Chapter 130
Chapter 130
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 130
Chapter Title: A Moment in History (1)
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After that, Centurion Bravos urged me a few more times to head for Alias Fortress.
But when I refused to yield, he eventually gave up.
“I will deliver the letter. But I cannot guarantee the Esquire’s safety.”
As he said this, Centurion Bravos’s expression was different from before.
The look on his face was one you'd give a reckless child, full of vigor but lacking sense.
*So this one's just as stubborn.*
That was precisely the look.
The once-favorable glint in his eyes had also grown cold.
The goodwill I’d earned with my polite demeanor had vanished in an instant.
Of course, he was in a foul mood. He might have to shed blood at any moment, and now he was saddled with troublesome baggage.
Perhaps he was already running through various scenarios in his head, wondering what he’d do if I were to interfere with his command of the unit.
Of course, I was no troublesome baggage, nor did I have any intention of confusing the Centurion’s command.
I had to make that clear before things began, to avoid any friction.
“Please give me a place in the century. I will follow Centurion Bravos’s command.”
Thus, I declared my intention to serve directly under him.
“What if I told you to follow as a common soldier?”
“Shield, bow, spear, sword—I can hold my own with any of them.”
It was an answer that meant I would follow, no matter where I was assigned.
“Hmph.”
Centurion Bravos’s eyes narrowed.
His gaze was sharp, as if trying to discern whether I was just talking or truly meant it.
On my end, I was completely sincere.
The important thing now was to stay with the century.
If I returned to the fortress, the coddling escort professors would prevent me from doing anything.
Of course, I would need their help when the time came, but that time was not now.
“The Esquire was serious.”
They say sincerity always gets through in the end, and it was true.
“Still, to have a promising Esquire stand shoulder-to-shoulder with common soldiers would be an insult.”
“I don’t mind…”
“No. I wouldn’t feel right about it.”
But it seemed my sincerity had been conveyed a little too well.
“What to do about this.”
Once again amicable, Centurion Bravos began to ponder my treatment.
“Then let’s do this.”
Then, as if he had finally found the answer to his dilemma, he spoke with a bright expression.
“By the authority of a Centurion, I will temporarily grant you the rank of Over-ten.”
Over-ten, the title for a Decurion who commands ten soldiers.
For an Esquire with no one to serve, it was a fitting position—neither too much nor too little.
For me, who had been prepared to march even as a common soldier, this was an unexpected windfall.
“You will be in charge of the Triarii.”
It wasn't just a hollow title, either; he was even assigning soldiers to me.
And not just any soldiers, but the Triarii.
The Triarii, as their name suggests, were those who stood in the third line of the formation, and when a battle broke out, unless something extraordinary happened, they would typically stand in the rear, merely observing the battle at the front lines before returning.
Hearing that, one might think they were the rejects who couldn't be placed on the front lines.
The reality was completely different.
Unlike the soldiers of the first and second lines, who were armed with short swords and shields, these were veteran infantry equipped with spears, shields, and all sorts of other weapons.
They would step forward in only one scenario.
When the infantry of the first and second lines collapsed.
When all other forces retreated, the Triarii would instead advance.
Crushing the enemy soldiers who had broken the front lines and were cheering prematurely.
The Triarii were the final card to turn the tide of a losing battle.
Wow…
I genuinely saw the Centurion before me in a new light.
I had thought his political skill was unusual when he offered me the rank of Decurion, but seeing him entrust the Triarii to me, I could only marvel at his quick thinking and wisdom.
He didn’t offend me by fobbing off some half-baked soldiers, and while handing over his elite troops, he ensured no gap would form in his fighting strength.
Because the Triarii he entrusted to me were men who would never see combat unless the front lines completely collapsed.
And the Empire's battle formations rarely ever collapsed.
That wasn't all.
Frankly, if some kid who wasn't even fully grown were to give a ridiculous order, the Triarii were veterans with enough experience to simply ignore it.
A unit for whom it didn't matter who their commander was in the first place.
In other words, the rank of Over-ten the Centurion before me had granted was merely a hollow title, well-packaged with goodwill and favor.
After dealing only with rigid knights and simple squires, encountering this type of person was even refreshing.
It wasn't a bad feeling.
On the contrary, I was pleased.
Because for the work I had ahead of me, I needed someone like the Centurion before me, not some inflexible commander.
“Then…”
Centurion Bravos stood from his seat and extended his hand to me.
“Over-ten Yan. Welcome once again to the 23rd Century of the Empire’s 13th Legion.”
I took his outstretched hand.
Feeling the thick calluses, I was once again certain that he was the right man for my work.
***
On the spot, I requested an Imperial Army uniform.
Centurion Bravos’s eyes widened.
It seemed he hadn’t expected me to follow the Imperial Army’s ways down to such a minor detail.
“It will be much more uncomfortable than the Cradle uniform the Over-ten is used to wearing.”
“It’s fine.”
“Good. Very good.”
Leaving the heartily laughing Centurion waving behind me, I exited the command tent.
“Got everything?”
“More or less.”
“More or less?”
“Perfectly finished, sir!”
While I was speaking with the Centurion, the soldiers, having finished their preparations to leave the camp, were checking everywhere for any last forgotten items.
They said this happened often, and indeed, everyone looked accustomed to it.
After watching them for a moment, I returned to the tent assigned to me.
