Game of Thrones: From a deserter to a high-ranking official

Chapter 51 Tiberius: Moving a log to establish trust is truly a brilliant method!

"Not bad, these guys are finally starting to look like human beings!" Vito stood on the stage, looking at the 150 or so people below.

"I can't believe it! You managed to get all 150 lambs to distinguish left from right, front from back, and to squat and stand up in just two weeks! You're truly brilliant!" Vito exclaimed. "Are you really a genius?"

"That's not enough!" Tippi whispered, then blew the iron whistle on his chest.

"First spear team, step forward!"

Then, the leftmost group of fifty men slowly advanced to the foot of the platform. Tiberius waved his small flag, and the group marched forward. Their formation was incredibly orderly; from above, they appeared as a single, unified entity slowly rolling past.

"Turn left!" Tiberius shouted.

The people in that formation then decisively turned to the left.

"Tsk, your method really works!" Vito muttered. "One foot in a shoe, one barefoot, and they slowly learn what left and right are... It's clumsy, but effective. I used this method to train the new recruits later!"

Tiberius used a simple numbering system. Each team of fifty men was numbered from one to fifty, which facilitated roll call, command, and accountability.

Although the slaves complained in private, they gradually accepted the system once they found that it was clear and efficient in distributing food, assigning tasks, and investigating mistakes, avoiding countless troubles and punishments caused by name confusion or buck-passing.

Especially under the strict military law of "one person makes a mistake, the whole team is punished," remembering one's own and one's teammates' numbers became a matter of great importance concerning everyone's safety and well-being.

"Number Five, what are you doing?" Tiberius yelled at a soldier who had tripped over a stone. "One mistake from you could cost your comrade his life! Fifty squats! Begin!"

Ignoring the squatting soldier, Tiberius turned to Vito and said:

"So far, they can only walk slowly, unlike the mercenaries in the White Legion who can reach their designated locations quickly!" Tiberius said, frowning.

He had witnessed the White Legion's training. His uncle Jules was indeed a good and capable commander; his White Legion could quickly reassemble their rather disorganized formations into battle formations once they reached their designated positions.

"They lack conviction!" Vito added. "Although they are obedient, they are numb. They may seem to be doing a good job now, but when it comes to the brutal battlefield, they are only slightly better than those conscripted militiamen."

“Yes, because they fundamentally don’t believe that this kind of training will bring them a good life,” Tiberius said, his face grim. “I need a way to show them that following me will bring them good days!”

The next morning, after the bugle call sounded for assembly, the new recruits lined up anxiously and found a log, more than a meter long and as thick as a bowl, standing in the center of the training ground. Tiberius stood beside the log, with Vito and several veterans beside him.

All eyes were focused on that conspicuous piece of wood, wondering what this young "Lightning General" was up to this time.

They've been eating very well these past few days, enjoying foods they'd never imagined before: plenty of oil and meat, along with fresh vegetables and cheese. The only thing that might bother them is the bread and rice, which aren't very tasty, but even that's much better than before!

Tiberius's gaze swept across the entire hall, his voice clear and steady enough for everyone to hear:

"Listen up, everyone! I'm issuing an order: Whoever can move this log from the center of the training field to the base of the newly built watchtower to the north—"

He paused deliberately, looking at the bewildered, confused, and even slightly mocking expressions on the faces below, before making a startling announcement:

"—Give me a bag of rice!"

"Buzz—"

An uncontrollable commotion and gasps erupted from the ranks.

Carry a log and you get a bag of rice?

How could this be? They must have misheard, or it must be some cruel joke they can't understand.

Many people exchanged glances, their eyes filled with suspicion and mockery.

Is this young master still half asleep? Or did a donkey kick his head?

Vito nudged Tiberius with his elbow: "Are you sure this will work? It's just making them carry logs, isn't it?"

"Just you wait and see, Vito!" Tiberius replied.

He then repeated expressionlessly, "That's right, a bag of rice. Now, who's going?"

The field was deathly silent; no one moved, because their training over the past few days had instilled in them basic military discipline: if they wanted to speak, they had to raise their hands to report, and they had to be given permission first.

