That's not how you use a witch!

Chapter 10 Good Wine for Friends

"Everyone has time to rest."

"call--"

Upon receiving Ronan's order, Payne breathed a sigh of relief and slumped to the ground.

Looking around, he saw that his fellow militia members had similar reactions, and some even lay down on their backs with their limbs in the air, their sweat quickly soaking the ground beneath them.

Today is their fourth day as militiamen, and also the fourth day of Ronan's training of them—yes, this militia is personally trained by the young lord!

The training content was quite strange: they weren't taught how to wield swords, but only how to stand, walk, and perform the simplest assassinations.

First is the "station" —

Every morning at five o'clock, all members of the militia would gather in the square, stand in a square formation of 10 people in each direction, and maintain this posture for a full hour. They would also stand for an hour before lunch and dinner.

During this process, they must not make any noise, cannot move without permission, and are not even allowed to scratch an itch. Even if they are surrounded or pointed at by other residents, they are not allowed to speak to them until they receive an order to rest.

Ronan called this strange training "standing at attention".

At first, Payne thought it wouldn't be difficult, but once he stood there, he realized it was not that difficult at all—holding this position for a whole hour was more uncomfortable than clearing land!

Therefore, disciplinary violations occurred on the very first day:

Two men were whispering to each other while standing at attention, and another guy saw that the other villagers were having their meal and ran over there before they were dismissed—in their minds, this was no big deal.

However, Ronan clearly didn't see it that way: the three men were dragged out on the spot and criticized in front of the entire militia. Later, when everyone ate eggs and roast meat together, they could only watch longingly from afar, not even getting a piece of black bread to fill their stomachs, and didn't get to eat until evening.

Afterwards, Ronan reiterated the importance of discipline and warned everyone not to do it again—there are still many people who want to become militiamen; they can be selected for the militia, but they can also be kicked out at any time.

Payne secretly rejoiced that he had managed to hold back, otherwise he would have missed a meal like them.

From then on, everyone in the militia became extra serious, afraid of losing their hard-won benefits.

Besides standing, the training for walking is also incredibly grueling.

After standing at attention every morning, most of the people had already gone to work. At this time, Lord Ronan and Chief Knight Bart would lead them in two columns, walking three laps around Thornfield Pass.

It sounds simple, but it's not: during the hike, everyone's position in the group cannot be changed, and whispering is not allowed. Any situation must be reported by raising your hand.

And they weren't hiking empty-handed; their loads gradually increased. On the first day, they only needed to carry spears; on the second day, they had to carry a sack of wheat; and on the third day, they added several eggs and several kilograms of dried meat.

Ronan told them that if anyone lost or dropped wheat during the training camp, the whole team would go without bread for the following week; if anyone lost eggs or jerky, the whole team would also go without the corresponding food for the following week.

So despite the exhaustion, no one fell behind on the walk, because of the eggs, bacon, and all-you-can-eat dark bread.

When someone is about to give up, those around them will even help them move forward.

The afternoon training was finally a bit easier: the chief knight demonstrated the action of stabbing with a spear, and all the militiamen had to repeat the action a thousand times.

This time, there will be no punishment for failing to hold on, but everyone who finishes will receive an extra egg at dinner.

Of course, before that, there was one last hour of military posture waiting for them.

If there was some whispering at the beginning, after a whole day of practice, most people didn't even have the energy to speak. Only mealtime could bring their wandering souls back to life...

"My lord, if I may be so bold, can this really train qualified soldiers?"

Bart was completely bewildered as he watched the hundred militiamen lined up neatly to receive their dinner.

Although he was not a true nobleman, he received a complete knightly education. In his understanding, a qualified knight needed to be proficient in the use of various weapons and knowledgeable in various etiquettes and tactics.

Ronan's actions shattered his worldview; he had never seen such a training method before.

If Ronan weren't his lord, Bart would definitely think he was crazy.

"Of course. A truly powerful army must come from the people and fight for the people. My militia will not only be competent, but outstanding."

Ronan smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

This wasn't due to his inexplicable confidence, but rather because the military section of the original owner's notes recorded it in this way.

