Opening the armory and retrieving the long-dusty weapons, Hudson’s good mood vanished in an instant.

  Originally, he had pnned to "sck off" during the war, but seeing the pile of scrap metal before him, he realized that even if he didn’t sck off, he wouldn’t be able to make much of an impact on the battlefield.

  Seeing this, Baron Redman, standing nearby, also felt a bit awkward. Although he knew the family armory didn’t have much in the way of good equipment, he hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

  "The family isn’t wealthy, so we couldn’t afford to stockpile much in the way of weapons and armor. The armory contains seventy-two sets of armor, thirty-six battle axes, forty-eight combat axes, ninety-seven curved swords, one hundred and eighty-seven spears...

  These are the family’s accumuted assets. Though they’re a bit old, they can still kill. Make do with them for now. If you gain anything on the battlefield, you can upgrade ter."

  Baron Redman spoke with some embarrassment.

  Originally, he had pnned to keep some of the weapons and armor in reserve, fearing that they might lose everything. But now, it seemed that worry was unnecessary. The pile of scrap metal before them, though well-preserved, couldn’t hide the marks of time.

  Especially the armor—many of the pieces had come apart at the seams, lying scattered on the ground. Even if they could be stitched back together, the thick rust was impossible to conceal.

  Hudson casually picked up a piece and gave it a light squeeze. As expected, the metal crumbled into powder.

  Seeing this, Baron Redman quickly made his exit. It was too embarrassing; he couldn’t bear to stay.

  Of course, this wasn’t entirely his fault. There hadn’t been any major wars in recent decades, and small-scale conflicts could be handled with just the guard.

  The guard’s equipment was proof enough that he was a martial-minded lord. As for the armory, there wasn’t much that could be done. Weapons had a lifespan, and if they weren’t used for a long time, the best option was to seal them away.

  Sealing weapons and armor wasn’t easy either. It required the help of a mage, and the items wouldn’t be unsealed until they were needed.

  But no matter how well they were sealed, time would still take its toll. On paper, the armory could equip five hundred soldiers, but in reality, less than a third of the items were usable.

  And that was just "usable." If you were picky about quality, you’d be lucky to find one in ten items that were in decent condition. Frankly, looking around, there weren’t many intact pieces.

  At this point, Hudson had nothing more to say. He quickly sent the damaged weapons to the bcksmith for repairs, hoping to salvage as much as possible.

  In reality, this was just wishful thinking. With so little time, even if the few bcksmiths in the territory worked day and night, they wouldn’t be able to repair much.

  Better than nothing, Hudson had to settle for equipping his soldiers with the most basic weapon—spears. Not proper military spears, but bamboo poles sharpened into makeshift weapons.

  To provide some sembnce of defense, Hudson also had the vilgers make "shields." Unsurprisingly, these weren’t proper shields either, but rather bamboo-woven imitations.

  Hoping these would block bdes was probably too optimistic. But the enemy was a rebel army! Judging by his own forces, if his troops were this poorly equipped, how could the rebels be any better?

  Even if these preparations proved useless on the battlefield, they wouldn’t be a complete waste. With some modifications, like adding a movable bamboo panel and straps, they could be turned into turtle-shell-like backpacks.

  These could carry rations during marches and boost the soldiers’ confidence on the battlefield. If they encountered enemies armed with sticks, the makeshift shields might even provide some defense.

  The main issue was the ck of time. Hudson could only produce simple tools, which left him at a disadvantage.

  Of course, while the rank-and-file soldiers’ equipment was pitiful, Hudson, as a knight, wasn’t in such a sorry state.

  He had a knight’s sword, a warhorse, and a full set of armor—everything a knight needed. Even his ten squires were equipped with armor and weapons.

  In this regard, Baron Redman hadn’t been stingy. As for the poor state of the ordinary soldiers’ equipment, Hudson preferred to believe it was due to a ck of resources.

  The war had come too suddenly. If they had received advance notice, the territory’s productivity could have produced a hundred or so weapons in time.

  Time flew by, and the three-day deadline passed in the blink of an eye. Mounted on a tall warhorse, cd in gleaming armor, and wielding a knight’s greatsword, Hudson set out with his five hundred "well-trained" soldiers, cheered on by the crowd.

  The "bold and spirited" atmosphere didn’t st long. Shortly after leaving their territory, the once-orderly formation began to fall apart, infuriating Hudson.

  It seemed the two days of training had been for nothing. The so-called "well-trained" soldiers had only been putting on a show for their hometown folks. Once they were out of sight, their true colors showed.

  Reluctantly, Hudson had to slow the march. Originally pnning to cover sixty miles a day, he was forced to reduce it to forty.

  This was a small force, carrying only about ten pounds of rations each, with no heavy logistical burden to slow them down.

  At this speed, they were moving at a snail’s pace. Well, perhaps that was an insult to snails. Magical turtles could probably move faster.

  Slowing down did improve the situation somewhat. While they couldn’t maintain perfect order, at least the basic formation held, and the soldiers didn’t scatter in all directions.

  Hudson knew this was due to the incompetence of the officers he had hastily appointed. They simply couldn’t manage their troops effectively.

  But there was no helping it. In this era, anyone with any real ability as an officer was likely a noble, and Hudson couldn’t command them.

  As for recruiting wandering knights to serve as officers? That was a pipe dream. The barony’s meager resources were barely enough for the family’s own sons. How could they afford to support knights?

  In a sense, the strength of a noble could be measured by the number of knights under their command.

  Generally speaking, a noble who could support a dozen knights could be considered a mid-tier noble. To cross the threshold into the ranks of the great nobles, one would need at least a few hundred knights.

  Of course, this was just Hudson’s subjective judgment and wasn’t representative. Becoming a great noble required more than just this; otherwise, great nobles would be far too common.

  Take the Coslow family, for example. Thanks to their prolific breeding, they had spread their branches far and wide. The knights scattered across the territories probably numbered around a hundred.

  However, because their nds were so dispersed and their power couldn’t be concentrated, the Coslow family was still considered a minor noble.

  At best, their rge numbers gave them a bit more clout in noble circles than the average minor noble.

  This was evident from the dusty, neglected state of their armory. For decades, their neighbors had been peaceful.