Chương 34: Militia Training Part 1

Day 20 Ebril 29th (Tuesday) I woke up the next morning at 6 a. m. and got up to go use the bathrooms set up behind the inn. It seemed a little unusual to me that one couldn't get to somewhere that had indoor plumbing from inside the building, but the builders had set up the bathing and toilet facilities like regular outhouses, away from the building. The weather was nice, so it wasn't an issue. I did my business and washed my face, then went back inside the inn.

I was the only person in the main room of the inn, but when I came back from the outhouse, the innkeeper's wife, Janice, came out from the back room and greeted me.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked in a pleasant voice. No hint of being tired, despite the early hour and late night I was sure she'd had.

"Sure," I said.

"I don't suppose you have any coffee?" She looked at me with an appraising eye, one eyebrow raised.

"You don't strike me as a person who spends frivolously, Mr Jacobson." I thought about it for a moment. I honestly couldn't remember if coffee came from Africa, or South America, maybe even the Middle East? Hell, I only remembered for sure it wasn't Europe or North America.

"I haven't been in an inn, or even a city, in a long time. I figured maybe I could treat myself," I said with my best smile. Janice snorted.

"Not likely. The gnomes sell that particular treat at prices only nobility can afford daily. It sounds like you've had it before. If so, you know it's an acquired taste without plenty of sugar and cream. So, no, we don't have any coffee."

"Tea it is!" I said in a playful voice, finger pointed in the air. She snorted again and went to the back room, presumably to get me a mug of tea. While she was gone, Brendan came down to go to the outhouse. I asked him if he wanted me to get him a cup as well. He said he did, then went outside. When Janice came back, I told her to grab a second cup. She nodded and went to grab it after setting mine down with a platter that included cream and sugar. I took a small sip to get a flavor profile.

It was strong and tasted mildly fruity. I added cream, but no sugar. When Brendan came back in, Janice came out with a cup for him. He thanked her, then added cream and sugar to his tea.

"Well," I said.

"Well, indeed, mate," He replied. I laughed, then said, "What time should we head over to the barracks? I imagine earlier than 8?" Brendan paused before he took a drink to give a quick laugh.

"Aye, we'll head that way at 7. That way the captain can't complain. Most of the guys will be there around that time to catch up before drill anyway."

"Makes sense," I said.

"We're the most remote, but I imagine most homesteaders don't see each other all that often."

"No, that's the way of it then." Brendan replied. Janice came back out then with a couple of sweet rolls, and after we thanked her, we ate our rolls and drank our tea in silence. I told her to feed Aiden and Colin on my tab when they got up, and then Brendan and I got our guns and ammunition, as well as our bedrolls, then headed over to the barracks. When we arrived, there were a few people standing outside, smoking cigarettes. The familiar smell of tobacco wafted through the air.

I hadn't seen anyone smoking or using tobacco here before. Most of my family used chewing tobacco, and my grandfather smoked a pipe. I'd chewed Copenhagen myself for most of my adult life. I occasionally smoked, especially when I was drinking. I'd quit chewing years ago, when our fertility doctor told us that using tobacco could have some serious negative effects on sperm count and quality. I didn't exactly have the best swimmers as it was.

So, despite it being the worst few months of my life, I'd quit chewing, and hadn't had a single dip or drag on a cigarette in over six years. I was sorely tempted to bum a cigarette right now, but I resisted the urge and walked inside the barracks with Brendan. The main floor was packed full of men chatting in small groups. I could see people walking up the stairs with their bedrolls on the left, and men coming down the other set of stairs without them.

Brendan said we should go grab bunks before we started finding people he knew. We took the stairs to our left and saw that people had already claimed most of the beds on this floor, so we walked up to the third story. Most of the bunks up there were empty, so we grabbed beds along the outside wall near the set of stairs that seemed to be designated as the set to take down for now. We left our bedrolls and packs and took our guns back down.

When we got back down, a gauntlet of names and faces confronted me, and I had almost zero chance of remembering them as I shook hands and made my initial introductions. When I finally got to Thomas Roberts, the name I remembered the Bishop mentioning, I paused. Roberts was around my height and of average build. He looked as though he'd once weighed considerably more, though. I couldn't tell exactly how old he was, but he looked to be around my age. He was bald, but had a thick black beard.

