“So this is how it turns out.”
“I’ll have Kai take charge of the training. Instructors from the Logan Mercenary Corps will also be dispatched to each castle to oversee training.”
“Alright.”
“…You’re not shocked, are you?”
“No, no. It’s a good thing. I’ve learned a thing or two, Dwayne. Haha.”
An absurd realization, borne out of an unexpected report, brought a smirk to his face.
– Human desire sometimes takes precedence over everything else.
Logan deeply etched yet another truth he had come to realize into his heart.
* * *
The training of the newly enlisted soldiers was left entirely in the hands of instructors from the Mercenary Corps, led by Kai.
Despite their experience, handling the training of twice as many recruits was overwhelming.
But their hardships were far from over.
“Organize militias in each of the nine castles and all the villages. Volunteers will receive a fixed salary and will focus on basic military training with crossbows during the evening hours.”
“Your Grace! How many soldiers do you intend to enlist?!”
“Initially, the goal is 10,000.”
“10,000?”
“Yes.”
“Excluding the regular soldiers, just 10,000 for the militia?”
“That’s right.”
“Why?!”
It was an all-too-familiar question.
“…Are you starting to take after Dwayne? Why do you think? Because it’s necessary.”
“We agreed we wouldn’t go to war anymore?!”
“Ah… the future is uncertain.”
It was war.
He is planning to wage another war.
“10,000 crossbowmen. Yes, that’s good. But at the moment, we’re short on crossbows, and it’s unknown how much the stead supply of bolts will cost. Have you taken all of that into account?”
“It’s strange.”
“Pardon?”
“You sound exactly like Dwayne. Are you two brothers?”
“…”
Kai felt his energy sapped by Logan’s nonsensical remarks.
“Ah. Hrmm, just kidding. Don’t worry about it; I have a separate plan in mind.”
“So, you mean to say you’ll handle it somehow.”
“Yes. I’ll assign experienced soldiers as adjunct instructors. Tell me how many you need.”
“No matter how you put it…”
“Joking aside, there could be a war we don’t want but must fight. When that time comes, they could be our lifeline.”
“What kind of situation are you even imagining…”
Kai shook his head in disbelief, but Logan wasn’t laughing.
It was still the early days of the civil war.
Like Kai, most people could not imagine that the war would last three years, nor could they envision the carnage it would become.
The war, initially fought by elites, would spread to mercenaries hired at the expense of fortunes, and eventually to peasants armed with spears and swords, forced to charge in an all-out war.
That desperate scene was no different from hell unleashed upon this world.
Logan was preparing for those times.
And even if hell were to be repeated.
‘The 10,000 crossbowmen will come from our domain alone.’
Even if the design for the repeating crossbow became widespread, other rulers would not allow ordinary peasants to have it.
Logan was sure of it.
‘No matter how urgent the situation…’
Other lords wouldn’t permit the common folk to carry a weapon that could kill a knight.
‘The kingdom is a society with a firm class system; they’d think it might overturn the foundation itself.’
An absurd, selfish illusion.
Keeping peasants well-off meant that even if they carried more than just crossbows, there would be no rebellion.
‘The very foundation of that idea is flawed in the first place.’
He planned to exploit this gap in thinking and create an army that others could not even imagine.
That was one of the strategies Logan had in mind to turn the civil war upside down.
And he had already taken the first step towards it.
* * *
“Hey, is this the place?”
“So many humans, really irritating.”
“Shush. Be careful with your words. You never know who’s in charge here.”
“Ha, what does it matter? If we die, we die… Huh? What? Are you, by any chance, a dwarf who’s willing to let go of even the slightest self-respect in servitude to humans?”
“Hey, no way. I’d rather die than do that.”
“Are you now without self-respect because you’re missing a hand? Really?”
BANG!
“Quiet down in there, you dwarves!”
The clanging of the cage quietened the noisy dwarves.
Sensing the atmosphere, the Tamer smirked to himself.
