Victor stood on the training ground watching soldiers drill, trying to figure out how to equip and train them properly.
One problem in this world is the excessive emphasis on heroic individuals who can single-handedly alter battles, neglecting regular soldiers. Battles occur in chaotic mass formations, with victory determined by sheer luck. He didn't want to rely on fortune, nor could he depend on a lone powerful knight.
He needed an effective fighting force, but experimenting freely—as with bricks—wasn't feasible. Any path chosen now would define success or failure in upcoming conflicts.
Battlefield outcomes would validate decisions. Historical examples in his memory were Roman legions and Macedonian phalanxes.
Alexander's army excelled thanks to diverse troop types and expert leadership. However, Alexander himself deserved credit, unlike Victor, who lacked tactical genius.
Attempting to replicate such a composite army and enter battle would be suicidal.
Unlike Macedonia's army, Rome's legions were flexible, offering soldiers survival chances despite mediocre command.
Discipline posed challenges. Soldiers must act cohesively, guided by generals visualizing overall strategies.
Soldiers preferred two-handed swords or spear-and-shield combos. Shields served primarily for defense against archers and sieges.
Choosing a Roman-style formation, although lacking sufficient numbers for full legions, he aimed to create two cohorts of sixty men each.
Armor presented another obstacle. At best, the smith could produce seven sets, excluding shields and weapons.
"A rock and a hard place everywhere I turn. How can I even gather an army? Can't even field a hundred men."
Flexible armor covering vulnerable spots, paired with tower shields and gladius blades, could theoretically transform his troops into killing machines.
Standing here now, he doubted practicality. He ordered Vorkat to acquire more iron ore, costing funds already stretched thin by multiple projects.
His entire domain underwent modernization. The blacksmith repeatedly requested iron, exhausted reserves spent on plough manufacturing. Even with metal used sparingly, plough durability suffered compared to traditional designs.
Speeding up smithy output and producing adequate armor required furnace upgrades, hydraulic hammers, and bellow improvements. However, iron availability remained problematic, negating these efforts.
He desperately needed a mine. Hoping the northern territory proved fruitful, he didn't desire mythril or gold—just standard iron.
Mythril extraction was risky and inefficient. From ten tons of ore, only twenty grams of mythril were recovered, accompanied by larger yields of silver, still insufficient compared to iron.
Considering this, he glanced at soldiers rigidly standing at attention for nearly an hour.
— My lord, what's the point of this exercise? Standing straight won't help in battle, — Alganis voiced doubts. Knights failed to recognize drills' purpose.
— Fall! — Victor commanded soldiers without explanation.
They dropped simultaneously. Repeated exercises trained obedience, critical for future equipment deployment.
Centurions and decani roles appealed to him. Cohorts led by centurions, supervised by decani, preserved chain-of-command continuity even if leaders died.
This theory, however, hinged on strict discipline and unity. History showed rare instances of armies standing firm till the bitter end. Victor aspired to instill unwavering loyalty, conditioning soldiers to die for their lord, believing their families would thrive.
People on his land lived better than many aristocrats, reinforcing this mindset.
— My lord, someone approaches, — Alganis interrupted his musings.
Recognizing the rider, Victor grimaced.
"Dammit, it's Linea. What brings her here?"
— Stop training! — He mounted and raced toward her, preventing access to the training camp.
Linea glared at him as if he murdered her parents.
— Are you renouncing our contract? — Her accusatory tone pierced the air.
— What happened? — Victor sincerely wondered.
— Arriving at your warehouse, your servant claimed ignorance of our deal, — Linea complained, gripping her sword handle tightly.
"Crap, forgot to send orders. Too busy dealing with everything. Girl deserves praise for bravery, refusing the nobles." Realizing his mistake, he praised her initiative secretly.
— Apologies, I'll resolve this immediately—it was my fault, — he conceded.
Linea sniffed haughtily.
— Since it's fixable, let's expedite this, — she insisted, eager to finalize matters.
— Let's proceed together, — he urged, riding ahead to divert her attention from soldiers.
Within an hour, they reached the warehouse, where frightened Selasia listened nervously. Spotting them together, she panicked, assuming error.
— Selasia, blame rests with me—I neglected issuing warehouse orders, — Victor reassured her gently. Treating the twelve-year-old responsibly stressed her enough.
Supervised by Linea, loading of goods commenced. Her convoy comprised ten soldiers and forty militia members, hauling massive cargo.
Victor monitored their agitation and vigilance. The knight walked among barrels, sampling wine and salt. An average drinker would have succumbed to intoxication, but Linea retained clarity.
Apparently, she valued this transaction deeply.
Assured of proper handling, he excused himself from the baronesse and departed.
Passing the village construction site, he noticed the market half-built. Strangely slow, considering over two hundred workers were engaged.
Reaching the site, he surveyed the chaos. Serfs worked inefficiently—ten men performing one task, while one handled another. Bottlenecks ensued, slowing progress.
Additionally, loggers hauled timber, exacerbating delays.
Observing this disorder, he paused work, grouped workers into teams, appointed foremen, separated woodcutters from carriers, promising unchanged wages.
Initially misunderstood, he oversaw implementation personally. Daylong adjustments worsened productivity due to supply shortages and uneven skills.
By nightfall, work aligned somewhat efficiently, balanced brigades formed.
Leaving the site, exhaustion overwhelmed him—mental fatigue exceeded physical exertion. Communicating with illiterate peasants drained his intellect.
Locals were viewed as dim-witted for good reason. Interacting with them felt debilitating, reducing cognitive capacity.
He hoped future generations improved. Schools were planned, but only after summer campaign season. Post-harvest, preparations for war consumed all his efforts.
Next, he visited the smithy, listening to rhythmic hammer strikes.
Following greetings, he handed the blacksmith blueprints for a novel wagon type, desiring completion before the campaign. Beyond wagons, he wanted a carriage, but prioritizing the wagon.
This mechanism differed radically from existing models. Front axle rotation independently facilitated movement, seeming straightforward, but magical-noble elites had simpler solutions. Commoners disregarded innovations unrelated to sustenance.
Despite this, he sought modifications for his carriage, adding suspension systems.
Orders complete, he rushed back to the castle, craving a hot bath and sleep.
Dreams faded fast, reality intruding harshly.
— My lord, Lady Linea's soldiers brought her unconscious, — Jinn reported promptly. — Apparently drunk from wine, she fell off her horse. Doctor arrives earliest tomorrow.
"You're kidding. Can't hide soldiers forever; they lack stealth. Anyone magically inclined sees right through them!"
— Inform Alganis to evacuate soldiers from the castle until she leaves. Send messenger to Baron Clint, update me when the physician examines her, — he ordered sternly, resolving to bathe regardless.
— My lord, you'll sleep in alternate chambers tonight, — Jinn continued. — I couldn't allow the baronesse in the granite suite, allocating yours instead.
Entire castle mirrored a fortress poorly. Sparse rooms existed, the largest occupied by Victor. Others resembled closets. Now deprived of solitude, he glared murderously at Jinn, who remained unmoved.