On the eighth day of the northward march, Viscount Pierre led the conscripted army to Lucerne.
For many conscripted Soldiers, Lucerne was a city too large to imagine. To alleviate the resentment that had accumulated among the Soldiers for days, Viscount Pierre granted all conscripted Soldiers a day of rest outside Lucerne.
Art's Patrol Team was stationed in an open area outside Lucerne's north gate, right next to Dean's military camp. He did not allow the Soldiers to enter the city to relax. Instead, he had Spencer organize a few Soldiers to go into the city to buy fresh meat, fruits, vegetables, and beer to bring back to the camp, planning to hold a simple dinner for the Soldiers.
Art himself, accompanied by Roan, went to Selanke Fu Monastery to visit Bishop Olov Hannes.
In the Abbot's office of the Monastery, Art met Bishop Olov.
After kissing the ring of authority, Bishop Olov gently helped Art up, and with a benevolent smile, he said, "My child, congratulations. When I learned in the Court that your name was among the twenty-one apprentice knights in this conferment, I was truly happy for you. I believe your father, far away in heaven, would also be proud of your honor."
Art bowed his head, making the sign of the cross, and devoutly replied, "Thank God, it is the light of the Holy Lord and the brave spirit of my father that have blessed me." Art also took a moment to reminisce about his 'convenient' father.
Bishop Olov had a servant bring over a box, which he personally opened and handed to Art, saying, "My child, I knew you would come to Lucerne to see me, so I prepared a gift for you in advance to celebrate your promotion to apprentice knight." The Bishop took out a silver cross necklace from the box, and Art leaned forward, lowering his head for the Bishop to put it on him.
Bishop Olov patted Art's head and said, "My child, I originally intended to send a military chaplain with your army, to have him protect you and your Soldiers on behalf of God. However, the Court has conscripted a large number of troops this time, and many monks from the Monastery have even been transferred to join the army. And Hvorof Cathedral has been completed, and I urgently need a large number of clergy, so I can only give you this personal cross necklace to protect you."
Art secretly rejoiced that Bishop Olov had no military chaplains available to send; otherwise, he truly wouldn't have known how to accommodate the chaplain. This was because the Patrol Team's army carried many herbs not yet recognized by the Church, and using these herbs could very likely be interpreted by the Church as using evil medicine and witchcraft. Moreover, the things Art was about to do next might not necessarily be approved by the Church.
"Respected Bishop, thank you for your great kindness. I heard that you have been promoted to Bishop of Lusesen Diocese, and I am sincerely happy for you. This time, I brought you a set of porcelain from the East from the south, as a congratulatory gift for your promotion." As he spoke, he gestured for Roan to present a set of porcelain wine cups.
Art deeply admired this kind old man, not only because the old man before him had secured him many practical benefits, but also because this old man was his father's loyal master and friend during his lifetime.
Bishop Olov opened the brocade box, felt the valuable porcelain set, then closed the box and pushed it back. "My child, take the gift back. The porcelain set you gave me last time was already very precious. Now that Hvorof Cathedral is essentially complete, I no longer need to raise money everywhere. Keep these things for yourself; you need them more now. Also, Earl Baldwin has been promoted from Minister of Public Security to Lord Deputy of the Court and Military Vice Minister. This conscripted army of yours will be under his command. Earl Baldwin also mentioned in a private letter to me that he wanted to meet you, so when you arrive in Besançon, be sure to visit the Earl. He particularly likes these exquisite things, and if you can secure a temporary position by the Earl's side, that would of course be the best…"
Bishop Olov ultimately refused Art's gift. Now that he was the Bishop of Lucerne Diocese, having passed through the time when he was most in need of money, he would no longer accept Art's offerings. Moreover, his help to Art was largely due to Art's father being his good friend during his lifetime. Bishop Olov cherished the pure friendship he had with Art's father back then.
