knights a break," John changed the subject. "By the way, Breton, why did you choose to become a mercenary?"

This was a question no one had asked before.

Even in Europe, those who could find a good job would not want to be mercenaries. Because when someone became a mercenary, it meant they would inevitably wander from place to place and could die in the wilderness at any time.

If Breton had a small plot of land at home, he probably wouldn't have chosen to work as a mercenary.

Indeed, just as John had guessed, Breton said, "My father was just an ordinary minor knight. He couldn't even afford to pay for my education. All our family's land was inherited by my eldest brother, and my fourth brother entered a monastery. My third brother and I became mercenaries, but now he's dead."

"I initially worked for Duke Geoffrey, your brother, the Duke of Brittany, and your mother, the Queen. I helped suppress the Aquitaine rebellion. But back then, I didn't have such a large group; I was just a small mercenary leader. It took me ten years to gather more than two hundred men."

John raised an eyebrow. "Ten years? You've been a mercenary for ten years?"

Breton nodded. "Yes, Your Highness."

"How old are you now?" John was even more curious. "You don't seem that old."

"I became a mercenary at seventeen, the same age as you are now." When Breton said this, there was no pride in his voice, only envy and regret in his eyes.

"In Aquitaine, my brother died there. He was shot in the face with an arrow, and after that, he couldn't eat. The wound on his face got worse and worse until he died. That's how it was, Your Highness."

As he spoke, Breton's face showed no emotion, as if it wasn't his brother who had died, but just an ordinary soldier. But the pause at the end showed that he wasn't completely without feelings.

"You've done very well, Breton." John reached out and patted Breton on the shoulder, a gesture of closeness that made Breton a little uncomfortable.

Even now, Breton still saw himself as just an ordinary worker. John was merely a kind employer, and his status as a prince made it hard for Breton to see him as an equal.

But John didn't care about that. He needed to win Breton over because he planned to use him.

John said, "I'm sorry to hear about your experiences, but I have a task for you. It's a task that I believe only you are suitable for, and I hope you will take it."

"And... what kind of task is it, Your Highness?" Breton swallowed nervously.

As a seasoned veteran, Breton knew that John's words were meant to show trust. However, the saying "too good to be true" kept ringing in his mind, and Breton feared that John might be sending him to his death. If he agreed too quickly, it would be too late to back out later.

John felt a bit helpless but decided it wouldn't hurt to explain the situation. "I want you to stay here and help me train the soldiers. This is a long-term task, and you cannot quit halfway."

Hearing John's request, Breton was momentarily stunned.

His mind raced as he tried to piece together the meaning behind John's words. A long-term task meant that John intended to appoint him to a specific position, similar to Silvio. Originally, he was just a mercenary leader, but if John appointed him to an official role, he would become an officer under the prince's command.

If that were the case, not only would he be willing to stay and train the soldiers, but he would also gladly serve John in any capacity.

"If you do well, I will grant you a fief, making you a knight. You and your descendants can settle and prosper in England or Ireland."

Once again, John dangled the enticing prospect of ennoblement before him.

No one could resist such an offer. Being knighted meant that one's family could enjoy at least three generations of security and a higher social status. This was not something money could buy.

Breton's breathing quickened, and his mind raced. The golden opportunity lay right before him, and it was almost impossible to refuse. Even the most foolish person would know what to choose at this juncture.

"I am willing to stay and serve you, Your Highness."

Suddenly, Breton dropped to his knees in front of John, tears of gratitude filling his eyes, making John feel a bit uncomfortable.

"Stop, stop, get up," John said quickly, fearing Breton might jump up and kiss him. "I only said that if you do well, you might get a fief. If you don't do well, I'll have your head. Don't get too excited yet."

But Breton couldn't hear any of that. His mind was filled with visions of a bright and promising future.

Ah, happiness indeed.