Chapter 67: The Mysterious Order

The army returning from Meath was now resting in the large barracks outside the city of Dublin.

"It's strange that His Highness suddenly ordered us to come here," complained Breton. "Our progress in Meath was going so well, but this decision will give those people a chance to recover."

Breton's newly promoted officer, Drogon, said, "Indeed, now Rolf will probably take the lead."

As he said this, he didn't care that Rolf was still his ally. In fact, Rolf and Breton were secretly competing against each other. Both were trying to showcase themselves on the Meath battlefield to gain John's favor.

"Forget it, it's His Highness's order after all. We still have to carry it out. Drogon, go maintain order among the soldiers, and remember to take some men to check out that theater troupe in Dublin."

This seemingly nonsensical order left Drogon a bit puzzled. 

"Why do we need to find that theater troupe?"

Scratching his head, Drogon didn't quite understand the order. However, Breton didn't understand it either, but he knew better that his duty was to execute orders, not to understand them.

He kicked Drogon. "Just do what you're told, don't ask so many questions."

Feeling somewhat frustrated after the unexpected kick, Drogon was at least relieved that Breton treated others the same way. As Breton gradually gained power, he revealed his arrogant and domineering side. His attitude towards his subordinates wasn't good, and his commanding manner caused grievances among the veterans who had followed him for a long time. 

But since Breton was the one paying their wages, they had no choice but to endure it.

Drogon came before the soldiers and raised his flag. Under Breton's command, there were more than two thousand soldiers, a considerable number. The core organizational unit was the fourteen infantry companies, each consisting of 128 men: one hundred phalanx pikemen, twenty swordsmen for close combat, and eight others including the company commander, vice commander, armed monk, standard-bearer, bugler, and three messengers.

Drogon was a company commander, with his superior being Breton's long-time partner, Ivan. Drogon commanded four companies, making it a large battalion.

"Sound the bugle, gather the soldiers," Drogon ordered.

The bugler obeyed, blowing a long assembly call, gathering the soldiers around. These soldiers had undergone extensive training to ensure obedience in moments like these.

Most of the soldiers were Irish, but there were also some Norwegians and even volunteers who had crossed the sea from Brittany.

In this army, officers were generally Bretons, as Breton himself was from Brittany. The situation was even more pronounced under Rolf, whose troops were almost entirely composed of Norsemen, with Norwegian warriors brought by his father monopolizing officer positions.

The lack of upward mobility is exceedingly painful for modern people, but it wasn't much of an issue for people in ancient times. They had limited access to information, and even if a few felt discontent, it was a minor issue that could be dealt with at any time.

In just over a minute, Drogon's company had assembled, while most other companies were still gathering, which made Drogon quite proud. The exception was the neighboring "Coast of Roses" company. This company, composed entirely of Bretons, was led by Breton's brother-in-law, Heroli. This guy was idle and lazy, spending his days fighting, brawling, and drinking, pushing almost all responsibilities onto his deputy. Yet, due to his connections, he commanded the best company and always received the largest share of the spoils.

Turning back, Drogon ordered, "Everyone, rest here and be ready to move out at any time."

The soldiers, who had just assembled, were instantly disheartened. They had thought they would be setting off, only to be told to rest in place. However, their training left them unwilling to disobey orders. Despite Drogon's generosity, he was known to be harsh during drills.

After giving brief instructions to his deputy, Drogon took his messengers and headed into Dublin. When John initially built the army, he constructed the large barracks outside the city to prevent soldiers from harassing the citizens. Soldiers needed permission to leave the barracks, and anyone caught without it could be executed as a deserter. This rule was strictly enforced because informants were paid.

This method led to soldiers monitoring each other, especially companies that didn't get along. Reporting a deserter could earn five pence, which was not a small amount. 

Before leaving the barracks, Drogon was questioned by the guards at the gate for a long time, becoming increasingly impatient.

After completing the reporting procedures, he finally exited the barracks.

"That jerk did it on purpose," one of Drogon's messengers said. "He's not from our battalion, so he gave us a hard time."

Drogon remained silent. Even if he said something, it wouldn't change the reality of the situation.

Once they entered Dublin, Drogon felt the vitality of the city. Although they were right next to Dublin, the lively atmosphere of the city was a stark contrast to the solemn and suffocating mood in the barracks.

Following the messenger, they passed by the expanding Dublin Cathedral. The dusty square was piled with construction materials and bustling with workers. The bald monks looked at the soldiers curiously, as these soldiers were usually confined to the barracks and rarely seen in the city.

Ignoring their stares, Drogon continued forward. They walked through renovated streets, where the new drainage ditches on either side carried sewage, still reeking, but with significantly less garbage and waste than before. The main roads had been refurbished, with many paths paved with gravel, a significant improvement over the old dirt roads.

After walking a long distance on the straight avenue, Drogon arrived at a peculiar circular building. Though not much construction had begun, it was clear that this would be a round structure.

"Bretons?" A young man, who seemed to be in charge, asked.

Drogon nodded. "By order of General Breton, I am here to invite Prince John's theater troupe to the barracks for a meeting with General Breton."

"My name is Hubert. Nice to meet you." Hubert extended his hand, helping Drogon dismount, making Drogon feel a bit embarrassed.

"My name is Drogon. Our general received orders from Prince John to find you for something."

Hubert, puzzled, said, "Our theater troupe isn't fully formed yet, and Prince John said he needs us... Can you tell me what exactly this is about?"

How could Drogon possibly know the answer to such a question? He shook his head honestly. "I don't know, I'm just following orders."

"Alright then." Hubert shrugged, accepting the situation. He thought that John probably wouldn't make things too difficult for him anyway.

Drogon said, "I'll wait here. If you have time, you can come with me to see the general."

"I don't have anything else to do," Hubert replied briskly. "We can go now, and I'll need you to lead the way."