Two weeks have passed since the month of evil spirits, and the accumulated snow has melted into streams that flow into the Chishui River.
After the white gauze was removed, the trees on both sides of the river sprouted new buds again, and now they are lush and green.
After Anna had roasted the land east of the town, Your Highness temporarily designated it as a training ground for the First Army of Border Town.
In the field, Carter Lannis gripped the bayonet's tail tube, twisted it a couple of times, and checked if the bayonet was securely mounted.
This was yet another contraption invented by Your Highness, though it paled in comparison to the self-propelled Black Mole machines and the improved snow powder that detonated with a single ignition. The moment Carter gripped it, he knew it wasn't a weapon fit for purpose.
At its core, it's just a razor-sharp triangular iron blade folded along the midline. Though the edge is sharp, it's utterly useless for slashing—both sides are too short, the front edge barely exists, and the back is barely wider than a fingernail. Even an unarmored enemy might not get a scratch from a horizontal strike.
This weapon has only one purpose, that is to stab, and must be attached to a musket before it can be used. Held alone in the hand, it is even less effective than a dagger.
Chief Knight deemed it a failure to waste vast amounts of pig iron on crafting a weapon with only one attack method. Should any blacksmith in his territory dare attempt such a feat, he would surely have them bound and whipped mercilessly.
Yet even with such inferior weapons, he could discern Your Highness's ingenious details—like the bayonet's slot design. The bayonet's notch features two right angles: simply align it with the iron strip on the barrel, slide it in, and turn it halfway to secure the blade. This unconventional notch design allows the bayonet to fit loosely without requiring perfect alignment. A loose bayonet can be inserted with paper, while leaves serve as makeshift substitutes.
"Draw bayonets!" At the command, the musketeers assigned bayonets drew their blades from the waist-mounted pouches and fitted them onto the barrels. Only about forty sets of the new weapons and matching bayonet pouches had been produced, so those who hadn't received theirs had to temporarily use short wooden rods as substitutes, matching the length of the muskets.
After practicing this drill for nearly the entire morning, most soldiers now secured their bayonets in just two to three breaths. Your Highness described it as a last-ditch struggle, warning that he would only see his men engage in close combat when absolutely necessary. Carter dismissed this view, insisting that without personally thrusting blades into enemy bodies, they were still mere novices. Only through bloodshed could they transform from miners and hunters into warriors.
Iron Axe was also in the team. Though he called himself a hunter, Carter could tell from the opponent's skills that this man had undergone specialized combat training and was no less skilled than Knight.
When His Highness first asked Carter to train soldiers in bayonet drills, he was initially apprehensive. Having never heard of bayonets, he worried he might not know how to use them. But after seeing the prototype, his confidence soared. It was essentially a short-barreled rifle, and thanks to its unique blade design, it was even easier to wield than a regular rifle.
The single-stab technique's sole advantage is its simplicity: it requires no chopping, sweeping, or blocking—just one precise thrust. Chief Knight had all team members form rows and taught them the optimal thrusting form: standing with legs front and back, bending forward with knees bent, and thrusting arms forward with full force.
The repetitive drills were monotonous, yet Carter marveled at how each soldier executed the thrusts with meticulous precision. Before winter, they had been a bunch of weak, lazy civilians, but now they performed with remarkable discipline. Orders were obeyed without hesitation, and training them was even easier than training a retinue. Of course, when armed with the "cold weapons" Your Highness referred to, these men still couldn't hold their own for more than three moves. But in terms of willpower, their progress was enough to earn him a look of admiration.
After a half-hour of practice, Carter had the musketeers take a short rest. Just then, Your Royal Highness arrived at the training ground, accompanied by a hooded woman. Knight was unimpressed—Your Highness had already informed him beforehand that a Witch would join the training session.
However, the Witch was remarkably tall, nearly as tall as Your Highness at first glance. 'Girls should be more petite,' Carter mused. He then had everyone stand and salute Your Royal Highness.
"Your Highness!" The soldiers raised their hands in unison and shouted.
"Thank you for your efforts," Roland murmured, nodding as he approached Knight. Just as he was about to speak, a burly man suddenly burst from the ranks. Carter Lannis frowned, stepping forward to block Prince's path with his hand already resting on the sword hilt. Nightingale swiftly appeared, seizing Roland's arm. Should the situation turn unfavorable, she could pull Prince into the mist.
The big man who came out was Iron Axe.
Instead of running to Prince, he knelt before the woman. Rather than performing the traditional single-knee kowtow of the Continent Kingdom, he lay face down on the ground, his head buried in his arms. "Chief!" The musketers' training was abruptly halted.
...
"Tell me, what's going on here?" In the castle hall, Carter, Echo, and Iron Axe stood in a line, while Roland sat at the head of the table, asking with a hint of irritation.
Discipline, discipline! How many times have I stressed that the military must uphold ironclad discipline! Even if you see the tribal chief or the King, you should remain unmoved. If you have legitimate demands, you can submit a formal report. I regret having placed such high hopes in Iron Axe. At this thought, he couldn't help but sigh. Ultimately, it's the lack of cultural literacy that prevents a thorough understanding of discipline's true meaning.
"Your Highness." The moment Iron Axe opened his mouth, he couldn't help but want to kneel, but Roland stopped him before his knees could fully bend.
"Stand up and speak!" "...Yes," the latter swallowed hard, "Lord Silvermoon is the chieftain of the Tōshō clan in Iron Sand City." "No, Kabago, I'm not the chieftain..." Echo waved his hand hastily.
"No, you are," Iron Axe countered. "After your father and elder brother passed away, by the Mokin custom, you became the chieftain of the Aosa clan from that moment. I heard you were sold to Port of Emerald Waters, but I never found you there. I even thought you were... dead." "But I—" Roland cut off the echo, "come forward, Iron Axe, speak first." "As commanded, Your Highness."...
The story wasn't complicated, and Roland quickly grasped the gist of what had happened.
Echo was originally a member of the Aosha Clan in Iron Sand City, born as Zhuo 'er Yin Yue, with her father being the clan's patriarch.
The sand dwellers were not a unified community, and Iron Sand City's limited population meant that every three years, the clans would compete in the God Duel at the Land of Blazing. Only the six victorious clans could claim residency within the city walls, while the rest were forced to live either outside the city or clustered in the Green Sea. Though these settlements had water sources, they faced constant threats from wild beasts and sandstorms. Thus, during each God Duel, the warriors of every clan spared no effort in their endeavors.