Sword Lessons in the Shadows
“Company Commander, what brings you here so late at night?”
“What else? Waiting for a certain lieutenant wandering around after hours.”
The atmosphere was stiff, his expression hard.
It felt like facing a total stranger.
What’s with the scary vibe?
There was only one lamp lit in front of him, making the place feel like a haunted house.
“I was spending some time connecting with the troops, so I ran late. Is there something you need me for, sir?”
“Plenty. So much I can’t even prioritize.”
He walked right up to me and perched on the edge of my desk.
No way he’s here to crack down on discipline?
Crude culture or not, it was military—totally possible.
“Tch. Never mind.”
The captain approached, pondered something, then clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“Saw you fumbling around on the defensive line today. You handle a sword at all?”
“Picked up the basics at the training camp, but I’m no expert.”
“Can’t have a vanguard platoon leader who can’t swing a blade.”
“Ha… haha.”
Even I knew that didn’t add up.
Whether it’s today or tomorrow, if the enemy actually attacks, I’m dead meat.
Deserting and getting branded an imperial criminal would still give better survival odds.
“There’s an old training ground behind the company no one uses anymore. Come by after duty—I’ll teach you what I can.”
“I’m truly sorry to impose, sir.”
I appreciated it deep down, but honestly, it wasn’t the most welcome offer.
Just buy a decent sword manual and study that—it’d be faster.
I’d planned to start personal training tomorrow evening… not tonight.
“Don’t sweat it. If my platoon leader folds, I’m the one who suffers.”
I couldn’t help but admire the captain’s words.
Battalion Commander was right—no real bad apples here.
I’d been spooked by the initial tension, but that was just me overthinking.
If he’s offering this much, I can’t say no.
Knowledge is power—nothing wrong with more of it.
“Thank you, sir!”
“Head back soon and rest up. Busy day tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. Good night.”
The captain waved in response and left the building.
Now the office was truly mine alone.
A bit chilly, but I could chalk that up to the romance of solitude.
As long as no ghostly footsteps echoed around.
“First things first—memorize the local terrain and standard operating procedures by situation.”
The PX I’d stopped by earlier—properly called the Supply Shop.
Lame name.
Anyway, chatting with my deputy platoon leader on the way back, he said incidents popped up once a day on average.
Today was my first day, so I just shadowed. Tomorrow, I take the lead.
To survive as platoon leader somehow, I dove into the encyclopedia-thick stack of materials—summarizing, memorizing.
“Combat Alert Level 1: Combat gear with weapons only. Level 2: Helmet and…”
Thanks to cramming at the training camp, I knew enough to make quick progress.
Prep for anything, and someday it pays off.
Old sayings don’t lie.
“Ugh, that’s enough for tonight. I’m dying.”
Deep into the wee hours, head foggy, I pushed back from the desk.
Wonder if they wake us at 0630 like training camp.
Roll call at 0800, but 0630 reveille? That’d be straight-up murder.
“Quiet out there.”
Heading down the hall to leave, the view through the windows was pure darkness.
“Like my future. Sigh—one month. Just one damn month.”
Exhaling heavily, I slipped into my assigned infantry battalion officers’ quarters, Room 203.
“Knew it’d be small, but this is ridiculous.”
Barely room for a bed and desk—a true studio shoebox.
Still, troops cram six to a room. Heaven compared to that, right?
Life’s all about comparisons for comfort and satisfaction.
Of course, thinking of my wastrel brothers lounging in the mansion just pissed me off.
I’ll drag those bastards to a hellhole like this someday.
Harsh conditions only hardened my revenge.
“At least the bed’s comfy.”
Clean covers too—no stench or grime.
Crash hard. How much luxury am I getting here anyway?
I stripped off my uniform like dirty laundry and shut my eyes.
Thus ended a day that felt like a week—miraculously.
Level 2 Lifted!
“What day is it today? Why the hell so much bullshit?”
“Sigh, let’s head back.”
Exhausted troops dragged themselves onto the wagons.
I was among them.
Ah, I’m dying.
A week into platoon leader duty already.
Thought it’d be fine without actual combat.
Dead wrong.
You assholes don’t even fight, but you scramble us every damn time.
Enemy yapping from 300 meters out, and we sortie just to hear it.
Not worth a human being.
And what pissed me off more? These bastards didn’t care if it was day or night.
“Couldn’t sleep last night—feels like death.”
“Yawn, let’s crash. They just yapped, so eight hours quiet at least. Platoon Leader, mind if we head to barracks?”
“Go ahead. Don’t empty out completely—tough ones stay behind.”
“Thanks!”
Issued flexible orders and returned to company HQ.
Time for my break.
Like a zombie.
Shoulders slumped, I collapsed into the chair.
“You okay?”
3rd Platoon Leader, Lieutenant Ramon, eyed me with concern.
