Release That Witch

"This is the end of our task, right?" In the square, Cat's Claw cleaned up the burned debris from the bonfire and regretfully said, "I really don't want to go back to the mine to work. To be honest, I kind of miss the Months of Demons."     

"Yeah, I don't want to deal with those stones," Jop replied. "The most important thing is the pay is too different from the previous one. Where else can we get work like this in the Artillery Squad? Where can we get to eat meat every day and have a monthly salary of 15 silver royals."     

"What a silly thing to say," said Van'er, who was holding a torch on the side. "This time His Royal Highness distributed a lot of grain, so no one starved to death during the Months of Demons. Do you remember two years ago in the Old District, half of the people did not survive the winter! Do you miss that? Anyway, the platoon won't be disbanded. Do you think His Royal Highness recruited us into the Artillery Squad and burned so much gunpowder, just to hear the 'bang' of the explosion?"     

"But there are no more demonic beasts. Why would His Royal Highness still need the Artillery Squad?" Rodney asked, clutching the broom.     

"The Artillery Squad isn't prepared just for the demonic beasts." Van'er pondered but ultimately did not say it. "Anyway, we'll know the answer tomorrow." He yawned and waved his hand impatiently. "Clean this up quickly, I'd like to go back to sleep early."     

The next day early in the morning, there was an order to gather at the battalion camp, thus confirming Van'er's saying.     

After all the people were gathered, Iron Axe stood before them and announced, "You have completed the first stage of the task—to protect Border Town against the invasion of the demonic beasts. After three months and six days of fighting, you've received the acknowledgment of His Royal Highness! The Militia will be regrouped to form the regular corps of His Royal Highness. If you do not want to continue fighting, you can step out now. His Royal Highness also said, those who decide to leave the Militia now, will get the full salary and an additional 25 silver royals as..." He thought about the words of His Royal Highness. "Well, the retirement pension."     

None of the three hundred people moved, only Cat's Claw raised his hand. "Report."     

This was also one of the weird rules developed by His Royal Highness during the training. The platoon members were not allowed to whisper in private. If they wanted to inquire about something, they had to first shout "report".     

Iron Axe nodded. "Speak up."     

"What is the meaning of the regular corps, does that mean we become knights?"     

Van'er could not help but laugh, but he soon returned to his serious demeanor.     

Knights? But that would already be considered as the nobility. Not only would that include property and squire, but would also include the conferral of land. Asking this type of question was really an embarrassment to the Artillery Squad.     

"No," Iron Axe patiently explained. Apparently, he had also asked his Royal Highness before. "The regular corps is a full-time platoon, used to protect His Royal Highness and his domain. In other words, while the workers are mining, you're training. When the farmers are harvesting the wheat, you're still training. When the merchants are selling the goods, you would still be training. All the training is in preparation for future victories, just as you did during the Months of Demons."     

"So how is that different from the Militia?" Cat's Claw continued asking.     

"More frequent training, a more rigorous system, and a more lucrative return."     

"Report!" This time it was Rodney. As soon as Iron Axe nodded, he asked eagerly, "What's the more lucrative return?"     

Van'er sighed. Why was each of the young men in their team so impetuous? In fact, he would also like to know the answer to this question.     

"The regular corps follow the army system. They complete designated missions during combat and for those with excellent performance, they can be promoted to officer," Iron Axe said loudly, "For example, be promoted to my position."     

"Was this what His Royal Highness said..." Van'er secretly thought. "If this was really carried out, wouldn't this be encouraging everyone to go against their superiors?" He quietly looked around, but it seemed others were unaware of this problem and were still listening with relish.     

"Officers can get higher pay, and... own land."     

The last sentence resulted with a burst of voices. Van'er was no exception, he even doubted whether he heard the wrong thing. If they could get land as well, then how was that different from a knight?     

"But remember that once you choose to become part of the regular corps, you need to follow a system that's completely different from the Militia. Failure to complete tasks, fleeing, mutiny and other violations of discipline, would be severely dealt with. I'm not talking about eating one egg less. The punishments include hard labor and even imprisonment. The positions and rewards that were received would also be withdrawn." Iron Axe paused. "It's still not too late now to quit."     

The crowd was dead quiet and after Iron Axe silently counted to ten, still no one moved. He could not help but grin. "Well then, from today onwards, you have become a regular corps of His Highness Prince Roland Wimbledon!"     

Van'er himself thought that was incredible. If it were three months ago, hearing about those terrible punishments he would have slipped away long ago. What was the use of promotion, of land, compared to keeping their own lives? But now, he chose to stay without hesitating much. Compared to breaking North Slope Mine's stones, or living aimlessly in the Old District, Van'er preferred to stay here.     

"You have good powers of observation. What's your name?"     

"Mr. Van'er, keep up the good work."     

Thinking about the encouragement from His Highness, he once again confirmed his plan—he belonged to the Militia. In the future, he would also be a member of the regular corps, and continue to fight for His Highness.     

...     

Iron Axe soon announced today's first training: field training.     

At the beginning, Van'er disapproved of running as a training method. Even during the Months of Demons, the training was rarely interrupted. After eating breakfast, depending on the weather conditions, they had to run two laps in the town unless it was snowing heavily. According to His Highness, this was conducive to exercising the bones. When defending the city wall, they would be agile and not have stiff hands and feet or be unable to stab the spears.     

But when the platoon ran out of Border Town, he immediately felt the difference between the two.     

At this time the wild snow was still far from melting. Three months of on-and-off snow now covered the knees. Rather than running, they might as well be climbing. The platoon suddenly became scattered. Once a foot sunk in, it took a lot of effort to pull out.     

There was no doubt that this type of special training to torment them was His Highness's idea. Van'er had already figured out His Highness's ideas. At this point, protesting was basically futile, and the only thing that could be done was to persist until the end.     

A back-and-forth trip took the whole morning. When the platoon returned to the town, Van'er could hardly feel his legs.     

The snow that seeped into the boots turned into water. Even if standing under the sun, most people would still be trembling from the cold. A huge physical exertion exacerbated this chill, and even Iron Axe felt it was too much. He announced the dissolution of the platoon for noon and postponed lunchtime to one hour later. This gave everyone time to change out of their wet shoes and pants.     

Everyone was pleased that the afternoon training was canceled.     

Of course, they did not know that Lightning had been tracking their field training, and this was also the little girl's daily training content—precise control of the magic power of uniform flight. When she reported the information to Roland, the latter did not know whether to cry or to laugh.     

The total mileage of the platoon in the morning was four kilometers.