Let the men clean the battlefield and gather the enemy's loot. Furthermore, have them create a mass grave for those who died in combat, except for our own; we will start a small mass tomorrow to bid farewell to these brave men.—Miguel said. —How is it customary to distribute the spoils of victory, Lieutenant?
—Normally the Commander keeps a large part of the loot, young master, and the rest is distributed from the highest rank to the lowest, although most men keep the occasional artifact and do not report it to the commanders.—said the Lieutenant, looking over at how the village was being cleaned up.
—Well, starting today, the distribution changes. 40% for the families of the fallen, and 40% divided among all troops below the officers. 10% for meritorious soldiers, and 10% exclusively for the officers. Is that clear?—Miguel said with all the firmness his pre-adult voice could muster.
—If you will allow me, sir, I understand the rationale behind the measure. But the troops might not understand it as well or receive the news so favorably. The aforementioned means changing centuries of customs.—said the Lieutenant with a rather overly thoughtful expression.
—It does not matter, Fernández—replied Miguel, —The only imperishable certainty of humanity is that everything changes. No one steps into the same river twice. And if we want the men to be willing to follow us to hell and beyond, we must treat them as one treats friends and family: with respect and dignity. What will the families of the dead think when they find out that the ultimate sacrifice made by their beloved relatives is not appreciated by the county they died for? And even worse, what will their perception of us be? How will they speak of serving their lord? With the most perfidious plagues that humans could effectively point out. We cannot afford to have low morale because of the genuine concern that, once they are no longer on the earthly plane, their entire family will fall below even the same poverty. And this is just the tip of the iceberg. We must reform the entire system, Fernández, and not just to have a better troop, but to be more effective on the battlefield. We cannot trust that luck will always be on our side in the upcoming battles. Hope for the best, plan for the worst.
—I understand, sir. Then, if I may, it would be best if you make this announcement yourself, my lord. The troops may be more receptive if the Strategist guides them in that direction.—said Fernández.
—Um, I understand. It shall be done that way.—replied Miguel. —Notify the caravan that the inhabitants of the first stop may enter the village tomorrow morning.
…
The afternoon air weighed with the scent of smoke and turned earth. Miguel walked with a firm step along the steep streets of the settlement. The mud clung to his leather boots, a constant reminder of the era in which he found himself. All around him, the devastation of war was evident in every corner: the walls of the houses showed the scars of fire and projectiles, while the animals left behind wandered aimlessly, disoriented by the roar of war.
…
Walking through the village, Miguel noticed the condition of the houses—some intact, others showing signs of looting, and the ones closest to the battle somewhat destroyed on the inside.
—They are all houses of wood, straw, and mud. How good it would be to have better materials for building homes!—thought Miguel. —And look at the roads, a mass of mud where carriages can easily get stuck. Imagine the logistical mess if we need to deploy many troops quickly in a carriage, or if we simply patrol the territory after a storm or something. Simply impossible.
—Wait a minute, that's it! We can create modern cement; we just need to find clay, gypsum, and lime, well, and I think ashes. But it is viable, and we can not only use it to build better roads, but we can also bring in clay bricks and create better houses in less time. Imagine the defenses we can create with this material. Added to the priority list—said Miguel as he daydreamed.
—Phew, we really need to hurry up with that mission. But at the same time, it is an excellent opportunity to further cement the legitimacy of House Cortés. I seem to recall that Union forces in the American Civil War helped build and repair the infrastructure they passed through, gaining more support among the civilian population.
The idea germinated in his mind with overwhelming clarity. In this late medieval or low-tech world, the loyalty of the commoners could not be bought solely with the fear of steel, but with the promise of survival.
—Iván!—shouted Miguel. —Come here for a moment.
The warrior who led the vanguard of the final assault came jogging from the front, where he was supervising the collection of the loot. —Tell me, young master—he said with a bow.
—Tomorrow at dawn, at first light, as soon as the commoners begin to unpack their things to return to normal life and catch up on the spring sowing, I require the efforts of all infantrymen and hunters who are not on patrol to help unpack the heavy things for the locals, as well as to remove any heavy obstacles inside the houses themselves. Help both the families with houses inside the stockade and those near the entrance.—said Miguel.
—My lord, it will be done as you say, but what about the defense?—asked Iván.
—It will be in the hands of Fernández and Raúl, with the guard troop and the mounted hunters.—replied Miguel.
—I understand, my lord; I will finalize the details to finish the tasks today, in order to be ready for tomorrow. With your permission, young master.—said Iván.
—I won't take up any more of your time—replied Miguel, already lost in his thoughts once again.
…
With the arrival of dawn, Miguel got up from the village leader's house, one of the Count's veterans. Yesterday, before going to sleep, he shared dinner with the men who were on the rest shift of the activities assigned by him before dawn, and with the arrival of the camp leader after bringing the news of the victory, they began to inform him of the help the soldiers would provide to speed up the process, at least for all of today, in order to depart at dawn tomorrow.
Getting out of the village leader's bed, upon his insistence, he prepared to start the day. He washed his body with a little water that was brought to him in a bucket, and to his misfortune, he had to use the soap that had caused him so much trouble again.
—Better soap is a matter of national security!—thought Miguel, while uncomfortably scratching the itch it generated.
That soap, laden with rancid animal fats and poorly filtered ashes, left the skin dry and prone to irritation. In a world where hygiene was the difference between a superficial wound and a deadly infection, a good cleaning product was as important as steel. Miguel made a mental note so that, upon returning to the main fortress, the county's alchemists could begin experimenting.
Before leaving entirely, Miguel grabbed his cleaning rod and a damp cloth to clean his arquebus, as having the rifling with black powder made it very dirty and diminished accuracy. Therefore, he took great care to clean it well, to obtain maximum accuracy the next time he used it.
—It's not ideal, but we will have to accept that drop in aim if we don't want to spend 5 minutes cleaning the weapon in the middle of a battle.
—Alright, moment of truth, let's see how the resettlement of my dear fellow citizens begins—said Miguel, walking down the stairs and going to meet Iván directly.
…
By morning, the soldiers were starting to help the incoming peasants into the village.
—Thank you very much, young master, this is invaluable help to restore our community's normality. The faster we are settled, the faster the bitter memory of the war will pass.—said the village leader, with a deeper bow than usual.
—It is the least we can do; everyone is a citizen of the county.—replied Miguel quite naturally, as if it were common sense.