š”ļøĀ Chapter 23: Militia
š May 1, 99 BCE ā Late Spring š¼
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The village needed a militia. Because peace? It's a liar. And nobody here was ever going to be caught off guard again. From the very first day, they dove ināno hesitation, no half-measures. Every man over thirteen was drafted; no arguments allowed. Women, too, unless they were tending infants. If you could hold a spear, a sword, or a bow, you were in the ranks. No fancy uniformsājust padded jerkins, bronze-plate bracers, and a burning desire not to get enslaved again.
"Over thirteen, I said," Junjie barked, eyeing a boy who looked barely eleven. The boy puffed out his chest. "I can throw a sling stone straighter than Gao!" From the training circle, Gao yelled back, "You couldn't hit a goat at ten steps!" Laughter rippled through the ranks. The younger boys trained with wooden staves and weighted slings, building reflexes and strength. Older teens worked in groups, practicing shield formations and sparring drills with real metalādulled, but still dangerous.
The women were deadlier with a bow than most men with a sword. Every woman not tending infants had a spot in the archery ring. Morning and afternoon drills, short bronze or iron swords on the hipājust in case the line got too close. "Drawā¦ holdā¦ release!" called out Old Jinhai, overseeing the range. The volley hit the straw dummies square in the chest. He gave a rare grin. "If a raider sneezes out there, he's already dead." No illusions: if a raider thought he could snatch a village girl, he'd end up with an arrow in his throat and a knife in his gut.
āļø Weapons and TrainingJunjie oversaw much of it, especially weapons crafting. Swords, spears, bows, and even a few wicked-looking polearms came out of the forge faster than you'd believe. Nano juiced everythingāsteel cleaner and sharper, bows reinforced with heat-treated sinew for extra kick. "Try this one," Junjie said, handing a spear to Chengde. His father gave it an experimental thrust, eyebrows raising. "Lighter," Chengde muttered. "And sharper. This will punch through armor." Junjie only shrugged. "So long as it works."
Nano also ran strength and endurance scans on each villager, tweaking their training plans with unsettling precision. Those immunity-boosting viruses he'd seeded during the winter flu? Turns out they also bumped up reflexes, stamina, and muscle growth. By the end of two weeks of intense drills, everyone holding a blade felt like a low-key superhero.
Nano whispered, "Peasants with pitchforks, my processors. Farmers last season, now they'd give mercenaries a nosebleed."
The drills were no joke: two hours a day, rain or shine. Mud? Suck it up. Blisters? Pop 'em and keep swinging. Nano even built animated wooden dummiesārudimentary but mobile enough to force quick reactions. "Don't think of them as wood," Junjie told the sparring teens as the dummies lurched forward. "Think of them as slavers. Slavers don't stop unless you make them." One girl's strike split the dummy's shoulder. She spat on the ground. "That one won't be taking anyone's sister."
š¹ Tactics and FormationsThen came formation training. Shields in front, spears behind. Two-row phalanx tactics, quick dispersals, rotating flanks. Archers practiced volley fire on signalāthree tones on a horn or a whistle callāand shot at moving straw dummies dragged across the field on ropes. "Front rank, brace!" Junjie shouted. The crash of shields locking together echoed through the field. "Second rankāspears forward!" The line surged like a wall of teeth.
Every drill ended with the village bell tower ringing twice to mark a return to daily life. A shiny bronze bell, salvaged from slaver loot and polished to a gleam, sat atop a timber-and-stone tower near the village square. If it rang three times in rapid succession? Everyone dropped what they were doing. Battle stations. "Don't forget that sound," Junjie told them after a long day. "One day, it'll mean the difference between dinner in your homes and chains around your necks."
š„ Morale and SpiritAnd the villagers? They were loving it. Maybe not the early morning runs or the blackened fingers from bowstrings, but the confidence. The fire. For the first time since the slaver raid, people looked outward without fear. Some of the younger warriors carved symbols into their bracersāa wolf, a flame, a hawkāpersonal totems, family marks. A declaration: We are not prey anymore. "You're not just a boy anymore, Shen," one of the older men said, clapping his son on the shoulder as he traced a hawk into his bracer. Shen squared his shoulders. "Then no one crosses it."
To keep skills sharp, sparring tournaments ran every ten days. Wooden weapons only, but the stakes were highābest quarters in the bathhouse, extra rations, bragging rights for days. Lianhua brewed a salve to treat bruises and sprains by nightfall. It smelled like death but worked miracles. "Lose with honor, win with humility," Lianhua scolded when two fighters started bragging after a match. Then she shoved a pot of salve in their hands. "Now rub this on before you can't lift your arms tomorrow."
In Junjie's head, Nano muttered, "The next raiding party's going into a meat grinder. Almost makes me feel bad. Almost."
And behind it all was Junjieāquiet, observant, tweaking weapons, balancing match-ups, letting Nano analyze everyone's form like a futuristic coach. No ego. No drama. Just relentless improvement. Buildings were up. Granaries full. Peace on the surface. But underneath? Steel. Real steel. And no one would ever take this village by surprise again.