When they bid farewell to Bishop Olov and left the Monastery to return to the camp outside the city, many people were gathered around the Patrol Team's encampment. Art saw that something was amiss and quickly led Roan through the crowd. He saw Officer Odo arguing with someone, and all the Soldiers of the Patrol Team were armored and armed, standing outside their tents in a standoff.
"My Soldier clearly saw one of you steal a barrel of our beer; you must return it to me!" a crude voice roared from the edge of the Patrol Team's camp.
The one yelling at the top of his lungs was a small leader of a merchant caravan guard from the Dean Family. This small leader was usually quite overbearing in his own army, often beating and scolding ordinary conscripted Soldiers. Today, Dean had gone into the city for entertainment with his personal attendants, leaving this fellow to look after the camp. It was likely that he had been dissatisfied with the Patrol Team for the past few days, feeling that they were too prominent, or perhaps he had drunk too much and was feeling a bit lightheaded, daring to actively run to the Patrol Team's camp to stir up trouble.
"Bastard! This barrel of beer was clearly bought by me from the city! How dare you shamelessly claim it's yours!" Spencer rolled up his sleeves, ready to go forward and fight with the small guard leader.
Officer Odo grabbed Spencer, whose eyes were bloodshot, and reprimanded him, "Are you a pig? Can't you see that Bastard just wants to stir up trouble? Viscount Pierre just strictly forbade private fights in the army yesterday. Do you want to violate military orders?"
"You scoundrels! You stole our wine and still won't admit it! Just because you wear black robes, you really think you're warriors, you scoundrels…" The small leader's arrogance was rampant, his drunken, ugly face red from shouting insults.
During these past few days of marching north, the small leader harbored much jealousy and resentment towards the black-robed Patrol Team. These black-robed Soldiers always acted with an air of invincibility, making the few merchant caravan guards under the leader's command lose their luster.
Today, the small leader had drunk some wine, but he was still not satisfied. He had originally intended to ask the Soldiers of the Patrol Team for a few cups of beer, but he was met with Spencer's cold words. Coupled with his master Dean's strong dislike for this Patrol Team, the small leader, emboldened by the alcohol, dared to argue with him.
The small leader was originally in the wrong and intended to settle the matter after a few words of argument, but the crowd of onlookers behind him grew larger and larger. The conscripted Soldiers, who had been holding in a belly full of resentment for days, finally found an outlet and began to egg on the small leader. The small leader was put on the spot by the people behind him and couldn't back down, so he had to continue to act unreasonably with Spencer, fueled by the alcohol.
Seeing Officer Odo prevent Spencer from going forward to fight with the small leader, a good show was about to cool down. Someone in the crowd, a meddler, sarcastically yelled, "Aren't you black-robed Soldiers usually very capable? Why are you acting like cowards today?" A burst of laughter and ridicule erupted from the crowd.
The Patrol Team's Soldiers' faces turned crimson, and Officer Odo's face turned even redder. As the Deputy Captain of the Patrol Team, he truly wanted to draw his sword and hack down this scoundrel, and then beat down all the scoundrels who were stirring up trouble. However, he also served as a military judge, and such a clear violation of military orders was something he could not lead.
Just as he was in a dilemma, Art's figure appeared.
Art walked out of the crowd, drew the knight's sword from his waist, and slowly walked towards the arguing individuals. He placed the sword against the small leader's neck and reprimanded, "Unauthorized entry into a military camp with a weapon, beheading! Did your master not tell you that?"
Good heavens, no one had really told the small leader the rule of "beheading for unauthorized entry into a military camp with a weapon." Moreover, they were friendly forces, and the weapon at the small leader's waist was never intended to be drawn.
However, standing in front of the small leader was the opposing side's highest Commander, and also an apprentice knight. The small leader naturally dared not refute what he said.
Under the imposing blade, the small leader instantly shrank by half, muttering in a low voice, "Sir, your Soldier stole my wine, I just came to retrieve my belongings~"
"Yes, the black-robed Soldier stole the wine." The crowd behind him also chimed in, though their momentum was much less than before.
