When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 784: New Soldiers Training (Part )

The wheels of the carriage were rolling over the gravel between the sleepers, making a teeth-grinding sound.

As the railcar rolled over the last stretch of railroad ties, Dietrich Tebert saw dozens of rows of gray wooden houses standing abruptly on the horizon.

These barracks built with prefabricated wooden boards are arranged neatly like a chessboard, and pennants of different colors are flying on the roofs of each row - those are the symbols that distinguish the various squadrons.

"This camp is flatter than the threshing floor in our village." Grover, a fellow villager, built a awning with his right hand and exclaimed in surprise.

When the rail carriage arrived at the designated location, before the Norn mountain people could take a good look around, the officers and mercenary agents started shouting again.

"Get off the bus, one by one, and don't leave anything behind."

"Hurry up, the people behind are still waiting for the car, you pigs."

"Are your feet made of noodles? Get off the bus!"

The cork sticks knocked against the car wall, forcing the mountain people to get off.

Anyone who dared to complain or move slowly would be beaten with a stick by the mercenary agent.

Many mountain dwellers with violent tempers became so angry that they started quarreling with the mercenary agents.

Before they had even had a few words of argument, several soldiers in white clothes and wearing blue folding hats quickly came running over and pinned down the mountain people who were blocking the road and swearing.

Without saying anything, just the words "violation of discipline" will lead to the beating of cork sticks and whips.

He beat these troublemakers until they cried for their parents and rolled on the ground before he stopped.

If there are still those who refuse to obey, they will be locked up in a wooden yoke and put in a small dark room for three days.

Dietrich Tebert was close to the door, so he was not whipped. Instead, he looked curiously at the recruit camp located on the saline land.

They soon discovered that these wooden houses looked neat from a distance, but when they looked closer they found that even the door frames had rough edges.

A linen curtain replaced the wooden door, and through the gap one could see gray cloth bedding folded into squares piled on the floor inside.

The most eye-catching thing is the three-story brick building in the center of the camp, with a black and red flag embroidered with crossed swords and guns flying on the roof.

This should be where the officers live and work.

"Beep, beep, beep--" Before Dietrich Tebert could take off the package on his shoulder, he heard a whistle and a series of orderly footsteps.

The Norn mountain folk turned their heads and saw twenty officers in black clothes and pointed helmets running towards them.

They lined up in two rows, and although they were running, they seemed like one person, with completely synchronized steps, and there was no need to stop and straighten the team.

Dietrich also noticed that the heels of these people's leather boots were nailed with iron plates, and the rhythm of them hitting the ground when they ran was very similar to the sound of forging in a blacksmith's shop.

Although there were only twenty people, the faces of the experienced veterans changed.

"Left, right, left, left, stand still, line up!" The two leading officers shouted commands in the Highlander language, which they did not belong to.

The sound of leather boots tapping on the ground stopped, and the only sound in Dietrich's ears was the whispers of his companions.

"Arrange in teams according to fellow townspeople, with the front being short and the back being tall, and march forward with the flags held high."

The mountain people were driven onto the concrete square in front of the brick house amid the clubs, tin trumpets and whistles of the mercenary agents and leading officers.

The midday sun hung above the sword and gun flag, and Dietrich's wooden soles made a crisp sound as they stepped on the ground.

Twenty Holy Armor Guards wearing silver-white breastplates surrounded the black-haired young man and climbed onto the earthen platform in front of the tall brick building.

The golden holy symbol around his neck gleamed brightly in the sun.

This is the finest relic of Saint Shelley, donated to the Holy See by the Abbey of Blago.

Horn is just using it for a while, the ownership still belongs to all believers, after all, it represents the face of the Holy Father.

Dietrich Poort looked up through the gap between the heads and was shocked.

This saint was too young, just a young man in his early twenties.

Even smaller than him. And why does he look so short?

Among the Holy Armor Guards, each of whom was about 1.8 meters tall, the surrounded Holy Grandson looked so short.

"I am Horn Garrar." The brass amplifier carried Horn's cold voice into everyone's ears, "Under your feet is the Fifth Recruit Training Camp of the Holy Trinity, where you eat, sleep, and train.