As I was looking him over, I couldn't help but notice that he had a neck tattoo that was mostly, but not entirely, covered by his thick beard. I swore I could just make out the front tubes connecting to the front wheel of a chopper-style motorcycle. My eyes went wide, and I let out a small gasp. His eyes narrowed, and his smile turned brittle. He had definitely seen me looking at his neck. He pulled me into an embrace and whispered in my ear.

"Don't speak a word about it. We'll talk later." When he released the embrace, he loudly said, "Nice to meet you!" Then he walked away to speak with another group of men, his back to me. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"I'm not sure about that fella," Brendan said.

"He come in last year, he did. Fattest man I'd ever seen, 'cept the bishop, when he first got 'ere, mind. Proper handy at fixin' things though, fair play. His homestead's only a few miles t'the east. Folk bring 'im stuff t'fix all the time, they do. Proper winds the blacksmith up somethin' fierce."

"But he's miles better at mendin' axles an' wheels an' that than the blacksmith is. I hear he's made some tidy chain-driven bits too. Wouldn't surprise me none if he sells up his homestead an' opens a shop 'ere in town soon as he's able, like."

"Huh," was all I could say. Roberts was definitely not from this world. I didn't know if there were a lot of places that could feed into this one, or just the one Earth, but that tattoo was definitely a chopper-style motorcycle. After meeting a whole host of new people, most of whom I'd need to meet again to have any hope of remembering, we made it to the edge of the room and I was introduced to Hari Morgan, who would be our Sergeant, and Glenn Rees. Glenn was one of the militia scouts.

Glenn and Hari were both about five and a half feet tall and had wiry builds. They looked like they could be brothers or cousins, though they said they weren't. They both had shoulder-length black hair held back in tightly braided ponytails. Both men had full, but neatly trimmed beards, and they were also both wearing full leather gear. They were the first Woodsman sub-class Homesteaders I'd seen so far. I wasn't even sure how that worked. They needed to farm wheat at least.

That didn't seem like it would work out all that well to me, even if everyone did dryland farming. They were talkative enough guys, though, and they explained they leased out their farm plots to their neighbors, and the two of them spent a lot of time hunting and trapping together. They had different quests, and as long as they fulfilled the quota that the empire imposed on them with their subclass, and got someone to farm their ground, they didn't actually have to do the farming themselves.

Farmer and Rancher subclasses had to actually do the farming or ranching themselves at least until they gained multiple plots, but Woodsmen just had to have the plots used by someone. I guess the System did things the way it did for a reason. Hari and Glenn usually worked together. They only spent time in town when they had to do militia duty, and to check on their homesteads to make sure things were actually happening like they were supposed to.

I quickly found them to be fun and engaging men to talk to, nothing like the quiet, enigmatic mountain men from our own homesteader lore on Earth. Brendan and I bullshitted with them until 7: 59, when Captain Castell blew a whistle and yelled out.

"Everyone, find your sergeants and then form up in pairs and begin filing out of the building. We will march through the Southern Gate, and out to the staked-out area half a mile to the south of the walls." Brendan smiled, and Hari whistled and said, "5th squad, 6th Company, form up on me!" More quietly he said to me, "that includes you." Other sergeants yelled out their own instructions, and everyone began filing out of the barracks.

Hari, with Glenn by his side, looked back as we walked towards the south gate to explain how the militia worked.

"So, we're set up in squads of ten, just like the regular army. And we 'ave companies of a 'undred men, same as 'em."

"There're now almost five full companies of infantry, and even a 'alf company of cavalry. Each company has a few scouts attached to 'em as well. Glenn 'ere is one of three we 'ave in the 5th. The 5th is led by Lieutenant Woolsly. I don't see 'im, or any of the other lieutenants, so they're probably already out at the drill ground settin' stuff up."

"Woolsly, like the captain, and the other four lieutenants, all served a full twenty in the regulars. E's not a bad fellow. Friendlier'n the Captain." Hari said that last bit with the humor clear in his voice.