Art lowered the sword from the small leader's neck, held the knight's sword, and surveyed the crowd outside the camp who were stirring up trouble and watching the show. He then turned to Officer Odo, who firmly shook his head in denial.
"Folks, this brother says my Soldier stole his beer, and my Soldier denies it. I guess one of them is lying!" The crowd didn't quite understand what this gentleman wanted to say, but Art understood that the crowd merely wanted to stir up trouble, throw stones, and vent their bad feelings.
"Folks, I guess none of you care who lied. All you want is for them to have a fight, right? Then perhaps you can seize the opportunity to throw a couple of stones and spit a mouthful of saliva."
Art looked at the slowly quieting crowd and continued, "Many of you spend all day pointing fingers at my army. You've been impatient with us for a long time, haven't you?"
There was some commotion in the crowd.
"What about stealing wine or not? You just want to fight us, but you're worried about violating the Viscount's military order against private fights, so you found such a clumsy excuse to cause trouble!"
Their intentions exposed, everyone felt a bit awkward, and a few of the most aggressive individuals in the crowd prepared to leave sheepishly.
Seeing someone trying to slip away, Art quickly stopped them: "Those few brothers, don't leave. Yes, you, the one with the big beard and the small eyes, don't be in such a hurry to slip away, there's still a good show here!"
The few people who wanted to slip away were stared at by the crowd. Out of embarrassment, they had no choice but to stay.
"Since some of you want to fight my Soldiers, then I will grant your wish. You can vent your anger, and you won't have to worry about violating the Viscount's military order."
The crowd instantly became noisy, and several people pricked up their ears to listen. They were truly itching for a fight.
“It’s simple. You pick ten warriors to fight against a squad of six Soldiers from the Patrol Team. If you win, my Soldiers will apologize to you, and I will personally present you with two barrels of beer and two pieces of smoked meat. If you lose, you apologize to my Soldiers, and from now on, when you see my Soldiers, you obediently walk around them.”
“This isn’t a private fight, but a combat training exercise, so it doesn’t violate military orders. Do you dare to?”
Art brandished his sword and scanned the surrounding crowd, shouting loudly, “Do you dare to?!”
The armored and armed Patrol Team Soldiers, seeing the situation under control, put away their weapons. If it weren’t for the military discipline of a combat training exercise, they were confident they could knock down all the Bastards outside the camp.
“Why not dare?! A martial Arts contest it is!” A fellow wearing soft chainmail under full plate armor and a decorative, shiny belt walked out from the crowd and spoke to Art.
The newcomer was none other than the small leader’s master—the trainee Knight Dean.
“Lord Dean, you’ve come at just the right time, so you can’t say I bullied your men while you were away,” Art sheathed his sword and walked up to Dean.
Dean had lived in a wealthy merchant family since childhood and was always competitive. Recently, marching and camping with Art’s Patrol Team, those black-robed Soldiers appeared Capable and majestic everywhere, while in contrast, his own Soldiers seemed like a group of mountain bandits. He naturally harbored resentment, and Dean discovered that Art’s accompanying merchant caravan actually carried southern goods, which made Dean wary. Today, while enjoying himself at a tavern in the city, his Soldiers urgently reported that his men were being bullied by the Patrol Team. Dean returned to the military camp filled with anger, just in time for this scene.
“Lord Art, what do you mean, ten against six? Are you looking down on my Soldiers? I demand a fair fight! Moreover, since it’s a martial Arts contest, there should be more spoils of war. Why try to fool my men with inferior wine and rotten meat? If we’re going to compete, let’s make it bigger~” Saying this, Dean took out a leather money bag from his Pregnant and threw a handful of large silver marks onto the ground in front of Art. More than twenty large silver coins, worth nearly three thousand fenny, scattered across the ground.
