The 100km Battalion March
"They made it sound like I'd get 3 points guaranteed just for stepping up, but it's only for first place? What a total scam."
"What we're handing out now are the battalion march routes. Total distance is around 100 kilometers. Plan your schedules carefully."
I took the map from the instructor and spread it out. It showed a route looping around the outskirts of the capital.
Whoa, 100 kilometers? That's dizzying.
A headache was already creeping in.
"May I ask a question?"
The hulking candidate representing the 1st Battalion raised his hand.
"Go ahead."
"Do we plan the sleep schedule during the march too?"
"Yes. During the march, the instructors and I will only observe, except in emergencies."
I thought this was just a cushy gig where I'd tag along and run errands. This is way tougher than I expected...
Even first place only got an extra 1 point bonus. Suddenly, I really didn't want to do this.
But backing out now? No way.
I'd been totally hooked.
"What if a candidate refuses to follow orders?"
"That's for the candidates to handle yourselves. You expect the instructors to babysit every little thing?"
"N-no, sir!"
The sharp tone made the questioning candidate shrink back immediately.
"Sleeping bags and rations will be supplied today. You'll handle distribution too, so keep that in mind."
"Yes, sir!!"
"Dismissed."
As the candidates dispersed back to their battalions on the instructor's word, their eyes scanned each other like predators sizing up rivals.
The competition for bonus points had begun.
"So first place gets 2 bonus points, last gets zero?"
"Yeah, and the battalion rep gets 3. Anyone want to be rep?"
No one raised a hand at my question.
"Tough crowd. But 100 kilometers... is this even doable?"
I knew from trot training that most candidates had abysmal stamina.
Dragging them 100 kilometers? It was insane.
"Timing rests and managing supplies will be key, huh."
Derek eyed the map with a serious gaze.
"Yeah. Minimize stragglers but finish fast too. How the hell do we pull that off?"
They hadn't given exact formulas, but scoring was based on straggler count and total time.
"Last place means at least a 2-point gap to everyone in the first-place battalion. Brutal."
Ion, leading the pack, looked grim.
Last place basically dooms the rest of us.
Two points was a massive gap.
"Need help? I'll pitch in."
"Thanks. Gotta relay this to the battalion first. Tour the barracks?"
We could call a meeting, but no good spot.
Someone might complain it felt like bossing them around.
Supplies coming soon too. If I handle everything solo, it'll never end.
If this was it, I could grind through.
But comprehensive eval prep started right after the march.
Covering 400 guys alone? Impossible.
An idea had hit me the moment I heard about the march.
"We need to appoint platoon leaders."
Slaves to handle the work for me—no, reliable workers.
I needed them.
"Platoon leaders? What's that?"
"We have 1st Platoon, 2nd Platoon, etc. Leaders to rep each platoon. Can't micromanage the whole battalion myself."
"Makes sense."
Ion nodded like it was obvious.
"Problem is, I got nothing to offer. How do I convince them?"
Platoon leader meant extra work for anyone watching.
Unlike me, no payoff.
"Why offer anything? Just order them—they'll jump."
"No way. It's a hassle."
"Pitch the highest-ranking noble in the platoon. If he balks, ask the next. The lower one will rush in to claim it."
"...Genius."
Our noble bros hated taking orders from inferiors.
"Most will say yes anyway. Tons of glory hounds around."
As expected from a duke's son.
Master at delegating.
"I'm too short-handed to lead this many alone. Could you lend a hand?"
Starting with 1st Company's 1st Platoon, I asked Jerome from the Hamilton Marquis family—the highest rank there—to be platoon leader.
Please say yes.
Trembling at rejection, his response was better than hoped.
"If that's the reason, Jerome Hamilton can't stand by. Right?"
"Who else in our platoon but young master Jerome?"
"We'll call you platoon leader now."
Brown-nosing candidates nearby.
Jerome's ego swelled visibly.
"Haha! Need anything, just say. I'll handle our platoon perfectly."
That responsible look, marquis poise.
1st Platoon was set.
"Great, I trust you. Thanks."
Shaking the world's most reliable Jerome's hand, first platoon leader appointed.
Word spread fast. Before I could visit others, volunteers swarmed.
"With 2 points on the line, can I lead 2nd Company's 1st Platoon?"
