The stone corridor leading to the arsenal was still filled with the echoes of the guards' voices and the clinking of steel. Miguel paused for a moment, resting his fingers on the rough surface of the wall, while Lieutenant Fernández adjusted the final details of the report he had prepared for the march.
—I have a question, Lieutenant. —Said Miguel, while Julián finished noting the measurements to adjust the armor accordingly—. Why are there not more members of the guard, considering the threats surrounding us: the infidels in the north, bandits in between, a mad Marquess in the southeast, and an increasingly belligerent Empire?
—An excellent question, young man, and the answer lies in the Council of Nobles. About two years ago, King Frederick V of Antioch, in his efforts to prepare the kingdom for a possible invasion by the Empire, copied the unified army structure that the Empire had already implemented, which had resulted in overwhelming success in the war between the Empire and the Southern Confederation. —Explained the lieutenant—. But to allow such a thing, the nobles, led by the Duke of Susa, demanded that the prerogative to determine the private contingents of the nobility fall entirely to the Council of Nobles, without prejudice to the command of the new army, which also includes figures from the Duke's faction in its highest ranks. Depending on how you look at it, it is a pyrrhic political victory or a real one.
—And, let me guess, the Marquess is part of the Duke's faction. —Added Miguel.
—Beyond that, young man, he is the Duke's brother-in-law. —Said the lieutenant—. So, as soon as they had the power in their hands, they lowered the number of soldiers we are legally allowed to maintain from the 900 normally designated for Counts in border zones or areas with severe bandit problems, down to 300.
—And my father didn't just accept that without a fuss, did he? —Asked Miguel with a concerned look.
—No, young man. The Count placed most of the veterans in reserve under the title of "peasants," but provided a monthly stipend from the county treasury so they wouldn't have to rely entirely on the harvest and could maintain their military skills. Others, those who knew how to ride, were designated as hunters, but in reality, they were scouts monitoring for any irregularities in the territory, and it was largely them who alerted us to the Marquess's advance. Without them, the situation would have been desperate. Furthermore, many of the veterans in the villages between the marquesate and the county held the line when the battle broke out outside the walls.
And here I thought it was my speech. —Thought Miguel sarcastically—. But it's excellent news.
—So we went from 900 to 300? —Resumed his questions to the lieutenant.
—No, my lord, we went from 600 to 300. 100 were classified as hunters, while 200 went to the various villages of the county. —Said the lieutenant.
—I understand. I have some plans that involve the wagons, the hunters, crossbows, and especially gunpowder weapons, Lieutenant. If all goes well —and it will, by the grace of God and with your brave men— these same soldiers, using similar strategies, will advance to eradicate the bandits who believe themselves the lords of the territory between us and the Barony of Kalmary, where the only deep-water port within hundreds of kilometers is located. It is a strategic asset we need to control.
—I am all ears, young man —or Strategist, as you prefer, my lord—. Said Fernández with a small smile.
God bless the public speaking and rhetoric professor from law school at Santo Tomás. —Thought Miguel.
By afternoon, after making several rounds through different areas of the camp, Miguel finally stopped to discuss his final observations on the plan he had outlined with Fernández.
—Well, we have several wagons that fully meet our needs, fully enclosed and with enough windows to serve as firing positions. Additionally, we got in touch with all the hunters near the county capital so they could answer the young lord's call; many of them carry matchlocks as you requested, alongside some provided by the Count's armory. Furthermore, we have distributed pikes among the volunteer commoners traveling with the caravan, and the guard veterans assigned to those villages have been temporarily reinstated as commanders of those commoners, who act as infantry. A small group of hunters who couldn't fit in the available wagons and who know how to ride will be deployed as forward scouts. Finally, the ropes have been assigned to the logistical wagons and positioned in advance to be used as needed. —Explained Fernández.
—Perfect, Lieutenant, it is time to give the final report to my father before the big moment. —Agreed Miguel, before heading from the city to the Count's castle.
Looking around, Miguel noticed the atmosphere in the city wasn't so bad, despite the confinement of nearly 20,000 people within walls designed for 15,000. The smell, although strong, was not nauseating, which was already a positive change from the cities of the pre-modern era.
The city of Pasttó was undergoing a rushed recovery. The dirt streets were being cleared of debris by the inhabitants themselves, while merchants cautiously opened their doors. Near the central plaza, the burnt-out structure of the former communal hall stood charred, its black oak beams pointing to the sky like the remains of a fallen giant, a silent testament to the danger they had just survived and the success of the defensive operation.
Upon arriving at his father's quarters, Miguel was greeted by Julián, who was waiting at the entrance of the castle with a small two-wheeled cart carrying the armor.
—Young master, over here. —Said Julián.
—That was fast, Julián. —Expressed Miguel.
—With the best tools at my disposal by the Count's orders, things were bound to be fast, my young lord. —Said Julián—. If you will, please put on the armor.
—Of course, help me with the chainmail. —Said Miguel.
Once the chainmail was on over his noble's gambeson, he put on the brigandine, which had been adjusted for his thirteen-year-old body, along with the rest of the set and a specially modified helmet.
Looking at his reflection in the bronze mirror, the young Miguel looked like a fully fledged soldier, only slightly short. All that was missing was the plate armor he had reserved from the Marquess's fallen lieutenant to wear when he was older, which would make him look like a very handsome young noble.
I really need to eat better and exercise a lot more —at least two hours every morning at dawn. We must be in top shape for what lies ahead. —Thought Miguel, before turning to Julián to say—. Excellent work, Julián, or Master Blacksmith, as we will soon have to call you.
—Oh, you flatter me excessively, my lord. It is a pleasure to serve my lord. —Said Julián hastily, with a smile that revealed his happiness at the moment.
—Well, I have to go see my father, see you later, Julián. —Said Miguel.
—Of course, young master.
Climbing the stairs, Miguel reached the Count's study—the room from which the entire county was governed—and knocked on the door.
—Come in. —Said the deep voice of Alban Cortés, Count of Pasttó.
—With your permission, Father. —Said Miguel—. I come with the report before departing on the mission entrusted to me. Mother! —Added Miguel.
—Son. —Managed to say Lucía de Cortés.
—Miguel Cortés, heir to the county and protector of the borders of the kingdom by the King's mandate, you do not have to report anything. I have been following your actions, and I must say that I am very satisfied with the preparations. We only wanted to tell you something. —Alban proceeded to look at Lucía.
—We believe in you, son. It is a grueling task, but you must endure through thick and thin the hardships the future will inevitably bring you, for Almighty God has entrusted you, our only child, with the duty of leading his people to a prosperous life. It breaks our souls to see our son depart for a war zone, where he could fall victim to the designs of battle and die on foreign soil. But we must do it, son, because you will face the same risks in the future, and it is better that these initial battles take place on terrain we can manage...
—Forgive us, son. —Said Lucía, her voice steady but her gaze tender.