Art looked down at the scattered silver coins, then looked up and replied, “Good, then I will thank Lord Dean for his generosity on behalf of my Soldiers. Ron, go fetch my iron plate armor as a wager.”
...
A “Martial Arts Competition” was about to take place in the open ground outside Lucerne City.
Not only did all the hundred or so Soldiers who had enlisted and gathered to go north come to watch, but even the hawkers, citizens, and idle ruffians from outside the city gathered around the open ground to watch the excitement.
Viscount Pierre was not in the camp today, but even if he were, he would not prevent a fair and orderly combat training exercise.
One side of the contest consisted of six Soldiers from Art’s Patrol Team, Tuba’s Fourth Squad, and four captive laborers. The other side consisted of ten strong guards and attendants from Dean’s army.
Art’s six Soldiers wore black cloaks and were neat and imposing. The four captive laborers were originally strong bandits who were accustomed to fighting, full of vitality. Dean’s seven guards had been traveling and fighting for years, exuding a fierce aura, and his three attendants were well-trained, with considerable combat power.
The onlookers were not idle either; those with money and goods placed bets, while those without shouted encouragement.
“Officer Odo, this matter started because of me, I want to participate in this contest!” Spencer, who usually disliked fighting and brawling, was stirred to courage today and actively applied to Odo to participate in the contest.
Odo scanned Spencer from head to toe, then turned to look at Art. Art nodded in agreement.
“You go up and command the captive laborers. If you fall first, I’ll make you eat shit!” Odo said fiercely to Spencer.
Spencer walked into the open ground, took a short wooden stick from a captive, and told him to step down. Then he whispered to the remaining three captive laborers: “The other people will be handled by the Soldiers, you don’t need to worry about them. When the fight starts, you keep a close eye on that small leader. We’ll deal with him together. As long as he’s not dead, hit him as hard as you can. Whoever knocks him down first, I’ll treat them to beer and smoked meat tonight!”
Several captive laborers, due to their lingering malevolence, were considered still dangerous, and thus were unluckily taken by Art on this expedition as laborers, suffering hardships and fatigue along the way, with grievances they dared not express.
They dared not provoke the Soldiers who killed without batting an eye in daily life, but they were not at all afraid of the miscellaneous Soldiers who came to cause trouble and fight today. When they were bandits, they often dealt with these guards and miscellaneous Soldiers, so they naturally knew their strengths and weaknesses.
“Start!!!”
The combat training began with a command from another trainee Knight who was watching the excitement.
Art’s Patrol Team’s six Soldiers stood in a neat line, raising their shields and clubs with a loud roar.
The ten Soldiers on the opposite side were startled by the sudden roar and quickly raised their shields, which varied in style, into a blocking position.
But after a long while, the black-robed Soldiers on the opposite side still did not attack. Several guards poked their heads out from behind their shields and immediately pulled them back, their cowardly appearance drawing a burst of laughter from the onlookers.
Dean, watching from the side of the field, saw his men lose momentum, clenched his fists, and roared, “Charge! Kill them!!!”
Dean’s ten Soldiers raised their clubs and rushed towards the Patrol Team’s Soldiers~
On the Patrol Team’s side, Tuba’s squad of Soldiers had already formed a shield formation, moving their right legs back and tilting their shields forward, to meet the barbaric charge from the opposite side. Spencer and the three club-wielding laborers, who did not carry shields, stood behind the shield formation, guarding the flanks.
“Bang~! Bang~! Thump~! Thump~” Dean’s charging Soldiers violently crashed into Tuba’s squad’s shield formation or struck the shields fiercely with their clubs.
While Tuba’s squad held off the enemy Soldiers’ savage charge, Spencer, leading three laborers, charged out from the right flank of the shield formation with their wooden clubs raised. Spencer kicked over an “enemy Soldier” attempting to bypass the shield formation and attack the rear, then led the three men around behind the “enemy Soldiers” who were “breaking the formation” at the front of the shield formation. Ignoring the swinging clubs, after enduring two direct hits, he reached the small leader’s back.
