One of the dishes caught Henry's attention. He pointed at it and asked, "What's this? I don't think I've ever seen it before."
Orianna smiled and replied, "This is a specialty from Onira I just learned, called 'Flame-Roasted Meat'." As she spoke, she placed the dish on the table.
Henry picked up his fork and took a bite, immediately captivated by the unique flavor.
Henry exclaimed in admiration, "Mm, this is delicious! Orianna, your cooking skills are getting more and more impressive. Still, the flavor is a bit like that Valandian roast you used to make."
A happy smile spread across Orianna's face at Henry's praise. She stole a glance at Bain, who was standing nearby. Their eyes met, and they both shared a faint smile.
Henry noticed this and couldn't help but smile. 'They're around the same age, and neither holds a high station. It's only natural for them to be fond of each other.'
'As for me? Please, I'm a noble. Would a noble really fall for a kitchen maid? Cinderella was an unfavored princess, not just a simple servant.'
"Bain, after you finish eating, go wash the dishes with Orianna."
"Yes, my lord!"
After the meal, Tommy came in and said, "My lord, the serfs have been assembled. They're right outside. Claude has gone to supervise the construction site again. As you know, he takes the castle's security very seriously."
Henry walked out of the house and saw a dense, dark mass of people. A hundred and twenty people might not sound like many, but when they're all standing before you, the crowd doesn't seem so small.
The serfs' bodies were so frail it seemed a gust of wind could knock them over. It was hard to believe these same people were skilled farmers and loggers. Their faces were etched with anxiety and fear, and every one of them kept their head bowed low, not daring to look forward.
Their expressions were haggard, their eyes revealing a deep numbness and helplessness. Long-term malnutrition had left their skin sallow.
Twenty soldiers stood guard around them; these were the elite soldiers of Henry's Private Army.
Currently, in the entire Caladian Empire, only the King had the luxury of forgoing Recruited Soldiers and relying entirely on a Standing Legion.
Other local nobles still relied on a combination of three military systems: a standing Private Army, Recruited Soldiers, and a defensive Militia.
Ten veteran Crossbowmen with shields were present. If the serfs made any sudden moves, they could quickly fire a volley, then set aside their shields and draw their swords for close combat.
They wore two layers of armor—one of Chain Armor and one of Cloth Armor. The serfs could do them no harm. The iron nasal helmets they wore would pulp a serf's fist.
The ten Skilled Spearmen wielded spears a full three meters long, capable of piercing through two unarmored serfs at once, after which they could use the One-Handed Swords at their waists to continue the slaughter.
Their studded leather armor and iron helmets were still enough to make an unarmored enemy despair.
"Tommy, have the soldiers withdraw."
Tommy looked at Henry and advised, "My lord, you aren't wearing any armor."
"It's fine."
After Tommy left with his men, Henry quickly opened the Total War panel. Under [Trainable Units], he selected Imperial New Recruit Team.
[Select personnel for training]
Suddenly, Henry's perspective soared upwards, as if he had become a Divine Spirit looking down upon the land. His breathing grew ragged. The rapid ascent of his viewpoint felt a bit like being on a roller coaster.
'Select the one hundred and twenty serfs in front of me.'
[Are you sure you want to use 1 Overlord Training point to train a 120-man Imperial New Recruit Team?]
'Confirm.'
[Payment Successful]
Henry's perspective immediately returned to his own body. Before he could even process the sensation, he noticed that the serfs before him seemed... different.
The serfs, who had been bowing their heads, slowly began to look up. Although they still didn't dare to look directly at Henry, there was a clear change in their expressions.
'The fear and terror are gone. Their expressions look more like... awe? This isn't scientific at all. But I've already transmigrated and have a cheat system, so who am I to talk about science? If it works, it's science.'
Suddenly, Henry felt an unfamiliar object inside his jacket. Reaching in, he pulled out a book. The title read: *Special Training Manual*.
Henry found a stick nearby and shouted, "Attention!"
.........
Time flew by, and the days passed in a blur. In what felt like the blink of an eye, a great deal of time had quietly slipped away.
A month passed by with unbelievable speed. As construction sped up and the flow of supplies increased, the operation began to attract unwanted attention.
Philip had already taken the Heavy Cavalry and wiped out three waves of Bandits, capturing seven or eight ordinary horses, all of which were sent to the affiliated villages to help till the land.
The caravan guards had also voluntarily joined Henry's patrol teams. If any of the supplies were lost, Henry would surely make exorbitant demands, and their merchant employers would make them pay dearly.
But this still couldn't curb the bandits' greed, because they were already on the verge of starvation. Over the past month, the number of caravans and farmers they could rob had dwindled, a reality they found hard to accept.
'They couldn't understand why their luck was so bad. They'd fled their farms and pastures to live as outlaws, and now the King's Army was here? Was this some kind of joke?'
Henry was currently practicing with his Two-Handed Greatsword, clad in full plate armor. The terrifying sound of the massive blade cleaving the air came in relentless waves, almost taking one's breath away.
Henry's armor had three layers, weighing over seventy pounds: a layer of Cotton Armor, a layer of Chain Armor, and a layer of Heavy Scale Armor with Chain Liner. On his head he wore a Covered Warlord Helmet, on his arms noble vambraces, and on his feet Zha Plate Armor Boots, making him look like a heavy tank.
Henry's suit of armor was worth at least four hundred Dinars. In the King's Legion, only the most elite soldiers could hope to be equipped with it.
If Henry charged into an enemy formation, he would be an unstoppable demon of war.
Bain, meanwhile, wore thick Cloth Armor and Chain Armor, with a Heraldic Robe over it to signify his status as a Knight's Squire. Henry's family crest was two crossed swords with a lion rampant upon a rocky crag, a white device on a red field.
Bain impressively whirled his Dual-bladed Spear for Foot Combat, looking nearly as skilled as Henry.
Not far from them stood the one hundred and twenty serfs—no, they should now be called the "Elite Imperial Recruits."
Henry had watched them with his own eyes. Day by day, they grew more obedient and physically stronger. And day by day, more loyal!
In the end, Henry decided to be a decent person. He equipped each of them with a suit of Cotton Armor made from seven pounds of cotton, a leather cap, a shield, and a knife or sword. Furthermore, he paid these new soldiers a monthly salary of thirty Su—the market rate—in addition to providing room and board.
This market rate was the pay scale set by the King for the Standing Legion, and other local nobles' Private Armies also provided salaries according to the King's standard.
For a new recruit, a monthly salary of thirty Su was not low. Only infantry who had experience fighting bandits could earn a salary of fifty Su.
The income level of new recruits and infantry was higher than that of farmers and on par with Workshop workers. If a soldier's rank advanced further, their salary would become genuinely high.
As for Recruited Soldiers? Please. You're expected to bring your own weapons and rations. A salary? Get real. You get a twenty-percent cut of the loot if you win, and that's it.
"The Bandits are here!"
"Take cover!"
"Guards, assemble!"
Henry and Bain both heard the commotion outside. After exchanging a look, they immediately went to the stables to get their warhorses and put on their barding.
"New Recruit Team! Assemble!"
The new recruits immediately fell into formation, awaiting Henry's command. Bain waited for what felt like an eternity, but Henry gave no order, and he couldn't help but grow anxious.
But he couldn't rush Henry. He wasn't an officer, he was an Attendant; on the battlefield, he had no right to speak.
Henry slowly and unhurriedly counted the Armor-Piercing Arrows in his quiver, and only then did he raise his noble Riding Spear and roar, "Shield Array, advance!"
"ROAR!"
The recruits let out an inarticulate roar, immediately raising their shields and marching toward the camp gate.