Sparring Shadows and Enemy Timber
Tak!
Wooden swords clashed sharply in midair.
Of course, Derek was perfectly matching Palan's tempo.
The guy who mercilessly shreds anyone weaker than him in the battalion is being kinder than anyone here.
Honestly, Garen had found Derek off-putting ever since they started.
Anyone who got put through his wringer would be horrified.
Derek's sunny personality was the same in the battalion, but only in peacetime.
Once training began, he showed no mercy, drilling with a grudge-like ferocity that earned him the nickname "little devil" back home.
"Hah!"
Tak!
Palan's wooden sword whipped out fast, pressing Derek relentlessly.
I figured from watching his training, but his skills are even more pathetic than I thought.
If he hadn't shown that spark of talent in drills, Garen would've walked out already.
This spar's about to wrap up.
It looked like Palan was dominating, but only because Derek was purely defending.
Palan was hitting his limit soon, so any moment now...
"Ugh! Hah!!!"
Tak! Taaak!
Like a final desperate strike, Palan swung hard.
Once from above, once from the side.
Nothing special, so Derek blocked just like before.
But trouble always erupts from the unexpected.
Huh...?
Derek's sword gave the tiniest inch on the second block, grazing Palan's collar.
"Stop! I surrender! I can't do more!"
Of course, oblivious to the graze, Palan collapsed and flailed his arms on the ground.
"That... was good today, bro."
Derek approached with a dazed look.
"Did my skills improve at all?"
"Yeah. You're growing at an astonishing rate. Especially today."
"Good to hear."
Palan grinned in satisfaction at Derek's words.
Just like Major Garen, barely containing his smile.
"According to the intel report from the Intelligence Agency, the enemy is stockpiling massive amounts of timber."
"Timber, huh."
Major General Gadus, Rimir Castle's commander, pondered the fresh news.
Too late to repair their own walls now. Making siege weapons, maybe.
It fit if they planned to scale the walls.
"What do you think they're up to, Tactical Staff Officer?"
Gadus asked Colonel Teiran, in charge of tactics.
"We need more intel, but for now, assuming siege weapons seems right."
Exactly matching Gadus's own thoughts.
"Agreed. The issue is figuring out what kind. Anything on that?"
"No, they say it's too hard to confirm."
"Hiding it means they're definitely scheming something."
The attending commanders racked their brains, but piercing the enemy's intent wasn't easy.
"Additionally, their new tactical staff officer is Viscount Baren Seto of the Seto Duke family."
"Is that true...?"
For the first time since the meeting started, Colonel Teiran showed real emotion.
"Yes, joined two weeks ago."
"Of all people."
"You know him?"
Teiran nodded at Gadus's question.
"Yes, the academia calls him a once-in-a-century genius."
"Hm, I know the Seto Duke family, but 'once-in-a-century' sounds overhyped."
Exaggerating abilities could be a tactic itself.
"No exaggeration. Commander, recall the Molang Pirates rampaging in the Aditz Empire's western seas?"
"The ones wiped out five years ago in a massive op? Every soldier knows it."
A rare large-scale battle outside wartime.
No one fought, but studying it was mandatory.
"Correct. And recently revealed: Baren Seto handled the tactics."
"Really?"
Gadus's voice rose in shock.
Simple reason: the op's tactics were brutally efficient and ruthless.
"From ship redesigns to planting Magic Bullets inside the pirate ranks—all from Baren Seto's mind."
"Weren't the Setos in administration?"
Generations of prime ministers and chief justices—no military record till the war.
"Recent generations only. Records show the founder was a strategist; military blood runs deep. Never underestimate them."
"We'll need caution. That timber call was likely his too."
"Yes. No rushing to conclusions."
"We'll mull the timber issue and revisit tomorrow."
The Seto name alone ratcheted up the commanders' tension.
"Next: meal rations in combat. Heard there's improvement."
"Yes! Satisfaction up hugely from last month, stability too."
