Tiberius smiled.
He had known Lysaro would hesitate, but he'd already prepared the perfect counter.
Second-in-command?
No. In this new company, Tiberius Mord would be number one and no one else.
Training this force had to be done his way.
"Don't worry, Lysaro. I basically grew up inside the White Company camp. I know exactly how to train men, how to keep discipline, how to turn them into real fighters. I watched Uncle Jules do it every single day—how the veteran hundred-captains started from small-unit drills and built up. It's all burned into my head!"
"Besides," Tiberius saw the doubt in Lysaro's eyes and struck while the iron was hot.
"Besides, you wanted an experienced captain? Uncle Jules has plenty of them. I can use my connections in the White Company to bring in a few reliable old veterans as drill instructors. They know formations, commands, and killing up close—real professionals. Much better than hiring some random sellsword captain whose background you don't even know, right?"
He lowered his voice dramatically.
"You never know—some of those bastards take your money, train the troops for a few months, then disappear with the whole company. The employer gets screwed. And with the Volantis war coming… if you hire the wrong man…"
He let the sentence hang, letting the young lords fill in the nightmare scenarios themselves.
"White Company veterans…" Lysaro muttered. The hesitation in his eyes was clearly fading.
"The Honorable" Jules's reputation was pure gold in Lys. His veterans were far more trustworthy than the average street mercenaries.
Plus, of course Tiberius could get them. He was Jules's nephew—who the hell would dare say no to "Lightning Kid" Tiberius to his face?
At that moment, the other noble sons—who had already been riled up by Mario's arrogance and Tiberius's perfect stirring—jumped in to support him.
"We can't let them beat us! Lysaro, let Tiberius train the company—we'll answer the challenge!"
"Yeah, White Company veterans are way more reliable than random hires!"
"That bastard Mario is so arrogant it's like someone shoved horse shit under his nose! This time we have to slap his face hard!"
"Fine! Tiberius, you have my permission. Train me a real iron-blooded company! I want it to shake the entire Three Daughters! Most importantly, I want to see Mario Ferrero's face swollen like a pig's ass. I want him crawling away in shame!" Finally swayed by the crowd, Lysaro slammed his decision down.
"Let's do it!"
[Plan successful!]
Tiberius cheered inwardly, but on the surface he only gave a calm, respectful smile.
"Thank you for trusting me. I will turn this company into a force that makes every power in Lys tremble!"
"Oh, right—I'll give you three thousand… no! Eight thousand gold dragons. I'll have the money sent to you tomorrow!"
---
Back at the White Company camp, Jules sat behind a rough wooden table, carefully sharpening the edges of his twin longswords with a whetstone. The rhythmic shhh-shhh filled the tent.
When Tiberius walked in, Jules didn't look up, but his hands slowed slightly.
"Tiberius," Jules's deep voice broke the silence. "I hear you're helping that Rogare boy put together some toy mercenary company called the… 'Lightning Company'?"
Tiberius's heart tightened. He knew he couldn't hide this from his uncle, and he hadn't planned to.
He answered honestly: "Yes, Uncle. Lysaro needs a proper force to answer Mario Ferrero's challenge. It's about House Rogare's face, and… it's also me repaying a favor." He paused, then added, "Is there a problem? I was planning to borrow a few men from you. If you don't want me to, I'll find another way."
Jules finally stopped sharpening. He lifted his gray eyes and stared at Tiberius sharply. "What kind of troops are you planning to train? How much budget did Lysaro give you? I hope you're smart enough not to create one of those silk-robed, pretty-sword ceremonial guard companies."
Tiberius knew exactly what Jules meant—those flashy units that only looked good on parade and would collapse the second real fighting started.