"E was like a 6th son or somethin' in some minor noble family back 'ome. For a noble born e's really not a bad fellow."

"We will do some light marchin' in rank, then practice shootin' in formation. Nothin' too strenuous, mind." Hari said.

"A couple of the guards'll be there too." Glenn turned his head back towards me and said in a clear, high-pitched, singsong voice, "Oh, don't forget the mild 'azing for the new guy 'ere."

"Wait, what?" I said in alarm.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Brendan let out a sharp bark of a laugh.

"Don't you worry about it mate. It won't come until after drill is over anyway, mate." I shook my head in disgust.

"And I suppose part of this hazing is you assholes telling me about it so I can think about it for a couple of days?" No one replied, but I heard the guys behind us laugh. When we finally made it to the training ground, I saw the five lieutenants sitting on horses. Like Castell, they were all wearing leather armor with rectangular metal plates sewn onto it. Woolsly was also wearing steel boots that came to mid-calf, and articulated steel gauntlets that came all the way to his elbows.

He had an open-faced steel helmet that came to a slightly rounded point with chain mail covering the back of his neck. I had never studied medieval armor in depth, so I couldn't think of what the helmet would be called, but it looked like the kind a cavalryman would wear in a lot of the images I'd seen in books. I couldn't see much of his hair, but he had a long, white, handlebar moustache with a styled goatee that came to a point below his chin.

He was swatting at flies with his heavy cavalry saber while he swore up a storm. Once our sergeants had gotten us lined up in a formation ten wide and ten deep, with our own squad comprising the 5th line, he lightly kicked his horse's flanks and moved towards our group. He began speaking to us in a slightly nasal, typical aristocratic voice.

"Hello, all. I say, it is a splendid week for drill!" Pointing his sword towards the targets that had been set up about a hundred yards away, he said, "Let us do some shooting, hopefully better than the 4th Company at that. I have a wager with Lieutenant Baden saying we will hit more targets than his company. So do me proud, and make sure to send over your shooting results to your sergeants' UI's for them to send to me."

He pointed his sword again, then yelled out, "Load your weapons then we will begin marching, normal time!" We all loaded our guns. I was happy to see that while I was in the bottom half speed-wise; I was nowhere near the last person to get their rifle loaded. I was stationed in line right next to Hari, so he could give me extra instruction if needed. He looked over at me and nodded.

"Good job, you didn't arse it up. Now once he calls out, we will march in a square, then the front line will lay down, the next line will kneel, and the third line will stand and shoot. There are ten targets. All three of you will shoot at the target in front of you. Don't put your percussion cap on until we're on the firing line. I'll yell it out." I nodded.

"So, since we're the 5th line, we will be kneeling once the others back off?"

"Aye, for this drill." Hari said.

"If we were actually under fire, or being attacked, the front rank would kneel and shoot while the next rank stood and kept watch, then they would move back to reload while the rank standing would kneel and shoot. That would keep up a constant fire. We would spread out and go four or five ranks deep."

"Got it," I said. Once everyone had loaded their rifles, the Lieutenant yelled out, "Begin marching, normal time!" We began walking forward until the front ranks neared the targets, and Woolsly yelled, "About Left!" Row by row, we wheeled left, proceeding in a manner that could generously be described as semi-organized. We marched another hundred yards before he called out, "Wheel left!" once again. We turned in roughly the same manner as the first time. I couldn't help but laugh a little. Hari smiled next to me.

"'Ey it's hard to march in formation when you do it once every two months. It's easier for us on the inside of this left turn." I had to agree he was probably right. This time we marched two hundred yards out before wheeling around again. We marched back to where we began, and Woolsly yelled out, "Get into firing formation!" As the men were moving into formation, Woolsly wisely rode his horse off to the side of the company.

There was a hundred-yard gap between us and the two companies on either side, so he had plenty of safe space to keep giving orders. He pointed his sword forward, and as he dropped it, he yelled, "First three ranks, percussion caps on!" Then, after a few seconds, he yelled, "Fire!" At that point, it felt like all hell broke loose, as there was a cacophony of noise and smoke while a hundred and fifty men fired their rifles.