No Counter to a Sword Threat
Holding a sword to my throat while talking—there's really no good comeback to that.
"I'll give it my all, sir."
"Good to see reason prevail. There's a carriage waiting out front of the tavern. Hop on and head straight west."
They've got everything set up in advance, huh.
It felt like I was just a toy being played with in the palm of their hand.
"Yes, sir..."
"By the way, can you handle a sword? It's an infantry battalion, so you might end up in direct combat with the enemy."
"A little. I learned the basics at the training camp."
There had been three rounds of sword training: primary, secondary, and tertiary.
Just a taste, really.
We'd only covered how to hold it and basic swings—nothing that made much difference from starting from scratch.
"A little, huh. Training camp was two weeks, right? I can guess how that went."
Eden clicked his tongue and downed another mouthful of liquor.
He's knocking back almost a whole bottle by himself.
The guy's a bottomless pit.
"Ha... haha, wartime means we make do, right?"
"I'll have the field agents teach you. The guy's stubborn as a mule, but his sword skills are Special Forces level."
"Thank you for looking out for me."
I hated physical training, but swordsmanship was essential for surviving the front lines.
"Alright, time to head out."
Eden checked the empty bottle, then went to the counter to settle the bill.
"Came to 70 silver. Just spot me 35."
"Pardon?"
"Don't tell me you're expecting me to cover it all? On that pittance of an army salary?"
"Ah... sure."
No, aren't you supposed to pick up the tab?
He was my superior, he'd picked the place and the menu. Plus, he'd guzzled like eighty percent of it.
I was so flabbergasted, words failed me.
"Nobles have so much cash, one guy always foots the bill?"
"Not exactly. I've got silver... somewhere."
I opened my coin pouch—only golds, no silvers.
"Different worlds, eh."
"Ha... haha, here, this should cover it."
With the staff's help, we settled the lopsided Dutch pay, and I stepped out of the tavern.
What a total asshole.
Too petty for a cheapskate, more like straight-up unhinged.
"That's your ride. If you're lucky, we'll cross paths again alive."
Like with Brigadier General Cels—always phrasing it like it might be goodbye.
That alone hinted at how perilous Intelligence work really was.
"I'll see you smiling next time, sir."
"Heh, you got it. Looking forward to it."
I bowed deeply, boarded the carriage, and it lurched off with a rumble.
Rattling nonstop, it barreled straight toward the west.
"Haa."
Ten days on the road with a driver who might as well have taken a vow of silence.
Pure hell—no rose-tinted glasses about it.
My back's killing me.
No shock absorbers, so every bump on the rocky road jarred straight through. And when it rained? The roof leaked like a sieve—clearly neglected maintenance.
Arriving in one piece is a damn miracle.
At the entrance to the 3rd Division's base, the first thing that hit me was the soldiers standing guard—packed so tight it choked the air.
Coming from the capital, this feels like a straight-up warzone.
Carriages hauling supplies zipped back and forth in a frenzy.
Eden's words about the war already being underway suddenly made sense.
"Papers, please."
As I approached the gate, a soldier with a sword blocked the way.
"I'm Second Lieutenant Palan Oclo, newly assigned to the 1st Infantry Battalion of the Ground Operations Regiment. Haven't gotten my pass yet."
"One moment, sir."
"Take your time."
While I waited, another soldier inside opened a window and gave the thumbs-up.
"Cleared. Show your ID tag in place of the pass."
I always carried my ID tag, so I pulled it from my pocket and handed it over.
"Whoa."
The crimson tag marking nobility drew a quiet gasp of awe from the soldier.
"Notified the battalion. Wait inside, and an escort officer will come get you."
"Thanks."
I pocketed the tag and took a seat in the waiting room.
West must be hotter. Sweaty already.
An air-cooling magic device like an AC would be nice, but no way a basic waiting room had one.
"You Second Lieutenant Palan?"
As I leaned back for a breather, the door swung open. In walked an officer sporting two diamond pips.
"Sir! Second Lieutenant Palan Oclo, reporting for duty with the 3rd Division!"
Obviously the escort. No time to think—I snapped up and saluted.
"Vanguard Company Commander, First Lieutenant Alpen. Grab your gear; we're heading to the battalion."
"Yes, sir!"
Casual tone, seemed like a decent guy.
"You ride?"
"Yes, sir. Proficient enough."
I hadn't learned at the training camp, but no noble lacked horsemanship. I'd done it plenty, memories crystal clear in my head.
"Unit rule: horses keep left. Follow close."
The lieutenant led off, and I followed on horseback.
—Neigh!
Recalling the motions, I urged it faster—then it suddenly bucked wildly.
Damn it, what's your problem?
Theory and muscle memory weren't syncing. I knew what to do, but my body lagged.