Compared to Earth's Middle Ages, this plane called Terra is arguably worse. The army, composed of serfs and refugees, is no different from cannon fodder, and it would be optimistic to say that their combat quality is questionable. The few regular troops with decent quality are essentially just the private armies of nobles, capable of fighting well in favorable situations, but completely unreliable when encountering tough opponents.

If it weren't for supermodel-like humanoid weapons like witches, and some knights who were still quite capable, the evil beasts would have wiped out humanity long ago!

After carefully examining the remains of the black thorn centipede, Ronan discovered that although the creature was eerie, it would die if killed, and was not as mysterious as the folklore suggested.

The fact that the iron sword could pierce its forehead indicates that the evil beast is also allergic to sharpened metal.

While it is true that high-level evil beasts pose a significant threat, warriors selected from ordinary people can certainly handle some low- to mid-level evil beasts if the tactics are appropriate.

This is also Ronan's thinking: fighting evil beasts cannot rely solely on witches, and the same applies to other matters.

Because he was not content with simply getting by under the feet of the evil beast.

If we assume the worst, perhaps the crisis high in the sky is not far away, and what we are seeing now is just the calm before the storm.

A civilization whose vision is bound by gravity and ignorance has no extra energy to look up at the stars.

Ronan didn't want to sit idly by and wait for his fate. Having been given a second chance at life, he had to prepare for the worst.

Such preparations could not be accomplished by him alone, nor by a few witches—he needed a large number of living people!

"grown ups."

As I pondered, the girl's voice appeared in my ear.

"Just call me Ronan." Ronan saw that Madale was handing him a delicate silk scarf, and only then did he realize that he was also covered in sweat after a busy day.

"Thank you, Miss Medall. I'm not tired anymore."

Ronan took the towel and wiped his sweat while smiling.

"fine."

The girl also raised the corners of her mouth, her smile less formal and more natural and friendly.

"Ronan, I actually think you don't need to lead the team yourself every day."

Then, in a slightly cautious tone, as if considering whether it was appropriate, she suggested, "You're already very busy, this is too tiring."

"I agree with Miss Madonna's opinion."

Bart nodded in agreement, adding, "And you even dined with them. Wouldn't that be detrimental to the lord's prestige?"

"Thanks for your concern, but it's alright. I know my own body. Don't forget, I'm a knight who can kill a level two evil beast with a single punch now."

Ronan patted Madonna's head and then looked at Bart.

"As for authority—do you think a lord who is feared by his subjects and whose orders are always paid lip service to has more authority, or do you think I have more authority, since I eat with them and they strictly obey whatever I ask?"

"this……"

Bart stared blankly for a long time, looking at the militia who were still queuing up in an orderly manner to receive meat and eggs despite being tired after a day's work. He suddenly wondered if the royal guards could be so disciplined.

"Compared to all these things, not having enough money is my biggest problem. We're still too poor."

Ronan sighed.

"Well... if I may be so bold, thanks to your and Miss Medale's efforts, the wealth of Thorn Territory can only be described as incredible."

Bart, unaware of Ronan's ulterior motive, assumed he was oblivious to his good fortune. "We obtain thousands of pounds of pig iron every day at virtually no cost," he said, "a leading position in the entire Westerlands. In time, no lord will be your match."

"The premise is that I won't be crushed by the lords who perceive me as a threat before that day arrives."

Ronan glanced at him.

"It's only a matter of time before we attract attention by brushing iron like this."

"You've reminded me... Just now, while you were leading the training, an envoy from the neighboring mountain territory came by and said that Viscount Vance plans to pay a visit tomorrow to discuss trade matters with you."

"Tsk, has it already attracted attention?"

"I'm afraid so. The Mountain Territory is also known for its iron, not only for its iron mines but also for its many blacksmiths. Viscount Vanse's intentions seem rather hostile... What should we do?"

"Of course, we should do whatever we need to do."

Ronan waved his hand.

"We welcome friends with fine wine, but we meet enemies with hunting rifles!"

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Yuewen will be closed for the May Day holiday, so the contract signing might be delayed by a few days QAQ