In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

The scene was chaotic, with soldiers calling out names and searching for relatives among the ranks.@@novelbin@@

Michael opposed this slapdash organization, but he had no authority over soldiers from other domains.

Even within the alliance, such interference would be overstepping his bounds.

This was still an era of feudal governance, where each lord managed their own domain.

Thus, the fourth legion ended up with only six companies—barely half of its original strength.

Watching the other legions form their units, Michael felt a growing sense of unease.

Among the four legions, the fourth was undoubtedly the weakest.

The first legion, led by Count Charles, included the elite court knights, totaling nearly 100. They even had heavy cavalry.

The second legion was equally formidable, boasting 70 knights.

The third legion had a similar number of soldiers to the fourth but included 50 knights.

In contrast, the minor noble alliance had only 36 knights remaining, having lost 21 in the previous battle.

The disparity was glaring.

Adding to Michael's frustration was the allocation of the 20 court knights to the first legion. Though Count Charles had promised that personal spoils could be kept, this maneuver now seemed like a calculated ploy.

The alliance nobles were furious that the fourth legion had been given the least number of knights. Complaints would only be met with excuses about spoils distribution, so they resolved to fend for themselves.

Some even boasted about their skills, claiming they didn't need help. To Michael, it sounded like sour grapes.

Still, what could he do? These nobles would rather die than admit weakness. Though Michael couldn't understand their pride, he had no choice but to go along with it.

"This cursed world," Michael thought. "If I don't change the way people think, we'll all suffocate in this nonsense."

Due to their contributions in the previous battle, Michael and Baron Crassus were each placed in charge of a regiment. Michael was given command of the fifth regiment in the fourth legion, while Baron Crassus led the sixth.

As if offering a token of goodwill, Count Charles assigned serf-soldiers to their regiments.

Each regiment received a hundred serf-soldiers, and Michael was speechless.

There were different classes of serf-soldiers. The first class consisted of war captives from other nations who couldn't afford ransom. The second class were those who sold themselves into servitude to survive. Michael suspected that the soldiers assigned to them were from the lowest tier of the second class.

The serf-soldiers assigned to the fourth legion appeared malnourished and frail—more suited for burial than battle.

"It seems we've certainly earned Count Charles's ire," Michael remarked dryly.

Baron Crassus nodded solemnly. "That much is clear."

The entrenched elites were clearly trying to suppress the rising influence of the minor noble alliance. This was the result of the larger nobles working together to undermine them.

Left with no alternative, Michael clenched his teeth and summoned the soldiers of the fifth and sixth regiments to one corner of the camp.

"Let's get to work," he said grimly, as preparations for another grueling round of training began.

Other nobles in the alliance did not follow Michael's example. In this era, the value of systematic training was poorly understood. They failed to grasp the advantages of discipline and formations.

Moreover, even within the alliance, the pursuit of glory turned allies into rivals. There was no need to urge the others to train. Allowing them to lag behind was enough to satisfy any moral obligations.

Michael implemented a mentorship system, pairing each trained soldier from Crassus Barony with a serf-soldier for one-on-one instruction.

The results were remarkable.

The training began in the morning and continued until midday, just before the march. The frail serf-soldiers were transformed into something resembling proper troops.

Intensive, hands-on training proved highly effective. Michael noted that as long as the training didn't devolve into blind harassment, this approach could yield excellent results.

Meanwhile, Count Charles was secretly meeting with the other factions, excluding the minor noble alliance.

Though the delay in departure was regrettable, Michael could only scoff at the typical arrogance of those who underestimated the enemy.

Once his secret meetings concluded, Count Charles confidently declared the start of the expedition.

The hasty alliance forces, freshly assembled, lacked cohesion, and as soon as they set out, their disorganization became glaringly apparent.

The accelerated pace of the march only worsened matters. What began as small cracks in the operation would inevitably grow larger as the campaign continued.

Michael read the orders handed down to the minor noble alliance and let out a bitter laugh.

"So that's what all those secret talks were about—setting us up with this nonsense," he thought.

The alliance's new mission was to oversee supply transport.

Carts loaded with food and hay began gathering near the fourth legion's camp.

In theory, protecting the supply convoy was a vital task, but in practice, it was thankless.

Supply soldiers rarely ventured into battle. Instead, they stayed at the rear, guarding the convoy. Without opportunities to engage the enemy, the alliance nobles would neither earn accolades nor claim spoils.

If the convoy was successfully protected, it would simply be expected. If anything went wrong, the blame would fall squarely on them.

In a campaign against fanatics, where the enemy had no strategy beyond killing and burning, the likelihood of an attack on the supply convoy was slim.

Still, without enemies to fight, the alliance would return from the campaign empty-handed.

Michael didn't yet realize that the nobles of this era considered attacking supply lines dishonorable. Knights and soldiers were expected to face each other head-on. Ambushes or subterfuge were seen as shameful.

The era was rife with tragic strategists who had been scorned for daring to think outside the box, bearing titles like "Coward King Richard" or "Treacherous John." This, too, was a value system Michael hoped to reform.

"This is ridiculous!" Baron Aramund grumbled. "How are we supposed to achieve personal glory with this mission?"

His complaints stirred similar murmurings among the alliance nobles.

The alliance began to fracture under the weight of dissatisfaction.