The guards were now being trained to stand at attention, just like soldiers in Nalant's previous life.
The first thing Nalant prepared was to teach the guards everything from his previous life: standing at attention, marching, and turning left and right.
These drills might seem useless, but there was no denying that they were the best way to build morale and present a disciplined military bearing.
One only had to compare the grand military parades of his former homeland with the sparse, disorganized parades of other small countries. The difference in individual combat ability and discipline was obvious without a second thought.
Moreover, this was even more apparent in an era of cold weapons. In battle, aside from title knights, an individual's strength was insignificant in an army. It was often a tight, well-ordered formation that allowed soldiers to unleash their full fighting power against the enemy.
Although wars between minor nobles often involved fewer than a hundred men, making them little different from brawls between villagers, the duchy still launched large-scale wars after the autumn harvest each year. When that happened, armies numbering in the tens of thousands would march to war.
Of course, aside from these ordinary drills, Nalant had also devised some brutal physical training for the guards.
The first was running with a load.
Over the past few days, instead of sending wagons to collect the dried salted fish and salt being brought back from Misfortune Village, Nalant had the guards run there and carry the goods back themselves.
Each day, every man had to carry at least thirty pounds of dried salted fish and salt back from Misfortune Village.
They also had to move as fast as possible while carrying their loads. The first to finish the drill would earn a reward of white bread, a delicacy reserved for the lord himself. The last to finish would have a portion of Whale meat deducted from his meal.
As the guards ran, Nalant rode alongside them on his warhorse, Lightning, keeping watch. If anyone slowed down, the lord would not hesitate to lash him, showing them just how strict and demanding he could be.
At first, the guards privately thought there was no point to this kind of training. After all, fighting the enemy depended on the sword in their hands. Instead of exhausting themselves like this, they thought it would be better for the lord to teach them swordsmanship so they could kill their enemies more quickly.
But then Nalant said something that completely convinced them.
This was what he told them: "War isn't just about fighting. Most of the time, you'll be running. If the enemy is weak, you'll have to run after them. Only by catching up can you kill them and earn military merit.
"But if the enemy is too strong, you'll have to run for your lives. As long as you can run faster than the enemy, you'll live to fight another day."
The guards felt as if a veil had been lifted from their eyes. Even Quick, the captain of the guards, nodded repeatedly after hearing this, praising the lord for his wisdom. Though he had never been to a real battlefield, the lord had seen its true nature with remarkable clarity.
On the battlefield, the truly intense fighting lasted only a very short time—perhaps a few minutes, or a few dozen. Didn't everything else come down to chasing and being chased?
After that, the guards ran with even greater determination. Nalant no longer needed to crack his whip; they gritted their teeth and ran as hard as they could, even if they ended up collapsing from exhaustion.
"Good, time's up. At ease!"
At Nalant's command, the guards finally relaxed.
"Everyone, turn left!"
Clap! Clap! Clap!
"Lucky Mud, Larry Dogleg, Honey Stone, is that what you call left? How many times have I told you? The arm with the strip of cloth tied around it is your left arm. The one without it is your right!" Of all the drills, the left and right turns gave Nalant the biggest headache.
These serfs had never learned anything like this before. Tell them to turn left, and they would come up with four different ways to do it, turning forward, backward, left, or right.
With no other choice, Nalant had them tie strips of cloth around their left arms. That helped, but a few guards still got it wrong.
"Idiots! You'll be the death of me yet!"
Lucky Mud and the others took a lash, then turned the right way, shrinking back in fear. Nalant continued to grumble, looking utterly defeated.
"Everyone, turn left, turn right, turn around..."
With the sound of whips cracking and Nalant's grumbling complaints rising from outside the castle, noon soon arrived.
"My lord! Lunch is ready!" Thomas came out to the castle grounds with two servants.
"Good. Then let's eat!"
"Everyone, line up in two rows. Go wash up by the river with your squad leaders, then come back for lunch."
"Yes, my lord!" The guards finally breathed a sigh of relief and headed toward the nearby stream, led by Vivian and Quick.
Three long tables had been set up in the castle's front courtyard. After washing up, the guards lined up to get their food from the male servants.
Once everyone had been served, Nalant sat down at the only table with no one else at it and called out, "Everyone, dig in!"
"Long live the lord!"
At his word, the guards cheered and began to eat heartily.
Though Nalant was strict during training, he had chosen to eat lunch in the courtyard to build a better relationship between lord and men.
Butler Thomas had initially objected to this decision, as it didn't fit the way nobles were supposed to behave. What noble ate a proper meal in the open courtyard of a castle? And apart from the bread being different, lunch was just Whale meat soup—the same as what the guards ate.
In the end, though, Thomas couldn't argue with the lord's insistence. Fortunately, the lord still ate dinner in the keep's dining hall.
Needless to say, Nalant's decision touched the guards deeply. So whenever their generous and kind lord's whip landed on them, they felt shame rather than resentment. They only blamed themselves for being too stupid to meet his expectations.
"My lord, you've been in your fief for more than twenty days. In another week, it'll be time for the civil affairs officer to report on the fief to Tulip Castle," Thomas reminded him quietly as they ate.
Nalant had won his fief and title by taking part in the competition, and the count took it very seriously. To make sure his second sons couldn't falsify their results, he had not only appointed civil affairs officers, but also required each one to travel to Tulip City every month to give a report.
Although the officers had to spend a considerable amount of time traveling there and back, this was the only way to ensure that the second sons' results were genuine.
By keeping detailed monthly records, it was easy to see how the fiefs were developing from one month to the next.
It also prevented anyone from secretly relying on their family to develop their fief. After all, no one could have just ten gold coins one month, then suddenly have a thousand the next.
If they couldn't give a reasonable explanation, the count would immediately recognize the fraud and punish them.
"Mm, then prepare the wagons. We've built up a decent stock of dried salted fish and salt in the castle, too." Nalant remembered. This time, he planned to put together a caravan and sell the local specialties he had acquired along the way.
"Yes, my lord!" Thomas replied respectfully.
"By the way, Thomas, have the ambergris I asked you to dry on top of the castle dried yet?" As the caravan was about to set off, Nalant suddenly remembered the most valuable thing he had brought back from the seaside.