The Witcher World: The Path to Domination Begins in Velen

The campfire was still burning, but the flames had shrunk, and occasionally a few sparks would fly into the air and then go out.

Walter's body had been dragged aside, and his complete set of finely crafted plate armor had been carefully piled up as spoils of war. No one cared about his body anymore; the living had more to do than the dead.

The recruits sat scattered on the beach, spears at their feet and shields at their sides. No one spoke. Cole sat next to Miko, his two thick arms resting on his knees, his head bowed, his chin almost buried in his chest.

Mico didn't look at him; Mico was looking at his own hands.

He tried to straighten his fingers, but stopped halfway through, and his entire right hand began to tremble violently.

Ron walked over from the campfire.

Miko suddenly raised his head, straightening his back, and several new recruits resting against the hull quickly pushed themselves up.

Ron stopped in front of Miko.

Miko looked up; the campfire behind Ron cast shadows on his face, obscuring his expression.

"Miko, stand up," Ron said.

Miko stood up, his right fist still clenched and pressed against his side.

"hand"

Miko stretched out his hand, which was still trembling, with bloodstains on his knuckles—scars left from the forceful piercing of the spear shaft.

Ron glanced down and then unfastened the sword from his waist.

This longsword wasn't seized from the bandit camp; it was different. The leather of the scabbard was dark brown, with polished edges, and a badge that Miko didn't recognize was engraved on the metal corner of the scabbard.

"Kneeling on one knee"

Miko knelt down on one knee, his right knee digging into the sand, but his upper body remained ramrod straight.

The sword was drawn from its scabbard, and the blade flashed briefly in the firelight.

The sword fell and grazed Miko's right shoulder. Miko's shoulder trembled slightly, then he regained his balance.

"Miko," Ron's voice came from above, "a Velen, father killed by Nilfgaardians, mother died of famine, enlisted at twenty-one, first battle today, first to engage the enemy, assassinated one, and assisted another."

The sword was raised from Miko's right shoulder, passed over Miko's head, and rested against his left shoulder. A few strands of Miko's hair were pressed down by the sword and lay against the back of his neck.

"Before all the soldiers, in the name of the Prince of the Calard Empire, I hereby appoint you as my personal guard knight."

Ron sheathed the sword as it left his left shoulder, holding it horizontally across his palms and presenting it to Miko.

Cole lowered his head, and the other recruits beside him also lowered their heads. No one looked at Miko, but everyone's shoulders were tense.

Miko stretched out his hands. Both hands, palms facing up, caught the sword.

"Get up," Ron said.

Miko stood up, holding the scabbard in both hands and pressing it against his chest.

Ron looked at him

"This is not just a reward, but a responsibility. From today onward, you are no longer a soldier who only needs to follow orders. There are others behind you, and whether they die depends on you."

He raised his right hand, tapped Miko's forehead with his finger, and then pointed to the recruits who were resting on the beach against the side of the boat.

"From today onwards, you will learn differently from them."

You learned Common Tongue from Erwin. Military orders aren't given verbally, they're written down. If you can't understand it, your men will die in the wrong places.

His finger moved toward the castle; Karl wasn't there, but everyone knew who he was pointing to.

"You learn tactical deployment from Karl, learn flag signals, learn to read maps. When I'm around, listen to me. When I'm not around, you give orders for me. If you give the wrong order, your men will die."

He pulled his fingers back and let them hang down at his sides.

"You learn anything the veterans know, Fiona's archery, cataphracts' horsemanship, and how to fight in close combat with infantry and cavalry, until you master it."

You are no longer a soldier, you are a future officer. The army will expand, the number of people will increase, and there will be more and more battles. I cannot stand behind every formation.

Ron's voice lowered, but became increasingly serious.

"So you have to stand there for me, that's your responsibility, understand?"

Miko's Adam's apple bobbed. His eyes were red, but nothing came out.

The voice was hoarse as it said "I understand," as if it had been scraped out of the throat.

Ron looked into his eyes and nodded slightly.

"The first order."

Miko's body tensed instantly, standing like a sharp spear on the battlefield.

"Statistics on casualties, make stretchers for the seriously wounded, treat the wounds of the lightly wounded, and ask Erwin if you don't understand."

Ron turned around, took two steps, and stopped.

"Squad Leader"

Miko paused for a moment before realizing that he was being called.

"Here's your sword."

The beach fell silent again, but unlike the silence before, this silence was filled with something.

Cole was the first to stand up. His eyes were also red. He walked over to the recruits who were still sitting on the ground, bent down, and checked their injuries one by one.

Some people were tearing off the hem of their cotton-padded coats to use as bandages, while others were squatting beside the spearman who had been shot in the leg with an arrow, holding his hand.

The pikeman was named Pete, and he had enlisted on the same day as Miko. He was leaning against the side of the ship, his injured leg lying flat on the sand, his lips pale, and his forehead covered in sweat, but he was awake.

Miko walked over and squatted down.

"Does it hurt?" he asked. This was the first question he asked as the squad leader.

Pete looked at him, a smile more painful than a grimace tugging at the corners of her mouth. "It hurts."

Miko nodded and pressed Pete's hand down.

"Don't die," Miko said.

Pete froze for a moment, then blinked, as if something was sliding down his cheek. He only turned his head to wipe his eyes when Cole came over with the plank and strips of cloth.

Ron's system panel in the upper right corner of his field of vision was lit up.

He ignored them and instead watched the recruits' movements—no, they couldn't be called recruits anymore...

My gaze returned to the panel; the unit labels were already displayed.

Miko's status bar now has a new line of small text: his unit type has changed from "Recruit" to "Imperial Infantry," followed by parentheses that say "Squad Leader."

Cole's status bar has changed too. His unit type is still "Imperial Infantry".

Thomas, Imperial Infantryman, Level 1 Soldier.

Pete's status bar next to his name is yellow with a red cross mark, and his unit type has changed to "Imperial Infantry".

The sign next to it reads "Recovering". The person is still alive and has leveled up. Once the injury heals, they can rejoin the team.

He continued scanning downwards.

Fifteen men, ten Imperial infantry, and five new recruits, but the progress bar is almost full, with only a small gray gap remaining.

Two-thirds of them are the seeds of his army's future.

He hid the system panel from his view.

"Erwin"

Erwin was crouching by the side of the ship.

"You and Miko come with me aboard to take stock," Ron said, his gaze shifting to the flat-bottomed cargo ship stranded on the shoal, its sails not fully down.

"All cargo holds, all compartments. List the useful ones, ignore the useless ones."

He turned around and faced the new recruits who were still busy on the beach.

"Those who boarded the ship left their spears on the shore, and took short swords and shields."

Cole looked up as he finished wrapping Pete's bandage one last time.

"You can't turn around with your spear inside the cabin; if you get stuck, you're dead." Ron's voice carried a patient, instructive tone: "Once inside, shield in front, short sword behind, look up, look to the sides, don't just stare at what's in front of you."

Cole nodded, tied the strip of cloth tightly, and the recruits began to pull their spears out of the sand, inserting them into the sand with the tips pointing downwards, and lining them up along the side of the ship.

Ron walked at the front, and as he stepped onto the gangway, the plank sank slightly, making a muffled, oppressive sound.

Erwin followed Miko, while the other three recruits, with their short swords drawn and shields raised, advanced slowly.