"Fine if your platoon's agreed."
"All settled. Don't worry."
"Perfect. Thanks."
From 1st Company 1st Platoon to 3rd Company 4th Platoon.
Appointed all 12 platoon leaders in just one hour.
So proactive.
Low initiative 'cause no authority, but people like 'em.
Gathered all platoon leaders in our room, spread the map on the desk.
"This is the march route. Goal: zero stragglers. Ideas?"
"Hot days—march at night? Less stamina drain."
Group genius.
Amiron Peon of 2nd Company 1st Platoon dropped a gem.
"Solid. Noted."
More: Strong carry weak's gear.
Minimize rations—three days starving won't kill.
Relay to each battalion rep candidate. Report to supply depot immediately for rations.
Other candidates can assist. End transmission.
Mid-brainstorm, instructor's voice boomed.
They stood before I asked.
"Don't overdo—five per platoon."
"Got it. Grabbing 'em."
Platoon leader bros fetching labor.
So reliable.
People thrive with power.
Ion knew from the start. Impressive.
"Damn... you brought a crowd."
Five each from 12 platoons: ~60.
Assistants gawked at me.
"3rd Battalion supplies here. Take 'em. If no space, leave in depot till afternoon."
Sleeping bags in containers, etc.
Massive volume—impossible to barracks without distributing.
"Unpack, count, divvy up."
"Best plan. Let's go."
Clap clap!
Ion clapped, rallying them into action.
No one outranks Ion here?
Belburn Duke—one of empire's top three.
Only imperial blood beats him.
Worth begging him as platoon leader.
For crises, but everyday utility too.
"This... combat rations?"
Metal lunchbox-like. No way it tastes good.
Will nobles stomach it?
They whined about mess hall. Rations? Mass hunger strikes incoming.
"Sleeping bags: 384—one per head. Rations: 3,000. How to split?"
Ion reported counts.
Seven each, some left.
Plenty for three meals over two nights three days.
"Seven per, extras to the strong. Heavy stuff."
"Roger. 1st Platoon, line up."
"Keep order—finish fast!"
Distributing sleeping bags and rations flew by.
"Haa... exhausting."
Handled all urgent tasks, back post-dinner: 6 PM.
Regretted rep duty ten times today.
Studying now? Gonna lose it.
Chasing 1 bonus point, facing mass deductions.
"Fuck up the exam, and on graduation, I'll curse you out and ship you frontline."
Shoving fatigue down, opened notes for survival.
"Navy core: Elthho. Commander-in-chief: Maemold..."
Like cramming Korean history.
Not understanding—just memorizing.
Problem: this damn camp wouldn't let me.
Battalion rep candidates, report immediately. End transmission.
"Let me study! Just once!"
March day arrived despite everything.
Hoped for rest-study holiday—gone in frenzy.
Blink: shouldered gear, front of formation.
"1st Battalion!!!"
Waiting for instructor, 1st Battalion rep bellowed suddenly.
"Can we finish the march?!"
"Yes!!!!"
"Gonna straggle?!"
"No way!!!!"
Sudden Q&A.
How deep in army LARP are they? Dizzying.
Made me breathless just watching.
"Together to the end—best battalion! Fighting!!!!"
"Fighting!!!!!!"
1st Battalion hyped like mass hypnosis.
Already tired—stay quiet...
"2nd Battalion!!!"
2nd rep yelled as I hunkered.
Don't drag me in!
Too late to muzzle.
"Straggle on 100km march?!"
"No way!!!!"
Copied 1st, but louder—hate losing?
"Help struggling comrades, return together! Understood?!"
"Yes!!!!"
"2nd Battalion means strongest! 2nd Battalion!!!"
"Stronnnngest!!!!!!"
Rec leader vibes from 2nd rep.
Eyes turned to last: 3rd Battalion—me.
Really do this?
Wanted quiet start, but vibe said no.
Haa, insane.
No confidence, embarrassing.
But armband doomed me.
"3...3rd Battalion!!!"
Throat-tearing yell, channeling instructor.
If doing it, go big.
Half-assed worse.
"Rested well over weekend?!"
"Yes!!!!"
3rd Battalion roared back, waiting.
Instructor would've nitpicked volume, but.
"That your best voice?! 3rd Battalion!!!"
"Yessssss!!!!!!"