The next day….
Jade's crew trudged toward the training yard behind the blacksmith's shop. The others looked just as rough, their faces a mix of exhaustion.
"Torvald's gonna eat us alive," Nathaniel muttered, clutching his rusty sickle. "Did you see that guy's scars? He's probably killed more bandits than we've killed wheat stalks."
"He's just gonna show us how to swing better. I'm basically a pro already." Numerius said, twirling his bent pitchfork like it was a prize spear.
Yuzon rolled his eyes, his UI flickering briefly as he checked it. "You missed half your swings yesterday, Num. If Torvald's a real soldier, he's not gonna be impressed."
Mataranas, lumbering along, nodded. "Grandma said he fought in some big war. Doesn't like slackers." He patted his empty belt, where his makeshift plank-shield used to be. "Hope he's got something better than wood."
Jade kept quiet, his mind racing. This felt like Bannerlord's early-game grind, but the stakes were real, and his One-Handed Weapons skill wasn't exactly screaming "hero." They needed to level up, fast, or the next bandit raid would turn them into medieval kebabs.
The training yard was a patchy clearing behind the blacksmith's shop, bordered by a low wooden fence. Straw-stuffed dummies stood in a row, their burlap faces stitched into crude scowls. Torvald was already there, leaning against a post, sharpening his dagger with slow, deliberate scrapes. His scarred face looked even meaner in the daylight. A pile of worn weapons, spears, clubs, and a few dented shields, lay nearby, looking more like scrap than gear.
"You're late," Torvald grunted, not looking up from his dagger.. "Thought you'd sleep through the day, like usual."
Jade blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, sorry, we… got held up." He glanced at the others, who shrugged. Apparently, their "village selves" had a reputation for slacking.
Torvald stood, sheathing his dagger with a practiced flick. "Held up, eh? By what, your own laziness?" He stepped closer, eyeing them like a wolf sizing up lambs. "Elder says you're militia now, after that stunt with the bandits. Lucky swings, I reckon. Let's see if you're worth the dirt you're standing on."
Nathaniel gulped, his sickle trembling in his hand. "We're, uh, ready to learn, sir."
"Sir?" Torvald snorted, a smirk tugging at his scars. "Save that for lords. I'm just the fool stuck training you lot. Now, grab something from that pile and line up. We're starting with basics, don't stab yourselves."
The group scrambled to the pile, picking through the sorry assortment. Jade grabbed a short spear, its tip dull but less pathetic than his dagger. Numerius hefted a heavy club, grinning like he'd found a treasure. Yuzon picked a battered shortbow with a frayed string, testing its pull with a frown. Mataranas chose a round wooden shield, slightly less splintery than his old plank. Nathaniel, after much muttering, settled on a rusty short sword, holding it like it might bite him.
"This is… underwhelming," Nathaniel whispered, eyeing his sword's chipped edge. "I'm supposed to fight with this? It's one bad swing from snapping."
"Better than your sickle," Yuzon said, nocking an arrow. "At least it's not a farm tool."
Torvald clapped his hands, the sound sharp enough to make Nathaniel jump. "Enough whining! Spread out, face the dummies. Show me what you've got."
Jade's crew lined up, feeling like kids at their first gym class. Torvald paced behind them, barking orders.
"Jade, thrust, not poke like you're tickling it! Numerius, stop swinging that club like you're chopping wood! Yuzon, aim for the dummy, not the sky! Mataranas, raise that shield higher, block, don't hug it! Nathaniel, for gods' sake, hold the sword like you mean it!"
The training was brutal. Jade's spear felt awkward, his thrusts wobbly and weak. His UI pinged occasionally, a faint +1 Polearm Weapons flashing when he landed a decent hit on the dummy. Numerius swung his club with enthusiasm but no aim, earning a whack from Torvald's stick when he nearly hit Mataranas. Yuzon's arrows mostly missed, though one grazed the dummy's arm, earning a grudging nod from Torvald. Mataranas held his shield steady, soaking up Torvald's test swings, his Shield skill ticking up. Nathaniel flailed his sword, muttering about "workplace safety violations," but managed not to cut himself.
After an hour, they were sweaty, sore, and gasping. Torvald crossed his arms, unimpressed. "You're not hopeless, but you're close. Keep at it, and maybe you won't die in the next raid. Practice here every day, midday. I'll check your progress. Don't make me regret this."
Jade's UI updated: Join the Village Militia – Progress: Basic Training Started. A small +10 Experience popped up, nudging his bar to 60/100. He glanced at the others, who were checking their own screens, their faces a mix of exhaustion and cautious excitement.
"Not bad," Numerius said, wiping sweat from his brow. "I got a point in Two-Handed Weapons. I'm basically a warrior now."
"You're basically a hazard," Nathaniel shot back, rubbing his aching wrist. "My One-Handed Weapons went up, but I'm pretty sure I sprained something."
Yuzon strung his bow carefully, his eyes narrowed. "Got a point in Bow. If we keep this up, we might actually survive a fight."
Mataranas nodded, his shield arm trembling. "Shield and Athletics. Feels like football practice, but… worse."
Jade forced a grin, trying to keep morale up. "We're getting there. Let's hit the blacksmith next, see if we can upgrade this junk." He hefted his spear, which already felt like an old friend compared to his dagger.
The blacksmith's shop was a smoky den, the air thick with the smell of hot metal. The blacksmith, a burly man with arms like tree trunks, looked up from his anvil. "You lot? What, your pitchforks not fancy enough?" He chuckled, wiping soot from his face.
"Need something better," Jade said, pooling their meager denars, about twenty coins between them, scraped from pockets and "family" handouts. "What can we get?"
The blacksmith squinted at their coins, then gestured to a corner of the shop. "For that? Basic stuff. Militia gear. Take a look."
The "militia gear" was barely a step up, a few dented helmets, patched leather vests, and slightly less rusty weapons. Jade haggled, channeling Nathaniel's Trade skill, and managed to snag a leather cap for himself, a padded vest for Mataranas, and a slightly sharper spearhead for his weapon. Numerius got a heavier club, Yuzon a handful of decent arrows, and Nathaniel a leather bracer to "protect his delicate wrists," as Numerius teased.
"Twenty denars for this?" Nathaniel grumbled, strapping on the bracer. "I could've bought a coffee back home."
"Coffee won't stop a bandit's axe," Yuzon said, testing an arrow's fletching. "This might."
As they left the shop, gear in hand, Jade's UI pinged again: Join the Village Militia – Progress: Equipped Basic Gear. Another +5 Experience nudged him closer to leveling up. The group looked slightly less pathetic now, their ragtag tunics paired with bits of armor and marginally better weapons.
"Alright," Jade said, gathering them by the well. "We train with Torvald every day, get stronger, and figure out this militia thing. If we're stuck in Calradia, we need to be ready for worse."
"Worse?" Nathaniel's voice cracked. "Like what, dragons? I'm not built for dragons!"
"No dragons in Bannerlord," Yuzon said, though he didn't sound entirely sure. "But Sturgian raiders? Khuzait horse archers? Those are bad enough."
Numerius clapped Nathaniel's shoulder, "Chin up, Nate. We're militia now. Heroes in training."
"Heroes in training," Mataranas echoed, "I can work with that."
Jade nodded, his mind already mapping out their next steps. Training, gear, quests, it was starting to feel like a campaign, just like their old gaming sessions.