It had been a month since the villagers had chosen their occupations. Everything was progressing smoothly. The teachers and students finally had their school. Hunters now had bows, made possible by Aisrin, who just gave wood to a few craftsmen with some knowledge.
Foragers ended up with Aisrin after the snow covered the area. This made sense, but Aisrin felt stupid for forgetting about snow. So he took eleven and sent the others to learn hunting. The Livestock Handlers also had to go hunting until spring.
The soldiers had long shaped up into something organized. They acted as a unit, suffered as a unit and performed as a unit. They were also stronger, faster, and well nourished.
Aisrin never gave them breaks. He patrolled every night, fucked the entire Army up every night before bed, sapped energy to the breaking point.
Two months passed, and the Army was beginning weapons training. He taught them martial arts from his time on earth. He tought them how to use bows, also made by the craftsman. He taught them swords, daggers, spears, and he taught them survival.
His orders were followed religiously. Every word he spoke acted to a T. By the time that the third month came around, his Army became an Army. They march in harmony with each other. They stood at attention perfectly. When they answered, they answered loudly unanimously.
Spring was a month away. Sleep was hardly needed. They learned to be alert at every moment, even while asleep. They took care of eachother. When one fucked up, they all unhesitatingly got fucked up with that one person.
Aisrin had been up day and night, fabricating uniforms from memory using the elements he knew. He even used the hides of animals to make boots. Metals to make helmets. So when he finally graduated the Army, they all matched and he paraded them through the village.
Aisrin made this a special occasion for the entire village. The soldiers had not been seen for three months.
"I just want to say, I am fucking proud of all of you. In three months, you went from sad sacks of shit, to a functional unit. Especially you four. Gabriel. Fena. Aren. Del. These four will be my commanders. Each of you are in charge of your platoons. Since you out performed in every aspect.. The training never ends, I told you this.
But, I'm no longer I charge of you. Though, you four will report to me. The responsibility of protecting this Village falls upon you. You get two weeks of leave that you get to spend with your family. Then you'll report back to the Army Barracks. In advance. thank all of you for your service. It was my absolute pleasure to train you. Now fuck off. I'm fucking exhausted. Enjoy your two weeks." Aisrin praised the Army and then went to Rets and collapsed on the bed. He would sleep, uninterrupted for the next week.
*Graycastle, two weeks later*
A man clad in heavy armor bearing the Insignia of Graycastle rushed through the halls of the Barons Mansion. He burst into the Barons personal room and dropped to his knee.
The Baron, an ugly fat man in his twenties glared at the soldier from his desk.
"What do you want Captain Grole?" The Baron slammed his fist on his desk in irritation.
"Please excuse my intrusion sire. But the scouts have come back with dire news of the utmost importance." Grole stated heavily breathing.
"Out with it!" The Baron commanded impatiently.
"That small squad that went missing a few months ago had finally been found sire. They were most brutally massacred sire. Scouts were sent to each of the surrounding villages to question them as to who the perpetrators were.
None knew what had happened. I was going to dismiss the incident after they had all come back with the news, but the squad that went to the village at the edge, returned with news that you need to hear." Grole continued.
"Tch. Get out wench!" The Baron stood up, his lower half naked and yelled at a woman, who had been badly beaten and was terribly scrawny with tears running down her face. She scrambled from under the desk and ran out of the room. The Baron beckoned for Grole to continue.
"As you know, out of the five villages under your control, the one on the edge is the poorest and most destitute. But, when the scouts arrived, they were greeted by a wall, tens of feet high that encircled the village. The buildings had been reinforced and the villagers looked well off, more so than your own denizens within the city.
There were also a well organized Army. They were paraded through the streets. As you know, out scouts are trained to blend into a crowd. From what they gathered, it seems that they came under rule by a stranger, an outsider if you will. He had announced earlier that he was going to end the agreement between us and them, sire." Grole reported.
"WHAT! How dare those miserable ingrates retaliate against me! Prepare my Army! I want five hundred to march upon them within the week! What's the name of this meddling and treasonous outsider?" The Baron shouted with spit flying.
"They call him Lord Aisrin, sire." Grole answered.
"He dare call himself a Lord? Preposterous! I'll show this fool who he messed with! Here are your orders Grole. Leave no villager baring weapons alive. Take that blasphemous fool alive. Ravage the women and children for good measure as well. I want them to remember who stands above them. Ah, and bring the most beautiful wenches back as well, untouched. Make sure they're between the ages of eight and fifteen. I like them whole after all." The Baron ordered. Grole twitched.
"Of course, sire." Grole bowed out of the room. A disgusted look was on his face. Grole secretly abhorred Baron Seroth. Everything about him was evil, and ever since his good father gave him the position after passing away from a mysterious illness, the prosperity, dignity, and wellness of Graycastle declined to a pitiful husk of its former glory.
Corruption ran rampant in the streets. Crime became boldly acted out in broad daylight, mostly by Graycastle's own soldiers. Women could hardly walk down the streets without being brutally ravaged, again by the soldiers. The population had declined to around thirty thousand when it used to be nearly a hundred and fifty thousand.
"Duke Welliam... if only you hadn't given control to this bastard." Grole muttered before entering the soldiers chambers. Of the five thousand active soldiers Seroth had under his control. Grole commanded only three hundred. So he needed to fill the other two hundred with the reserves.
Without a moments breath, Grole went about his duty and began preparing his men and sensing out notices to the reserves. This would take three days, in the fourth, the five hundred man Army began its five day march towards the edge.