NOVEL NEXT Ch. 12
Chapter 12: Should One Suffer Oneself or Let Others Suffer?
“This... these are your soldiers? How did you train them?! And their weapons look rather strange, I’ve never seen anything like them. Are those sticks all staves? They don’t seem like it either.”
Not to mention Videl’s surprise, even the officers behind him nearly had their jaws drop in shock.
Neat movements, upright posture, and not a sound of noise or commotion during assembly—this kind of demeanor was absolutely worthy of being called an elite force no matter where it was placed!
Mitia nodded in acknowledgment and said, “They are indeed my army, but they are also the army of all the common people of the Astal territory. These soldiers are their children and their husbands.”
As for the questions about training and weapons, Mitia chose not to speak further.
Firearms were not something that could be explained away with words—the flames bursting from the muzzle were more convincing than any explanation.
The newest generation of percussion-cap rifles produced by the armory was now being formally and widely equipped in the army.
The paper cartridges they fired could easily penetrate the armor of traditional cavalry, and even magical shields could not withstand them under multiple hits.
Of course, cannons had also been produced, which were in fact simpler to make than rifles.
However, due to materials and workmanship still not meeting standards, what they had for now were horse-drawn heavy cannons, with extremely low mobility.
At present, Mitia’s army was organized as follows: one squad consisted of 9–12 men.
Four squads made a company, around 40–50 men.
Four companies formed a battalion, around 150–200 men.
Three battalions formed a regiment, around 600–800 men.
Three regiments, plus a cavalry regiment and an artillery regiment, made up a division of about 5,000–6,000 men.
And Mitia’s total standing force now was exactly four divisions, of which two newly formed divisions had not yet completed training and rearmament.
A standing force of 20,000 men was already the very limit that the Astal territory could support in peacetime.
Five years had brought about earth-shaking changes for the Astal territory.
The first was land distribution.
The “flag” that Mitia had once set up could not be fully achieved.
The first step, full nationalization of land—making all land property of the Astal territory—was indeed accomplished.
But when it came to redistribution, she ran into problems.
Who should be given land? Who should go first? Who would get the better plots and who the worse?
Land was not limitless, but population growth was exponential.
If land were divided evenly, there would inevitably come a day when there was none left to divide, and inequities would arise.
So she chose to set strict limits from the very beginning: only families with members in military service could be allocated land, and regardless of rank or position, only one plot per person.
A direct family’s upper limit was three plots if three members served, with twenty years of tax exemption.
Ordinary commoners had to rent land from the territory for farming.
Tax rent was dynamically set at ten percent of the land’s yield.
Likewise, there were restrictions: a family of three could rent only one plot, a family of six could rent two, and so forth, up to a maximum of three plots.
No rewards tied to land were ever granted—only honor and monetary compensation.
The limitation and nationalization of land was to prevent annexation.
Land distribution was also set according to the minimum survival standards of what one family could produce, serving as a safety guarantee for ordinary people.
Upstream fertilizer production and grain purchasing were monopolized under direct official control; individual merchants could not engage in those industries.
With sulphur fertilizer and bone meal fertilizer plus crop rotation, a single plot could sustain a household.
It left little surplus, but survival was never an issue.
As for getting rich, one should not even think about achieving it through grain or land—not even commoners.
They had to engage in other work: joining the army, factory work, and so forth.
After five years, the self-sufficiency of ore reserves made Astal’s industrial transformation highly successful.
Numerous factories created ample employment.
The porcelain industry chain, after years of trials and refinements, had already produced all kinds of porcelain that became wildly popular among the nobility of surrounding nations, while pottery entered the homes of thousands within the territory.
Factories powered by large steam engines driving steam-powered textile machines had also begun construction, creating new employment opportunities for the women of the territory.
Unlike porcelain, which targeted the high-end market, the textile industry was a mass-market foundation, touching every corner of livelihood and addressing the kingdom’s most basic civil needs.
Once the supply of raw materials like cotton was secured, the mass production of steam-powered textiles from Astal would soon crush the related industries within the kingdom.
For one’s life to improve, another’s must worsen.
The total amount of resources was fixed.
It was destined that others would have to suffer.
At that time, wars between them would be inevitable.
She knew very well that fighting for one’s own interests and rights was a completely different motivation from fighting for a lord’s ideals and wealth.
That was why Mitia had been methodically stacking buffs upon them.
With railways now opening up Astal’s transportation lines, the territory had become nothing less than a war machine waiting to be activated.
All she had to do was sit tight with her title and watch the situation develop, waiting for the other lords of Ovinia to finally lose patience and stir up war—waiting for them to give her a justified excuse.
But before that, one hidden danger remained: Videl and the three-thousand-strong army under his command.
That was why she came to Uruk City today to meet him.
“......”
“This feeling... is truly strange. You are also very frightening!”
Videl and Mitia sat alone in a specially made carriage, quietly listening to the rhythmic clattering as the train wheels struck the joints of the rails.
At the same time, they looked out the glass windows at the passing scenery, and at the more than ten cargo carriages linked behind.
After a long time, Videl finally sighed.
Only now did he truly feel the meaning of this colossal thing’s existence.
It could transport people, it could transport goods, its carrying capacity was terrifying, and its speed was not slow.
On top of that, with the demonstration Mitia had shown earlier of transporting an entire regiment, wariness naturally grew in his heart.
The girl across from him put down her teacup and brushed aside her silver hair.
“Grandpa Videl, I am only protecting myself. The Ovinia royal family holds no trustworthiness in my eyes.”
“Heh, so that’s why you let your troops call you Commander, meaning Supreme Commander?”
Videl chuckled lightly.
Looking at her calm violet eyes, his interest quickly waned again:
“From your reaction, I assume you’ve already guessed.”
“Your grandfather was indeed forced by the old king to go to his death. He was far too young, and also clever, charismatic, and his legion was undefeated in battle. Meanwhile, the old king’s days were numbered...”
“At the time, the old king personally ordered that his descendants be treated well. So... let it go, Mitia.”
“Then what about my father and the Astal troops he led? Why did none of them survive either?”
“I remember the kingdom’s battle report said my grandfather advanced alone and was surrounded and killed. But what about the legion my father commanded? If not for the Youth Army’s toughness, the Astal territory might have been breached right then.”
Seeing Videl’s hesitant expression, tinged with guilt, Mitia instantly understood.
She even saw that deep down, Videl himself had supported the old king’s decision back then.
The veins bulged on her hand holding the teacup, which she silently crushed to powder.
She slammed the table, and the dark-red tea, mixed with beast milk, splattered all over.
She had always suspected there was more to Ackerman’s abandoning city defenses and launching that offensive against Paria, but she had not expected the methods to be this vile.
So much for “treating the descendants well”—by leaving only widows and orphans, was that it?
Now Mitia could faintly feel her grandfather’s rage and sorrow from back then.
She could not help but let out a furious laugh:
“I understand what you mean, but you all seem to have missed one point. If my grandfather truly had rebel intentions, you would never have been able to influence the will of a quasi-Sanctuary mage!”
“These despicable tricks only work on loyal subjects. So does that mean good men deserve to be held at staff-point?!”
In the other two carriages, soldiers from both sides heard the commotion and rushed in, glaring at each other.
But Mitia’s soldiers reacted strangely—they all pointed those stick-like things at them.
One of Videl’s officers seemed eager to show off, secretly pulling out his staff to chant a spell.
But before he could finish the second verse, one of the men behind Mitia pulled the trigger.
“Ding!”
The hammer wrapped around a small magic crystal struck down with a crisp sound, the noise clear in the quiet carriage, followed by a sudden elemental surge.
“Bang!”