Chapter Sixty-One: An Old Acquaintance in the Laborers’ Camp

For a branch like the cavalry, it is by far the most expensive and demanding unit. According to the current standards of the Byzantine Empire, the cost of a single cavalryman is at least seven times greater than that of an infantryman—and that is compared to a heavily armored foot soldier; if compared to a light infantryman, the gap widens to about tenfold.

To begin with, as a cavalryman, the individual soldier must far surpass the quality of an infantryman. A skilled cavalryman must be well-versed in horsemanship and mounted combat skills. Naturally, someone proficient in such crafts is more costly than cheap labor—this is true anywhere in the world.

Secondly, the weapons and equipment of a cavalryman are much more expensive than those of an infantryman. Any way you look at it, a lance four meters long consumes much more iron than a double-edged sword just a meter in length.

Then, there are the horses! A fine warhorse consumes more feed daily than an ordinary foot soldier eats in grain. After all, an average infantryman can fill his belly with coarse grains. For a warhorse, however, if the feed is not good enough, it will lack strength, be unable to run, and its load-carrying capacity will diminish, severely affecting combat effectiveness.

Finally, there are the squires!

For cavalry, squires are an indispensable element. A qualified cavalryman spends most of his time training in horsemanship, practicing mounted combat skills, and rehearsing formations. In such circumstances, one cannot expect the cavalryman to care for and feed his horse daily, tend to the animal, or clean and repair worn equipment.

In the rigidly hierarchical system of the Byzantine Empire, squires play an essential role in cavalry operations. A squire's status is even higher than that of ordinary auxiliary soldiers. Generally, a squire must be skilled in horse care and basic weapons repair. The more advanced squires are expected to know basic horsemanship, and there have even been cases where squires ride into battle, armed and armored, to support their knights.

Shaya was something of an exception, for he possessed considerable martial prowess himself. If he were just an ordinary man, he would have had no chance of being made a regular soldier directly. A significant portion of cavalrymen begin as basic auxiliaries; others start as squires and are promoted to cavalry after some time.

* * *

About two li south of the Thirteenth Cavalry Legion’s camp was the auxiliary encampment, which housed the support troops belonging to the Thirteenth Legion: foot guards, logistics, supplies, and a laborers' camp.

Many of these people were temporarily conscripted before each campaign.

The laborers' camp was the one closest to the edge. Upon entering, one could see teams of able-bodied men toiling away, hauling sacks of military provisions, bundles of arrows, and long crates of swords and other weapons. All these laborers wore grave expressions, while nearby, Byzantine soldiers with hands on their sword hilts kept a cold, watchful eye on the proceedings.

It was clear that many among these laborers had not come here of their own volition—a common enough occurrence in the army.

Even those who volunteered would, when war broke out, sometimes become gripped by panic and flee.

Dusty and disheveled, the laborers wore filthy robes. When Shaya arrived with Kevin, Kevin immediately summoned a plump quartermaster officer. It was obvious that Kevin was an old acquaintance, but though the quartermaster fawned over the general's personal guard, Kevin remained cold and contemptuous, his words carrying an unmistakable tone of disdain.

The fat officer’s skin was surprisingly thick; he ignored Kevin’s scorn entirely, maintaining a servile smile. Upon hearing Kevin’s purpose, he immediately flattered, “Ah, you’re here to select a squire? Rest assured, we’ve just conscripted a fine batch—a few are skilled in blacksmithing, and some have experience with horses at home. They’ll make excellent squires, I’m sure. I’ll take you to choose right away.”

Kevin was dissatisfied. “How can newly conscripted laborers serve as squires? Isn’t there anyone suitable in the auxiliary camp?”

The fat officer’s face showed some difficulty. “Well… the escort tasks for the transport teams are heavy, and we’re already short-handed in the auxiliary camp…”

Shaya interjected with a timely smile, “It’s fine. Laborers are laborers. I don’t need a squire to fight alongside me—just someone who can care for the horse.”

Recalling Shaya’s impressive combat abilities, Kevin relented and nodded reluctantly. “Try to find one who knows some blacksmithing. Otherwise, if the weapons are damaged, it’ll be troublesome.”

The plump officer led the way, with Shaya and Kevin following. On the road, Shaya couldn’t help but mutter, “You seem to dislike this fellow?”

Kevin, watching the fat man’s retreating back, gave a cold, quiet laugh. “Hmph. These quartermasters are mostly parasites and greedy rats. Our supplies, weapons, even our pay—anything that passes through their hands, they always take a cut!”