Even though a steel hook replaced his left hand, his spirit was not broken like theirs.
‘Talk properly, without self-respect; they’re only making their situation more pathetic. They don’t understand.’
Before he lost his hand, he had tried to maintain his pride.
It was only after losing his hand and his skill as a blacksmith that he could shed that useless pride.
That’s the reason he had survived until now as a dwarf who could barely do blacksmith work.
But whenever he looked at the steel hook replacing his hand, his thoughts always ended the same way.
‘Why… why didn’t my ancestors leave during the Great Migration?’
Did they fail to envision the plight of their descendants?
Or was there another reason?
His doubts about the fundamental circumstances of his tribe and his own existential misgivings always led to the same, exasperating questions without answers.
Eventually.
‘Should I just… end it?’
It was always a thought he couldn’t bring himself to act upon.
As Tamer was once again mulling over his despair, the wagon transporting them stopped.
WHINNY!
“Whoa, whoa. This is the spot.”
“Oh. You’ve arrived. Here’s the balance due.”
“One, two, three… it’s all there. Thank you for the trade.”
“No, we should be thanking you. Go tell Hamar that his kin have arrived!”
Tamer, who had been listening, pricked up his ears.
‘Hamar… lord?’
They had clearly said ‘lord.’
The man who had paid a hefty sum to buy them had used a form of address that sounded like a dwarf’s name with an honorific.
This unusual incident piqued his curiosity.
As they were led off the wagon in shackles, the eyes of the other dwarves also sparked with curiosity.
“Hey, human. You mentioned ‘Hamar lord’?”
“Oh, a dwarf. Do you know Lord Hamar?”
“No, not really. That… is that person a dwarf?”
“Yes, the greatest craftsman in our domain.”
At those words, the taken dwarves’ eyes shone.
‘A dwarf treated as the greatest craftsman in a human domain?’
‘Does that mean we’re not forced into laboring here?’
‘Or is it rather that even if we’re forced, their skills are so exceptional…’
As they were lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, the furry human guiding them stoked their excitement.
“Indeed, a person of talent. Their work has changed the domain. That’s why there are high expectations for you too.”
Their thoughts turned to a paradise where they would not just be cogs churning out items but respected artisans.
Soon, a distinct accent, clearly different from the humans, captured their ears.
“Oh… at last, my kin have come.”
With one accord, Tamer and the other dwarves turned their heads toward the voice.
There stood a dwarf, who would definitely be considered middle-aged by dwarf standards, in a sturdy work outfit making his way toward them.
The extremely practical work outfit was adorned with numerous pockets, ideal for carrying various tools for whittling wood and metal.
The fierce gleam in the eyes of the outfit’s owner was not that of a dwarf pressed into slave labor.
‘Could it really be that we too…’
As the dwarves’ eyes glistened, watching him,
“Welcome, slaves.”
…Huh?
“Just do as you’re told, and there won’t be any bloodshed.”
A cold chill crept through their hearts at the slightly grinning visage of their kin.
* * *
The Hamar Town Workshop, which had only been around for a few days, had expanded several times over.
The original five human craftsmen and their apprentices were joined by ten dwarves newly arrived in Maclaine, and almost thirty workers gathered together to live and work.
Fortunately, the workshop was set up at the town outskirts, keeping its expansion straightforward.
“If you sincerely work for 20 years, I will grant you freedom.”
The same offer made first to Hamar was extended to all the other dwarves, raising their morale. However, the first words they heard upon joining Hamar’s workshop were different from their expectations.
“From now on, you are not artisans. You are line workers.”
Line? The dwarves were all bewildered by the term they had never heard before.
But Hamar paid them no heed.
“Each of you will be assigned one part, and you will only work on making that specific part. I call this division of labor.”
“What is that supposed to…”
“The efficiency of this workflow has been proven, and I will not entertain objections.”
The task was to produce nearly 20,000 repeating crossbows and enough bolts for them as quickly as possible.
Hamar’s mind was filled with only that thought.
