Not to ntion, the Lord had said that to beco an officer, one must be literate. What young person doesn’t harbor so dreams of making a na for themselves? Of course, they would seize the opportunity.
But for Joan, learning to read was sothing she had started at the age of three—her classroom was not here.
She was headed for the advanced classes, taught not by ordinary teachers but by high-ranking military officials like Reynard, Balistan, and Barton.
The three main courses were cavalry combat, infantry combat, and artillery combat. However, broken down, there was a plethora of topics, such as how different troop formations responded to various situations and what to pay attention to in camp logistics.
The most difficult among these was the artillery course. One needed to understand cannons, be proficient in mathematics, and know how to calculate trajectories and aim.
And the number of soldiers who could attend such courses was not very many—all of them had already passed the basics and had shown excellence in real combat, earning military rits.
By day, they undertook practical training, and by night, theory—truly being cultivated as the backbone of the army.
The courses here could not be bought with money. They were a reward from the Lord.
Today, Joan ca here for the sa reason.
Classes hadn’t started yet, and people began to trickle into the classroom one by one.
Joan had not yet experienced real combat and wasn’t a soldier, not to ntion she was a woman—coming here was bound to attract so attention, in theory.
But in reality, nobody cared about her. As soon as everyone arrived, they imdiately focused on reviewing the teaching materials compiled by the Lord and the officers.
These courses were no simple matter. Otherwise, one wouldn’t be able to keep up.
Everyone knew they were being trained by the Lord, and nobody wanted to be left behind.
In fact, Joan was not the first person Lance granted permission to attend. Reynard’s son was also present, as were so students from the school who had perford well and had been allowed to co to class and even participate in training.
Reading books alone is not sufficient, nor is re physical training. They must be combined.
"Today, we shall discuss Chapter Two, how cavalry should cooperate with infantry when Legions are in battle..."
Reynard appeared at the lectern, beginning to teach the new recruits based on his own combat experience.
Having joined the Crusader with his own equipnt and horses, he had served as both cavalry and infantry, and even commanded Legion-level wars.
His experiences, bought with blood, were a rare and valuable opportunity for these students to hear.
Joan, sitting unobtrusively below, had fallen far behind in the course and could only listen attentively and take good notes, planning to slowly catch up with the material later.
What had she been reading before? What classes had she attended?
Her mother’s greatest hope had been to raise her as a cultured individual.
So, to so extent, her concept of the army was still idealized. But after truly attending classes, she realized there was so much more to it. She had indeed been narrow-minded before.
My Lord was right. The strength of an individual, no matter how powerful, is limited. To pacify a chaotic world, one must rely on the army.
With this insight, Joan beca even more focused and invested in her studies.
「...」
At night, flas rose to the sky, consuming the thatched huts in a blaze, while various screams and shouts mixed together. However, they were not cries for help with the fire, but agonized, despairing wails.
Suddenly, a villager burst forth, his face twisted with extre terror as he ran, constantly looking back as if so terrifying monster were chasing him.
But before he had gone far, a shadow pounced from behind him, and the villager fell to the ground with a scream.
"No! Please, don’t kill !"
The villager cried out, his clothes torn and his back drenched with blood.
Finally, illuminated by the firelight, the shadow revealed itself to be a white wolf, its fur soaked with fresh blood.
At that mont, it didn’t rush to kill the villager but rather moved around its prey with a mocking gaze, clearly not hunting to feed, but to toy with its prey.
By now, the villager had been frightened out of his wits by the relentless pursuit and was too scared to even attempt escape, only begging for rcy.
However, this behavior made the white wolf lose interest. It no longer toyed with its quarry but lunged forward to bite through the villager’s throat, tearing out the trachea with force. Its muzzle was soaked with bursting blood, dampening the surrounding fur.
It didn’t even glance at the villager, instead scanning the surroundings, searching for its next target.
Soon it seed to have found sothing, licked the blood from the corner of its mouth, and in the next second, it sprang out forcefully.
The twitching corpse on the ground was left with a face twisted in fear and unwillingness.
And such scenes were happening everywhere. This was a ga.
A ga for the strong.
Indeed, this troop was led by Warwolf, and they had finally left the mountainous terrain to enter the territory of the Empire.
In the center of that village rose a huge bonfire, with a tall figure seated beside it, tearing into the roasted at in his hand, periodically lifting a cup brimming with liquor to his lips, drinking heartily, his posture robust but revealing a primal thirst.
And around him, mbers of the Barbarian Tribes were indiscriminately indulging their desires. The young won of the village had all been gathered here.
These village won, hardened by years of labor, were far from beautiful, but to the Barbarian warriors, who had been fleeing in the Mountains for over a month, beauty was irrelevant—they were driven mad by deprivation.
Similarly, they cared little for these won. They exhausted their strength torturing them, as screams and cries mixed with unrestrained, wild laughter echoed over the village.
Warwolf had little reaction to this spectacle, for to them such acts were normal.
What was the purpose of fighting and slaughtering?
After victory, it was ti to capture slaves, seize won, and loot resources. He led his troops to slaughter trade caravans and conquer small tribes.
Now, who didn’t have won seized from their hos, slaves taken in pillages, or a variety of precious goods looted?
Otherwise, why would those Barbarian warriors loyally follow him in such a short ti? It was because there were benefits in waging war with him.
But this ti, there was a problem. Soon after marching out, the troop suffered a crushing defeat and was pursued all the way into the Mountains, where they could only flee. Subsequently, they had trekked through the wilderness for a long ti.
He knew there was resentnt simring in everyone’s hearts, and if it wasn’t vented, his position as leader would be in trouble.
Although he wasn’t afraid of his warriors challenging him, this was within the Empire, where every warrior lost could not be replaced, weakening the troop over ti.
So he had to appease them and show them benefits to keep them on his side.
Therefore, the first thing he did upon arrival was to find an outlet for their rage. Unfortunately for this secluded mountain village, it was discovered by them.
Warwolf directly led the Barbarian warriors and those white wolves to take control of the place. At first, they didn’t kill indiscriminately but forced the villagers to slaughter chickens and cattle to provide the best for them.
In these tis, people couldn’t survive without tending to their fields, and the villagers thought they were like past bandits who would leave after robbing them.
However, what they didn’t expect was that after feasting, the real disaster began. All the n in the village, young and old, were sent out, and then the white wolves and elite Barbarian warriors hunted them for sport.
The won were also violated at will. Among them were children, so only a few years old, who couldn’t withstand the abuse and died on the spot. So crazed individuals even defiled the corpses.
But Warwolf, sitting aside, felt nothing. Or rather, he didn’t even consider these village won. The only woman he longed for was one who could match him.
Now here, he had three things to do: kill his enemies, retrieve the tribal relics, and consu the Wolf God Bloodline.
A night of madness.
They knew exactly what they were doing, which is why they didn’t leave a single survivor. Regardless of gender or age, all were killed, resources replenished, and anything that couldn’t be taken was burned.
The village that had escaped tax collectors, drought, famine, and wars in the past was now ravaged and reduced to ashes.
Brutal and savage was an accurate portrayal of them, and it was no wonder the Imperial People held such prejudice against the Barbarian Tribes.
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