Inside the White Company estate, a strict selection process was in full swing.
Vito had the roster brought over and gathered the slaves exactly as Tiberius ordered. They formed a loose, ragged line that made Tiberius frown.
"Open your mouth!" A mercenary snarled, smacking a slave across the cheek with his scabbard. "Wider!"
"How long have you been in the lime kiln?"
"Only three months…"
"What were you before? Born a slave, debt slave, or prisoner of war? Any skills? Tell the truth! I've got your information right here on the list!" the mercenary barked.
"Debt slave, sir! I used to be a blacksmith and a carpenter!" The lime-kiln slave almost dropped to his knees. "Sir, I'll pay you…"
"Shut the fuck up! Say one more useless word and I'll knock your teeth out! You'll spend the rest of your life drinking porridge and shitting water!" The mercenary threatened, waving his scabbard. "Why did you become a debt slave? Speak!"
"During the 96 AC border war, a mercenary company took a batch of weapons from me on credit with a governor's warrant. They said the city hall would pay… but they disappeared, and the office refused to reimburse me, saying the order wasn't valid. I couldn't pay it back… so I sold myself into slavery." The man mumbled. "Please, sir…"
"Enough. Shut up. Go stand in the left circle!"
After checking his teeth, the mercenary roughly sent the relatively young, strong slave to the left area.
The left circle was mostly filled with men like him—young and sturdy. They looked terrified, having no idea what fate awaited them.
"The numbers are still too low!" Tiberius stood at the edge, frowning at the count in the left group. "Out of the three hundred plus male slaves on the estate, only thirty or forty are fit to be soldiers?"
"Your requirements are fucking ridiculous!" Vito spat out the blade of grass he'd been chewing and grumbled.
"What's so ridiculous about them?" Tiberius frowned.
Vito snorted. "My 'Lightning General'! The fact that we even found this many who basically meet your ridiculous standards is already a miracle. You should be thanking the gods."
"Look at your list, kid. I think your brain's gone soft! You think this is picking pumpkins at the market or choosing calves in a pen? Look—young and strong means we automatically reject anyone over thirty! Has a wife and kids—that's doable, masters usually give slaves wives since the children become slaves too. Debt slaves—those are already rare. The clever ones found ways to buy their freedom or suck up to someone higher long ago! I heard some even sold their asses to get free!"
"Good teeth, good body: Ask any man who's worked a year in a lime kiln or quarry how many still have healthy lungs or working joints? Even the ones plowing fields get back and waist problems after a few years of crawling in the dirt! You think the estate is a military camp? With meat, vegetables, and nothing to do but train all day? We can only hope the work the master assigned them didn't turn them into hollow strongmen. The most ridiculous part is this!" Vito looked at Tiberius's list and gave a bitter laugh.
"Look at this! Skilled workers preferred: blacksmiths, carpenters, stonemasons—any master with half a brain keeps those as treasures or puts them in workshops. Even on our own estate, those types are usually doing lighter work. You think they'll willingly give up a relatively safe job to risk their lives? Only you would take them as soldiers!"
At that, Vito's face showed a trace of admiration.
"But you're ruthless enough to think ahead about people running away!"
He pointed to another area in the distance where many women, children, and elderly had been gathered. They were nervously receiving slightly better food than usual from the fierce-looking mercenaries. They kept thanking the men, then went to another open space to eat.
"You used the excuse of 'master's generous gift of food' to lure them here and are holding them as hostages! You call it a reward, but it's really just keeping them as bargaining chips, forcing their husbands and fathers to come be selected for your damn test! That's a dirty move, kid! Grabbing them by the softest spot and not letting go. Want food? Make your man come get picked!"
"But… it does work. I bet after this meal they'll be grateful to you! Tiberius, you little shit—you were born to be a lord! Ruthless enough, cold enough!"
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" Tiberius shot back.
"Better than calling you stupid and slow, right?" Vito rolled his eyes.
"Fair point." Tiberius accepted the "praise" without shame.
"Still not enough people though!" Tiberius frowned. "Bring in the single men too, especially the young hotheads. They might still have some fire left—they haven't given up yet!"
Vito shrugged. "Even then, we're still short! What now? Go sweep the market again? Our money isn't endless, and the 'good stock' like before is running low. That Haen family guy already complained that our requirements are too strict! At most, they'll send another twenty or so over the next few days!"
"We'll train with what we have first!" Tiberius let out a long breath. "We can worry about numbers later. We'll train these men hard, build a solid foundation. They'll become the backbone of our company!"
"Fine, kid. But I'll be honest—I'm really not optimistic about using slaves for this." Vito didn't hide his skepticism. "Even if you're holding their families hostage, even if you paint the biggest pie in the world…"
He pointed at the slaves who didn't dare make a sound in front of the mercenaries, his voice dripping with disdain.
"War is sometimes won on pure spirit! On that savage will to spill blood with the enemy! Look at them—they're soft! They're used to lowering their heads, used to enduring, used to swallowing every humiliation. I'm afraid the second they hear war drums and battle cries, the second they step on bloody corpses, all that long-suppressed cowardice will come flooding out! When that happens, the whole structure you worked so hard to build will collapse in an instant."
Tiberius listened to Vito's blunt, unpolished "veteran wisdom" and stayed silent for a moment.
Then he nodded seriously. "I understand, Vito. From now on, you and the veteran sergeants will personally handle the selection. Teeth, physique, old injuries… use exactly the standards you mentioned. We want soldiers who can fight, not filler."
Vito saw that Tiberius was listening and looked satisfied. "That's more like it! Let's go, 'Lightning Kid.' We've got a lot of work ahead. Picking men is harder than killing them!"
"By the way, Tiberius, do you mind if I put you in my latest story?"
"Oh? What story?" Tiberius asked confidently. "Is it 'Lightning Kid Outsmarts the Second Son's Company' or 'Clever Schemes and Brilliant Mind—Lightning Tiberius Makes His Name in Lys'?"
Vito grinned, showing a wicked smile.
"The title is 'The Mercenary Young Master Bullies an Honest Merchant'! Kid, look at your methods: threats and bribes, soft and hard tactics, then dropping your name to pressure him… If that's not a young master being an asshole, I don't know what is!"