「One day later, in Robson Camp.」
"Thrust!"
"Recover!"
"Thrust!"
"Attention!"
"Eyes right!"
Robson didn't really know how to train soldiers. He could only draw on the experiences from his past military service, creating a training regimen of parade drills combined with simple slashing, archery, and bow-drawing exercises.
'He'd gain experience no matter how they trained, so he figured he might as well do it his way.'
After today, this batch of soldiers would become Tier Three Soldiers. They would dedicate their entire lives to the grand cause of protecting the precious life of their Lord Robson.
Of course, Robson wasn't idle while training his soldiers. For the past few days, he spent his mornings running laps while carrying a hundred-kilogram weight, and his afternoons were unfailingly dedicated to practicing Blood-Burning and the Knight Eight Skills.
The unit of weight in this world was called a "Fake," which was roughly equivalent to a kilogram, so Robson just mentally recorded it as such.
"DING! Host's experience is full. Eligible for promotion to Fourth-rank Knight!"
"DING! Host's proficiency is full. Eligible for upgrade to Perfect Knight's Eight Skills!"
....
"DING! Host's proficiency is full. You can now learn the skill Blood-Burning!"
"DING! Army experience is full. Eligible to upgrade Frankish Infantry/Frankish Archers!"
This was the panel's voice-notification feature, which could be toggled on and off.
Robson set down the massive boulder he was carrying and took a deep breath. The autumn chill shot from his mouth into his lungs, dispelling the morning's oppressive humidity.
Robson was quite satisfied with these results. A single morning had passed, and his gains were substantial—everything that could be upgraded had essentially reached its limit.
[Host: Robson Odogin (Fourth-rank Knight/1000) (No Title)]
[Hero: None]
[Skills: Perfect Knight Eight Skills (0/1000)
Basic Blood-Burning (0/100)+]
[Soldiers: Tier Three 300 Frankish Infantry
Tier Three 200 Frankish Archers]
[Morale: 70/100]
[Unit Cap: 1000]
"Ais, tell everyone to rest," Robson ordered.
"Yes, sir!" After snapping to attention, Ais strode towards the troops.
After receiving the order to rest, the entire unit sat down on the spot. There was no whispering or fraternizing; they already had the appearance of an Elite Army.
'Tier Three Soldiers are so dependable,' Robson thought with satisfaction. He felt a little more confident about the coming war.
"My lord, Knight Ed wishes to see you to discuss the upcoming battle plan." A messenger entered the camp, approached Robson, and said.
"Mm, I understand," Robson nodded, though he found it a bit odd.
'Vanguard Fortress isn't close to Sunset Fortress. Besides, the Beastman Army has that massive, snail-paced Vassal Army with them. How could they have reached Sunset Fortress so quickly?'
'I should go take a look,' Robson thought.
Ed's camp was close to Robson's. He was there in just a few steps.
Ed was sitting at a table, looking utterly dejected, his face the color of ash.
"Ah! Robson, you have to save me!"
The moment Ed saw Robson, his eyes lit up. He scrambled forward and seized Robson's hands as if clutching his last straw of hope.
Robson felt a chill of disgust and pulled his hand out of Ed's grip.
"Knight Ed, let's just get to the point," Robson said.
Realizing he had lost his composure, Ed gave a small cough to cover his embarrassment and began his story.
It turned out the high command at Sunset Fortress thought they should capitalize on the current gap between the main Beastman Army and their slower Vassal Army. They wanted to send out a vanguard force for a quick battle to boost morale.
The root cause was the routed soldiers from Vanguard Fortress. Their sorry state had been a massive blow to morale at Sunset Fortress.
The problem was that Ed's father, Count Offman, couldn't tolerate his son's cowardice and wanted to send him with the vanguard.
"Robson, you know what I'm like! I'm not even a Third-tier Knight. Once I'm on the battlefield, my father won't lift a finger for me! I'll die for sure! Please! You have to help me!" Knight Ed pleaded desperately.
"How do you need me to help you?" Robson asked.
"I know you and your army train day and night. You just have to stick with me and make sure I don't die. Are you short on a martial skill inheritance? Or Gold Coins, maybe? I can give you anything, as long as you guarantee I survive," Knight Ed said.
Robson frowned and began to weigh the pros and cons.
'There was nothing wrong with the high command's decision. The Beastman army's composition was complex, their marching speed was inconsistent, and their discipline was abysmal. Aside from the major clans of the Beastman Royal Court, the smaller tribes basically just ran wild.'
'The enemies at the front right now are mostly the faster, smaller tribes. It's the perfect opportunity to boost morale.'
'It's a good opportunity to give the soldiers their first taste of battle,' Robson thought. 'After all, you can't forge a truly elite force with training alone; they need real battlefield experience.'
'Robson wasn't worried about getting paid. Ed was the Count's eldest son, the future heir of the Earl Clan! Besides, nobles in this era valued their reputation above all else.'
"Alright, but I need you to do something for me," Robson said. Even though he had already decided to go, he felt it was best to add a few more layers of insurance for his own life.
"Name it," Ed said, sighing in relief. 'As long as he agrees, it's fine. To him, material possessions are secondary; saving his own skin is all that matters.'
Robson paced around the tent, mentally calculating his price. Watching him, Ed grew nervous.
"Robson, even I have my limits..." Ed explained, afraid Robson was about to make an exorbitant demand.
"I need you to re-equip my soldiers with brand-new sets of leather armor and sword-and-shields as soon as possible, plus 200 bows and 4,000 arrows." After long deliberation, Robson stated his terms.
"Huh?" Ed looked surprised.
'Did I ask for too much?' Robson frowned, wondering how much he should bargain himself down.
"I thought you were going to ask for Magic Crystal Cannons or Magic Crossbows... No problem. This is only right and proper," Ed said, letting out a long sigh of relief.
"Someone will deliver the items to your camp tonight," Ed added.
'I asked for too little!' Robson still had the memories of a mere baron's second son from when he transmigrated.
He had underestimated the connections and resources of a count's heir.
"Mm, so when do we assemble?" Robson asked. Even though he'd lowballed his request, he had no intention of asking for more. Such a dishonorable act would clearly tarnish his reputation as the noble Lord Robson.
"At the East City Gate. We depart at dawn tomorrow," said Ed.
"Mm, I understand," Robson replied.
The two continued to exchange a few pleasantries, maintaining the superficial enthusiasm of nobles. Afterwards, Robson returned to his camp.
Ed's efficiency, it had to be said, was remarkable. The request was made at noon, and the goods arrived by dusk—an hour earlier than expected.
The gear Ed delivered was exquisite. The leather armor was clearly made from the hides of Minotaur Beastmen. The swords gleamed with a silver light, and the shields were solid wood, kiln-dried and soaked in a special Magic Potion.
The bows were even more impressive. They were the kingdom's standard-issue Three-Stone Bows, but they had also been soaked in a Magic Potion, qualifying them as semi-Magic Equipment.
'What a rich bastard!' Robson grumbled internally. After all, when he had applied for equipment through official channels, it had taken a month just for approval, and the quality... well, the quality had been laughable.
Robson distributed the new weapons and armor that night. With this gear, his personal security level had gone up a notch. As for tomorrow's battle, his confidence had risen accordingly.