The small leader, having guarded merchant caravans for many years, had seen battle. He did not panic upon realizing someone was behind him. Instead, he inverted his wooden club and thrust it fiercely backward. Spencer, caught off guard, did not expect the small leader’s weapon to arrive before he even turned around. He took a heavy blow to the abdomen from the wooden club and, enduring the pain, retreated a few steps.
“Get him!!” Spencer, rubbing his stomach, roared at the three captive laborers who had just broken free from the “enemy Soldiers’” entanglement.
The small leader turned his head to glance at the fellow who had been stabbed, then continued to deal with the impenetrable shield formation in front of him. Just as he saw the shield formation in front of him loosening somewhat under his heavy blows, and was about to deliver a fatal strike, he unexpectedly heard a command of “three-man battle formation,” and the previously dense shield formation suddenly split into two independent shield formations. The small leader in the center found himself facing empty space, followed by six clubs whistling in simultaneously from both sides. Before the small leader could react, he had already been struck by at least two clubs. By the time he remembered to organize his Soldiers to attack separately, a muffled thud came from behind him, and his body staggered—the fellow who had just been stabbed came charging up again with three other people…
This time, Spencer and his three men ignored the surrounding clubs and focused entirely on encircling the small leader. Five-foot-long wooden clubs assailed the small leader from all directions. The small leader raised his shield to block the left, a club fell from the right; he raised his club to block the front, another club came from behind…
...
Odo, watching from behind the open ground, saw Spencer and his three men continuously ganging up on the small leader alone. The unfortunate fellow was already too weak to defend himself, while the other “enemy Soldiers” were firmly held back by two closely coordinated combat groups, unable to rescue the trapped small leader.
Odo was somewhat concerned about major casualties and said to Art, “Sir, the Soldiers are not holding back. If this continues, I fear Lord Dean’s Soldiers will suffer injuries or disabilities.”
Art glanced at Dean, who was glaring at him with hatred from the opposite side, and replied nonchalantly, “Odo, have you ever been bitten by a dog? To deal with those biting dogs, you must hit them hard and scare them, until they tuck their tails between their legs and walk around you whenever they see you. Otherwise, these vicious dogs will jump out and bite you from time to time.”
Odo said no more.
On the field, while Spencer led the captive laborers in ganging up on the small leader, Tuba was commanding his combat group to gradually push back four “enemy Soldiers.” They bypassed the “enemy Soldier” who had been hit in the head and knocked unconscious on the ground, and charged towards the four retreating fellows…
Dean had not expected these usually pretentious fellows to be so fierce. These Soldiers might not completely defeat his own Soldiers in single combat, but these fellows never separated easily. They always hid behind their shields, with three men raising shields to defend in all directions, like a moving shield fortress that could not be broken up or gnawed through. As soon as the besieging Soldiers showed the slightest weakness, long clubs or short sticks would immediately come out from behind the shields~
Tuba, in the three-man battle formation, saw that the “enemy Soldiers” no longer had their initial courage. He decisively ordered: “Disperse and kill!”
The two battle formations instantly split into six individual Soldiers, each holding a shield and a club, and charged towards the “enemy Soldiers”…
The bloodthirsty Spencer nearly beat the small leader to death, and the spectators outside also gasped at the muffled thuds of clubs hitting flesh. The exasperated Lord Dean even drew his knight’s sword from his waist, ready to rush into the arena and hack at the Patrol Team Soldiers. Of course, he ultimately did not dare to go up, because three teams of Soldiers from the Patrol Team camp, arrayed and ready to deploy, had already raised their wooden shields and weapons.
“Everyone, stop!!!”
Ultimately, this combat training, which resembled more of a spiteful brawl, was declared over by the reprimand of Viscount Pierre, who had rushed back from the city.