In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

To Michael, who had lived as a modern military officer, the current training methods were crude and haphazard. There was no structure, no professionalism. Skills like swordsmanship, spear techniques, and shield usage were passed down exclusively among nobles, resulting in soldiers being little more than disposable meat shields on the battlefield. They served as barriers to buy time for knights to charge.

This would not do. Michael needed well-trained soldiers. He wondered if the low standard was unique to his family's troops or if it reflected the era's overall military capabilities. Seeking answers, he headed to a library tucked away in a corner of the castle.

The so-called library was pitifully small, with few books, suggesting a lack of interest in learning among his ancestors. The collection consisted solely of military-related volumes. Michael picked up Introduction to Military Science and began reading. As he suspected, the book's slim size reflected the near absence of proper training methods or tactics in this era.

This had to change. As a former air force officer and fighter pilot, Michael felt it was his duty to resolve the situation.

"Did you all skip breakfast? Why are your responses so weak? Sweating now is better than bleeding on the battlefield. You there, fourth from the left in the second row! Yes, you! Can't you perform the drill properly?"

It was winter, yet Michael's back was drenched in sweat as he barked orders. Jonathan, the second son of a baker who had defied his mother's protests to become a soldier, began to regret his decision with every fiber of his being. Just three days ago, it had seemed like a cushy job—three square meals a day and minimal effort, swinging a spear a few times at dawn and dusk.

Now, the situation was sheer torture. Jumping jacks, squatting runs around the training grounds, and synchronized sit-stand drills were just the beginning. The "demon" leading the training seemed unfazed by the sight of exhausted soldiers collapsing in pain.

"All responses end with 'Ack!' Understood, soldiers?" Michael commanded.

"Ack!" they shouted.

"Yes!" some replied hesitantly.

"I said it ends with 'Ack!' Anyone who replied with 'Yes,' step forward!"

Jonathan's heart sank as tears blurred his vision. Trembling, he stepped forward, spotting his neighbor Hans in the same predicament. At least he wasn't alone.

Punished with yet another grueling lap, Jonathan, drenched in sweat and possibly tears, grabbed Hans's arm to pull him back. "Sorry, my friend," he muttered under his breath. "I have to survive."

The training was relentless. Even Michael's squires, five years younger but physically larger, were merciless in their role of disciplining the soldiers. Jonathan began to understand why all responses had to end with "Ack!"—it came naturally under such duress.

Michael observed the scene with satisfaction. In just three days, these ragtag troops had started to form ranks and follow orders with some semblance of discipline. The soldiers' standardized supplies were another accomplishment. Remembering the chaotic assortment of belongings they had initially brought—some even lugging thick winter blankets—still made his head spin.

Under Michael's system, each soldier was issued one blanket, one towel, four cloths, a spoon, a fork, a canteen, three changes of underwear, and thermal shirts. Additional items, like multi-layered quilted combat vests, thick cloaks that doubled as ground sheets, and waterproofed paper, were provided to ensure preparedness.

With help from the castle's mage, Sergey, Michael had also designed backpacks. Once packed with the issued supplies, the soldiers' gear began to resemble proper military kits.

Watching his son drill the troops, the baron felt a swell of pride. Truly, this was his child. The baron marveled at Michael's ingenuity, wondering how he had come up with such ideas. Knowledge was the most difficult thing to acquire in this world, especially military knowledge, often guarded as family secrets by powerful noble houses. For a family like theirs, with little inherited wisdom, organized training and provisioning were groundbreaking achievements.

The baron instructed a scribe to observe and document Michael's training methods. This knowledge must be passed down to future generations.

After a week of rigorous military training, it was finally time to depart.

The baron climbed the watchtower and surveyed the gathered soldiers. Before him stood seventy trained domain soldiers and thirty conscripted serf soldiers, arranged in orderly rows and columns. Their tense faces betrayed their unease, and their spears pointed toward the sky, gripped tightly in nervous hands.

The domain soldiers, hardened by Michael's grueling training, carried large shields and spears tailored to the tactics he had taught them. While the serf soldiers were similarly armed, their equipment and skills were far inferior. The gap between the two groups was undeniable.

Like the baron, the other lords had likely gathered only the minimum number of troops required. With all five baronies combined, the force was expected to total around 500 soldiers. The inclusion of Count Charles and other nobles with their retinues should make this number sufficient.

The serf soldiers among the recruits were volunteers, motivated by the dream of winning glory and securing freedom for their families. In a world where knowledge was scarce, war remained one of the few accessible paths to social mobility. Among them were a few individuals with unusual backgrounds—captives from the Pamir Empire who had been enslaved after failing to pay their ransom. These individuals now fought on the front lines for a chance at freedom.

The domain soldiers, in contrast, were mostly freemen who resided within the castle, receiving regular wages and provisions. Thanks to Michael's rigorous drilling, they now exuded discipline and confidence. There had been no forced conscriptions—neither freemen, valuable taxpayers, nor serfs, crucial as a labor force, were to be mistreated. These individuals could flee to neighboring territories at any time, making coercion a risky and counterproductive strategy.

Nearby, supply officers loaded food and materials onto wagons pulled by packhorses. Since neither Count Woodlock nor Count Charles was likely to compensate for expenses or manpower, it was essential to ensure that the barony gained some profit from this expedition.