The Conviction

The date was CE September 5th, 1689. It's been eight days since he had reincarnated in this world. 

And from the last eight days, he was starting to miss the convenience of the modern world. 

When he was on break, he would usually browse the internet using his phone. He would watch documentaries, movies, funny videos, et cetera to entertain himself. But in this world, instead of smartphones, they have books. Although it's not that bad, he found it painfully slow compared to the instant access to information he was accustomed to. Books required time and effort to read, and they offered limited scope compared to the vast repository of knowledge he once had at his fingertips.

Bruno leaned back in his chair, staring at the stack of leather-bound volumes on his desk. Some were historical records of Corse, others were treatises on governance and economics. He had gone through several over the past week, forcing himself to adapt to this slower pace of research.

"It's like living in a world with dial-up internet," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

Nevertheless, he was making progress in the governance of Corse. Even though the reforms aren't being received fairly by the nobles, he had a high hope of turning them to his side. After all, he has plans for them. But he'd expect it will happen in two to three weeks as his massive request can't be procured by Antoine within the week. 

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

"Enter," Bruno called out.

The door creaked open, and Antoine stepped in, bowing respectfully as always. 

"Your Highness, about your order of recruiting the locals and the blacksmiths, and the craftsmen."

Bruno raised his brows, he certainly remembered ordering Antoine about that. 

"Yes?"

"They have answered your call, Your Highness. They are in the city square of Loretto as we speak."

Bruno's brows rose slightly in surprise as he processed Antoine's words.

"They're waiting now? At this moment?" Bruno asked, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief.

"Yes, Your Highness. They await your presence in the city square," Antoine confirmed, his tone respectful but slightly urgent.

Bruno pushed back his chair and stood abruptly. "Why didn't you inform me sooner?"

Antoine hesitated. "I thought you would prefer to review the preparations beforehand, but it seems they've arrived earlier than expected."

Bruno sighed, quickly moving toward the coat stand by the door. He hastily grabbed his overcoat, shrugging it on while speaking. 

"No matter. I'll meet them immediately. These are the first steps toward rebuilding Corse, and I won't let them think I'm disinterested."

Antoine nodded, clearly relieved at Bruno's decisiveness. "Shall I arrange your escort, Your Highness?"

Bruno waved a hand dismissively as he adjusted his coat. "No need for formality. Just ensure the guards are present for order. I'll speak to the recruits first, then address the blacksmiths and craftsmen."

"As you wish, Your Highness," Antoine said, bowing before stepping aside to let Bruno pass.

***

Fifteen minutes later. Bruno was inside the horse-drawn carriage. He looked out the window and saw the gathered recruits in the city square of Loretto. Fortunately, the city square was large enough to accommodate their numbers.

He smiled at the sight, and was delighted. He has a potential of 1000 recruits, and if successfully integrated into the Corse's armed forces, his forces would increase 500 percent. 

Still, he had doubts about the recruits. After all, they are locals, and their loyalty 

might waver if they believed the nobility or the rebellion could offer them more. Bruno was acutely aware of human nature—loyalty often hinged on practical concerns rather than ideals. Security, sustenance, and the promise of a better future could turn even the most skeptical into steadfast supporters.

As the carriage came to a stop, Bruno adjusted his coat, and before he could get out. Antoine spoke.

"Your Highness. On the platform, you'll meet the General of the Army of Corse. His name is Berthold." 

"Berthold? I didn't see him in the meeting a week ago," Bruno glanced over his shoulder, looking at Antoine.

"That was because he was sick, Your Highness. Now he is well, and will be able to see you," Antoine said. 

Bruno nodded. "Very well. I'll see him."

Bruno stepped out of the carriage, his boots clicking against the cobblestones as he adjusted his coat. The murmurs of the recruits intensified, their gazes fixed on him.

It was clear that for many of them, this was their first glimpse of the governor of Corse. Bruno's sharp, commanding presence, combined with his youthful yet regal appearance, seemed to make an impression.

The recruits, a mix of young men and seasoned workers, stood in uneven rows. Their expressions ranged from hopeful to cautious, but all eyes were drawn to the figure descending the steps of the carriage. Behind them, soldiers of Elysea stood at attention, their polished armor and disciplined stance creating an imposing backdrop.

Bruno's gaze shifted to the platform at the center of the square, where a man stood waiting. Berthold, the General of the Army of Corse, was a broad-shouldered man in his forties, with sharp features and graying hair that framed his face. His posture was upright and commanding, but as Bruno approached, Berthold bowed deeply.

