Firearms in a Fantasy World

Chapter 6: Building the Army in Alden Town

Translator: Cinder Translations

...

Paul Grayman spent nearly a week familiarizing himself with the daily work and life of a lord. During this time, his original memories gradually returned.

The territory he was in belonged to the Aldor Kingdom, the westernmost country on the known continent. To the east of the kingdom lay numerous human nations, with the Gabella Empire being the most powerful among them.

The north and east of the kingdom were dominated by vast mountain ranges, inhabited by many dwarven clans. Beyond the Rocky Mountains to the north lay endless grasslands, dotted with numerous orc tribes, and further north was the rarely traveled endless ice plains.

To the south of the known world were discontinuous expanses of rainforests, inhabited by elves known for their beauty and elegance.

What worried him a bit was the existence of a vast religious organization in this world—the Church. It had different formal titles in different historical periods, but people eventually referred to it simply as the Church.

Its faith spread almost throughout the human nations, with even believers among the non-human races. The priest he encountered on the night he woke up was a clergyman of this religion.

With his current memory, he didn't know much about the historical background of this religion, nor whether it had any dark history. But it was certain that there were plenty of fanatical believers among humans, and he had encountered several with his limited experience.

The territory directly controlled by the Church was not vast, only slightly larger than a duchy, but its influence could be said to be immense.

"Isn't this setting already overused? It seems to appear in every world-crossing story." He was too tired to complain.

Moreover, it seemed that magic existed in this world. Although most people, including nobles, had never seen a magic user in their lifetime, many regarded magic as nonsense.

However, his steward, Philip, solemnly swore that he had been saved by a mage from bandits when he was a child. According to Philip, the mage gestured with his left hand, chanted some words, and then a large fireball shot out from the wand in his right hand, instantly scorching the faces of the bandits opposite him.

Well, since there were already dwarves, elves, and orcs in this fantasy world, the existence of magic wasn't entirely implausible. But he tended to think that what the steward saw was more like stage magic tricks.

On the first weekend after his awakening, the long-awaited parade finally began.

As per his request, the soldiers formed three formations and marched through the small square under the command of the knights.

"These... are my soldiers?" The young count's face turned pale.

The soldiers in the "formations" wore all sorts of clothing, with the only common item being a cloth armor embroidered with the Grayman family crest.

At first, the formations seemed somewhat orderly, but as they began to march, the steps quickly became chaotic. By the time they reached him, the formation had become disorganized and sparse, barely recognizable.

"Gentlemen, it's necessary to raise the standards for the quality of our army!" Paul said grimly after summoning the knights.

"Erm..." The knights looked at each other, and finally, Bryce stepped forward. "My Lord, the thing is, our place is quite remote, with no other lords coveting it. Combined with the simple folk here, we usually have lax military preparations. Frankly, we didn't expect pirates to strike so far from the coast this time."