New Rules, Expanding the Army

Field personally handed out the rewards to the guard members next. The slaves were overcome with emotion, many weeping openly. How could they not be excited? The top earner among them, Iron Hammer, received 17 silver coins – wealth many could never accumulate in a lifetime. Even Field's own maids felt a pang of envy. The rest watched the coins in their hands with burning eyes.

"I should have joined when the guard was formed!"

"Damn it, I wasn't picked back then. What a pity!"

Those who had been too timid earlier now stamped their feet in frustration.

"Listen, people of Nightfall," Field announced, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "I now declare the development plan for Nightfall Territory. It concerns the future of every single one of you."

Lured by the promise of wealth, the slaves' ears practically pricked up, listening more intently than they ever had to a priest's sermon.

"First: To shed your slave status, earn one gold coin for me. Don't despair yet! I dare say, no other lord would offer this, but here in Nightfall, it's simple. Look at the valiant Iron Hammer! One day! Seventeen silver coins!"

Hearing Field's praise, Iron Hammer puffed out his chest with pride, even rising onto the balls of his feet. It was the first time in his life he'd been praised instead of called a "stupid donkey" or "fool." Unbelievably, it was the Lord himself praising him.

*Goddess, I must be dreaming. Today must be my lucky day,* Iron Hammer thought, basking in the envious and jealous gazes.

Field's lips curved upwards. "The old rule stands: one silver coin per corrupted corpse slain. Additionally, I will issue a series of non-combat tasks – farming, building walls, repairs, other duties – all will earn you bounties."

Slaves lacked initiative. Field urgently needed freemen – people whose food and lodging he wouldn't have to provide, who could be taxed, and who would have the drive to learn skills.

A wave of excited discussion broke out. Field raised his voice for the second point.

"Second: Race issues. I don't care about them, as long as basic laws aren't broken. Though I am not beastkin, my dear Chosen One is. So, set aside your prejudices. Look around at the Death Mist! Don't get everyone killed over nonsense." Field paused for emphasis. "Personally, I like beastkin. As long as they are hardworking and honest, and don't cause trouble, they are good settlers in my eyes."

His interactions over the past days had shown him that beastkin weren't inherently lazy or destructive like some races claimed, making him happy to accept them. Besides, beastkin girls were really cute.

Ashina's eyes reddened; she felt respect and equality.

"Third: From now on, include Ashina's name in your prayers."

This point had troubled Field. He wanted to build a more scientific territory. But the books said a Chosen One's power stemmed from faith and the prosperity of their city. Ashina, currently a Tier I Chosen, needed a large amount of "belief power" from the settlers to advance to Tier II.

Field was skeptical. If faith alone powered them, the Papal States, with believers spread across the continent, should be the strongest. Yet that wasn't the case. The Holy Griffin Empire already surpassed them in high-tier combatants, not to mention other continental powers.

*Pity there's no control group, nor the luxury of trial and error. Better follow the established path for now.*

Field then announced another recruitment drive for slave soldiers. No wages, but three meals a day. Income came solely from killing enemies.

The scene was the polar opposite of the last recruitment. A dark mass of people surged forward, clamoring to sign up.

Field didn't accept everyone. He pointed towards the edge of the territory. "Those who want to be soldiers, run five laps around my domain. I will select the best performers. Also, I'm democratic – you can quit anytime."

That casual statement immediately made six men drop out – lazybones satisfied with a single black bread a day.

"Can't even manage basic obedience. Clearly just looking for a free meal," Field shook his head dismissively. He had no need for such soldiers.

The rest gritted their teeth and began running. This new batch of recruits was far inferior to the first, mostly weak and emaciated, resembling skeletal warriors. The last one stumbled across the finish line only by noon.

Watching that final, staggering figure, Field felt pleased rather than angry. "Physical fitness can be improved. Stubborn perseverance is far harder to find."

After weeding out two who tried to cheat by running fewer laps, Field gained twenty-three new recruits.

He then restructured his forces. All the wolf-kin from the original thirty-man guard were pulled out. Mixed with the new recruits, they formed a twenty-strong Raiding Cavalry unit. The remaining men formed a thirty-three-man guard unit.

Any noble or knight witnessing this would be stunned. Training commoners into an army was madness; training slaves was unthinkable. They were deemed stupid, ignorant, cowardly – unfit even for cannon fodder, barely useful for filling enemy moats. Yet Field was seriously organizing them, even providing armor and equipment!

Steward Kaul stared at the recruited "skeletal warriors," his mouth agape wide enough to swallow an ostrich egg. He rushed to Field, speaking bluntly: "My Lord! The first thirty-man guard was already outrageous! Why expand further? And giving precious warhorses to lowly slaves? They'll just eat the valuable animals!"

"Calm down, Kaul. Look at Mountain Cat and Iron Hammer's performance. It was excellent. We got here, cleared this foothold, thanks to them."

"That... that was sheer desperation! Facing a real test, they'll scatter like rats!" Kaul pointed skyward, utterly convinced. "A real soldier is born into a military family! They master military discipline and weapon skills! They must possess noble character!"

Field rubbed his temples. *This guy's brain is addled by bards and novelists.* "Then what should we use? We're surrounded by monsters!"

"Pay for mercenaries and adventurers, of course!" Kaul answered as if it were obvious.

Mercenaries? Those unreliable types? Field feared they'd sell him out in a heartbeat. History had proven countless times that only warriors drawn from the people could forge an army with true potential.

"Thank you for your advice, but I'm giving them a chance," Field stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. "Kaul, give the soldiers extra rations. An extra egg each. This afternoon, I take them out to clear monsters. They will prove their worth."

With manpower scarce in the territory, Field dared not take everyone. Losing the base would be disastrous.