Firearms in a Fantasy World

Chapter 8: New Recruit Training 2

Translator: Cinder Translations

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Markalov stood stiffly behind a cross, enduring agonizingly. "What use does this training have for fighting pirates? What exactly is going on!" He had complained countless times in his mind.

He wanted to glance at the person next to him, but the thought was suppressed immediately. Several unlucky fellows had been severely punished by Major Claude for fidgeting during attention drill, and were now forbidden from eating. Markalov certainly didn't want to go hungry.

"The new lord is truly eccentric," Markalov continued to grumble inwardly. "He's fixated on all sorts of weird things—standing at attention, marching in step—even the knightly officers are forced to train like this."

Oh, best not to mention it. Just thinking about marching in step made Markalov feel overwhelmingly embarrassed. That strange posture still made his face flush. Thankfully, they weren't training in town, or the villagers would have had a good laugh.

The young lord probably suffered from severe OCD. His demands for "neatness" and "uniformity" had reached bizarre levels. Requiring blankets to be folded into perfect squares was just too much.

If it weren't for the young lord personally demonstrating how to fold them and painstakingly guiding the soldiers through the correct method, Markalov would have suspected the lord of intentionally amusing himself at their expense.

The only normal aspect was the assassination training conducted every morning or afternoon, personally instructed by Major Claude. From Markalov's perspective, this was the only training directly beneficial for staying alive in combat. He listened earnestly to the major's explanations and practiced diligently.

Of course, despite his various complaints, Markalov deeply respected and even felt grateful to the young lord. Not only had he eaten meat twice this week, which was rare enough, but there was an even more significant reason—the lord had actually taught them how to read!

Literacy was something most commoners never had the opportunity or financial means to systematically learn. Certainly, there were quite a few literate commoners, such as merchants, minstrels, and servants of nobles, who could read many words. However, compared to the vast population of commoners, they were extremely rare.

In some remote areas, literacy was regarded almost like magic in people's minds, something only nobles and servants of the gods could attain. Many commoners' literacy levels were limited to recognizing their own names, and most couldn't even achieve that.

Not only in human kingdoms, but it was said that many orcish tribes on the great plains used knotted ropes to record events.

Markalov could still vividly recall the incredulous expressions on everyone's faces when the young lord announced the "literacy class" to be held at night to teach everyone how to read, and Major Claude's mouth gaping wide enough to fit a goose egg from sheer surprise.

However, many soldiers actually believed that as mere soldiers living off rations, they didn't need to learn to read—what a bunch of resigned fools, Markalov secretly sneered. He was different; he didn't want to spend his life in a haze of ignorance.

Suddenly, a whistle sounded, followed by the loud command of Major Claude, "Everyone, assemble!"

Markalov immediately dropped all thoughts and moved toward the "standard-bearer" in front of Major Claude, standing shoulder to shoulder in line with the rest of his rank. After a week of training, this had become almost a reflex action.