In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Michael discreetly saw his father off, doing his best to divert the attention of Louis and his escort knights. He had wanted to send Miaomiao along with his father, but that proved impossible. The determined feline clung to Michael's shoulder, digging in with its claws and flailing wildly, making it impossible to pry the cat off.

In the end, Michael could only hope his father had a good eye for valuable goods.

The remaining supply unit commanders were all old knights who had sent their heirs off to join the raiding forces. Being the only young man present, Michael naturally became the focus of everyone's attention.

The old knights chuckled and left all the responsibilities to Michael, riding leisurely at the rear of the unit and chatting amongst themselves as if they were on a pleasant outing.

With the leadership in such disarray, the supply unit's discipline was in shambles. The procession resembled a disorganized mass of writhing worms rather than a military unit.

Michael took a deep breath, striving to calm himself as he observed the chaos. If nothing else, the experience was a lesson in patience and discipline. He felt as though he might ascend to enlightenment at this rate.

Still, something had to be done. While he couldn't set overly high standards for soldiers who weren't even under his direct command, the current state of affairs was unacceptable. At the very least, they needed to resemble a proper army.

Michael opted for his final and best solution, one that was a bit forceful but necessary under the circumstances. For a disorderly rabble like this, the harshest methods were often the most effective.

He began by assigning one of his personal guards to each wagon in the convoy.

"You are now responsible for the soldiers assigned to your wagon," Michael instructed them. "You will move, eat, and sleep together. Ensure that the soldiers watch over one another. Enforce the rules. Any soldier who breaks formation or disobeys orders will be punished with the whip. Conversely, those who perform well will be rewarded. Every soldier must understand that they share life and death with their wagon mates.

"If any soldier abandons their post or disrupts the formation, the entire wagon team will go without food. On the other hand, wagons that maintain discipline and perform well will be rewarded with meat and wine. Soldiers may only go hungry, but I will personally punish the guards responsible for lapses. I will not tolerate disorder among my subordinates."

After surveying the soldiers to gauge their reactions, Michael continued in a commanding voice.

"Do you think I'm bluffing? Test me, then. Any soldier who dares to disobey military orders will be hanged. And if anyone thinks they can escape responsibility by deserting, know this: your families—young and old alike—will be executed. Their bodies will hang at the village gates for all to see.

"Remember, I am a man of clear rewards and punishments. Lead your wagon and soldiers well, and you will be rewarded in kind. Understood?"

A resounding "Yes, sir!" erupted from the soldiers.

Michael had effectively introduced collective responsibility within the supply unit. Though harsh, it was undeniably effective. While such measures were unsuitable for long-term use, they were practical in a short-term crisis like this.

For the majority of the wagon guards, who were serf soldiers, hunger was the ultimate punishment, while the promise of meat and wine was the highest incentive. Michael aimed to instill in them the importance of working together.

When the army resumed its march, Michael prepared a feast during the midday break.

He began roasting the game he had hunted earlier, letting the savory aroma waft through the entire supply unit. Soon, soldiers received salted roasted meat, and the taste left them longing for more.

Compared to the bland, hard rations they had been eating, the meat was a revelation. Following the roasted meat, Michael served a stew made with peppered meat. Even the tough rations softened when soaked in the rich broth, transforming into a meal that was surprisingly enjoyable.

Once they had experienced good food, the soldiers became motivated. They worked together, eagerly taking initiative, and the procession gradually became more orderly.

Though the pace remained consistent with the raiding forces they had to keep up with, discipline was finally taking hold. Michael's efforts paid off, even if it meant using up the bags of salt and pepper he had seized from the village the previous day.

As good food became available, the soldiers' opinion of Michael skyrocketed. He transformed in their eyes from a tyrant to a noble benefactor. There was a reason modern armies focused so heavily on improving rations; in the dreariness of military life, good food could be a great morale booster.

Watching this transformation from the sidelines, Louis was in awe.

He had learned about using rewards and punishments to command and train soldiers, but this approach was entirely new to him. Watching the soldiers unite and strive to outdo one another impressed him deeply.

Now Louis understood why his father had sent him to observe Michael.

At the same time, in the eighth village, Baron Kensington was on the verge of losing his mind.

There was not a single piece of gold or silver to be found, and the grain storages were completely empty. It was as though the fanatics had suddenly developed foresight, fleeing with all their belongings.

Every village they raided was the same. This was the third village in a row to yield no spoils.@@novelbin@@

During reconnaissance, the fanatics had appeared to be aimlessly wandering about like zombies, and the villages had seemed untouched. What could have caused such a drastic change?

Now, with nothing to show for their efforts, Baron Kendington and the raiding troops could only stare blankly at one another. It was maddening.

While Michael pressed ahead with his training and the Small Nobles' Alliance raiding forces were steeped in frustration, Leonardo, a priest of the Outer Faith, was enduring his own torment.