Colonel Paolo, head of the Logistics Regiment overseeing support battalions, boasted proudly.
"Meals were a headache, but you fixed it fast. Thanks. Mind sharing how? Good for everyone."
The near-mutiny trigger was naturally top of Gadus's concerns.
"Well, our support battalion worked hard..."
"Of course they did. But I heard the previous guy blew the entire budget on potatoes. How'd you fix it?"
Questions kept coming.
Unfortunately, Paolo didn't know.
"Tsk tsk. Castle nearly lost to food riots, and you don't even grasp ops."
"S-sorry!"
Scorching glares pinned Paolo breathless.
"Aide."
"Yes!"
"Support Battalion's close. Fetch their CO. If absent, fine."
"Right away!"
The aide bolted from the room, sprinting to Support Battalion faster than ever.
"Who...?"
Ciel tilted her head at the knockless near-barge-in.
But it was brief.
The aide spoke, and she shot up.
"Commander summons you."
"Pardon?"
Shock faded; she checked her uniform and headed to HQ.
"Loyalty! Support Battalion CO, Major Ciel!"
Majors and colonels filled the room; she stood center, trembling understandably.
"Just curious—relax."
"Y-yes, sir!"
No relaxing in this spot.
"We'll send you back quick. Heard mess issues improved massively. Troops rave."
"Thank you!"
Ciel bellowed like a trainee.
No one batted an eye.
"Budget boost helped, but not game-changing. How'd you solve it?"
"Ah."
Confirming his curiosity, Ciel sighed softly in relief.
Mess hall was her pride.
"Potatoes were the nightmare, right?"
"Yes."
"Sell to civilians at a loss?"
Gadus figured dumping on markets, even unprofitably.
"No sales—all consumed in-castle by troops. Now considering more potato contracts."
Contracting more of the mutiny-sparking potato?
Utterly absurd.
"Explain in detail?"
"Yes. Know the troops' favorite: french fries?"
"Heard from my aide, not details."
Officer-only access now.
"Developed overnight by my Supply Company CO, Lieutenant Palan Oclo. Crispy texture, simple ingredients..."
French fries, chips.
Oclo Trading's streamlined deliveries.
Daily reports made Ciel's explanation flawless.
"Ho, they weren't kidding about the right man. Excellent. Truly."
"No, sir—Regiment CO's support made it possible."
"Hm."
Clueless why she was here, Ciel habitually praised superiors.
"Colonel Paolo."
"Y-yes!"
"Good results, so mercy this once."
"Truly grateful!"
"But don't forget. Shape up."
"Never disappoint again!"
Paolo leapt up, roaring.
Ciel watched her boss get reamed live.
Pure agony for her.
"Stamina!"
"Our pride!!!"
"Passion!"
"Our drive!!!"
"We are!"
"Special Forces!!!"
Dozens of soldiers, sandbags strapped on, ran with more fire than boot camp.
Sadly, I was tailing this sweaty conga line.
Shit, save me. Gonna die.
Uphill was hell unloaded; sandbags made it insane.
"Finish line ahead! Pick it up!"
"Raaah!!!"
These lunatics.
10k in, somehow more hyped than start.
"Bro! Manageable, right?"
Derek, running beside, asked casually.
"No. Hell no. Dying."
"C'mon, you're exaggerating. Training hasn't even started."
Yeah, that's the real killer.
How's this warm-up?
Unbelievable, but routine here.
"Gah!"
Chaeng!
"Hup!"
Chaeng! Chaaeng!
Post-run: straight to spars.
FYI: all live steel here.
"Lieutenant! Watch the blade end. Closing eyes mid-swing? Special Forces material?"
Major Garen, first opponent, barked from the start.
"Sorry!"
"No apologies. Again—focus."
Chaeng! Chaeng! Chaaeng!
Strikes at my absolute limit speed/power.
Instinct screamed shut eyes; I fought it raw.
"Good! That's empire's proud Special Forces."
Garen beamed approval.
FYI: I'm a supply officer.