‘Only three months are given. If the goal is not achieved…’
Shudder.
– If you succeed, you get a long vacation. If you fail… you can imagine the rest.
The devilish smile of his employer came to mind, leaving no room for relaxation.
But the fellow dwarves who had joined him did not so eagerly go along with what he said.
“To only make the same part? That’s madness!”
“Why must we, of all people, be stuck with such a task?”
“We have our pride as artisans! Even if you’re a master, we can’t just follow such demands!”
“Huh…”
Hamar’s hand involuntarily clenched.
“So, you’re saying you can’t do it?”
“We cannot! Rather, each of us should be making complete products, not just parts!”
“Right! Give us the chance. We’ll craft our works with care…”
“We need to produce 200 crossbows each day, and three times that amount in bolts. Even if human craftsmen and apprentices take on all the supporting tasks, do you think you can make 20 crossbows and 60 bolts each, all by yourself, in one day? I can’t even do it.”
Encountering his slightly crazed, glinting eyes, each dwarf started to look away, one by one.
But…
“If you really are that confident in your pride as artisans, I can give you a chance. Just know that if you fail to meet the quota, you must be prepared.”
The dwarves found themselves unable to say they couldn’t do it, their pride being taunted by Hamar’s words.
All except for one.
“I will follow Master Hamar’s instructions!”
“Hm?”
All eyes shifted to the dwarf who had boldly raised his hand.
And then, noticing the steel hook in place of his left hand, they all nodded as if understanding.
Hamar did too.
“Temar, was it? Well, with that hand, it will be tough…”
“The method you mentioned, division of labor, seems like it could greatly maximize efficiency.”
“Oh?”
“If one person steadily does one task, the quality and speed will certainly improve.”
“…True.”
“Why would we make simple tasks harder? I’d rather be a line worker than an artisan.”
As Temar didn’t complain about his disability but instead praised the system he had devised, Hamar nodded repeatedly.
Then the other dwarves started turning their heads away from Temar.
‘A dwarf who flatters…’
“That one is no kin of ours.”
“He’s lost not just his hand, but his pride too. Tsk tsk.”
While most opted for similar reflections, Temar spoke up again.
“However, to truly understand and properly implement this division of labor, one must experience making a complete product at least once. Please give us the chance to understand this efficiency.”
“Hm?”
All the dwarves refocused on Temar.
“Wouldn’t work proceed more productively if everyone were fully aware of the differences from the traditional method?”
“So what you’re saying is, this isn’t just posturing for the sake of pride, but rather part of the process of embracing a new method?”
“Yes.”
Hamar looked at Temar, seemingly surprised.
“…You have a commendable concern for your peers. Alright. I’ll give you one week.”
“Thank you.”
“Three days to learn the process. Four days to attempt production on your own. Afterwards, anyone who still says they want to work independently must meet the benchmark I’ve mentioned.”
“And if we fail?”
Again, it was Temar who broke the silence.
Perhaps he was asking on behalf of others who dared not to ask themselves.
Hamar mentally marked Temar, noting his empathy and practicable attitude.
“…You will not eat or sleep until you meet your daily quota. And if that continues, you will be ‘returned.’”
Returned.
The inhumane choice of word caused the dwarves to collectively swallow their apprehension.
And they looked at Temar with gratitude in their eyes.
Temar quickly became a focal point for the new dwarves.
Hamar, too, was contentedly nodding at the unexpected discovery of talent.
It was only when Temar came to him after the work briefing with a request that his satisfaction was shattered.
“Master Hamar. As you can see, my hand… I feel I would be more capable as an overseer rather than a line worker…”
Hamar swallowed his disappointment and responded sharply.
“Absolutely. Not.”
“I, I’m sorry. I overstepped…”
Temar hastily retreated in the face of Hamar’s suddenly icy expression.
“Supervision is my role. How dare you overstep.”
“…”
‘This guy…’
‘What a snob.’
The same thought came to both dwarves’ minds at once.