Kays Translations

Chapter 40: Training

“Marquis Eisen, I don’t think your training plan is feasible.”

After reviewing the training proposal Owen had given him, Viscount Jarvis shook his head disapprovingly.

The plan was filled with simple activities like standing, walking, and running. And on top of that, there were supposed to be evening cultural training sessions, which seemed utterly baffling to him.

In his opinion, this method would never produce qualified warriors.

If they had that much time, Viscount Jarvis would rather have the militia spend more time familiarizing themselves with weapons. A proper warrior needed to master all kinds of weapons—because on the battlefield, the most reliable thing was the weapon in your own hand.

The knights he had trained were always armed, each one possessing excellent swordsmanship.

Only in this way could they have a high chance of survival in battles against undead monsters.

Although there weren’t enough real weapons at the moment, wooden sticks could be used temporarily for practice.

“Oh?” 

Owen looked at him with curiosity. 

“Viscount Jarvis, then how do you think they should be trained?”

“We should begin with how to hold a sword—oh no, a spear. Like this.”

Viscount Jarvis mimed gripping an invisible spear and performed a thrusting motion to demonstrate.

“If we were just training powerful knights, then your method might be best.” 

Owen said. 

“But we’re training commoners, not knights who’ve been raised swinging weapons since childhood. Until the team develops a disciplined and orderly conduct, they are not to touch weapons.”

Knights were born and bred to fight, but commoners were not. For them, having strict discipline was more important than weapon proficiency.

“Father, Lord Owen is right.” 

Mapel chimed in from the side.

Viscount Jarvis shot her a glare. It was bad enough she didn’t support him—did she really have to side with someone else?

“But if we follow your plan, when winter comes, their individual combat skills will be quite limited.”

“I don’t need their individual combat strength to be high. What I need is group combat power.”

Owen explained. 

“A disciplined and well-trained unit—even if each member is weak—can unleash more combat strength as a group than a band of knights fighting on their own.”

Looking back, the knights of the Dawn Kingdom seemed to prefer fighting alone, pursuing personal glory. Each one embodied… what was that term again? Oh right, heroism—a concept Winston had mentioned.

Because of that, knights usually trained solo, occasionally sparring with others. Viscount Jarvis also instructed them individually.

But could a group of disciplined but weak individuals really generate that much power as a unit?

Hearing Owen say this sparked Jarvis’s interest.

“Very well, I’ll follow your plan for the training.”

“Good. I’ll leave it to you, then.”

After a pause, Owen added. 

“Of course, I’ll also personally attend and assist in the first training session.”

Behind the northern city wall was a camp originally intended to house Temple Knights, but it was now where the militia was stationed.

Kadir entered a tent, exhausted. A wave of warmth hit him as he stepped inside, instantly making his body feel much better. In the center of the tent was a pile of heated magic stones serving as a heat source—a luxury usually reserved for nobles.

Such treatment was truly noble-level.

Of course, Kadir wasn’t the only one enjoying it—nine others shared the same benefits.

Ten bedding mats were arranged in a circle around the pile of magic stones. Kadir made his way to the one in the innermost spot and sat down. Stripping off his outer garments, he slipped straight into his bedding, intending to fall asleep just like that.

Today had been utterly exhausting. Physically and mentally drained. If not for the fact that the militia’s monthly salary was so high—more than double what he used to earn as a labourer in the cement workshop—he would have already thought about quitting.

The daytime training alone was tiring enough. To his dismay, after dinner came something called “cultural training.”

The moment he saw the words on the slate, Kadir felt his head throb.

At first, he had planned to coast through it—but then he was told there would be a test at the end, and anyone who failed would be kept back for remedial lessons. Desperate not to fall behind, he’d forced himself to study—and just barely managed a passing grade.

It’s worth mentioning that the instructor was an extremely attractive female priestess.

But… probably no one would dare hit on her. It was obvious to everyone she had an unusual relationship with Lord Owen. Anyone wanting to try their luck might as well be digging their own grave.

Kadir turned over and spotted the tall guy beside him lying on his stomach, holding a short twig. Using the dim glow of the lamp, he was practicing the words from that evening’s class on the ground, muttering under his breath.

He vaguely remembered the guy’s name—Blue, a former magic stone miner from the Sky mountain Mine. He looked a bit dimwitted, but he was surprisingly eager to learn.

“Hey, Blue, you’re still practicing?” Kadir asked.

“Yeah, I’m afraid I’ll forget it by tomorrow.”

“So what if you do?” 

Kadir replied nonchalantly. 

“We’re going to be fighting on the wall with the knights anyway. What good is reading?”

“Learning more is never a bad thing.”

Kadir rolled over again, lying flat on his back and staring at the top of the tent.

The reason he chose to join the militia wasn’t just the high pay. More importantly, it was Lord Owen’s speech from a few days ago.

The lord was right—fleeing to Dongsheng Fortress meant no place to stay, no guaranteed food, and surviving the winter would be a gamble. But here in Bianshu Town, at least he had a roof over his head and warmth.

As for food, the docks were piled with wheat, which was being gradually transported to the castle. Lord Owen hadn’t lied—he was determined to make sure the people didn’t go hungry this winter.

And then there was that explosion demonstration. It had left a profound impact on Kadir. With such powerful weapons, defending the north wall no longer seemed impossible. So why not stay?

Even at its worst, Bianshu Town was his home—the place where he’d lived all his life.

Plus, the cement workshop had recently shut down. So when he saw the conscription notice, he didn’t hesitate for a second—he grabbed his younger brother and went to enlist.

Unfortunately, his brother was turned away for being too young. But that was fine. As long as he joined the militia, his salary would be enough to get his brother through the winter safely.

The only thing that puzzled him was the training content. The first training activity was standing. No—standing at attention, as the lord put it.

At first, he thought, “It’s just standing. What’s so hard about that?”

He never expected there were so many requirements to it—feet spread at a specific angle, legs straight, thumbs touching the index fingers, arms naturally straight down and pressed against the thighs.

Pressed tight! They would even inspect that. If a hand could be pulled away with a flick, it meant failure. No reward for the day.

They also had to tighten their core, puff their chest, raise their head, and look forward with shoulders pulled back.

The result? Kadir could barely hold out for long. But he didn’t give up and pushed through.

Why? For the reward promised by the lord. Anyone who persisted and passed the inspection would get a strip of dried meat during lunch.

It had been so long since Kadir last tasted meat. Swallowing hard, he told himself—I’m all in!

In the end, fewer than one-quarter of the trainees, including Kadir, earned the dried meat reward. Those who couldn’t hold on or failed the inspection looked on with undisguised envy.

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