When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist-Chapter 833 - 784: Recruit Training (Part 2)

The carriage wheels were rolling over the gravel between the sleepers, making a sound that set one's teeth on edge.

As the railcar passed over the last stretch of sleepers, Dieterbert saw dozens of rows of gray wooden houses standing abruptly on the horizon.

These barracks built with prefab planks were arranged neatly like a chessboard, with different colored triangular flags flying atop each row, indicating the different squads.

"This camp is even flatter than the threshing grounds in our village," Grover, a fellow villager, exclaimed, shading his eyes with his right hand.

As the railcar arrived at the designated location, barely giving the Norn Mountain People a chance to look around, the officers and mercenary agents began shouting again.

"Get off the train, one by one, don't leave anything behind."

"Move quickly, the people behind are waiting to use the carriage, you pigs."

"Are your feet made of noodles? Get off!"

Softer wooden batons tapped against the carriage walls, urging the mountain people to disembark.

Anyone who dared to complain or move slowly would receive a strike from the mercenary agent.

Several hot-tempered mountain folk were provoked and began arguing with the agents.

But after a few exchanges, several white-clad soldiers wearing blue hats swiftly arrived, pinning down the mountain folks who blocked the way.

Without saying much, a mere "breach of discipline" was followed by a torrent of strikes from wooden batons and whips.

These troublemakers cried out in pain, rolling on the ground before it finally ceased.

Those who remained defiant would be locked in wooden stocks and confined to a small dark room for three days.

Dieterbert, being close to the carriage door, managed to avoid the whip and curiously observed this new recruit camp situated on saline soil.

They quickly found that these wooden houses, although orderly from afar, had rough edges on the door frames when viewed up close.

Rough burlap curtains replaced wooden doors, through which one could see the inside lined with bunk beds stacked with folded gray cloth bedding.

The most eye-catching was the three-story brick building in the center of the camp, with a black and red flag adorned with crossed swords and guns flying atop it.

This should be the place where the officers lived and worked.

"Toot, toot, toot—" Before Dieterbert could unload his shoulder bag, he heard a whistle and a series of orderly footsteps.

The Norn Mountain People turned their heads to see twenty officers dressed in black and wearing pointed helmets running towards them.

They formed two rows, moving as if they were one person, their footsteps perfectly synchronized, without needing to pause to maintain order.

Dieterbert noticed that the heels of these officers' boots were affixed with iron plates, the rhythm of their footsteps echoing the sound of metal hammering in a blacksmith's shop.

Though only twenty men, knowledgeable veterans changed their expressions.

"Left, right, left, left, right, left, halt, assemble!" The leading officers shouted commands in a Highland Leia tongue unfamiliar to them.

The once resounding steps suddenly paused, leaving only the hushed whispers of companions around Dieterbert.

"Assemble by township, shortest in front, tallest in back, raise the flag and move forward."

Under the agents and officers' whips, iron-lip horns, and whistles, the mountain people were driven towards the concrete plaza in front of the brick buildings.

The midday sun hung above the sword-and-gun flag, and Dieterbert's wooden soles clicked crisply on the ground.

Twenty Holy Armor Forbidden Army soldiers clad in silver breastplates surrounded a black-haired youth ascending the soil platform in front of the towering brick building.

The golden holy emblem he wore around his neck shimmered brightly under the sun.

This was the finest holy relic of Saint Shelley, donated by Blago Monastery to the ry Court Barracks.

Horn was merely borrowing it, and ownership remained with all the faithful, as it represented the Holy Father's visage.

Through the gaps between heads, Dieterbert looked up, inevitably astounded.

This Saint was so young, surprisingly only a bit over twenty.

Even younger than him, and why did he seem so short?

Among the Holy Armor Forbidden Army soldiers averaging over 180cm tall, the Saint's Grandson appeared noticeably diminutive.

"I am Horn Gallar." Horn's cold voice echoed in every ear through a megaphone tube, "You are standing on the ry Court Barracks Fifth Recruit Training Camp, your place for eating, sleeping, and training.

