“Your Highness, what are you doing?” Carter previously thought the Fourth Prince was merely dictatorial, but now he saw him as utterly whimsical.

If it came to training a warrior, the Chief Knight believed no one was more professional than himself. His family possessed a complete set of training methods, which could cultivate a warrior proficient in various weapons in just five years, from the age of ten to fifteen. With another five years, they could produce a knight knowledgeable in upper-class etiquette—provided, of course, that the trainee was not of common birth.

Look at these idiots before him, with nothing but food in their eyes! And… eggs are expensive!

Roland picked at his ear. “Just watch. Remember, the training in the coming days will follow this pattern as well. There will be some minor changes, of course, which I'll list on paper one by one.”

In the age of cold weapons, train a batch of qualified warriors in two or three months? Roland had no such idea. Nor did he need Spartan warriors who could tear beasts apart wearing only loincloths. Individual combat strength of the army was not essential, but strict discipline and obedience were.

The strength of a team often exceeded that of an individual, as dictated by human social nature. To achieve this quickly, transplanting the military training regimen and modifying it to fit the current environment would likely be a good choice. In his own experience, it only took half a month to melt students from all over the country into a single entity, regardless of the process, the effect was significant.

Only after this group thoroughly understood the meaning of discipline could Roland implement the next phase of his plan.

Vanna ultimately failed to get a second egg.

This time, the standing lasted more than twice as long as the previous one, ending only when someone’s legs went weak and they swayed uncontrollably.

The Fourth Prince happened to announce a break at this moment and ordered the servants to distribute lunch. This successfully shifted the crowd's anger from the rule-breakers to the food, but it also made Vanna suspect that His Highness had no intention of letting them get a second reward in the first place.

Lunch was in four large earthenware jars, pulled outside the town by several carriages. In addition to food, the carts also carried many wooden basins and spoons.

As Vanna licked his lips, preparing to rush forward, the Chief Knight blocked everyone's path.

The Prince ordered everyone to form four columns and come up one by one to lingqu utensils. Anyone who disturbed the order would be forcibly assigned food last.

The crowd squeezed into four chaotic lines. He was fortunate enough to be at the front of the outermost column. Of course, some people expressed strong dissatisfaction with this, and a commotion broke out in the line. Soon, the Knight and several guards rushed into the crowd and drove out the troublemakers.

Idiots, Vanna glanced at the leader of the disturbance, the "Mad Fist," the most combative guy in town. He usually caused trouble everywhere with his brute strength, but now he was obediently squatting on the side with a sword pressed against him. Look at his pitiful appearance!

He felt he had roughly figured out the Prince's preferences.

And that was uniformity.

Standing in formation must be straight, the line must be a straight line, eating must be in a queue, the order must not be broken... Vanna had heard well-informed town merchants say that some nobles had a strange habit: everything must be placed neatly, and the slightest misalignment would compel them to rearrange it.

In Vanna's mind, such people were simply bored, with nothing to do, so they deliberately looked for trouble to torment themselves.

He never thought the Prince would be one of them.

When the lid of the earthenware jar was lifted, Vanna smelled a rich aroma.

The alluring scent spreading out almost intoxicated him. A commotion rippled through the crowd, and the Knight's roar came from the front. They were probably going to have to queue up again, he thought.

Sure enough, the Fourth Prince ordered everyone to line up in the same order as when they had taken the wooden basins and spoons to lingqu food.

Despite everyone swallowing their saliva and their stomachs growling, in light of the Mad Fist's example, they still obediently lined up.

The earthenware jar was filled with hot wheat porridge. Vanna was surprised to find that there was even dried meat in the porridge! Although there was only a thin slice in his wooden basin, it was still meat! After filling his porridge, he also got an extra egg as he wished.

Vanna devoured his lunch almost ravenously, licking the bottom of the basin. He swallowed the egg whole without even biting it. He accidentally burned his tongue because he ate too fast.

Putting down the wooden basin, Vanna patted his stomach and burped. He hadn't enjoyed such delicious food in a long time. And even more incredibly, he felt full. The sweetness of the meat porridge was worlds apart from the black bread. He even thought, if he could eat such food every day, what would it matter to fight against evil beasts on the front lines?

After lunch, there was a longer break. Everyone was taken back inside the city wall and walked to the patrol camp in town. A burly, foreign-looking man came out of the line and began to teach everyone how to set up tents.

Vanna recognized him—few people in the old street didn't know Iron Axe. His superb archery skills had even impressed the town's most experienced old hunters. Wait, Iron Axe was now working for the Fourth Prince? It seemed he had also seen him staying by the Knight's side. Vanna frowned. What was His Highness thinking? He was a Sandman.

"Are you really planning to appoint a Sandman as captain?" Carter had the same question. "He doesn't belong to Graycastle, not even to the mainland kingdoms."

"Witches don't belong to Graycastle either," Roland said dismissively. "But they all belong to Border Town. Besides, you're here to watch over things, aren't you?"

"But, Your Highness..."

"Don't worry," Roland patted the Knight on the shoulder. "Border Town doesn't care about background. As long as they don't violate the laws of the kingdom, they are still my subjects. If you're really worried, you can pick two more outstanding people to be captains. Anyway, the number of people in this team will expand in the future, so it's good to cultivate a few more potential ones now. By the way, I've already written the training regulations. Compared to the Sandman, I think you should pay more attention to this."

Carter took the parchment scroll from Roland and scanned it from beginning to end, and was immediately dumbfounded. The training content was unheard of—for example, taking everyone around Border Town in the afternoon, running from Deer Time (2 PM) until sunset. The regulations emphasized that everyone must complete this, mutual assistance was allowed, and if no one gave up, dinner would include an extra egg. Another example was blowing the assembly whistle as soon as Wolf Time passed, and having everyone dress and assemble in the fastest possible time. Doing this would probably cause the team to fall apart in a few days.

If the previous few articles were somewhat understandable, the last one completely confused Carter.

"Every day after dinner, the entire group will go to Mr. Karl's academy for cultural training."

"Your Highness... what does cultural training mean? You don't intend to teach them to read, do you?"

"I would hope so, but the time is too short. At most, it will only be enough to teach some simple words and numbers, enough to write orders. I will explain this part to Karl personally. You just need to take them there."

"But, why do you want to do this? This won't help at all in fighting against the evil beasts!"

"Who says it won't?" Roland yawned. "A team that is good at fighting must be a team with culture. This is a lesson learned from history."

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