Recovery(2)
Training the new barbarians and desert warriors took another ten days. Richard had to teach them to understand the new command structure and let them get used to the equipment.
When Sir Chanton arrived on schedule, he brought over the promised goods and some other commodities that Richard had requested. He urgently needed blacksmiths and enough iron for 200 suits of armour, shields, falchions, and boots. Fontaine had dared to rob the caravans headed towards Richard’s territory before, but wouldn’t dare to do so when Sir Chanton was in the group. Sir Chanton didn’t have a high status, but everyone in the kingdom knew that he was a trusted aide of the Direwolf Duke. He also came from an ancient, powerful family. Besides, it wasn’t smart to provoke a random noble either.
In the blink of an eye, Richard had 400 desert warriors and seventy barbarians. Even though they had more manpower, this army was significantly weaker per person than in the past. Besides inadequate training, there weren’t any knights to take charge as captain, reducing their overall capabilities in battle.
Richard found some time to visit the Land of Turmoil, feeding the broodmother the 120 magic crystals. This allowed her to get to level 5 directly, and as per his wishes increase the abilities of her combat drones. Once the advancement was completed, she would be able to produce six wind wolves or four throwers every day.
When Richard rushed back from the Land of Turmoil, he was followed by forty throwers and two elites. He now had more than a hundred throwers under him, and as long as the elites were around to take charge there was no need for training. By very nature, they would be strict, disciplined soldiers.
When he returned to the camp, Richard headed straight for the training grounds to continue training the barbarians and desert warriors.
Gangdor was wrestling with three barbarians there, his burly body glowing with the sheen of oil as his muscles writhed around like centipedes. The barbarians were grunting regularly, while he only roared on occasion. Every roar sent one of the barbarians flying, landing hard on the ground. In a collision of raw strength and muscles, the barbarians gathered around felt their blood boil. They erupted with fighting spirit, all hoping to be the next to join the battle.
When Gangdor spotted Richard arrive, he let out a loud roar and erupted with energy, slamming all three warriors away. He then walked towards Richard, evidently not having given his best in the earlier battle, “Boss! You’re back!”
Richard nodded, raising his head to look over the brute. With Gaia’s Force making him bulkier, Gangdor now stood at over 2.2 metres tall. He seemed exceptionally tall compared to Richard who was less than 1.8 metres. Once the force of his bloodline faded, he would slowly shrink back to his original height of two metres.
“How was the training when I was away? Did anything happen?” Richard asked.
The training and leadership of the troops had been passed to Gangdor. He hadn’t learnt any such skills in the Archeron death camp, just using the same techniques they had used on him here. This used to be the duty of the Archeron knights, but with all of them dead there was nobody else to pass this job to.
Waterflower wasn’t exactly sociable. Olar only knew courtly arts and things about nobility. As for the trolls, there wasn’t much to say; they salivated at the mere sight of the strong barbarians.
That left Flowsand, but she was far too busy nurturing two fallen clerics and the young Caesar. On top of that, she was decoding the God of Valour’s magic, researching spells, and spent nights with Richard. She was a young lady, not a labourer who worked day and night, but her current workload made it seem otherwise. The only difference was that she was a labourer who could multitask.
“Not bad! These fellows are good at battles. As long as they have good food, some training will have them unleash a lot more of their potential. Their foundation is great!” Gangdor seemed very satisfied.
“Of course! They weren’t cheap!” Richard laughed. The slaves Devon sent over all had strong foundations, making them twice as expensive as ordinary slaves. However, this was upon Richard’s request. He had wanted to buy a batch of soldiers.
“Oh right, boss!” Gangdor suddenly remembered something, “The training over the last few days was rougher than normal, so we were very generous with the rice and meat. We’re running out of bacon; didn’t you say a few big trucks would deliver cheese and bacon when you left? It’s already been ten days, why don’t I see any?”
“The delivery isn’t here?” Richard was surprised, but his expression quickly turned sombre. He remembered these supplies were coming from Deepcliff City, having to pass through the Fontaines’ land. If it was so long overdue, then it was definitely hijacked by ‘bandits’ in the Baron’s territory.
Richard suddenly burst out into a smile, “These jokers have some nerve. They’re not even letting food supplies pass!”
Looking at that handsome, radiant smile, Gangdor suddenly felt a vague chill in his heart. However, the big man pretended not to have seen anything as he continued grinning, “What do we do now?”
Richard took a deep breath, his hands moving subconsciously. Even without a handkerchief, it seemed like he was cleaning nonexistent dirt from his hands. He squinted his eyes in the direction of Fontaine’s lands, speaking with enthusiasm, “We prepare a caravan for them to rob!”
Ten carriages of goods left Richard’s territory under the guard of fifty cavalrymen, following a remote path towards Deepcliff City. The fifty desert warriors were a powerful guard detail, and horse bandits wouldn’t dare provoke them even with twice their numbers.
The caravan took a remote, broken path. It was obvious the vehicles were loaded, leaving deep imprints on the path. Not long after the caravan left, a few men on horses appeared on the path. These scouts were completely covered in unmarked hoods, with no identifying marks and no way to see their faces. They got down from their horses and closely inspected the wheel marks, quickly getting up on their horses to leave swiftly…
At that very moment, Richard was meditating in a carriage in the middle of the caravan. A weak, magical light illuminated the inside of the carriage, lighting up the Book of Time in Flowsand’s hands.
There were three more people in this carriage: Phaser, Waterflower, and Olar. Their presence made the carriage appear even smaller, but after the painful lesson in the past, Olar sat straight even if Waterflower was nearby. He didn’t dare even sway, afraid of brushing against a corner of the girl’s sleeve.
The elven bard had recently grown closer to Gangdor, so he learnt some of Waterflower’s habits. This quiet and stern young lady relied a lot on instinct and intuition to do things, so regardless of whether a touch was intentional or not he would suffer the painful lesson once more. Besides, the atmosphere in the carriage was especially icy. The young lady’s eyes were closed, but a cold aura was radiating from her body.