Derek had not let them off, or rather, the knights had not let the newcomers off.
The most direct way to integrate into the group was, naturally, through fists.
All the newcomers got to experience Virut's treatment.
There was no need to fear a lack of attention; the only fear was that they would not be able to endure it.
Once the father-and-mother-crying training was over, it became obvious whose willpower was stronger.
To Derek, talent was secondary. Willpower was what truly mattered more.
And this was not the end.
Before long, the newly arrived Knight Apprentices understood why the Augusta Family had no geniuses.
Train. Everyone trained as if their lives depended on it.
Why were there so many soldiers, yet only so few who became knights?
When Derek chose people, aside from loyalty, he looked at willpower.
If they could endure it, then even a fool who only knew how to train hard was good enough.
As long as they did not train themselves to death, they would train as if they were trying to.
Not only did the newly arrived Knight Squires train, the Formal Knights trained too. Derek trained as well.
They ate and lived together, sharing hardship and comfort alike. Derek had remembered the advanced experience from his previous life.
That evening, Derek took a bottle of medicinal wine and went to the communal bunkroom of the new squires.
The crude knight quarters were steeped in the Augusta Family's style.
The wood was rough, with even splinters left unsanded.
The thick bedding had hemp cloth directly sewn over it as a cover.
Dinner had plenty of meat and oil, but the taste was difficult to describe.
Those who knew would say they had come to become Knight Squires. Those who did not would think they