Chapter 57: Arkwright Territory’s Preparations
While the royal capital was shaken by the news of war and thrown into utter chaos, far to the west, the Arkwright Territory remained as calm as the eye of a storm.
No—calm was not even the right word.
In the vast training grounds of the territory’s capital, thousands of soldiers stood in perfect formation, their movements synchronized with absolute precision as they drilled.
Click… click…
The sharp metallic noise echoed repeatedly.
It came from the strange weapons they held.
Not swords.
Not spears.
A crude construction of an iron tube fixed onto a wooden stock.
The soldiers pressed them to their shoulders, aimed, and pulled the trigger—again and again—practicing the sequence without pause.
Their equipment was equally unusual.
Not the decorated traditional armor of noble knights.
They wore light leather armor designed for ease of movement, and every soldier wore the same standard-issue iron helmet.
There was no trace of personal valor or knightly ornamentation.
Only a cold, functional beauty optimized entirely for a single purpose: warfare as an organized system.
Two men stood on a high ridge, overlooking this strange army.
One was Marc, assistant magistrate of the territory.
The other was Hector—a seasoned knight whose capabilities had been recognized by Zenon himself and promoted to vice-commander of the knights.
“…Unbelievable,”
Hector muttered with a heavy sigh.
“I’ve lived on the battlefield for thirty years… but I’ve never seen an army like this.”
Confusion—and a faint touch of fear—colored his eyes.
“Zenon-sama named them the Musketeer Corps,”
Marc explained.
“Each of those iron tubes… those muskets… use small controlled explosions to fire lead bullets at high speed. Their range and accuracy far surpass even those of the most skilled archers.”
“…Is it magic?”
“No, not magic. Zenon-sama says it is another kind of knowledge—science.”
Hector fell silent.
A power neither magical nor martial—utterly unknown.
And he had noticed something terrifying while watching the drills:
These guns required almost no physical strength or technique to use.
Even a farmer turned recruit, after weeks of training, could shoot down a veteran knight from a distance.
It overturned every value he had believed in as a warrior.
“…A terrifying young lord,”
Hector whispered.
“How far ahead is Zenon-sama truly looking…?”
Indeed—this modern army had been secretly developed under Zenon’s meticulous planning long before he ever traveled to the capital.
From the very first day he began reforming the Arkwright Territory, he had predicted that the kingdom would one day face the threat of war.
And he had prepared.
Not just militarily.
In vast underground storehouses, enough food to last years had been stockpiled.
The territory’s specialty processed foods—hams, pickles, and other preserved goods—were designed to serve as military rations when needed.
The roads were fully developed, allowing rapid movement of troops and supplies.
And above all, the mages’ tower was in the final stages of developing a long-range attack weapon: the Magitek Cannon.
Rumor had it that the prototype obliterated an entire hill.
“…Marc,”
Hector asked with a stiff voice,
“Do you think we can win? Against the Empire?”
“I do not know,”
Marc answered quietly.
“But I can say, this territory will never fall—not while Zenon-sama lives.”
There was absolute certainty in his voice—felt by every resident of Arckwrght.
Zenon von Arkwright.
Cold, ruthless… but unfailingly effective.
As long as they followed him, their lives would be safe.
That strange trust was the source of the territory’s strength.
At that moment, a messenger on horseback appeared, racing in from the direction of the capital, kicking up dust.
Marc and Hector stiffened.
The moment they had long anticipated had come.
The messenger handed them a parchment.
The young lord’s command was simple—yet unbearably heavy.
“War has begun. Arkwright Army—prepare for full deployment. Rendezvous at the eastern fields of the capital—Sylva Plains. We will intercept the Imperial Army there.”
After reading it, Hector looked up at the sky.
The feared war had begun—yet strangely, he felt no fear.
Rather, the warrior in him stirred with excitement.
What kind of battle would that young genius show them?
Only anticipation remained.
“—Inform the entire army!” Hector’s booming voice roared across the training grounds.
“Prepare for deployment! It is time to show the Kingdom—no, the Empire—our strength!”
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!”
Thousands of soldiers shouted in unison, their voices echoing through the Arclight valley.
It was not the gallant cry of old knightly chivalry— but the hardened resolve of a new era’s soldiers, ready to defend their land and their lives.
No one in the Kingdom yet knew:
The strange military power nurtured quietly in the western frontier— this force that defied old conventions was about to emerge onto the stage of history as the Kingdom’s greatest trump card.