The Rise Of An Empire In Ancient Europe-Chapter 127: Recruits and Training (Part II)

"Like the instructor?" Arsinis laughed. "If so, could you even stay at home, Melisanda? ’Get up, run now... Melisanda, stop eating, spar with me... Melisanda, carry this rock and run ten laps around the courtyard!’" Arsinis exaggeratedly imitated Matonis’s stern tone.

"If you’d like, I could tell the instructor what you just said. Let’s see who ends up carrying that rock for ten laps!" Melisanda retorted with mock seriousness.

Arsinis quickly pleaded for mercy, and Melisanda let him off the hook.

Arsinis then asked, "Are we really preparing to attack the Lucanians?"

"Do you think we’re training this hard just to defend Amendolara?" Melisanda scoffed. "That would be such a waste of our strength!"

"Hey, do you think—" Arsinis grew excited. "If we conquer Lucanian lands, could I take a Lucanian woman as my wife? I’ve seen many new citizens’ Lucanian wives lately—tall, robust, and hardworking.

They have a charm different from Greek women..."

"You’re thinking about that already? Isn’t it a bit early?" Melisanda asked, surprised.

"I’m not like you. My house is empty—it’s just me..." Arsinis’s voice dropped.

"Then let’s train hard together, defeat the Lucanians, and both take Lucanian wives to build big families!" Melisanda encouraged him.

"Right! Let’s work hard together!" Arsinis gripped Melisanda’s hand firmly.

After lunch, the recruits had a brief rest before being summoned again for afternoon training.

The session began with personal combat training. Recruits worked in groups of three: one held a round shield in their left hand and a heavier, longer wooden staff in their right, simulating a spear.

While the shields were meant to be heavier, resource constraints limited them to lighter wooden shields for now.

Arsinis noticed that his staff was thicker than others and that his training partners had been swapped for two stronger recruits.

He glanced at the supervising instructor, Matonis, with a questioning look.

Matonis shot him a stern glance and said, "If you want to become a warrior, you must train harder!"

Now, Arsinis understood Consul Juleios’s earlier words. He said nothing and quietly accepted the challenge.

The training began with Arsinis launching the first attack. With a loud shout, he charged with his shield, slamming into the "enemy" in front of him.

A loud "clang" echoed as the "enemy" staggered. Arsinis quickly jabbed his staff, tipped with lime powder for marking, at the shield of a second "enemy" behind the first.

His movements had to be swift; if the first "enemy" recovered too quickly, they would block his attack.

Each recruit rotated between attacking and defending, completing ten attack cycles before taking a short break.

Then came the lunging strike exercise, which required the recruits to step forward and strike a humanoid target’s head accurately.

Those whose shields were struck the most during previous exercises faced doubled training loads.

After ten sets of lunging strikes, the recruits switched to shorter wooden staves that simulated swords.

Arsinis’s new staff was again thicker than the others, but this time he didn’t question it. The exercise followed the same rotation format, but the shorter staff forced recruits to use greater strength to break through the front "enemy" and attack the second.

The next training phase involved wooden humanoid targets.

First, each recruit used their wooden staff to hammer the thick wooden targets into the ground until they stood firm.

Then, wielding their shields and staves, they practiced striking the targets’ "heads," "faces," "ribs," "knees," and even the backs of their "legs," simulating real combat scenarios.

Under the strict supervision of Matonis, they alternated between retreating and advancing, delivering strikes and thrusts.

By the time all exercises were completed, the recruits were utterly exhausted, their limbs numb.

Matonis addressed them: "Your performance today was better than last time! I suppose you’ve been practicing at home every day?" ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

"Yes..." the recruits replied weakly.

"Good! If you keep training like this, you’ll soon become qualified Amendolaran heavy infantry," Matonis said with a rare smile.

"Next, we’ve added a new training module. You’ll rejoin your respective units and practice formation drills with the veteran soldiers."

Shortly after Matonis finished speaking, the camp bugle sounded. Urged on by Matonis, the recruits donned their full gear and grabbed their shields and spears.

After training with heavier staves, the spears felt incredibly light. Arsinis recalled Matonis’s explanation during their first training session: "When you train with heavier staves, the actual weapons you wield in battle will feel lighter.

You’ll fight with greater ease and vigor."

Arsinis couldn’t help but compare the rigorous training he was undergoing to the sporadic and light drills he had watched his father participate in as a citizen-soldier.

Back then, training sessions were held only a few times a year and consisted of simple formation marches and one-on-one sparring.

