Reyaelu had a preliminary understanding of the history of this continent, and one word kept floating in his mind—chaos.
"Small skirmishes every three years, major wars every ten," it seemed like this world was born for war. Not only were there constant disputes between countries, but even the noble lords within a single kingdom were locked in endless infighting. War followed the lives of the nobility like a shadow, and the slightest spark could ignite a bloody storm. A barrel of honey or a wild beast could be the cause of war.
If it weren't for witnessing the existence of extraordinary powers with his own eyes, Reyaelu would almost doubt that he had been transported back to the medieval era. Apart from the presence of foreign races, the continent of Aslanter was almost a carbon copy of medieval Europe.
However, most of the historical records were merely glossed over. The only detailed accounts were those related to the Koslow family, which left Reyaelu disappointed. Moreover, these records were almost entirely irrelevant to the current situation. To understand the turmoil in the real world, he could only turn to Baron Redman. However, as a foreigner who didn't wish to reveal his identity, Reyaelu tried to avoid contact with the Baron, let alone ask him questions.
Filled with doubt, Reyaelu returned to his residence, only to be surprised to find that the magical beast cores he had received had turned to powder.
"Did Lady Redman try to deceive me with fakes?"
The thought flashed through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. When the cores were delivered, he had personally inspected them, and their dense magical aura was unmistakable. Moreover, given the short time that had passed, it was nearly impossible to stage a convincing scam. He also didn't believe that Lady Redman would have a mage standing by at all times.
He focused his mind, and suddenly felt as though a compass had appeared in his mind, with four ancient characters vaguely etched on it. Reyaelu realized that his "golden finger" had finally awakened. However, to his disappointment, he couldn't recognize the meaning of the ancient Chinese characters. Even if he could, it wouldn't help much—how could one understand the operation of a compass with only four characters?
Though he didn't yet understand how to use the mysterious compass, Reyaelu wasn't discouraged. After all, it was better to have something that could be used than nothing at all. The compass was activated after absorbing magical energy, which might be a clue. Perhaps by using more magical cores, he could uncover its secrets. However, thinking about the high cost of the cores, Reyaelu couldn't help but smile bitterly.
It seemed he wasn't destined to be rich. In his past life, he was heavily in debt, and now in this new world, he was still poor. He had just made a little money, but it would be spent almost immediately. Worse still, magical cores weren't easy to come by. He would have to go to a larger city, and in this remote town of Tielun, the only places where he might find some would be the Baron's manor or perhaps with Priest Quinn.
If he were a mage or an alchemist, he could shamelessly ask his cheap old dad for help. But as a knight, that wasn't an option. Before fully understanding the situation, the cautious Reyaelu decided to hold off and not take any hasty actions.
In the early morning, just as the first rays of red dawn appeared on the horizon, the town square was already crowded with people. Knights were not only independent warriors, but also needed the assistance of squires. After all, armor, weapons, and horses all needed to be cared for, and noble knights weren't going to do that themselves.
Reyaelu was no exception. Today, he was to choose his squire. The young men in the square had come to try their luck. Though it was just a position as a squire, for ordinary townsfolk, it was still a rare opportunity. By crossing this threshold, they would be eligible for military training. If they performed well on the battlefield, they could even earn rewards.
Though the battlefield was dangerous, if they didn't become a knight's squire, they would still have to go to war. For small and mid-sized nobles who couldn't afford a standing army, conscripting peasants for battle was nothing unusual. In any case, the survival rate was higher for those who followed knights, compared to ordinary soldiers.
"Reyaelu, choose the ones you want in your own way."
Baron Redman said expressionlessly.
In battle, close coordination was required, so naturally, the more familiar the squire, the better. Reyaelu recognized many of the young men before him, some of whom were even close companions. However, those were memories of the original owner, and they had nothing to do with the current Reyaelu. With only vague recollections in his mind, he couldn't tell who was who.
"Anyone who wants to be a knight's squire, run ten laps around the town, with the hourglass running out as the time limit."
Reyaelu smiled as he announced. However, to the youths, his smile seemed particularly stern. As the sand in the hourglass gradually decreased, the youths hurriedly started running, fearful of falling behind. Reyaelu thought to himself, in this world, the victors are kings, and war is no exception. Even though the noble class is entrenched, rising to prominence is almost impossible. For someone like him, a minor noble with no inheritance rights, the best option was simply to wait.
Wait for the heir in front of him to be gone, or for a relative to die off, or even to marry into a dwindling noble family—these were all easier than earning a fief through merit on the battlefield. After all, the land now all had owners. Unless an external force changed the status quo, it would be hard for new opportunities to arise. Without unclaimed land, there could be no new feudal lords, and even if one did perform great deeds, they would only become honorary nobility.
"Shh...shh...shh..."
The hourglass quickly ran out, and the youths who had participated in the squire selection gradually returned to the square. Some were elated, while others were disappointed. Just as Reyaelu was about to announce the results, Baron Redman suddenly spoke up: "A total of thirty-one people made it in time. Let's begin the second round."
Reyaelu immediately understood the problem—the number of passers was too high. While Tielun Town didn't lack people, the issue was that he currently lacked a source of income. According to tradition, after a few months of training and adaptation, he would have to fend for himself. Reyaelu knew that although he thought the more squires, the better, Baron Redman didn't believe he could afford so many.
Traditionally, knights lived off of war, and without a strong foundation, life would naturally be tough. However, Reyaelu was different. Without the burden of noble honor, he could even engage in some shady activities. With a sword in hand and a plan in mind, how could he starve?
Currently relying on Baron Redman, Reyaelu helplessly said: "Next, we'll test their skills. The ten strongest will be selected."
After saying this, he paid no attention to Baron Redman's darkened expression. Ten was already his bottom line, and no fewer than that would do. More people didn't necessarily mean more power, but fewer people would surely be at a disadvantage. In the age of cold weapons, the foundation for building power was a strong team.