It took 12 days to get 60 men riding well enough to even think about shooting a bow. He ground one of his precious C red pills into powder and mixed it with Nightmare’s sweet feed. The unicorn gave him a look like she knew what he was doing. Vincent patted her flank as she ate quickly.

 

The unicorn’s muscles throbbed under his hand as the C red pill did its work. He felt her massive horsey heartthrob and her veins pulse while he rubbed her summer coat. She was a part of his dream and his favorite pet so far. Some guys like dogs; he liked horses.

 

For his men, he purchased saddles and had the druidesses make horse blankets. They would produce something if they couldn’t be useful in any other way. Vincent showed them videos and even purchased a TV with a few boxes of Days of our lives to keep with Elvish subtitles.

 

Vincent mounted and waited for his men to finish their latest training activity. A cloud of dust appeared in the distance, with half a dozen deer running while mounted elves and men chased them. Men at the flanks of the chase raised their bows and shot at the deer. While they missed their targets, they didn’t shoot each other or fall off their horses. That was progress.

 

He purchased a spare C green pill and mixed it with the camp’s water reservoir as an experiment. While the pills increased longevity and regeneration at the diluted amount, it shouldn’t have mattered much. 12 days later, the men improved by leaps and bounds. It seemed he unshackled their potential slightly by giving them a fraction of the pills. Not enough to heal from wounds moments after receiving them, but saddle sores didn’t last as long. So, he had the men riding as much as possible. Not only that, he had them get experience chasing fleeing animals.

 

One lucky shot hit a deer, and the men cheered.

 

4 C Green pills fell in his hand, and suddenly one of his more difficult barbarian challenges was completed. He had mounted archers, not good ones, but they were his.

 

Vincent returned to camp, followed by the men with 4 of the deer tied to their horses. Some druidesses were out before the camp, cheering the riders as they returned with fresh meat. It was a change that occurred in the last couple of days. They saw a sports event in the ancient days of our lives commercial, and some wanted to be cheerleaders. Less than two weeks ago, the druidesses condemned anyone who would ride a horse, and suddenly they were dancing and cheering. That was another thing he hadn’t seen in the city. Elves spoke in their singing voices but didn’t dance, cheer, have games, or enjoy their lives. They appeared bound by their peace and unwilling to do things to upset their elders. Peace had made them stagnant. He heard the elves cheer for the men who owned them, and they seemed happy and freer than the elves in the city.

 

Those elves not working played watched games on the TVs he purchased until he bought some footballs. After that, all bets were off. The elves took to American football like fish to water. He ended up buying them football equipment and let them go at it.

 

Druidesses cheered, and more people poured into the camp. Somehow word was getting out, and people wanted to see.

 

The meat of three deer wasn’t enough, so Vincent purchased 100 chickens for 3k stylish points. His elves and a few humans stared at the birds like they had never seen anything so strange. In only a few hours, he had videos of chicken raising on the TVs, and the elves got it.

 

Vincent had taken to using US Army ranks for convenience. The barbarian had no experience in the military and had never served, but he found them useful. At first, the elves had some trouble, so Vincent had the druidesses make patches for them. The elves seemed to like rankings.

 

“Captain, I’m not a mercenary or a soldier; I’m a carpenter; I heard you were giving away meat.”

 

“Oh, you’ve been conscripted; congratulations on your new rank. Now your job is to make the best damn chicken coops you can. We don’t want any foxes, slimes, or hawks getting them.” Vincent said.

 

This world didn’t have chickens, but it had goats, bears, and cattle. Legends spoke of a flightless black feathered bird that spread poison clouds. Vincent tried to find the word for pig, but it wasn’t in the Elvish language. Fish was, and they were close to a river.

 

“Why aren’t there farms to fish the river?” Vincent asked the man.

 

“I think it's because the demons come out of the river at night to eat people.”

 

The elf saluted him based on how he had seen the mercenaries take on the salute from war movies.

 

Chickens would greatly help. Vincent purchased hundreds of pounds of rice for the growing camp and saw it dwindle by the day. Another wall had been constructed with new latrines, but sooner or later, the camp’s shit production would overrun them. Bronze mountain city had aqueducts and indoor plumbing.

 

Vincent took Nightmare’s saddle off and brushed her down. They needed more meat, and the demons might be a convenient source of protein. Anything to stall the gaping mouth of the camp.

 

Fields were turned over by some industrious elves, and they had started growing a rice patty. Something he helped and thinks to the horses the elves could sleep in the safe camp away from the river. Elven magic made plant life grow exponentially faster the more elves were involved, so they would be self-sustaining soon enough. His elves made excellent farmers.

 

Vincent purchased a wifi tower, and the camp ran off it. Elves were going crazy learning from the communal library tablets he had set to elvish. It was like he unshackled them, and they were hungry to progress.

 

Once it was good and dark, Vincent prepared to leave his tent. A opened his flat and yelled. “1^st Lieutenant Hector wishes an audience with you, captain.”

 

The barbarian sighed and let the man in. His lieutenant had filled out thanks to a sneaky addition to the man’s tea. Some ground-up red pill had turned the man into a beast. The man trained daily with the men, which Vincent had started doing during their sword, spear, and archery drills.

 

“We need to talk about too many things for tonight.” Hector looked him over. “It seems you were in no hurry to sleep.”

 

Vincent rubbed his face. “We are gaining more people daily and running out of food and room. The plan remains the same, but I don’t know if I even want to give the cattle to the city.” Vincent said.

 

“You need to increase the number of Stylish points in your account.” Vincent stiffened; he suspected Hector had caught on by using the tablet, which was connected to the system’s internet and had access to many different forums, many that Vincent hadn’t looked at. “You have been feeding us your precious resources, making us stronger. You’re too generous to your mercenaries.” Hector said.

 

Vincent felt like a fraud and wanted to run. He had let them get too close it was only a matter of time before they betrayed him. That was the fate of anyone who trusted too much.

 

“Trust us to do the job, choose our targets, make grand plans, and we will make them happen. I have found someone who can be trusted with our accounting. They will keep track of our supplies and report to you about any immediate needs. We need the items called laptops for this purpose.” Hector said.

 

It made sense they hadn’t gotten everything they could from him yet. “I will find some,” Vincent said.

 

“These people worship you. Before you made this place, many thought they would starve to death or be forced to eat other elves,” Hector said.

 

“I didn’t make it alone; without you, I couldn’t have made it work,” Vincent said.

 

“No one is perfect, Vincent, not even you,” Hector said.

 

He laughed at that. Vincent wasn’t smart enough to run when he had the chance and had to move to this world to escape a swat team. If he returned, it would be to face lizard men who had eaten multiple pills.

 

“I will figure something out. Then, with the right leverage, we can have the ruling body of Bronze pay us for protection and remove the goblins. Aren’t they mostly infantry?” Vincent asked.

 

“Yes, but it will hardly be easy,” Hector said.

 

 “Well, since your online look at Genghis Khan and his strategies. If we can emulate them just right, we do well for ourselves.” Vincent said.

 

He half expected them to be more caveman with the technology, but once he taught them, they adapted quickly. The children adapted faster than the adults. To them, it must be like magic.

 

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