On the sixth day after the war against the Mohgwyn Dynasty ended, the Five-Party Alliance's army had erected a vast number of tents on the land that had once belonged to the dynasty.
The tents dotted the surroundings of the square like mushrooms, while the various factions' banners snapped in the wind. This scale was largely thanks to Limgrave's many factories and production lines. From sand removal to weaving, from sewing to transport, every step was orderly, swift, and efficient, once again demonstrating the sophistication and power of systematic industry to this magical medieval world.
Though the alliance still had some differences in values, the soldiers gradually grew familiar with one another after fighting through life and death together-Stormveil soldiers shared tobacco with Redmane knights, Volcano Manor's Recusants occasionally sought out scholars from the Academy of Raya Lucaria to discuss magical principles, and even the ever-serious Crucible Knights shared amusing tales of ancient times around the campfires.
United by a common goal, their hearts were rapidly coming together, but that still was not enough.
Jerren stood on the training ground's raised platform with his hands behind his back, his eagle-like gaze sweeping over the soldiers assembled below.
"Attention!"
Hundreds of warriors from different factions straightened in unison, the clatter of their armor rising like a tide.
The old general nodded in satisfaction and turned to Nepheli beside him. "What do you think?"
The Female Warrior studied the ranks closely. "Their discipline has improved, but their coordination still has a long way to go. Look at the third row. There are at least two paces between Stormveil's shield soldiers and Volcano Manor's scimitar fighters-that's a deadly gap on a battlefield."
"Good eye," Jerren said approvingly. "That's why we'll focus on mixed-unit tactics for the next two weeks. Tarnished said the situation