A young soldier who followed me right in held out a uniform.
“Oh, they managed to find one that fits me… It’s yours, isn’t it.”
The young soldier nodded and began chattering away, unprompted.
Saying it was a uniform they only wore for inspections and events, and that they treasured it immensely.
They seemed quite resentful about having their cherished uniform taken by me.
For me, having unintentionally taken someone else’s clothes, it was an apologetic affair.
“I’ll wear it cleanly and give it back.”
Only after hearing my words did the young soldier’s face relax.
It seems they were worried I wouldn’t return it.
“Hmph.”
I took off my Cradle uniform and carefully stuffed it into my pack so it wouldn’t wrinkle.
As I was about to put on the military uniform, I felt a strange gaze.
“...?”
The young soldier’s mouth was hanging open.
I wondered what they were looking at, and it seemed the scars on my body had caught their eye.
When I was struck by lightning and my skin was completely peeled off, most of the marks on my skin disappeared, but a few of the particularly deep ones remained.
After that, new scars were added in the process of being bitten and chewed on by a wyvern.
As a result, my body had quite a few scars.
“What. Are they ugly?”
At my words, the young soldier, belatedly snapping out of it, quickly bowed their head.
“S-Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. It’s true they’re ugly.”
“What? No? Absolutely not! They’re not ugly at all! In fact, they’re cool!”
Seeing them call my tattered body cool, it seemed the Centurion wasn't the only one with good social skills.
“I was told that for soldiers on the battlefield, scars are like medals.”
“What nonsense. Medals are medals. Wounds are wounds.”
“Proof of one who fought bravely against the enemy, won, and survived…”
“I don’t know who said that, but they taught a kid something strange.”
I told the young soldier.
“Only amateurs brag about their scars. A soldier who fights without getting hurt is a great soldier.”
“That’s not true! It’s not! It’s really not!”
“What do you mean, it’s not? What kind of crazy bastard filled a kid’s head with such nonsensical ideas…”
“My father said it.”
“…”
“For your information, he was one of the Centurions of the 13th Legion.”
“...?”
“He died in battle five years ago.”
“…”
I made a fool of myself with that clumsy lecture.
“Gah! Get away. I need to get dressed. A boy keeps staring at another man's body. It's creepy.”
“I’m not a boy.”
“If you’re not a boy, then what, you’re a girl?”
“Yes.”
“…”
I turned my head away.
“Hmph.”
Then I hurriedly put on the uniform.
*It’s not true, it’s really not, my father was right.*
I just ignored the grumbling from my side.
“Here…”
As I was tightening and loosening parts of the uniform to fit my body, the grumbling kid handed me a piece of metal.
A piece of metal shaped like the letter 'X', which means the number 10 in the Imperial language.
It was the epaulet of a Decurion, an Over-ten.
With this, although it was temporary, I had transferred my affiliation from the Cradle and become a soldier of the Empire.
It all felt a bit rushed and haphazard, but I suppose this was the charm of a field unit rolling on the front lines.
“Over-ten Yan. Ready.”
Having attached the epaulet, I left the tent.
“Kid. What’s your name?”
“Trainee Bella, sir.”
“Alright. Trainee Bella. Where are the Triarii?”
“Over there.”
“...?”
“On top of those carts.”
At Trainee Bella's words, I narrowed my eyes and looked at the carts.
Looking closely, I could see people lying down on each of the carts, which were laden with supplies.
As I got closer, I could hear the sound of snoring.
“...Should I wake them?”
Trainee Bella glanced at me, trying to read my expression.
“No. Just leave them.”
I shook my head.
The Triarii were soldiers who were permitted to sit down even when a battle was raging right in front of them.
They had to maintain peak condition before pushing forward.
Moreover, we weren't even engaged with the enemy right now.
I had no desire to disturb their rest unnecessarily.
“Ah.”
The trainee following me handed me a helmet.
It was a commander’s helmet, adorned with a red plume.
Unlike the Centurion's, it was a single plume, and even that was a pathetically sparse thing that barely peeked over the top of the helmet.
I took the helmet and pressed it onto my head.
As I was quietly fastening the chin strap, Centurion Bravos emerged from the command tent.
“Over-ten Yan.”
“Centurion Bravos.”
“The uniform suits you quite well.”
At the Centurion’s ever-present social grace, I simply offered a brief, silent nod.
After a glance at me, the Centurion’s gaze shifted toward the top of the carts.
The Triarii, snoring away in a deep sleep.
For a moment, his eyes darted between me and them.
A look of surprise appeared on the Centurion’s face.
It seemed he had expected me to drag all the Triarii down from the carts in order to establish my authority as a Decurion.
Why would I?
They'll have to get down soon enough, whether they like it or not.
“Hmph.”
The Centurion stood at the head of the formation and raised his hand high.
“Century!”
His hand, which had been pointing to the sky, soon pointed toward the plains outside the camp.
“Move out!”
The heavily loaded carts creaked and groaned as they left the encampment.
Some sixty Imperial soldiers followed behind them.
Whoooosh.
A wind blew from the distance.
Carrying a familiar scent.
“Over-ten?”
Trainee Bella looked at me.
For some reason, her complexion was pale.
I reflexively touched my face.
My fingertips touched the corners of my mouth, stretched wide.
I think I must have been smiling.