“Still hanging in. But damn, your stamina’s impressive, sir—no sign of fatigue.”
“All that regular exercise. You should hit it when you can, Lieutenant.”
“Ha… haha.”
Work alone maxed me out—exercise? Might as well say drop dead from overwork.
“What’s with the chit-chat?”
Company Commander Alpen returned from battalion meeting and chimed in.
“Gave Platoon Leader Palan some fitness advice—he looks beat.”
“Nonstop scrambles day and night? Tired’s normal. Fitness advice, my ass.”
Such rare common sense in the army—it hit me right in the feels.
“Basics of stamina, though.”
“Whatever. Regiment Commander’s special order—full rest. Spread the word and send ’em home.”
“For real?”
“Straight home?!”
Couldn’t believe our ears—we platoon leaders shot up from our seats.
“Don’t wanna clock out?”
“N-no, sir! Spreading it now.”
Fearing it was a prank, I bolted to relay the news.
“No way…!”
“See you tomorrow!”
“Futsal?”
“Hell no. Crashing till morning—don’t wake me.”
Troops grinned for the first time in ages, heading to barracks. I reported to the company commander and clocked out too.
Rest during scramble time? Feels weird.
Body and mind relaxed, but a twinge of unease—hard to put into words.
“You’ve earned it—week of hell you endured.”
Too wiped for that battalion commander investigation even.
Oh, right.
Totally spaced it.
But no matter how I look, he’s no traitor.
Always leads charges on alerts, cares for troops and officers late into the night. GOAT.
If he’d been my battalion commander back home, no bullshit—just smooth sailing.
Throw me a bone, guidelines or something. Intelligence Agency’s the real problem.
Fundamentally, no time or energy to tail anyone now.
Next meetup, Truth Eye it is.
Not that I forgot about Truth Eye entirely.
Just agonizing over the cost—this damn skill drained too much per use.
Military boots were 25 points, and peeking at one guy’s 20? Bullshit.
Painful, but zero leads so far—had to bite the bullet.
Knock knock!
Browsing 20-point buys when someone rapped the door.
Resting here—who the hell?
Timing was infuriating, right as I dozed off.
Just ignore and sleep.
Brief hesitation—lieutenant privileges kicked in. Rolled out of bed.
“Coming.”
Slipped on a cardigan, opened up: Captain Alpen in PT gear.
“Sir! Company Commander, to what do I owe?”
“Nothing major. Realized I promised sword lessons but got too busy.”
“Ah… yes, sir.”
Even this far, I knew his intent.
Damn, should’ve left it shut.
Deep regret, but too late.
“Wanna start now? Got plans?”
Not “you cool?” but “plans?”—code for you’re coming.
No one plans on sudden holidays.
“I’m… fine, but sir, aren’t you over-investing in me? You must be tired.”
“Routine life—no fatigue. And like I said, platoon leader flops on the field, company crumbles.”
“R-really?”
Bit exaggerated, but what could I do?
Superior says so.
“Grab your gear and come down. I’ll wait.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ended up redressing in the heap I’d tossed.
Damn! Rare rest, and they can’t stand seeing it.
This godforsaken army hates downtime.
“Good, no one around. Yesterday some troops played volleyball, so I bailed.”
Company commander bushwhacked unmanaged paths deep inside, revealing a small clearing.
What, secret hideout?
Base was huge—random spots everywhere.
“Old company training ground. Sergeants’ hideout now, but they’re all crashed out today—no one’ll come.”
“Got it, sir.”
“Train here from now on. Swing by after duty.”
Implying this wasn’t one-off.
Not bad, really.
Sword skills were worth begging for—money no object.
“First, gauge your level. Grab that bokken up front.”
Sounded like sparring. Picked up a wooden sword from the ground, assumed training camp stance.
“Hm.”
Captain Alpen’s reaction to my form? Worst imaginable.
“Problem, sir?”
“Didn’t you say you learned it?”
“Yes, sir—from training camp.”
“World’s gone soft? How’d they pass that garbage?”
Shaking his head in disbelief, he grabbed a bokken and mirrored… something.
“Feel the difference?”
“Uh… yes.”
Couldn’t lie—no way.
Stable, no gaps, perfect balance.
No wonder he grimaced at mine.
“Come at me.”
“Here goes… excuse me!”
Stance sucked, but I aced slashes at camp.
Show I’m no total noob.
Male pride. Quick steps closed distance, sword overhead.
“Hah.”
Sigh before I even finished.
You underestimate me.
Training camp runner-up, nearly Eastern Coast Guard, intel agent thriving on front lines!
That’s Palan Oclo—
Thwack!
Bokken grazed his head—then gut-wrenching pain hit, hurling me to the dirt.
“Hah. Sent me some third-rate hack.”