Chapter 3: The Magical Country, The Magical People

  Every morning, we would wake up before the sun rose above the horizon. After getting dressed and washing up in just a few minutes, it was time to go to church for early prayers.

  For a few minutes, just enough for people to kneel in front of the long bench, use the cold floor tiles to refresh their minds and plan today's itinerary, and finally pray to God for everything to go smoothly. During this time, the morning light passes over the church wall and through that huge rose window. The rose window, made up of colorful glass pieces, renders the thin morning light into a gorgeous color every time, adding a sacred glow to the cross standing in front.

  The cross, although this thing has one more stroke than the familiar fork rack in my mind, every time I see it, I have a sense of resentment. Because it brutally told me that my initial judgment was wrong when I first arrived, thinking I had the good fortune to become an alien, a companion of the celestial star people, and leave behind my earthly identity. What about the extraterrestrial beauties who have to be taken care of, one for each race, the demoness, goddesses not letting go, and then there are the elf girls holding two, one white-skinned, one black-skinned, etc. The grand spring and autumn dreams that had just begun to take shape were shattered like bubbles.

  Got it, I didn't cross into another dimension, I'm still an earthling, the environmental conditions can't even provide the basic foundation for achieving those dreams. Wanting a spirit MM and a goddess demon, unless this life has Einstein's wisdom and a turtle-like lifespan. Even if a time machine is built, it's not necessarily going to be successful, who knows where you'll end up when you're thrown there, will it be the Jurassic or Cretaceous period? There's nothing but dinosaurs and a large group of mammals with weird appearances.

  After finishing the morning prayer, all the people gathered in the church go to the dining hall for a meal. Breakfast usually includes coarse grain bread with cheese and olives, fresh fish with cheese and olive oil, seasonal vegetables and fruits with cheese and olive oil, wheat bread with cheese and olive oil. On special festival days, there may also be lamb chops with olive oil, pork chops with olive oil, accompanied by aniseed wine and cheese, etc.

  There's an urge to flip the table and a bit of regret, but other than olive oil, it's still olive oil!

  But that's what people mean by cultural personality, right? Just like Chinese people eating rice is almost a must. In the morning, rice with some other stuff; at noon, rice with something else; and in the evening, still rice with some other things. So, it's normal to have olive oil for three meals a day! But try feeding a foreigner rice for three meals a day for three months straight, see if he doesn't cry and run to the White House human rights department to say you're abusing his human rights!

  Is there anything else?

  How about some olives?

  …….

  Today's lunch was ordinary mixed coarse grain bread with cheese, olives and nuts, a very dull meal. But Valence, who is well-informed about news, said that the midday meal would be olive oil stewed vegetables with sardines and a small piece of whole wheat bread, each person also had several raw oysters, mussels, and 350ml of anise or 150ml of coffee. A pretty rich lunch, after all today is a rare opportunity to go home once a month.

  A militarized management, this is the way of life in Constantinople West Point Military Academy, and at the same time, it is also the place where I have lived the longest outside of Old Man's mansion. Since leaving Old Man's place, I have been here for almost five years. In fact, about half of the eleven to sixteen-year-old male noble boys spend their lives in Constantinople West Point Military Academy, receiving militarized management, education at this age, and military training, even if some of them will not join the army after leaving here.

  As for the civilians, they are on the other side of the military school wall, with a large pile of iron bars blocking them. The people living there are a group of uncles over 30 years old who have been recommended as civilians to come to Koc Military High School in Istanbul for further study.

  It's imaginable how much pressure a man in his thirties would feel knowing that hundreds of minors around him are doing basically the same thing.

  The instructor on the other side also knew this point.

  "As a young and vigorous man, you are not even comparable to the noble children on the other side of the wall who have not yet grown up!" "Are you xxx and XOXO?" "Or perhaps you can't even last three or two rounds in bed with a woman?" "No wonder your father is a noble, but my father is just a mud-legged commoner! You're not even comparable to the eggs laid by others!" This kind of questioning was the most well-mannered and intimate greeting. However, even so, it still made many young newcomers who had just left their hometowns feel embarrassed and then shout that they wanted to report to the authorities. But in recent years, this situation has decreased a lot. Because those old-timers would usually say one more sentence to the new students: "Look, Alexander didn't say anything, why are you making a fuss?"

  The Alexander here refers to my older brother. Alexander is considered one of the highest-ranking students in our batch.

  After breakfast, it's time for morning study. The knowledge taught by the military school instructors is not much deeper than that of experts and masters hired by aristocrats outside, but their education excels in being comprehensive and professional. Astronomy, geography, humanities, and history are all included, only most of the knowledge is only suitable for military use. Hmm, teaching children to use weapons, using boy scouts, putting it in the 21st century, a class-based organization, an evil institution, absolutely on the blacklist of world police.

