Chapter 309: Training, and More Training 3
Seen from a distant hill, the training ground looked like one enormous wave.
The faces of individual soldiers could not be made out. Instead, the eye and ear caught the colors of the banners, the movement of the horses, the height of the dust, and the rhythm of the drums.
At first, the field was quiet.
The cavalry stood in long ranks, their silver armor glinting faintly in the sunlight. The horses tossed their heads and scraped the ground with their hooves. On a rise before them stood a single great banner. Whenever the wind blew, its long edge curved through the air.
The drum sounded.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
At those three beats, the lines across the field came alive.
The horses that had stood still stepped forward as one, and the armored riders lowered themselves over their mounts. From afar, men and horses no longer seemed like separate beings. They looked like a single long creature covered in silver scales, slowly raising its head.
A horn sounded again.
This time the note was short and sharp.
The cavalry at the far left spread wide. Their small banners pointed the way through the dust, and instead of charging straight ahead, the formation curved outward in a broad arc.
Hooves struck the dry earth, raising dust as high as a man's waist. Silver armor appeared and vanished within it, then flashed into view again.
The central formation slowed and pressed forward.
Shields rose together, and spearpoints lowered. Even from a distance, the purpose of the movement was clear. The center held the enemy's attention while the left wing swept wide toward its flank.
A yellow banner planted in the middle of the training ground marked their target.
The archers in the rear began to move.
Their bows rose at once. The moment the signal banner dipped, arrows climbed into the sunlight. From afar, they looked like a flock of black birds rising above the field before pouring down in a single direction.
The imagined enemy line was already pinned beneath the falling arrows. Into that opening, the cavalry charged.
The drums quickened.
Boom-boom-boom-boom. Boom-boom-boom-boom.
The horses ran.
Dust swallowed the field.
Only the banners remained visible above it, guiding the army's movement. When a red banner turned left, the cavalry curved with it. When a smaller banner dipped forward, the formation increased its speed.
Horn calls cut through the dust, and each time they sounded, lines that had seemed scattered gathered once more into a single movement.
When the left wing swept back in, the air over the training ground changed.
Beyond the dust, silver armor rose all at once. The first rank drove forward behind their shields. The second followed with lowered spears. The third spread wider, then folded inward again.
Seen from afar, it resembled a blade entering from the side and closing inward from within.
Then the great banner swung once in a broad arc.
The reserve below the hill began to move.
They had been the last to set out, yet they rode toward the deepest point of the formation. Their target was the place where the yellow banner stood.
The thunder of hooves grew louder, and the drums struck harder.
The final horn call rang long across the field.
Three horsemen burst from the dust.
One drove forward behind a shield. Another hooked the banner pole with his spear. The third leaned far from his saddle.
The yellow banner shook violently.
For a moment, it seemed to hold. Then it fell into the dust.
The drums stopped.
For an instant, the whole field seemed to draw breath.
Steam drifted from the horses' nostrils, and sweat gleamed between the plates of the soldiers' armor. The dust had yet to settle, but within it the cavalry were already gathering beneath their banners.
The formation that had first looked like a wild wave found its lines again. The smaller banners of each unit returned to their places, and the riders straightened in their saddles.
Only then could an observer understand.
This training was not merely meant to create cavalrymen who could ride well.
At the movement of a single banner, dozens of horses changed direction. At one beat of the drum, their speed shifted. At one horn call, the left wing, the center, and the rear moved together.
They advanced in perfect order, searched for the enemy's weakness, and broke through it.
It was training that bound individual courage into a single movement and brought the speed of every horse under one purpose.
No enemy yet stood upon the field.
Yet to those watching, the shadow of a great battle was already visible.
Silver cavalry cutting through the dust. Banners whipping above them. Arrows rising into the sky and raining down. The great yellow standard falling at the end.
Every one of those scenes was repeated several times each day.
That was how Youngwoo's army was being made.
The routes drawn on maps were transferred to the field beneath the horses' hooves, and the marks left by those hooves were in turn carved into the bodies of the soldiers.
Seen from afar, it no longer looked like a training ground.
It looked like a ritual that summoned a war yet to come and defeated it in advance.