In the next three months, you will forget women and wine, forget the hunting knives and slings of the mountains, forget you are human—

Here, you need only remember three things: Obey! Obey! And obey the damn rules!"

As the mountain people mulled over the meaning of these words, Horn pointed to the smoke-belching workshops to the west: "See those forges?

Like raw iron, you will be forged into shape. Three months from now, those deemed qualified will be incorporated into the regiment.

The corps provides food and accommodations, with both vegetables and meat, free bedding and military uniforms, and a monthly salary..."

At this point, Horn deliberately paused, whetting the appetite of the mountain people, before raising four fingers: "Ordinary soldiers get forty dinars, veterans double that, and sergeants double that again."

Dieterbert couldn't believe his ears. He wasn't greedy for the sergeant's pay, but being a veteran should be fine.

A salary of eighty dinars was beyond his expectations.

This was a monthly salary, not a daily wage paid out for each day of combat.

That's a solid eighty dinars a month, not to mention the share of spoils and free food and accommodations.

Almost instantly, the mountain people began to talk loudly and excitedly, stopping only when the officers roared at them. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Horn intentionally paused for a moment, waiting for all the whispers to die down before continuing: "If you don't want to stay, you can leave now. But if you join the camp and then try to desert..."

With a wave of his left hand, two guards suddenly pulled the canvas off a nearby gallows.

Dieterbert gasped, seeing three bodies hanging by iron chains from the wooden frame, the branding on their chests faintly readable.

If his guess was right, it was the word "deserter" in Leia's language.

"Now, let Instructor Kolman give you your first lesson in the camp," Horn turned, his cloak billowing, as a burly man with a face full of scars stepped onto the platform, a copper whistle hanging from his neck.

"Toot—"

"Attention, everyone!" Kolman's roar made the front row of mountain people stagger back, "Listen up, you mountain monkeys!

In our Holy Alliance legion, your first step in the camp is to learn to stand and walk!"

He jumped off the platform, suddenly kicking the knee of a nearby recruit, grabbing his hair as he knelt: "Can't stand steady, can you? Straighten your back! Heels together! Toes apart!"

......

When the sun began to set, Dieterbert's shirt was already soaked with sweat.

Yet Kolman and the other instructors seemed to have endless stamina, still holding feathered guns to correct their postures.

After the Saint's Grandson left, the Fire Prison descended.

They were divided into groups of a hundred based on their hometowns, each group having a Captain Bai.

They were first taught military stances, standing for what seemed like forever before they could rest.

They only rested briefly before being whipped to their feet to start running.

They ran five laps around the dirt road outside the camp, each lap at least a kilometer long.

More terrifyingly, after running they had to stand at attention under the scorching sun.

A person from neighboring Kurdran County just scratched his neck and got his shin bruised by the instructor's stick.

They trained from noon until evening, barely having time to set down their packs before the instructors drove them to the mess tent.

Dieterbert really wanted to complain a bit; everyone around him wanted to complain.

But they were all too exhausted to speak.

However, as Dieterbert and others walked into the mess tent with wooden bowls, a strong smell of spices hit him, making him sneeze.

"Eh—" A companion beside him let out a groan that sounded hardly human.

Everyone turned towards the sound and saw meat soup rolling in a cast iron pot, shimmering with oil.

Sausages were sliced on the board, fried in an iron pot, still sizzling with oil.

Even more astonishing, everyone actually got a fried egg, with black pepper sprinkled on the yolk!

He'd only eaten black pepper once in his life, and that was picked up from under the Godfather's cabinet after the plague.

"Don't grab it, there's enough for everyone!"

"If you're cutting in line, go to the back!"

"Next!"

......

"The Saint's Grandson's army acts like salt costs nothing." Grover mumbled, licking the oil stains on the edge of his bowl. He had just counted at least five whole cloves floating in the soup.

Dieterbert said nothing, just stuffed the last piece of bread smeared with yellow mustard into his mouth.

The moonlight fell on the sign outside the mess tent that read "Ten lashes for wasting food," and he suddenly felt that the strict rules weren't that hard to endure.