  But for us graduates who are about to graduate, the early reading class is basically a time for bragging and chatting. The reason is simple: the instructor has nothing left to teach. So our early reading class is also the shortest, and most people choose to read books before horseback riding training and live ammunition shooting training to adjust their mood.

  However, Alexander's mood has not been good lately. Provatas' death was one factor, and another factor is that Alexander and we are about to be kicked out of this place, and in order to satisfy the wishes of the near future, we are short of money.

  A group of people entered the room belonging to our partner, found a position according to past habits, Maurice still leaned against the window, Valence and Constantine sat around Alexander, and others also found a position according to habit and sat down.

  "Alexander said, 'A few days ago I asked for leave to attend a funeral. The old man's butler handed me a note before I left. This morning he had someone deliver a letter from outside. Now I think it's necessary for you all to know the contents.'"

  Actually, there's no need for him to say it, we all roughly guessed the content of those two pieces of paper, which was nothing more than whether or not to take the old man's inheritance.

  "How much does it cost in total?" someone asked anxiously, and several others craned their necks, even though this couldn't help them see the content on the paper.

  I didn't have much hope for this: "It shouldn't be many."

  "His gold false teeth." Alexander's gaze lingered on the pulled-out paper for a while before he spoke.

  "What's next?"

  "There's nothing below." Alexander said, looking up at us with piercing eyes.

  I: "…..".

  "... others."

  After a good while, Valens spoke up first.

  "I want to go dig graves."

  "Count me in." Konstantin said, raising his hand.

  Maurice didn't say another word and left the place he was leaning against, walking towards the door.

  "Where are you going?" Alexander asked.

  "I'll go get the gunpowder and the whip." Morris said turning back.

  Maurice ultimately failed to realize his idea of blowing up the old man's grave and whipping the corpse with a leather whip. In fact, he also knew that he couldn't leave the military academy, since we had all asked for leave yesterday.

  "I knew that old fellow was unreliable!" Morris muttered, retreating back to the window.

  "Constantine also said with great surprise: "I thought the old man would at least have some money, and with his inheritance, we could reduce the gap with our expected target! Who knew that the old man didn't forget to disgust us one last time before he died!"

  We are short of money. To be exact, Alexander's version of "I have a dream" is short of money. He had the idea of forming a legion immediately after our graduation from military school since he was eleven years old. A small legion with a total of four thousand people, including a dragon cavalry battalion and a light cavalry squadron.

  It's so extravagant, at this age, ordinary people's kids save money to buy food, have fun, or buy gifts for their secret crushes, but someone like Alexander who spends money on war games is almost unheard of. You'd call him a pervert! Our group has been saving the money we get from home every month since we were eleven just to satisfy his perverse demands, and yet there's still a shortfall now.

  "Why don't we scale back instead? If it's just a three-thousand-man infantry regiment and a cavalry squadron, our start-up funds will be more than enough. Once we have the army, we can get sponsorship afterwards," Valens said.

  "Maurice said, 'In my opinion, we should go to the slave market and buy all those black slaves. One-time deal, more cost-effective, and afterwards, just provide food and shelter!'".

  "Can you sleep soundly after handing over your weapons to several thousand slaves? Besides, do you think this is the New World? The slave market can handle a few hundred young and strong ones, but three thousand? Go back to Africa first!"

  "This won't work, that won't work, I'll just have to do it this way then!" Maurice chuckled and had another idea, and then I had a vague premonition.

  Maurice swallowed hard and said excitedly: "I suggest we stake out the various taverns and inns inside the city in shifts, how about that?"

  "What do you want to do?" Alexander leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table in confusion.

  "Seize the sturdy men! Specifically target those drunkards, beat them up, lock them up, and the next day when they wake up, give them a large sum of debt account that we've already prepared, with their fingerprint on it. They absolutely can't deny it and can't pay it back! At this time, we'll use a low-paying service contract as an exchange, forcing them to join our legion. Afterwards, we'll make some concessions from the spoils of war, and our financial difficulties will be solved! How's that? Isn't it brilliant?" Maurice finished speaking with a flourish, raised his head, and looked at us sideways with a self-satisfied smirk.

  Valens and Constantius had wonderful expressions, their mouths were so big that they could hold an egg, Alexander's expression was a bit dull, his eyes were slightly straight, as if the pupils had scattered.

  I was also shocked. Maurice indeed had the most talent among us five to become a slave trader in Africa: "I have a question."

  "Ask away!" said Maurice.

  "How many people do you plan to kidnap? Four hundred or five hundred?" I gestured with my fingers. I can already foresee that in the top three gossip rankings of Constantinople residents for the next year, there will definitely be a similar content: "The upper class morality is decadent, the noble young men are depraved, lurking in hotels during the day and night, kidnapping, blackmailing, and swindling, with hundreds of middle-aged uncles being brutally victimized." And when many gossipers vividly describe it, they will have that "I was present at the scene" look on their faces.

  Maurice was speechless now.

  "Once you're in court, even your father can't save you." Konstantin said quietly.