EFB Chapter 32 These Wretched Creatures!
Chapter 32 These Wretched Creatures!
The scene was chaotic, with soldiers calling out names and
Michael implemented a mentorship system, pairing each trained soldier from Crassus Barony with a serf-soldier for one-on-one instruction.
The results were remarkable.
The training began in the morning and continued until midday, just before the march. The frail serf-soldiers were transformed into something resembling proper troops.
Intensive, hands-on training proved highly effective. Michael noted that as long as the training didn't devolve into blind harassment, this approach could yield excellent results.
Meanwhile, Count Charles was secretly meeting with the other factions, excluding the minor noble alliance.
Though the delay in departure was regrettable, Michael could only scoff at the typical arrogance of those who underestimated the enemy.
Once his secret meetings concluded, Count Charles confidently declared the start of the expedition.
The hasty alliance forces, freshly assembled, lacked cohesion, and as soon as they set out, their disorganization became glaringly apparent.
The accelerated pace of the march only worsened matters. What began as small cracks in the operation would inevitably grow larger as the campaign continued.
Michael read the orders handed down to the minor noble alliance and let out a bitter laugh.
"So that's what all those secret talks were about—setting us up with this nonsense," he thought.
The alliance's new mission was to oversee supply transport.
Carts loaded with food and hay began gathering near the fourth legion's camp.
In theory, protecting the supply convoy was a vital task, but in practice, it was thankless.
Supply soldiers rarely ventured into battle. Instead, they stayed at the rear, guarding the convoy. Without opportunities to engage the enemy, the alliance nobles would neither earn accolades nor claim spoils.
If the convoy was successfully protected, it would simply be expected. If anything went wrong, the blame would fall squarely on them.
In a campaign against fanatics, where the enemy had no strategy beyond killing and burning, the likelihood of an attack on the supply convoy was slim.
Still, without enemies to fight, the alliance would return from the campaign empty-handed.
Michael didn't yet realize that the nobles of this era considered attacking supply lines dishonorable. Knights and soldiers were expected to face each other head-on. Ambushes or subterfuge were seen as shameful.
The era was rife with tragic strategists who had been scorned for daring to think outside the box, bearing titles like "Coward King Richard" or "Treacherous John." This, too, was a value system Michael hoped to reform.
"This is ridiculous!" Baron Aramund grumbled. "How are we supposed to achieve personal glory with this mission?"
His complaints stirred similar murmurings among the alliance nobles.
The alliance began to fracture under the weight of dissatisfaction.