Chapter 133: The Army’s Link
Kellar watched them return to the lake shore, sweating under the freezing wind. The difference between the tribe’s original members and the rescued youths was night and day. The boys born in the Overlord tribe had been eating magical beast meat and rich broth daily for weeks; the former slaves, on the other hand, had only tasted their first substantial meal the previous night.
The tribe’s youths breathed heavily but maintained an upright posture, while the others fell to their knees, vomiting bile onto the snow and writhing on the ground. Despite their physical collapse, none of the rescues had given up; they had pushed themselves to their absolute limits so as not to be left behind or fail the shaman.
Kellar walked toward the center of the field and raised his hand.
"Gather round," said Kellar, in a firm tone.
The boys dragged themselves through the snow, helping one another to their feet and holding up those who could barely stand. Seeing this spontaneous display of support, Kellar offered a faint smile and nodded.
"Do you know why I made everyone do the exact same thing?" said Kellar, pacing his gaze over the fifty exhausted faces.
"To test our capabilities, Shaman!" said a youth from the tribe, stepping forward with heavy breathing.
"No," said Kellar, shaking his head. "If I wanted to test individual capabilities, I would have evaluated you one by one. However, everyone did the same routine and the results were different. I will tell you the reason directly: I want you to see the difference between the worst and the best."
Upon hearing his words, the boy who had finished last hung his head on the verge of tears from shame, while the youth who had arrived first puffed out his chest with pride.
"This is not to crown anyone or to see who is the best," said Kellar, pointing at the proud youth and then at the exhausted boy. "This is so you understand that the weakest link determines the total strength of your entire team. From this day on, you will train, eat, and sleep as a single unit. I am not interested in having one special individual, everyone must become equally strong and equally precise. Individual strength is nothing against the collective power of a disciplined group. When this training finishes, you will realize what I mean."
The youths remained in absolute silence, absorbing every word while the boy at the back lifted his head, feeling the weight of responsibility rather than marginalization.
"Now that you have warmed up, let us continue training," said Kellar, gesturing toward the edge of the field where assistants waited with large wicker baskets.
"The real firearms will take a few days to complete" said Kellar, looking over the formation. "I left the main blueprints and Lennis working back at the mountain fortress, but Mentz and the builders crafted exact wooden dummies for us. Distribute them!"
The assistants handed each recruit a carved wooden stick with a straight opening through the middle simulating the musket’s barrel and mechanism. Along with the stick, each recruit was given a beast horn filled with sand to simulate the weight of powder and shot, as well as a second short thin wooden rod.
Kellar took one of the wooden dummies and stood at the front of the formation, holding it firmly before the watchful eyes of the fifty recruits.
"Listen carefully," said Kellar, raising his voice so it echoed over the lake’s freezing wind. "This piece of wood represents your weapon, and the sand-filled horn represents your powder and shot. From this day on, you will learn every step of the loading process until your hands respond before your mind even thinks."
Kellar began the step-by-step demonstration with precision.
"First: bring the barrel up and grab the horn," said Kellar, pouring a portion of sand into the wood’s central opening. "Second: drop the bullet in. Third: take the short rod, insert it down the barrel, and push firmly twice to compact the charge. Fourth: withdraw the rod, return it to its place, and bring the weapon to your shoulder ready to fire."
The youths watched every detail of the shaman’s movements.
"I want you to trust me and trust this method!" said Kellar, looking intently at each of the boys. "You must be capable of executing this sequence by heart, without hesitation, even blindfolded or in the middle of the darkest night. On the battlefield, a single second of delay means death. Every second you cut from your reload time is one more second of life for you, and one less enemy left standing."
Brak stepped up beside Kellar and raised his own training rifle.
"You heard the Great Shaman!" said Brak, pointing at the formation with a face full of resolve. "Prepare your dummy weapons! We begin the loading sequence on the first whistle!"
"Load... ram... aim!" said Kellar, issuing the command as the recruits began repeating the movements again and again over the snow.
At first, the boys’ fingers, clumsy from the cold, dropped the wooden rods or spilled sand onto the ground. However, under Kellar’s relentless gaze and Brak’s encouraging shouts, the formation began to synchronize. The former captives and the tribe’s youths moved their arms at the same rhythm.
Despite holding a wooden stick and pouring sand for hours looking like a useless exercise to hunters accustomed to wielding spears, not a single recruit in the formation uttered a complaint. The respect and reverent awe they held for the shaman kept all fifty youths laser-focused, repeating the motion again and again until their arms ached from the effort.
After several hours of uninterrupted practice under the freezing wind, Kellar raised his hand, and the formation halted instantly.
"Enough for now," said Kellar, lowering his own training rifle as he inspected the sweat-drenched squad.
A couple of minutes later, several women from the tribe appeared at the lake’s edge accompanied by assistants, carrying wicker baskets that released a hot, mouth-watering steam. The platters were piled high with roasted cuts of reptile meat and bowls of rich, mineral-salted broth.
"Set the rifle dummies on the ground and step forward," said Kellar, pointing to the improvised tables. "Eat all you can and recover your strength. We still have half the day and plenty of training ahead of us."
The recruits, exhausted yet high in spirit, formed an orderly line without shoving or dividing by factions, sharing bread and meat side by side as a single family under the watchful eye of their shaman.