NOVEL NEXT Chapter 6: Forging an Army
Chapter 6: Forging an Army
The aftermath of the Ironborn raid lingered over Sunblode Isle like a storm cloud. The victory had been decisive, but Ivar knew it wasn't enough. The Ironborn had been arrogant and careless, but his enemies wouldn't always be so foolish.
Standing on the gatehouse overlooking the village, Ivar watched the villagers move about their daily tasks. They were a resilient people, but resilience wouldn't save them from the next attack. He needed an army—not just a handful of enhanced soldiers, but a disciplined, well-trained force capable of defending the island against any threat.
Timothy Sunrise joined him, his steps soft against the wooden planks. "You've been quiet since the battle," he said, his tone probing. "Planning something, I assume?"
Ivar nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "We can't rely on luck and ambushes to protect us. We need an army. A real one."
Timothy tilted his head. "We've already got a good start with the enhanced soldiers. What more do you need?"
Ivar turned to face him, his expression sharp. "Ten soldiers a day isn't enough. They're powerful, yes, but they can't be everywhere at once. If we're going to build something lasting, we need numbers, discipline, and strategy."
The First Recruitment
The following day, Ivar summoned the villagers to the square. They gathered hesitantly, murmuring among themselves as they waited for their lord to speak. The Ironborn raid was fresh in their minds, and many still bore the bruises and cuts from the battle.
Ivar stood on a raised platform, his enhanced soldiers flanking him. Timothy stood just behind him, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd.
"People of Sunblode Isle," Ivar began, his voice carrying over the square. "You saw what happened when the Ironborn came for us. They thought we were weak. They thought they could take what's ours."
The crowd murmured in agreement, their faces hardening at the memory.
"But we proved them wrong," Ivar continued. "We showed them that this island is not to be trifled with. And now, we will ensure that no one dares threaten us again."
He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the villagers. "I'm calling on you—every able-bodied man and woman—to join me in building something greater. Together, we will forge an army, one that will protect this island and ensure our prosperity."
A hand shot up in the crowd. It belonged to a wiry young man with a scar running down his cheek. "With respect, my lord, most of us aren't fighters. We're farmers, fishermen. How are we supposed to be soldiers?"
Ivar smiled faintly. "You don't have to be warriors overnight. Training takes time, but with discipline and determination, anyone can learn to fight. And you won't be doing it alone."
He gestured to the enhanced soldiers beside him. "These men and women will train you. They are the best fighters in Westeros, and they will make you strong."
Another voice called out, this time from an older woman near the back of the crowd. "And what happens to the fields while we're training? If we don't plant and harvest, we'll starve."
Ivar nodded, acknowledging the concern. "We'll find a balance. Training won't take you away from your work entirely, but it will prepare you to defend your homes. This is about survival, not just for us, but for the generations to come."
The crowd murmured among themselves, the hesitation slowly giving way to determination.
"Who will stand with me?" Ivar asked, his voice ringing out.
One by one, hands began to rise.
The Training Begins
Duncan Greenfield, Ivar's head trainer, wasted no time organizing the recruits. They were divided into small groups, each led by one of the enhanced soldiers. The training was grueling—hours of drills, sparring, and exercises that pushed the villagers to their limits.
At first, progress was slow. The recruits fumbled with their weapons, stumbled over their formations, and groaned under the weight of their armor. But under the watchful eyes of the enhanced soldiers, they began to improve.
Ivar observed the training sessions from a distance, his arms crossed as he watched Duncan bark orders at the recruits. Timothy stood beside him, a faint smirk on his face.
"They're rough," Timothy said. "But they've got spirit."
"They'll need more than spirit," Ivar replied. "Discipline is what wins battles. Spirit fades, but discipline endures."
Timothy glanced at him. "You sound like you've done this before."
Ivar didn't answer. He couldn't explain the memories of a life spent studying the wars and strategies of another world. Instead, he focused on the recruits, his mind already working on how to mold them into something formidable.
A Weapon for the Future
That night, Ivar summoned the cheat system once more.
[Daily Points: 10. Use them wisely.]
He navigated to the Training category and selected Basic Combat Techniques – 10 Points. Instantly, a rush of knowledge filled his mind—detailed instructions on swordsmanship, archery, and hand-to-hand combat.
He also selected Advanced Training Ground – 10 Points, using two days' worth of points to create a facility that would push his recruits to their limits.
The next morning, the villagers gathered at the edge of the forest, where the training ground now stood. It was a sprawling facility, complete with sparring rings, archery ranges, and obstacle courses. The recruits stared in awe, their skepticism giving way to excitement.
"This," Ivar said, addressing the group, "is where you'll become more than just villagers. This is where you'll become soldiers."
The First Drill
The enhanced soldiers led the recruits through a series of drills, demonstrating techniques and correcting mistakes. Ivar walked among them, offering advice and encouragement where needed.
"You're holding the sword too tight," he said to a young woman struggling with her swings. "Relax your grip. Let the weapon do the work."
The woman nodded, adjusting her stance and finding a rhythm.
Nearby, Timothy watched with a faint smile. "You've got a knack for this," he said. "You ever think about leading the drills yourself?"
Ivar smirked. "I'll leave that to Duncan. My job is to make sure we're ready for what's coming."
A Test of Strength
After weeks of training, Ivar decided it was time to test the recruits. He organized a mock battle, pitting the villagers against a team of enhanced soldiers. The goal wasn't to win—it was to survive.
The recruits fought with determination, their movements clumsy but improving. They held their formations, used their shields to block strikes, and worked together to outmaneuver their opponents.
When the battle ended, Ivar addressed the recruits. "You've come far," he said. "But there's still work to be done. Remember: discipline is the key to victory. Trust your training, trust each other, and you'll be unstoppable."
A Growing Force
By the end of the month, Sunblode Isle had a standing force of 200 trained soldiers. They were far from perfect, but they were improving every day. And with the enhanced soldiers leading them, they were already a force to be reckoned with.
Ivar stood on the gatehouse once more, watching his soldiers drill in the courtyard below. Timothy joined him, his expression thoughtful.
"You've done it," Timothy said. "You've turned this village into something powerful."
Ivar nodded. "It's a start. But there's still a long way to go. We'll need more soldiers, more resources, and more alliances if we're going to survive what's coming."
Timothy smirked. "Whatever's coming, I'd bet on you."
Ivar's gaze hardened. "Good. Because I don't intend to lose."