Patience

"Watch closely. The halberd has four primary techniques: thrust, chop, hook, and parry."

The instructor demonstrated in slow motion. Vitus stood at the edge of the formation, picked up a halberd, and mimicked his movements.

"Thrust" and "chop" were relatively simple. "Hooking" required precise timing; one had to seize the gap before the enemy could react, hook their lower leg, yank them down with force, and then finish with a stab from the halberd's butt spike.

Parrying was the most complex, requiring not just catching the enemy's attack but also countering at the right moment, much like various intricate sword techniques.

After practicing with the others all day, Vitus gained a preliminary understanding of how to use this standard-issue weapon.

"If fighting in a line, halberdiers form a dense formation where complex movements are difficult to execute, making thrusts and chops the most frequent. As long as they master those two, they will be useful; the rest they can slowly figure out in actual combat."

Time arrived in July. A Venice envoy found Albizzi and brought him bad news:

Not long ago, Venice suffered a crushing defeat at Verona, losing five thousand men. If Florence did not join the fight, they would dissolve the alliance and negotiate a separate peace with Milan!

Albizzi made a solemn promise, "Give me a little more time. As soon as the reinforcements from the rear arrive, I will immediately cross the Apennine Mountains to the north and join you in the Po Valley!"

That night, Albizzi hosted a grand banquet for the envoy, gifting him jewelry, porcelain, and horses to fully demonstrate Florence's respect for Venice. The next day, the expeditionary force held a large-scale drill. Ten thousand mercenaries practiced tactics in the eastern suburbs; the shouts of battle were deafening, accompanied by the continuous roar of cannons, frightening the city's residents into bolting their doors and huddling inside to pray in whispers.

Once the envoy was sent away, the expeditionary force returned to its usual routine. The high-ranking officers busied themselves with banquets and business discussions, while the rank-and-file soldiers lingered in taverns and brothels, squandering the wages they had worked so hard to earn.

As training continued, Vitus discovered that miners were the best suited for military service.

First, they were accustomed to long-term physical labor, giving them above-average physical fitness.

Second, the source of workers in the mining areas was diverse, including Greek miners, Bohemia miners, and local miners from Genoa. Having experienced long-term competition and conflict, miners from different nations had spontaneously formed cliques, helping and supporting one another, and occasionally erupting into large-scale brawls, which invisibly improved their organizational skills.

So that's it. When Qi Jiguang recruited miners in Yiwu and adamantly refused to use small-time urban peddlers, he must have had the same considerations.

Vitus scouted the nearby mining areas and recruited over a hundred more Greek miners, bringing his total to two hundred and forty, divided into two companies.

Based on individual training results, half the soldiers were transferred to the infantry company, and the other half to the artillery company.

"Remember, the artillerymen must also undergo melee training. In critical moments, use your halberds to protect yourselves. Enduring hardship now is better than losing your life on the battlefield..."

After nagging for ten minutes, Vitus dismissed the formation and let the infantry company practice on their own. He set up a wooden board, used charcoal to draw diagrams, and explained gunnery to the hundred-plus artillerymen, including some rudimentary physics.

At dusk, training ended. Vitus had everyone cook their meals while he rode to a luxurious mansion in the east of the city to attend a banquet.

Halfway through the banquet, Albizzi announced a major piece of news:

Recently, Venice had successfully turned the Milanese mercenary Francesco Bussone, appointing him as commander specifically to oversee the war against Milan.

The mercenary captain sitting at the end of the long table asked, "Are we moving out?"

Albizzi shook his head. "War is no different from business; you must be swift when necessary and patient when appropriate. From the start of the war until now, we have annexed Lucca, forced Genoa out of Milanese control, and gained a small slice of the Apennine Mountains. We have already obtained what we should; it is just right.

Northern Italy is a good place, but it involves too many interests. Besides Milan and Venice, there are foreign powers like France, the Holy Roman Empire, and Castile. If Florence were to expand into Northern Italy, an 'Anti-Florence Alliance' might emerge..."

Vitus looked up to observe the reactions of the others. No one objected, so he simply continued eating his meal without interjecting in such a sensitive topic.

The tuna tastes quite good.

The remaining mercenary captains were busy drinking. Someone mentioned the price Venice paid to turn Francesco Bussone: an annual salary of twelve thousand Ducat, generous war dividends, and a fiefdom at the southern foot of the Alps totaling five thousand acres, planted with grapes, olive trees, and wheat, with additional rewards upon victory...

Early September.

After turning Francesco Bussone, Venice reversed its decline, and the situation stabilized. Albizzi felt it was time to move out. The mercenaries' savings were nearly exhausted; if they stayed any longer, they would eventually harass the citizens of Genoa and ruin the alliance between the two cities.

He summoned the mercenary captains, "The army will march in two days. Force Milan to admit defeat and squeeze out one more indemnity, and this war will be a complete success."

Since May, the Florence expeditionary force had rested for a full four months. The rank-and-file soldiers had grown idle, accustomed to the comfortable life in Genoa.

Upon hearing news of the march, a small number of soldiers clamored and caused trouble. The Genoese, fearing these "allies" would refuse to leave, scraped together sixty thousand Florin as a "departure fee" to hurry them on their way.

On September 5th, the expeditionary force marched from south to north, crossing the Apennine Mountains. They followed the roads left over from the Roman era. At the very front were over two hundred scout cavalrymen; their horses' hooves made crisp sounds on the gravel road, occasionally startling flocks of birds in the oak forests along the way.

The main force maintained a five-mile distance from the scout cavalry. The infantry marched in four-column formations, following the backs of those ahead.

Further back were the artillery, the supply wagons, and the rear-guard infantry. The wagon wheels creaked, heavily laden with flour, salted meat, and large barrels of wine. At the very end followed many camp followers, barbers, blacksmiths, and prostitutes.

Vitus wore his plate armor as usual, riding a docile chestnut mare. The autumn heat left him listless, his consciousness feeling blurred under the relentless roasting.

Suddenly, a mounted messenger sped past his side, dispelling Vitus's drowsiness.

He looked up to observe the surroundings. On both sides were still lush, green forests. The soldiers had lost the energy to complain, carrying their weapons and trudging forward in exhaustion.

Perhaps out of sheer boredom, Piero, who was in charge of the rear guard, found Vitus to discuss some trivial matters. "During the noon break, the magistrate asked about the details of an Ancient Roman triumph. Tell me, is this old man hinting that he wants someone to host a grand triumph for him too?"

Vitus was well-read in history. His first impression of a triumph was that it was expensive and extravagant. He briefly introduced the scale of the triumphs held by Scipio Africanus, Pompey, and Caesar, which frightened Piero quite a bit.

"That expensive? The commander rides in a golden chariot, has soldiers throw coins to the crowds along the way, and builds triumphal arches and massive stone pillars—how much would that cost in total? It seems this is just Albizzi's fantasy; he can't afford that kind of expenditure."