Militia Training 2

Translator: Cinder Translations

...

"Report, Sir! All 120 members from Tata Town are present and accounted for. Please inspect!" Zane stood at attention, chest out, and reported to the officer before him.

A lieutenant, with shoulder epaulets marking his rank, silently counted the number of people.

"Very good," he praised loudly. "I can tell that your usual training is quite strict; your military posture is excellent."

Hearing the lieutenant's compliment, Zane felt gratified. His last-minute intensive training paid off.

"However!"

The lieutenant suddenly raised his voice and spoke in a more serious tone. "Here at Alden, you will be subjected to even stricter training. All requirements will match those of active military personnel."

"Let me introduce myself briefly. I am Lieutenant Hohenhart, and for the next week, I will be responsible for your command and training. Now, I'll announce a few rules."

"First, no one is allowed to leave the camp without permission!"

"Second, except for going to the restroom, no one is allowed to act alone. You must move as a group!"

"Third, aside from following already issued orders, any other activity must be reported in advance, including restroom visits!"

"Oh, and the fourth rule: no relieving yourselves anywhere you want."

"Violating any of these four rules will result in severe punishment. Do you all understand?"

"Yes, Sir!" the militia responded.

Lieutenant Hohenhart frowned and shouted, "Louder! Did you not eat?"

"YES, SIR!!!" Zane led the militia, mustering their strength, shouting their response in unison.

Only then did Lieutenant Hohenhart nod in satisfaction and continue, "Good. Now I'll take you to the barracks. You're lucky—the garrison at Alden has just gone on field training, so you can stay in the barracks for now instead of setting up tents outside."

"Now, listen to my command! Right turn—march!"

This command was something the militia from Tata Town was used to, so it didn't give them any trouble.

The militia followed Lieutenant Hohenhart with precise steps as they marched toward the barracks.

After allocating bunks and placing their belongings, the lieutenant led them to the armory.

"This time, you're here at Alden to undergo firearms training!"

If not for the strict discipline, the militia would have already cheered loudly upon hearing the word "firearms."

Seeing their excited expressions, Lieutenant Hohenhart continued, "Now, follow me inside to collect your guns. Four people will share one gun. Each gun has a serial number on the stock, and you must register the names of your group and the number of the gun. When you return, the armory will check the registry. If even one gun is lost or damaged, the whole group—or even the entire unit—will be punished."

Only one gun for four people? The militia was a bit disappointed, as they had hoped for one gun per person.

But they didn't dare complain, obediently lining up in groups of four to collect their firearms.

Saito, trembling with excitement, took a musket from the armory manager. It wasn't new, but it was well-maintained, with the metal barrel polished bright and coated in animal grease.

Happily clutching the gun, he was about to leave when his companions pulled him back. "Hey, we still need to register!"

At the registration desk, the armory manager pointed to a thick book. "Sign your names one by one, and write the gun's serial number on the last line."

When it was Mackey's turn, he hesitated. "I... I can't write my name."

"Didn't they teach you in school?"

Mackey scratched his head sheepishly. "School? You mean night school? I... I mostly slept through it."

Laughter erupted around him.

"What's so funny?" The manager glared at them. "What's your name?" he asked Mackey.

"Mackey, Mackey Centurion."

The manager wrote his name for him and instructed, "Dip your thumb in ink and leave a fingerprint here."

Mackey followed the instructions, and then it was the next person's turn.

Once all groups had collected their firearms, Lieutenant Hohenhart assembled them again.

"Alright. Now, you must learn the steps and techniques for firing within a day and a half—that means before tomorrow evening!"

While the militia remained excited, the lieutenant's eyes revealed a sense of urgency.

...

Bang!

A gunshot echoed through the forest, startling a flock of birds into the sky.

A hundred meters away, a goat fell to the ground.

"Master Grayman, what excellent archery—no, marksmanship," Ferguson praised, raising his thumb.

"Hahaha!" Paul laughed. "It's nothing, just a good gun and... a little luck."

It was mostly luck. Even with the accuracy of this rifled musket, Paul's shooting skills weren't nearly good enough to land a perfect shot.

He silently hoped he hadn't used up all his luck with that one shot.

It was now his second day here. Yesterday, Paul had attended a banquet thrown by Ferguson in his honor, where he met Walter, Eldo, Shank, and other local gentry with notable reputations.

Especially old Walter, whom Paul discovered was the father of his training officer, Lieutenant Beluga.

"You have a fine son!" Paul had said, shaking his hand. "All my officers speak highly of him—diligent, responsible, and a good soldier."

"Master Grayman, you're too kind," old Walter replied, though Paul noticed the flash of pride in his eyes and the slight smile at his lips.

During the banquet, Paul subtly broached the subject of tax reform to gauge the gentry's reaction. As expected, the atmosphere instantly became awkward, and the enthusiasm they had shown earlier cooled significantly.

But to Paul, this was a normal reaction. If they'd praised him for bringing up taxes, that would've been strange.

When Paul had proposed tax reform during the establishment of the customs union, Hansel had advised a "two steps forward, one step back" approach. Back then, it was used as a bargaining chip, ultimately discarded. Now that Paul was revisiting the issue, he knew it would cause tension.

Ferguson, sensing the shift in mood, quickly changed the subject, and the party returned to a lively atmosphere, with no one mentioning taxes again.

After resting overnight in the manor, Paul, accompanied by Ferguson, began the real hunt today.

(End of the Chapter)

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Translated 4 Series, 1.65K+ Chapters and 2.01M+ Words.