Chapter 251: Drills and Proposals for Improving Melee Weapons

As the territory continued to develop, the population gathered on this land had already surpassed ten thousand. Meanwhile, the Cecil Combat Corps underwent a new round of expansion. Thanks to a system somewhat akin to a construction corps and the tremendous boost that magic provided to production and infrastructure, the Cecil domain maintained a remarkably high ratio of military to civilian personnel—without significantly hindering the territory’s growth and daily operations.

Gawain firmly believed one thing: turbulent times were on the horizon. Whether it was monsters lurking in the ruins of Gondor or wars erupting between human kingdoms, danger would inevitably find its way here. To face that looming threat, building a powerful armed force was not just necessary—it was inevitable.

With the expansion of the Cecil Combat Corps and the gradual improvement of the territory’s administrative framework, Gawain’s approach to training the army became increasingly formal and rigorous. Compared to the early days of the territory, when rules were little more than rough guidelines, he now established clearer, stricter military regulations that were easier to enforce and track. He set out pay scales for each rank of non-commissioned officers, defined basic codes of conduct for soldiers, laid down methods for supervising the troops, recording military merits, and punishing dereliction of duty. To ensure these rules were followed, he tasked knights Philip and Byron with selecting a group of literate, honest, and reliable young soldiers to serve as junior commanders. Thanks to the efforts of night school teachers, literacy was spreading rapidly throughout the territory, making it easier to find suitable candidates.

Gawain himself was no military expert, but fortunately, Gawain Cecil was. Coupled with the theoretical knowledge he’d accumulated as a keyboard warrior in his past life, he had finally managed to build this framework.

Once the structure and regulations were in place, what remained was near-brainwashing new recruits through endless education and drills—turning every rule and code of conduct into a conditioned reflex, etched deep into the bones of every Cecil soldier.

In the military district on the eastern side of the territory, new recruits were undergoing their daily physical training. These men, who had recently been ordinary farmers and laborers, now donned standardized Cecil armor. On their backs were training packs matching the weight of their combat gear, and their arms were strapped with steel vambraces roughly the size and weight of magical conduits. Clad in this gear, they performed formation drills on the open ground. Gawain stood alongside knights Byron and Philip, observing the soldiers’ progress.

Occasionally, the sharp shouts and curses of veteran instructors echoed across the field, but today, the recruits no longer responded with complaints or jeers.

“To be honest, the formation drills you insisted on implementing have really proven useful,” Byron remarked, watching the recruits stand in neat ranks after just a few days of training. “After all that drilling, their discipline has definitely improved.”

Philip knight added his own praise: “I never thought it possible to take a simplified version of the knightly code and turn it into a soldier’s code of conduct, demanding that everyone live up to it.”

“As long as the training is thorough enough to embed what they learn into their reflexes, even if they don’t fully understand the spirit of knighthood, they’ll act accordingly,” Gawain said casually. “The Cecil Combat Corps is a very special army. They protect this land and its people, and the people must support them wholeheartedly. Only then can we hold our ground on this dangerous frontier of the wasteland.”

Byron sighed appreciatively. “Most noble private armies are just thugs and ruffians. Even if they come from common backgrounds, once they bear a noble’s crest and wield sword and shield, they’ll extort the common folk without mercy. Nobles only expect these mercenaries to guard their castles… Occasionally, some nobles with a true knightly spirit will enforce discipline strictly, but that’s about it. I’ve never seen anyone set up such a comprehensive system of rules and regulations to govern their soldiers like you have.”

“Personal morality fades with the individual’s death,” Gawain smiled, “but a well-crafted system and regulations ensure discipline endures through personnel changes. Of course, no kingdom or order lasts forever, even with perfect rules. But at least a group bound by laws survives longer than one that collapses the moment its leader dies.”

“Personal morality fades with the individual’s death…” Philip knight said admiringly, but then frowned at Gawain’s next words. “You mean that even with these perfect regulations you’ve created, the Cecil domain will one day… follow the path of those who have fallen?”

“If future generations don’t cherish it,” Gawain shrugged, “no matter how solid the foundation, that day will come.”