"You sure you can ride...?"
"Y-yes, sir! One moment, please."
I calmed it slowly, kept the pace steady—no more issues.
Gotta practice later.
Horsemanship was survival essential. Not optional.
"This is your battalion HQ."
A spacious three-story building and grounds. Infantry meant lots of troops milling about.
Training underway on one drill field triggered a dizzying wave of PTSD just watching.
"Bad face—disappointed by the outdated digs?"
"N-no, sir. This is... impressive."
"Impressive? It's a rundown dump without a single proper facility."
Alpen shook his head and led inside.
"First floor: armory, maintenance, conference room. Battalion building's not huge—you'll learn it in a day."
Lazy hand waves, neighborhood-big-bro vibe in his speech.
But check out those arms. Insane muscle.
Summer half-sleeves showed off thick forearms. No wonder he commanded the vanguard.
"Second floor: CO's office. Let's report while we're here."
"Right now...?"
Not just any CO—a traitor.
The lieutenant didn't know, but I did.
"Problem? He's a good guy—go in easy."
"Ha... haha, got it."
Dragging it out would look suspicious. I nodded and stood before the door.
Stay cool. I don't know he's a traitor.
Cleared my head, knocked.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"New Second Lieutenant Palan Oclo requesting entry."
"Come in."
A deep baritone answered instantly.
Eyes squeezed shut, I opened the door and stepped in.
"Sir!"
Salute first thing. The battalion commander, Major Olmen, rose from his chair at the sight of the fresh-faced trainee lieutenant.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Olmen, your infantry battalion CO. Rough trip from the capital, eh?"
His kindly face matched the resonant voice perfectly as he extended a hand.
"Not at all, sir!"
"Haha, spirited! Skip the stiff formalities—have a seat."
First genuinely gentlemanly guy I'd met in the army.
Looked nothing like a traitor. I started second-guessing.
Intelligence messing with the wrong guy?
Our country had framed innocents as spies back in the day. Could happen here too.
"Thank you, sir!"
Straight-backed on the sofa he indicated, at perfect attention.
"How long from the capital?"
"Ten days."
"Usually two weeks. Brutal."
Casual chit-chat eased the tension bit by bit.
"Heard you were headed to Eastern Coastal Guard but got rerouted west by His Majesty's order. Tough break."
"Ha... haha, no big deal."
My story lined up with reality, minus the top-secret Intelligence angle.
Eastern Coast for the sweet gig, busted by the Emperor, reassigned to 3rd Division west.
"Still, top trainee coming our way bolsters morale. West's short-staffed lately."
"Sh-short-staffed?"
Short-staffed meant current troops pulling double duty.
"Alpen'll show you the ropes as senior officer. Settle in easy."
"Appreciate it, sir."
"Sure. Grab chow together sometime."
Wrapped up, saluted the CO, and left.
Wait... is he really a traitor?
Too sweet, too solid.
Personnel file says gambling addict. They got the wrong guy.
Gambling? Guy looked like he'd unwind with books at home.
"All done?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'll introduce the rest. Follow me."
Tailed Alpen all morning: chief warrant, NCOs, everyone.
Responses mostly warm.
Hard to be hostile—my name carried the Oclo name, untouchable for them.
"Never seen that hardass old-timer smile at anyone. Blind to promotions, those guys. Tsk."
"Ha... haha, really?"
After the regiment ops officer, Alpen tsked in exasperation.
"Regiment CO's slot open—meet him next week. Battalion next."
"Uh, sir? Am I joining your company?"
"Why else would I drag a second lieutenant around?"
"R-right."
I knew it, but denial made me ask.
Damn, not the vanguard.
Name said it all.
Infantry sucked enough; vanguard meant spearhead—first to die, right?
"Issue?"
"None, sir! Lead on. Haha."
Awkward grin as I followed to the far-right end of the battalion grounds: Vanguard Company.
This... is where I'll work?
A dilapidated single-story brick shack that looked ready to crumble.
Vertigo just staring at it.
"You'll get used to it."
Doubtful, but what could a lowly second lieutenant do?
Sighed inwardly, toured the company office, my desk, then met the platoon.
"Platoon Deputy Sergeant Dipon."
"Sergeant Malik, 1st Squad Leader."
"Sergeant Galit, 2nd Squad Leader."
"Corporal Erok, 3rd Squad Leader."
Handshakes all around, but their eyes screamed skepticism.
Newbie butterbar—no trust.
Army life let me read them like a book.
Can't blame 'em. I treated new NCOs and lieutenants like luggage too.
Truth was, they were luggage. Less useful than a private, hogging officer slots.
Who'd look kindly? And if said officer barked dumb orders at longer-serving enlisted?
Ghosted from then on.
