Our march continued. Occasionally, I found other monsters suitable for training, though such occurrences were rare. Usually, the monsters either lacked the numbers to provide any sort of challenge, or they were too much of a threat to use for training. In the end, I was not training monster hunters. Experience fighting large monsters just wasn’t worth the deaths and damage.

  I did use the time to practice Alzur’s Double Cross, with less than stellar results. Pivoting from rats to other kinds of animals proved more difficult than I had anticipated, though the experience would doubtlessly prove valuable. Unfortunately, the spell was difficult and costly to cast, so I could not do so often. The occasional misshapen monstrosity kept the troops on their toes, though. Sure, we were still in friendly territory, but habits took time to form.

  Better start early,

  The impromptu monster hunting had another upside, namely, the materials from the monsters themselves. While chitin or monster hide weren’t exactly a match for real steel, they were much better than nothing.

  I, nor anyone else I commanded, could conjure proper armour sets out of these materials, but making makeshift armour wasn’t difficult. You just needed something to poke holes in the material and some leather straps or rope. That was enough. The results were naturally terrible, but a bad-fitting chest piece made of monster chitin fitted on top of the flimsy gambesons or rusted chain mail most of my troops wore was still an upgrade.

  Our frequent training slowed down our travel time considerably. As a result, we reached the Stronghold of Tigg a whole two months after the start of our march, instead of the fifteen or so days it would have taken normally.

  As I looked on the men marching in orderly lines, I knew without a doubt that I had made the right decision. In just two short months, the troops were transformed. Gone were the fearful looks, unsure steps and the distrust of those around them. While not the most practical, the bits and pieces of monster parts that now served as additional armour for my troops gave them a much more experienced appearance, despite the truth of the matter being quite different.

  There was value in that, too. The more I ruminated on the matter, the more I came to accept that morale lay at the crux of medieval-era battles. The less your own soldiers were willing to run and the more they scared the enemy, the better. It was an absolutely essential part of war, even more so in this world.

  That is not to say that morale didn’t play a part back in the Empire, but desertion was much trickier then. You either rushed forward towards the enemy trenches or went backwards, towards your own. Aerial Mages excluded, of course. In either case, the chances of doing so unnoticed were slim. When the option was to be either executed for cowardice or fight, the vast majority chose the latter.

  Wars didn’t work like that here, though. In the chaos of a losing battle, legging it was a very viable path to survival. Even if your commander had the troops to spare to hunt you down, the most information they’d have would be a name, maybe a bare bones description, if even that. No photographs or identification numbers.

  While two months was nowhere near enough time to turn these men into the elites I’d want, it was good enough for putting some spine into them. Experience properly utilising the wagon fort and building field fortifications was also invaluable.

  As we marched, I examined Tigg, the seat of Baron Eyelmbert. It was not terribly impressive, if still much better than some of the smaller keeps I had passed on my travel to Cintra.

  It was built on a small hill, unimaginably named Tigg as well, with decent enough stone walls and dry moats, and a few balistae visible on top. By my estimate, it was big enough to house five hundred or so defenders, putting it on the medium size of this world’s castles. Surrounding the castle was a small town of a few thousand at best, protected by a simple wooden palisade.

  My troops were camped outside, naturally. I looked on with satisfaction as the field fortifications grew. On account of being near a town, I had forbidden them from digging trenches. The chances of an attack in the middle of Cintra were next to nil, definitely not worth angering Baron Eyelembert over, considering his good relationship with the Queen. I didn’t think he was the type to throw a fit over a few covered-up holes, but there wasn’t a reason to risk it.

  A group of fifty or so riders departed from the town’s gates soon enough. The implications did not escape me. Whoever led them was either cautious or did not trust me.

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  Hopefully the former.

  I rode towards them alongside my guards. Roderic and his men were all skilled riders, a prerequisite for service in the Royal Guards.

  We met in the middle of a grassy field. The armoured riders paused a few hundred meters, a single figure emerging from their midst. I, similarly, rode forward alone.