Moreover, the temptation of waking up to this kind of thing is too great, but the absurdity is even stronger. They are terrified of being deceived; their masters and overseers always lure them with empty promises, and if they actually deliver even half of them, it's considered a favor. This clearly illogical reward must be a trap.

One minute, two minutes... Time slipped away in silence and suspicion.

Tiberius did not urge him, but waited patiently.

After a long time, when no one came out, Tibbs increased the stakes.

"Ten bags of rice! Polished rice!" Tiberius shouted. "Take them over there, here's your rice!"

Finally, at the back of the crowd, a debt slave with an unusually tall stature, who used to work in a quarry and was always hungry because of his huge appetite, licked his chapped lips and struggled for a moment in his eyes.

For moving timber, they would give him a bag of rice, which would be enough to feed him and his family for several meals!

Besides, in just these few days, he had a clear understanding of the boss's temperament: strict, but unlike the previous supervisors, he didn't tease you just to embarrass or humiliate you.

He also wanted to gamble on that one in ten thousand chance.

"Hey, Number Five, don't go!" a companion next to him said. "What if the boss wants to get rid of you? If you go, you'll just become the scapegoat, and the whole team will go hungry!"

He didn't answer, but gritted his teeth, lowered his head, and walked out of the line step by step.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, he silently walked to the log, took a deep breath, hugged it with both arms, and with a powerful thrust of his waist, hoisted it onto his shoulder. He carried the log slowly toward the base of the watchtower to the north.

"It's very light, not heavy." Number Five thought to himself as he hoisted the log onto his shoulder.

The entire room fell silent. Everyone's eyes followed him, each with their own thoughts, but most were waiting to see him make a fool of himself—to see this big, dumb guy waste his energy and then be ridiculed.

After all, some of the previous overseers were malicious and deliberately used this method to torment them, saying things like, "Let you know the fate of slaves."

Finally, Number Five reached the designated spot, slammed the log down heavily, kicking up a cloud of dust. He stood there, panting heavily, somewhat lost, not daring to look up at Tiberius.

Tiberius didn't speak, but simply gave Vito a wink.

Despite his deep doubts, Vito strictly followed the order. He had ten sacks of polished rice pushed in a cart to number five, and amidst the incredulous gazes of everyone present, he loudly announced:

Lord Tiberius decrees: A reward of ten sacks of fine rice, to be paid immediately!

When the ten bags of rice, along with the two wheelbarrows, were pushed in front of Number Five, it was like a bolt of lightning striking Number Five, and also striking the nerves of everyone present!

The slave stared blankly at the cart, then looked up at Tiberius, his lips trembling. A tremendous, unreal ecstasy and bewilderment made him almost stumble. He suddenly knelt down, not out of fear, but out of an indescribable excitement, and cried out incoherently, "Thank...thank you, my lord! Thank you, Lord Tiberius!"

"Arise." Tiberius's voice remained calm, yet carried an unprecedented power. "This is what you deserve. I, Tiberius Mode, always keep my word."

He turned to the still greatly shocked and agitated crowd, his voice suddenly rising like a drawn sword:

"You've all seen it! This is my rule! The reward I promise, even if it's just moving a single log, I will never go back on my word! From this day forward, every order, every promise I make, will be like these ten bags of rice—I will deliver on my word, without fail!"

"Similarly, my punishments will never be lenient! Merit will be rewarded, and wrongdoing will be punished! This is the ironclad rule of the 'Lightning Squad'!"

"Now, does anyone still doubt my words?!"

"No!!!" A deafening roar erupted from the recruits for the first time, no longer a timid response, but a fervent cry fueled by fervor and hope. Their gaze towards Tiberius completely changed, transforming from fear, doubt, and hesitation into burning conviction and unwavering loyalty!

Vito watched this scene unfold, seeing how Tiberius had ignited a fire in the hearts of these numb people with just ten sacks of rice and a piece of wood, and couldn't help but click his tongue in amazement.

"Damn it... this kid, he's really mastered the art of manipulating people..."

"Moving a log to establish trust is truly a brilliant idea," Tiberius thought to himself. "This old man's method is indeed very effective!"