Suddenly, Elric didn’t feel drowsy anymore. His mind went on full alert at the sight of the dog’s green eyes and he snapped up to his feet. Together with the other mercenaries, he began to flee to safety.

A beaten and exhausted Elric came crawling back to the camps hours later. Somehow, he was able to evade the dogs for just long enough for him to make it back here. And judging from the sight he came back to, other mercenaries had managed the same feat.

Charle clapped his hands, catching the attention of every other mercenary. “Alright that’s enough resting! Get up! It’s time for you brats to get your meal!”

Then he brought every single one of them to the river.

Taking his boots off, Charle waded into the river. With how shallow it was, the river only went up to his knees at most. Everyone watched attentively as Charle stood there, transfixed at something in the river, before abruptly plunging both hands into the river and grabbing hold of a fish.

Charle smiled. Wading back to the bank, he threw the fish far away from the water and onto the sand.

Turning around, he faced the mercenaries in front of him and began to explain the basics of fishing before ordering them to try their own hand at it.

In no time at all, the river was filled with mercenaries trying their best to catch a fish.

For having spent two hours in the river, Elric was completely without a fish. Exhausted, he collapsed onto the soft sandbank near the river and looked around. Many other mercenaries looked like they were empty-handed as well.

“Meal’s served, gather up!” Charle called out, banging two pots together.

“Ah, a meal for us.” Elric thought. As tired as he was, the overwhelming power of hunger had him crawling up to his feet and shamble toward the large pots.

Likewise, the other men who didn’t catch a fish followed suit.

At the front of the line, Elric was immediately assaulted with the strong scent of spices and herbs the moment when the pot lid was lifted.

He didn’t know what it was. Roots, leaves, and many other things he couldn’t even identify were mixed together in the pot as it simmered and boiled.

“What’s wrong, brat? Don’t want it? Go catch a fish then.” Charle glowered at the sour looks on everyone’s faces.

As disgusted as he was at it, Elric hadn’t the strength to refuse. Allowing himself to be served a dollop of soup, he retreated to his own spot and sat down. The grass soup looked absolutely disgusting, but it couldn’t be helped. Tilting his head back, Elric poured as much as he could of the soap straight into his throat. He refused to even entertain the notion of tasting it.

Only the thought of Belladonna’s delicious cooking and that absolutely decadent sponge cake he had before strengthened his resolve to keep the soup down.

The meal was finished without any further trouble. Seizing the opportunity to rest, Elric tried his best to catch as much of it as he could before Charle began to speak again.

“Gather up you brats. Ye had yer fill, ye had yer drink, now start running again!”

Elric bolted to his feet. He could already hear the dogs barking.

The following days were spent in a similar fashion as this one.

A brisk morning run being chased by dogs.

A noon break to catch fish.

No fish? Time to eat some grass.

Be chased by dogs the rest of the afternoon.

It was painful, this training. But he got better. An entire month of this kind of training helped Elric improve his stamina immensely. Now, normal dogs didn’t even stand a chance chasing down Elric. Catching fish became a simple matter for him too. No longer did he have to eat grass on a common basis.

Everyone was improving, by extension. The stamina of the average mercenary was now far higher than before. Each one of them could easily run for miles at a time without trouble.

So that meant it was time for Charle to move onto the next phase. For the next two months, he’d start beating into them combat skills.

Of course, this was something every mercenary was excited to hear. No more running? A celebration was in order! That night, every mercenary could be seen gathering in groups of three to five with a pot in the center. It was a night for hotpot, even if it meant using whatever ingredient on hand, like the grass, fish, or dog.

The next day, every mercenary was gathered in front of Charle in a half-circle. In front of them was a pile of pikes and Charle. Grabbing one, the man began to perform a series of moves with it. From spinning it around him, sweeping it left to right, thrusting with it, and swinging it down, Charle performed every move with masterful expertise.

Elric never thought it’d be possible to use a pike in so many ways before.

Every infantry was expected to know how to wield a pike. It was a weapon befitting the lowest of the low, the weakest soldiers. If any soldier had an aptitude for fighting after three months of training, then their commanding officer would most certainly move them elsewhere. Most would be relegated to learning how to use a sword and shield.

In these cases, those soldiers would be equipped with heavy armor and fight against the pike-wielding infantry. And if they showed even more aptitude? Then they’d be picked out to be taught proper swordsmanship or the halberd.

Only the weakest soldiers, the ones with no potential for the art of war, would be given a pike. They would serve as the border guards or put to work elsewhere in the army.

Ultimately, even the ordinary pike proved to be a formidable weapon in the hands of Charle. Elric watched, transfixed, as Charle swung the pike in a perfect arc before the latter suddenly released his hold onto it. Flying through the air, the pike shot past a few panicked mercenaries like a meteor and lodged itself deep into a tree.

“Thwock!”

Almost comically, if not for the mercenaries that had nearly been in its path, the shaft of the pike swung back and forth like a metronome against the trunk.

That caught the immediate attention of every mercenary there.

Having reached his goal of impressing the mercenaries, Charle saw fit to ending his demonstration there. There’d be no dissent to being taught the pike for the next few weeks, hopefully.

“Any one of ye brats want to tell me why we mercs use the pike the most?”

Before, Elric would’ve said that it was because mercenaries usually weren’t worth spending money for better weapons on, thus why they had to use the lowly pike. But in the hands of Charle, the pike was most definitely a very advantageous weapon of choice for mercenaries.

“Because it’s strong?” A mercenary asked. That too, was something Elric thought about.

“Idiot, if that’s the case, then the entire army would use it. No one would say pikemen are useless then!” Charle snorted.

“Being a merc is dangerous work, victory means little to us. What’s most important is survival! So instead of choosing a weapon best for fighting, we choose one best for keeping us alive.”

Blank stares returned Charle’s explanation, prompting him to pike up another pike to thrust forward.

“See that the pike’s main purpose is for thrusting? In combat, thrusting’s the perfect option when the distance between ye and yer opponent is large. It’s the safest choice! That’s why we use em.”

He spun the pike around his waist and then over his arm masterfully before letting it go at the same exact tree as the first one.

“Thwock!”

“See now? Can a two-hander do the same? But if ye ain’t convinced, answer me this; what does the pike do better than other weapons?”