He answered smoothly: "Core will be crossbowmen and spearmen. Spearmen form up fast and are the backbone of any army. Most battles are decided by them. Crossbowmen are expensive to equip, but Lysaro's paying, so I'm not worried. I'll probably add some light infantry for screening and patrols. If the budget allows, a few scout cavalry for reconnaissance and chasing off enemy skirmishers. As for budget…"
Tiberius smiled. "Lysaro said anything under five thousand gold is within his authority. He'll also cover food, weapons, and training grounds. I just need to produce a company that can actually fight… or at least smash Mario Ferrero's face in."
He added, "And I won't have to worry about interference from Lord Lysandro…"
At that, Tiberius gave a small smile. "I heard at the last Triarch Council meeting, Gastor Ferrero publicly humiliated him. He's still fuming."
Jules listened quietly, fingers tapping the flat of his sword as he weighed everything. The only sound was the soft crackle of charcoal in the brazier. Finally, he made his decision and let out a heavy breath.
"Here's what we'll do," Jules said with iron finality. "I'll lend you Vito and Old Tom for a while. I'll also pick out a few more veterans from each company—men who've licked blood off their blades for at least five years, whose brains aren't completely pickled by wine, and whose bodies haven't been ruined by whores. They'll be your core."
The offer shocked Tiberius. Vito was the crossbow captain, Old Tom one of the best spear leaders. Both were proven officers who could run their own units.
He had only hoped for permission to borrow one or two regular veterans. He never expected this level of support.
"Vito runs his mouth and his head is full of bad poetry, flowery writing, and filthy stories. But he can read and keep books. Besides training your crossbowmen, he can serve as your second. Old Tom is an old campaigner and a gambling addict—that flaw won't change. Other than that, he's one of the best spear hundred-captains alive. He knows how to form lines, how to make spearmen into a moving hedgehog that can stop cavalry charges, how to keep formation in a melee, how to march under arrow fire right into the enemy's face. He knows it all cold!"
"Plus, he's loyal to me. He won't get bought off by Lysaro's pocket change. And Old Tom is mean enough to play the bad cop when you need it."
Tiberius couldn't hide his shock. "Uncle… I thought you'd want to stay away from this. After all, we just accepted so many rewards from Lord Lysandro. Our relationship is already closer than a normal employer-mercenary one. If I help his son train a private army now, won't people say…"
"Say what?" Jules cut him off with a cold laugh full of mockery and barely-contained anger.
He slammed one sword onto the table and stood up, his shadow stretching huge across the tent wall. "Right now, anyone in Lys with eyes and ears already thinks it! They're all whispering behind our backs that 'the Honorable' Jules has been bought by the Lysene governor with gold dragons and estates, and the White Company is about to become Lysandro's private army!"
"I've got yellow mud in my crotch now—whether it's shit or not, I can't explain it away! Damn it, no need to guess—this was definitely Lysandro's doing! Cultural offensive… cultural offensive… Kid, your little cultural campaign has finally come back to bite me in the ass!"
His voice echoed through the tent, thick with pent-up frustration.
After venting, he calmed down a little and looked at Tiberius with his usual cold, deep gaze. "Since we can't avoid it, we might as well lean into it. But even if we become his 'private army,' we'll be the sharpest, most useful blade he has—not some rusty decoration hanging on the wall. Lysaro showing some brains by letting you train this force is better than him hiring random crooks and charlatans."
"That's why I'm giving you Vito and Old Tom. They know how to forge real fighting men. With them helping you, this 'Lightning Company' won't be some fragile parade unit full of idiots who only know how to shout about 'courage' and 'glory.'"
He said seriously: "This isn't just helping Lysaro. It's helping ourselves. Let all of Lys see that the White Company is still a real, battle-hardened outfit that gets shit done. If you embarrass yourself, you embarrass the entire White Company. Understand?"
Tiberius looked at the complicated expression in his uncle's eyes and nodded heavily. "I understand, Uncle."
Jules clapped him on the shoulder, hard enough to sting. "Go on then. Do it right. Don't tarnish the name 'Lightning Kid,' and don't tarnish the White Company's reputation."