For the next three months, you must forget about women and wine, about hunting knives and slings in the mountains, and about the fact that you are human.

Here, you only need to remember three things: Obey! Obey! Obey the fucking hell! "

While the mountain folks were still pondering the meaning of these words, Horn had already pointed to the workshops on the west side that were emitting black smoke: "Do you see those furnaces?
You will be forged like pig iron. After three months, those who are qualified will be incorporated into the Corps.

The Corps provides food, vegetables and meat, accommodation, free bedding and uniforms, and monthly salary..." At this point, Horn deliberately paused, whetting the appetite of the mountain people before holding up four fingers: "Ordinary soldiers get 40 dinars, veterans get double that, and sergeants get double again."

Dietrich Bert couldn't believe his ears, he wasn't greedy for sergeants, but veterans should be okay.

The salary of eighty dinars was beyond his expectations.

This is a monthly salary, not a daily salary paid for each day of combat.

That's eighty dinars a month in real terms, not to mention the share of the spoils and free food and accommodation.

Almost immediately, the mountain people began to talk loudly and excitedly, and it was only the officers' shouting that made them stop.

Horn paused for a moment on purpose, waiting for all the whispers to fade away before continuing: "If you don't want to stay any longer, you can leave now, but if you join the camp and want to be a deserter..."

As he waved his left hand, two guards suddenly tore off the canvas covering the gallows next to them.

Dietrich Lobel gasped. Three bodies were hung on a wooden frame with iron chains. Words could be vaguely discerned from the branding marks on their chests.

If his guess was correct, it should be Leyawen's "deserter".

"Now, let Instructor Coleman teach you your first lesson in the camp." Horn's cloak fluttered as he turned around, and a burly man with scars all over his face and a copper whistle stepped onto the platform.

"beep--"

"Everyone, pay attention!" Coleman's roar made the mountain people in the front row stumble back, "Listen up, you mountain monkeys!
In our Holy League, the first step in your entry into the camp is to learn to stand and walk! "

He jumped off the wooden platform and suddenly kicked the knee of the recruit next to him. When he fell to his knees, he grabbed his hair and said, "Can't stand steadily? Straighten your backs! Keep your heels together! Keep your toes apart!"

…………

As the sun began to set, Dietrich's shirt was soaked with sweat.

The instructors led by Coleman seemed to have endless strength and were still holding their lances to correct their postures.

After the holy grandson left, the hellfire descended.

They were divided into teams of one hundred men according to their fellow townsmen, and each team was equipped with a captain.

First we were taught the military posture, and then we stood for an unknown amount of time before we were able to take a break.

After only a short rest, he was whipped to stand up again and started running.

They ran five full laps around the dirt road outside the camp, each lap being a full kilometer long.

What’s even more terrifying is that after running, they have to stand at attention under the scorching sun.

The guy from Kuldela County next door was beaten on the calf by the instructor's stick just for scratching his neck.

They practiced from noon to evening, and before they even had time to put down their bags, they were rushed by the instructors to the canteen.

Dietrich Tebert really wanted to complain, and everyone around him wanted to complain.

But they were too tired to speak.

However, when Dietrich and others walked into the kitchen tent holding wooden bowls, before they got close, a strong smell of spices made him sneeze.

"Eh——" A non-human gurgling sound came from the throat of the companion beside him.

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw broth boiling in the cast iron pot with splatters of oil.

The sausage on the chopping board was cut into slices and fried in an iron pan, still sizzling with oil.

What’s even more amazing is that each person gets a fried egg, and the egg yolk is even sprinkled with crushed black pepper!

He had only eaten it once in his life, and that was when he picked up a few grains from under his godfather's cupboard after mass.

"Don't fight, don't fight, everyone has one!"

"If you cut in line, get to the back!"

"Hold on, next one."

…………

"The Saint's army treats salt as if it's free." Grover muttered as he licked the oil stains on the edge of the bowl. He just counted and found that there were at least five whole cloves floating in the soup.

Dietrich said nothing, but stuffed the last piece of bread covered with yellow mustard into his mouth.

The moonlight shone on the wooden sign outside the kitchen shed that read "Ten lashes for those who waste food", and he suddenly felt that those strict rules were not so hard to bear.

(End of this chapter)