Training Troops

The guards were currently being trained in the military posture of Nalant's previous life.

Nalant's first priority was to transplant the full set of standing, marching, and left-and-right-turning drills from his past life for the guards to learn.

Although these subjects seemed useless, there was no denying that they were the best way to forge military cohesion and display a soldierly bearing.

To say nothing else, one only had to look at the powerful military parades of his former motherland compared to the ragged, disorganized parades of smaller nations to see that individual combat effectiveness and execution were self-evident.

Moreover, this was even more pronounced in the age of cold steel. In melee combat, aside from Title Knights, individual strength appeared insignificant within an army; it was often a tight, solid formation that could unleash powerful combat effectiveness when facing an enemy.

Although the number of men mobilized in wars between minor nobles rarely exceeded a hundred—hardly different from a brawl between village peasants—the principality would still launch large-scale wars every year after the autumn harvest, and the armies deployed then would reach tens of thousands.

Of course, in addition to these ordinary training items, Nalant had also formulated grueling physical training for the guards.

The first and foremost was weighted running.

For the dried fish and salt recently transported from Misfortune Village to the castle, Nalant no longer sent horse-drawn carriages; instead, he had the guards run there to carry the supplies back themselves.

Every day, each person had to carry at least thirty pounds of dried fish and salt back from Misfortune Village.

Furthermore, they were required to maintain the fastest possible speed during the trek. The first person to complete the training would receive a reward of white bread, which only the Lord could enjoy, while the last place would be punished with a reduction in their portion of whale meat.

As the guards ran, Nalant would follow alongside on his warhorse, Lightning, to supervise. If anyone ran too slowly, the Lord would not hesitate to crack his whip, displaying the stern and harsh side of his lordship.

At first, the guards privately felt that such training was useless. After all, fighting the enemy relied on the longswords in their hands; they thought it would be better if the Lord taught them sword techniques so they could kill enemies faster.

However, a single sentence from Nalant later convinced them completely.

Nalant's original words were: "In war, besides fighting, the most important thing is running on the road. If the enemy is too weak, you must run to pursue them; only by catching up can you kill the enemy and earn military merit."

"And if the enemy is too strong, you must run to save your life. If you run faster than the enemy, you can keep your life."

Upon hearing this, the guards felt as if they had been struck by a bolt of enlightenment. Even Quick, the captain of the guards, nodded repeatedly, exclaiming that the Lord was truly wise—having never been to a real battlefield, he could still see the essence of war so clearly.

On the battlefield, the time spent in truly intense combat was very short—only a few minutes or tens of minutes. Was the rest of the time not spent in a game of chase?

Consequently, the guards ran with even more effort. They didn't even need Nalant to crack his whip; they gritted their teeth and sprinted with all their might, not caring even if they collapsed from exhaustion at the end.

"Alright, time's up! At ease!"

At Nalant's command, the guards finally relaxed.

"Now, everyone, attention! Left face!"

Snap! Snap! Snap!

"Lucky Mud, Larry Dogleg, Honey Stone, is that the left? How many times have I told you? The arm with the cloth strip is the left, and the arm without is the right!" During training, nothing gave Nalant a headache quite like the left-and-right-turn drills.

These serfs had never had such concepts before. If you told them to turn left, they could come up with four different variations, turning forward, backward, left, or right.

Helpless, Nalant could only tie cloth strips to their left arms. Things improved slightly after that, though a few guards still made mistakes.

"You idiots! You'll be the death of me yet!"

Lucky Mud and the others took a lash of the whip, then cowered and turned in the correct direction, while Nalant continued to grumble, looking as if life had lost all meaning.

"Now, everyone, left face, right face, about face..."

With the sound of the whip cracking outside the castle and Nalant's grumbling complaints, the time quickly reached noon.

"My Lord! Lunch is ready!" Thomas arrived outside the castle with two servants.

"Mm, then let's eat!"

"Everyone, form two lines. Go to the river to wash up with your respective captains, then come back for lunch."

"Yes, My Lord!" The guards finally felt a sense of relief and, led by Vivian and Quick, headed toward the nearby stream.

In the castle courtyard, three long tables had already been set up. After the guards returned from washing, they lined up to receive their food from the manservants.

Once everyone had been served, Nalant sat at a long table by himself and announced, "Everyone, eat!"

"Long live the Lord!"

At the command, the guards cheered and began to wolf down their food.

Although Nalant was strict during training, he chose to have his lunch in the courtyard to better cultivate the relationship between lord and subject.

Steward Thomas had initially opposed this decision because it did not conform to the standards of conduct for a noble. No noble would eat their main meal in the open courtyard of the castle, and aside from the difference in bread, the lunch was just whale meat soup, exactly the same as the guards'.

But in the end, unable to sway the Lord's persistence, Thomas had no choice but to accept it. Fortunately, the Lord still had his dinner in the inner castle dining hall.

Of course, the effect of Nalant's actions went without saying; it naturally moved the guards beyond words. Therefore, whenever their generous and benevolent Lord cracked his whip on them, the guards felt only shame, not resentment. They only felt that they were too clumsy for failing to meet the Lord's requirements.

"My Lord, you have been in the territory for more than twenty days. In another week, it will be the day for the civil official to go to Tulip Castle to report on the status of the territory!" Thomas whispered a reminder while they were eating.

Nalant had obtained his fief and title by participating in a competition, and the Count attached great importance to this contest to ensure that his younger sons could not cheat.

He had not only dispatched civil officials but also stipulated that every civil official must go to Tulip City every month to report.

Although this required a significant amount of time for the civil officials to travel back and forth, it was the only way to truly ensure that the younger sons' results were authentic and valid.

After all, with detailed statistics month by month, the development of the territory could be clearly seen from the growth in various aspects.

It also prevented anyone from secretly relying on the family to develop their territory; after all, it was impossible to have ten gold coins this month and suddenly have that amount skyrocket to a thousand the next.

If one could not provide a reasonable explanation, the Count would immediately be able to judge that there was fraud and impose a penalty.

"Hmm, then prepare the caravan! The dried salted fish and salt in the castle have been stockpiled long enough." Nalant also remembered this matter, and this time he intended to organize a caravan to sell the local specialties he had acquired during this period along the way.

"Yes, My Lord!" Thomas replied respectfully upon hearing this.

"By the way, Thomas, has the Ambergris I had you drying on the castle roof finished yet?" With the caravan about to depart, Nalant suddenly remembered the greatest harvest he had obtained from the seaside.

It feels like the favorites are fake~ no one is even voting for me?

Rolling on the floor begging for recommendations~~