"Your Highness," Berthold greeted, his voice resonant and respectful. "It is an honor to finally meet you."

Bruno offered a slight nod, taking in the man's demeanor. "Berthold, I trust you've been informed of the reforms and our plans to bolster the defense of this island?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Berthold replied. "I have been briefed by Antoine, and I am prepared to lend my full support to your efforts. The recruits are assembled. They await your words."

After that, Berthold excused himself and gave the floor to Bruno, who scanned the sea of faces before him. For a moment, there was silence, and after that moment, Bruno spoke. 

"Good day. I am Prince Bruno de Elysea, son of King Aldred of the Kingdom of Elysea," Bruno introduced himself first and continued. "For many of you, there are questions as to why a foreign prince is ruling over your land? The reason is simple and I think all of you know that answer."

When the recruits heard the last part of Bruno's words, they were reactions, gritting their teeth, clenching their fist, et cetera.

Bruno allowed the murmurs and visible frustration in the crowd to simmer for a moment before raising a hand to silence them. 

"Yes, you know why you are here. You know why your former ruler sold you to Elysea," he said, his tone taking on an edge of empathy. "The Kingdom of Genova abandoned you. They saw this island not as a home but as a burden. They took your labor, your resources, and your loyalty, and in the end, they discarded you to save themselves."

The crowd's gritted teeth and clenched fists tightened, but this time, the anger wasn't directed at Bruno. It was aimed at the injustice they had endured.

"But hear me now," Bruno continued, his voice rising with conviction, "that is not how the Kingdom of Elysea will treat you. From this moment forward, you are no longer forgotten or neglected. You are not Genovese anymore. You are Elysean. And as Elyseans, you will be treated with the respect and dignity that comes with it."

Some in the crowd exchanged skeptical glances, while others looked intrigued. Bruno took a step forward, his tone softening but still commanding attention.

"I won't lie to you," he said. "There are those who refuse to accept this change. Rebels from the other island threaten your way of life. They do not fight for you—they fight for their own ambitions, and they will not stop until they have thrown this island into chaos. But I tell you this: Corse is part of Elysea. That is the law, and that is the reality. This island will not bow to those who seek to destroy it."

The recruits stood in silence, their gazes fixed on Bruno as he continued.

"I cannot protect this island alone," he said. "I need your help. You are here because you've been given a choice—a choice to stand for something greater than yourselves. To defend your families, your homes, and your future. If you join the army, you will not be thrown into battle as expendable pawns. You will be trained, equipped, and treated as equals to any soldier of Elysea."

Bruno's voice carried a promise, one that he knew would resonate with those struggling to survive. "You are promised fair wages and benefits if you join. That promise will be honored. You will not go hungry. Your families will not be abandoned. Serve with loyalty, and you will be rewarded with security and opportunity."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle over the crowd. Then, with a determined look, he declared.

"This is your island. This is your home. Together, we will defend it. Together, we will rebuild it. Together, we will create a future that the Kingdom of Genova never gave you."

The crowd remained quiet for a moment, processing his words. Then, slowly but steadily, murmurs of approval began to ripple through the recruits. A few nodded, their skepticism giving way to cautious optimism. Others looked to their peers, seeking confirmation of their own resolve. 

And one of them—suddenly did the unexpected.

"Long live Prince Bruno de Elysea!" 

The shout came from a young man standing near the front of the crowd. His declaration echoed across the square, and for a moment, silence followed as everyone processed the words. Then, as if ignited by his courage, others began to join in.

"Long live the Prince!" 

"Long live the Prince!"

The chants grew louder, spreading through the crowd like wildfire. Bruno stood still, his hands clasped behind his back, letting the wave of approval wash over him. He didn't smile, but a flicker of satisfaction crossed his face.

This was what he needed—not blind devotion but the first seeds of loyalty. Loyalty born not from fear or obligation but from hope and a shared sense of purpose. 

Bruno then stepped back, and stood next to Berthold. "I'll leave you with the process of recruitment." 

"Consider it done, Your Highness. And it was a beautiful speech," Berthold commented.

Bruno scoffed inwardly. Now the recruits are secured, the problem now is arming them up. They don't have surplus weapons and ammunition to equip every single recruit. But of course, he already had that covered. 

It's time to meet the blacksmiths and the craftsmen.