  Pausing a few paces before each other, I examined the man while he almost certainly did the same.

  The rider was massive. Even though his horse was clearly on the larger side, the man made it look tiny. He was covered from head to toe in high-quality plate armour, though the closer I got, the more damage I could make out. A dent here, a scratch there. Nothing debilitating, but it was obvious that the man did not wear it as a decoration. Not surprising, as most of Calanthé’s supporters tended to be on the more militant side of things. The Lioness of Cintra had made quite the impression during the battle of Hochebuz.

  His visor was lifted, revealing a clean-shaven face with narrowed eyes and the occasional wrinkle. The man must have been nearing forty.

  “Hail! I am Baron Dalibor of Ortagor, and you, Lady?” The giant rumbled.

  “Tanya von Degurechaff, of,“ I paused, “in service,” I corrected myself, “of the Crown.”

  “Hm,” the knight scrutinised me, “The witch. First time I’ve seen one of your sort in armour. Thought it was beneath you.”

  “Unfortunately, sorceresses are not above arrows, Baron,” I retorted.

  His eyes flicked towards one of the dents in his own armour, “True enough. Let us get to the matter at hand.”

  I gestured my assent.

  “With me are five hundred riders. Half from Tigg, half my own. Tigg’s are light cavalry at best, but my men are not nearly as useless,” he sneered.

  I could see there was some animosity between the two barons. That the colourful, animal-mimicking Eylembert could have some issues with the severe giant in front of me was not too surprising.

  Glancing at the riders, I could see that his pride was not misplaced. Naturally, not all were attired in full plate, yet all had enough armour to protect them from lighter strikes. If all of his men were similarly equipped, then the two hundred and fifty soldiers were worth a small fortune just because of that alone.

  “Outriders are a necessary part of every army,” I tacitly agreed with his assessment. I doubted the man was lying about the state of Tigg’s forces, considering I would see them myself in a bit.

  Ortagor smirked, “True, running away is a valuable skill, though Eylembert tends to be a bit overzealous in cultivating it.”

  I resisted rolling my eyes. I wasn’t sure if Baron Ortagor understood his men would be the ones charging into the fray while Tigg’s would take on lighter duties, but he seemed like the type to think that sort of thing would bring him honour or some such nonsense.

  Battle maniacs.

  Not even at war, yet I was already collecting their type. How nostalgic.

  “I trust you have been apprised of the command structure?” I asked, changing the topic.

  “Naturally. As the person put in charge by the Queen, you will, of course, be the one to point our blades in the direction our liege has envisioned. However, I imagine that a sorceress such as yourself is unused to soldiery, so I will be glad to take much of your burden from your shoulders. After all, you departed with no men of proper breeding,” he cast a glance towards Roderick, “I imagine that trying to keep so many commoners in line with only the help of sergeants must have been difficult,” Ortagor gave me a grandfatherly smile.

  My eye twitched.

  “Not to worry, I have handled those issues. You will be placed in command of the cavalry, though I plan to fold Tigg’s forces under me, as I am currently utilising sorcery to scout ahead. It is only sensible for the scouts to report to me directly, no?” I ruthlessly crushed his dreams of usurping my position.

  There was no way I was going to let some honour-obsessed meathead decide the fate of my troops if I could help it. After all, I was very much liable to share in their fate too.

  ‘Should have given more priority to teleportation,’ I berated myself. Unfortunately, to say the magic was difficult was an understatement. Still, I would have to put more of a focus on properly mastering it. I could create portals, but the chances of coming out with all body parts once through were somewhat… questionable.

  I had, however, succeeded in modifying Adda Invaerne to make it last longer. The price was an increased casting time, larger cost, and an overall weaker effect, if slightly, in exchange for a much longer duration.

  Baron Ortagor did not seem terribly enthused about my words. However, he simply nodded stoically instead of arguing, earning some points in my view.

  Hopefully, he would come to enjoy my training exercises.