The AI is quite bad, but without serious edits, it would be difficult to make them much better.
I like to explain it in a roleplay-type way, as it means I can enjoy the game more.
Most of the people you're recruiting are poor peasants who are tired of watching their families starve and be raped by whatever lord stumbles upon their little village. They resent the lords of their nation, as they never seem to protect the people who serve them.
They see you, a new face from a land far away and think that things might be changing.
So men leave their farms, sons leave their families, and the foolish wish to become the brave.
As they join their ranks, they're untrained in martial weapons, just knowing how to kill to hunt and defend themselves if needed.
They get hauled across the world, seeing sights they never would have in the confines of their little stock of land.
These men meet people who speak differently, look differently, act differently than they could ever imagine.
They see cities so large that they hide the horizon, they see armies so big the ground thunders.
They get thrown into combat not knowing what to expect. In an instant, they are swept into it.
The rookie stands nervously among those who have slain countless bandits, knights, and even villagers like the soldier once was.
Within a moment, hell is unleashed around them. Arrows are raining in and cutting down the men around him. That veteran standing next to him is now on the ground choking on his own blood as a shaft pierces his chest.
The soldier tries to stop the bleeding, but the men above him instruct him to leave the man, there's nothing that can be done.
Jeremus, one of the Lord's command, rides behind the line and hops off, inspects the body, then simply picks the weapons and helmet up. He passes them off to the rookie, handing them across the body below gasping for air.
"You'll need these ore than he does. Good luck, friend."
Slowly on the horizon a line of troops appears, their armor shimmering in the light, the sound of hooves can be heard echoing across the valley, sounding as if they are encircling and coming from everywhere.
The soldier's commander, a man with the best armor of them all calls for the advance. Obediently his men begin marching forward, and the rookie is forced to do the same, realizing the horror of what he has gotten himself into.
Within an instant, both sides are locked in a desperate melee for survival. The soldier's eyes scan those men in front of him, desperately trying to will his body to react fast enough to block killing blow after killing blow. Soon enough, the lines break, and troops are scattered in small pockets fighting for their lives.
The soldier has three allies fighting alongside him, up against double, slowly pressing them further away from their allies.
His allies fall, men who had laughed the night before that the rookie would be dead within the day.
A warhammer swings from the rookie's blindspot, breaking his shield arm and throwing him to the ground. He looks up in horror as one of the men, armed with a spear, readies it to end the rookies life.
In that moment, his thoughts go back to his village. It was a peaceful place. The birds would chirp and the stream would appauld his ears with the sound of rolling water. The miller's daughter, so beautiful and fair, and the reason why the soldier had joined the fight in the first place. Maybe, if he could prove himself as a knight, he could prove himself to her.
But all of that would be taken away in an instant. All because of this man standing above with a blank look in his eyes. He had been at this for so long that killing didn't even slow him down. It was a job that needed to be done, nothing more or less. His spear rocked back, and his blank expression turned to a sinister, satisfied smile.
With a flash, an arrow crunches through his soft neck, cracking the spearman's spinal cord and dropping him down in an instant. The rookie's eyes turn to see his commander, armor stained red from blood, a powerful bow in his hands, and a horse charging beneath him. Within a moment, he is catapaulted from his horse and ends the man with the warhammer, a single punch to the head followed by a dagger under the arm. The Lord's sword unsheathes from his side to deflect an incoming attack before beginning to artfully dance in the sunlight, parrying the other attackers' weapons before putting them to the ground.
Less than 10 seconds separated the rookie from certain death and salvation.
The rookie is hauled up by his commander and helped into his horse's saddle, then ridden off to the medical tent by Jeremus, who followed close behind his commander.
When the rookie's arm heals, he will be sent back into the frontlines, but this time, as a proper soldier in his master's army.
In the chaos, he didn't have time to hear his commander's shout to rally, the chant was drowned out by fear and inexperience that plagued the rookie's senses.
The rookie didn't know to break the enemy line and charge the archers who managed to mow down dozens of his allies, including all of the men from his village who has decided to join the war.
All those men, never to see their families again. Even worse than that, the regret of the soldier who lies awake at night thinking over how it could have been prevented, and why he lived and they did not.
Calradia is a warzone, not a wargame.