Philip’s expression turned serious. “You needn’t be so pessimistic. You—”

Before Philip could finish, Gawain waved him off. “Don’t give me that ‘your great achievements will last forever’ nonsense. That’s just flattering fools and the dead. When I was buried, someone even carved ‘Glorious deeds endure for all time’ on my tombstone. Then I opened my eyes, and they were digging up my grave. Since then, I stopped believing in such flattery.”

Philip was left speechless, while Byron slapped him on the shoulder, laughing so hard his ribs almost cracked. “Shouldn’t have tried to talk big with someone who’s been through it all.”

Gawain shot Byron a look, unimpressed. “Don’t laugh either. Have you made any progress designing a new type of melee weapon that fits the Cecil Combat Corps’ fighting style and magical technology?”

Thanks to the discovery of the “Defiant” fortress, large-scale clearing and restoration of the mountain ruins were underway. Gawain planned to reactivate the mid-level areas of the ruins as Cecil’s “Ancient Technology Research Center” and a second industrial base. Since Byron had been leading exploration efforts in the ruins since before winter and had achieved significant results, Gawain gave him a few days off—to get some sun and visit his family. But in keeping with the principle of making the most of everyone’s talents, Gawain also gave Byron a relatively light task: to think about what else his soldiers might need, so he could design improvements for the Cecil Combat Corps’ melee weapons.

Gawain hadn’t expected much from the usually laid-back mercenary knight, but Byron immediately grinned proudly. “You asked the right person—I actually have some ideas!”

“Oh?” Gawain was a bit surprised. “Tell me.”

“Wait a moment—I have a blueprint!” Byron said excitedly. “It’s at home—not far from here. I’ll be right back!”

Byron was incredibly quick to act. With Gawain’s permission, he sprinted off in a cloud of dust, leaving Gawain and Philip exchanging puzzled looks. After a moment, Philip blurted out, “He can draw magical schematics too?”

Byron’s home was close to the barracks, and as a professional knight, he moved fast. Before long, he returned, breathless but clutching a sizable rolled-up parchment—the blueprint he’d mentioned.

“This is it,” Byron said, eagerly unfurling the drawing before Gawain. “I worked on this with a few rune craftsmen from the mechanical workshop. You know I’m not great at drawing…”

Gawain nodded in understanding, but his attention was already drawn to the design on the paper. It was clearly a concept for a melee weapon resembling a sword. The hilt and base of the blade had reserved spaces for runes and magical devices, though the exact structures weren’t finalized. Alongside the drawing were numerous notes detailing functional requirements and ideas—obviously still under discussion.

Byron smiled. “There are still many points of contention.”

Gawain, seeing promising elements in the design, said at once, “Disagreements are fine. Tell me your thoughts.”

“Well, you know I used to be a mercenary,” Byron began, unusually open about his past. “Mercenaries differ from professional knights or soldiers in that we don’t have as many fixed rules or traditions. Our weapons and tactics are all about practicality. Outsiders might see our gear as chaotic, but we know every piece exists because it’s needed—it has a specific use and battlefield scenario.”

“So I started thinking: under what circumstances do our soldiers need melee weapons? What kind of battlefield environment will these weapons face?”

He paused, then continued, “The Cecil Combat Corps already has thermal ray guns. I hear higher-tier arcane missile launchers and electro-lances are in the design phase. These weapons pack serious power, and when used en masse, they can even take down mid-level supernaturals. Their ranged attacks are enough to destroy most enemies. So there are only two reasons a soldier would switch to melee weapons: one, their ranged weapon is unusable—broken or otherwise; two, the enemy has strong magical resistance or abilities like ‘deflect stray arrows’.”

“The second scenario is the one we really need to prepare for.”

“Our soldiers don’t lack magical attacks—they lack stronger physical killing power. The rune craftsmen and I ruled out the traditional approach of enchanting blades with elemental magic to boost magical damage. Instead, we focused on increasing the sword’s raw destructive power. Common methods like sharpening, weighting, or armor-piercing enchantments either offer limited improvement or can’t yet be integrated into magical arrays, so we didn’t consider them.”

“In the end, we came up with two proposals: the ‘Mechanical Sword’ and the ‘Melt-Cut Sword’…”

(End of chapter)