The current training was far more intense, complex, and relentless.

With each grueling exercise, Arsinis felt himself transforming, sharpening his skills and hardening his resolve.

He was no longer just a young man inheriting a legacy; he was on his way to becoming a warrior who would honor his family’s name and fight for Amendolara.

Arsinis couldn’t help but laugh as he joked with Melisanda, "If your stepfather were like our instructor, Matonis, could you even survive at home? ’Melisanda, get up and run... Melisanda, stop eating and spar with me... Melisanda, carry this rock and run ten laps around the courtyard!’" He mimicked Matonis’s tone with exaggerated expressions.

"If you keep this up, I might just tell the instructor what you said.

Then let’s see who ends up carrying that rock for ten laps," Melisanda replied with mock seriousness.

Arsinis quickly begged for mercy, and Melisanda let him off the hook.

After lunch, the recruits were soon summoned again. Arsinis and Melisanda were not in the same company, so he didn’t have time to say goodbye before rushing off to find his assigned unit—3rd Company of the 3rd Battalion.

He recalled Matonis mentioning that the company commander, Georgilos was a gentle-tempered man and a former tentmate of Matonis.

"He shouldn’t be stricter than Matonis," Arsinis thought, comforted by the idea.

However, with thousands of men moving at once, the training ground was soon shrouded in dust.

Arsinis struggled to locate his unit, searching desperately for the bright red company flags. As his anxiety grew, he finally spotted the correct flag and rushed over.

When he arrived, Sub-commander Trotiades immediately reprimanded him, "Soldier, you’re late! Considering this is your first day, I won’t punish you, but let’s not have a repeat."

"Yes, sir!" Arsinis replied quickly. Under Trotiades’s direction, he took his place in the ranks.

A man in his early thirties approached him with a kind expression and said, "I’m Kritipus, your squad leader."

"Good day, Squad Leader!" Arsinis greeted him respectfully.

Kritipus looked him over and said, "Not bad! You’re a strong young man. Are you a new recruit?"

"Yes," Arsinis replied.

"An original citizen of Amendolara?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. Which instructor trained you?"

"Matonis."

"What?! That madman!" Kritipus exclaimed.

"You know Instructor Matonis?" Arsinis asked.

"I used to be in his company.

Because of my excellent performance, I was reassigned to the 3rd Battalion during the recent reorganization.

Matonis didn’t want to let me go, but Georgilos, being his friend, insisted on taking me, and here I am.

Now I meet one of Matonis’s students—fate must have arranged this!" Kritipus said dramatically. In truth, Matonis had gladly let Kritipus go because of his incessant chatter.

"Don’t worry; I’ll take good care of you!" Kritipus said sincerely.

"Thank you, Squad Leader!" Arsinis replied gratefully.

"Stop chatting and prepare for training!" Trotiades called out from the front of the squad.

"Got it!" Kritipus replied, muttering under his breath, "If I’d been with Juleios from the start, I’d be a company commander by now..."

Hearing this, Arsinis felt a bit uneasy.

The soldier beside him whispered, "Our squad leader loves to talk, but he’s a good man."

"Let’s hope so," Arsinis thought.

The afternoon training focused on basic coordination.

Since the previous exercises had been grueling, the squad training was relatively light, involving small phalanx drills and slow marches to familiarize soldiers with one another.

For the veteran soldiers in the 1st Battalion, this was a casual recovery exercise, as they were already well-acquainted.

However, for the 3rd Battalion, a newly formed unit, it was essential as most of its members were unfamiliar with each other.

Unlike traditional Greek city-states, where soldiers were randomly assigned to units before battle to prevent undue camaraderie that could disrupt political order, Juleios believed in fixed military teams.

This approach fostered cohesion, honor, and teamwork, leading to stronger and more unified combat units.

While officers had limited terms to prevent them from gaining undue influence over their soldiers, the policy of rotating officers had yet to be implemented.

Arsinis couldn’t help but reflect on how different the training was compared to what he had seen as a child. His father’s citizen-soldier drills, held only occasionally, involved simple marching and one-on-one sparring.

In contrast, the current training was far more demanding, complex, and relentless.

Each exercise built on the last, pushing the recruits to their limits and molding them into disciplined warriors.

As the sun began to set, Arsinis felt the weight of his gear, the ache in his muscles, and the exhaustion in his body.

Yet, he also felt a growing sense of pride and determination. He was no longer just a spectator; he was part of something greater, training to become a soldier who could defend Amendolara and carry forward his father’s legacy.

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