Shaya was surprised. “Even in the Thirteenth Cavalry Legion? Doesn’t the general keep an eye on it?”

Kevin glanced at Shaya and chuckled. “You really need to learn the army’s ways.” He sighed. “Quartermasters are only nominally under the army’s command—they are not subject to the direct discipline of the combat units. All logistics and supplies form a separate system, directly under the Imperial Army’s Logistics and Supply Department. Every regular imperial army unit, like our legion, has its own transport regiment, but that’s only for moving goods. In wartime, a special regional logistics camp is set up to supply all units. The supplies kept by the troops themselves last only two weeks, so the logistics department must constantly replenish them. The army is never allowed to stockpile too much at once…”

He lowered his voice further. “This is an old Byzantine tradition. Supposedly, the system was designed to prevent military commanders from rebelling. An army with only two weeks’ rations can hardly mount a mutiny!”

Watching the fat officer’s wobbling backside, Kevin ground his teeth. “That pig—who knows how much he’s skimmed off for himself! But they’re under the regional logistics department—even the general can’t touch them unless he catches them red-handed. The empire’s logistics system has always been riddled with corruption... The current Minister of Supply and Logistics, Count Moryak, is the empire’s biggest embezzler! When the highest official is a crook, those below just follow suit, each in their own way.”

Seeing Shaya deep in thought, Kevin sighed. “Don’t be fooled by this fellow’s politeness. That’s only because we’re the general’s guards—and last month, the general managed to catch a logistics rat and had him executed on the spot. We’re the Imperial elite; those scoundrels fear the general’s reputation, so they’ve curbed their greed somewhat.”

Shaya said nothing, but recalled what his old mentor had written in his books…

Separating logistics from the command of combat units is indeed an effective way to prevent generals from amassing too much power and rebelling—the book was right. But why did it result in this situation?

“Doesn’t the military court pursue embezzlement of supplies?” Shaya finally couldn’t help asking.

“Count Moryak is related to His Majesty by marriage. Would the military court dare touch him? If the biggest thief goes unpunished, those below have nothing to fear.” Kevin snorted, then glanced at Shaya. “Best not speak of such things again—don’t invite trouble.”

Sure enough, Kevin was right. The fat officer, though outwardly obsequious, was clearly perfunctory in his actions.

He led Kevin and Shaya to one of the laborers’ camps, where a hundred or so men had been gathered. Who knew where these fellows had been conscripted from? Every one of them was dirty-faced, their eyes vacant and lifeless. Worse, some were old, some young, and the few adults looked dull-witted and slow.

Kevin immediately voiced his displeasure, his anger flaring. “These are your suitable candidates?”

The fat officer’s face was all smiles, though a strange glint flashed in his eyes. “Of course! They may look simple, but they’re honest and definitely won’t run away!”

“Scoundrel!” Kevin’s brows shot up, his face darkening with murderous intent. “Are you mocking me? I want a competent squire! How can these people be trusted with a cavalry horse?”

“They’re all farmers, with experience feeding livestock. There shouldn’t be any problem,” the fat officer replied, spreading his hands. “As I said, we’re short-handed right now—there’s little I can do.”

Kevin was about to explode, and Shaya, his temper never great to begin with, was already clenching his fists, knuckles cracking. As soon as Kevin lost his temper, he was ready to give the fat officer a beating.

But just then, a miserable cry arose nearby.

“Ah! Don’t hit me! Don’t hit me! I won’t run again!”

The pitiful wail, nearly in tears, drew their attention. They saw a scrawny man in a tattered robe, kicked to the ground by two logistics soldiers. One of the soldiers brandished a whip, cursing as he lashed the man’s back. The man’s robe was full of holes, his hair wild and filthy, his voice sharp with desperation as he clawed at the dirt, trying to crawl away—but the whip kept falling upon him.

Suddenly, the man spotted Shaya not far off, and his eyes lit up with hope. Summoning his last strength, he leapt up and rushed over, shouting, “Shaya! Master Shaya! It’s me, it’s me! Oh, help, save me!”

No sooner had he shouted than a soldier caught up and kicked him flat again, leaving him curled on the ground.

Shaya froze for a moment, then rushed over, pushing aside the two soldiers to look at the man on the ground.

“Huh? It’s you?” Shaya’s eyes widened.

“It’s me! It’s me, Master Shaya! I’m Dodoro…” The pitiful wretch’s face was smeared with tears and snot.

It was none other than the unfortunate magician Shaya had sold for a gold coin to that wretch. Heaven knew how he’d ended up in the laborers’ camp…