Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Supply Operation (1)
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The next day, and the day after that, it was mock battle after mock battle.
I ramped up the intensity day by day, driving the Bluecoats to their absolute limits.
“Charge!”
“Withdraw!”
By the end of the second day, they’d still grumbled and rebelled now and then, but by the third, they were completely silent.
No more “why” questions directed at me.
They just mechanically charged and withdrew on command.
Sometimes it was the Doppelzoltner as opponents, sometimes the 8th Legion’s heavy infantry and pikemen. Other times, it was Bluecoats who’d washed out of the selection process.
One meal a day. Bare-minimum sleep.
It was so brutal that the ones who’d dropped out first were sighing in relief.
Whatever.
I scrutinized their true natures as they fatigued to the breaking point.
“Disqualified.”
A Bluecoat whose focus had slipped failed to withdraw in time and got nabbed by the Doppelzoltner.
“Disqualified.”
Another, pissed off and charging deeper than the rest, got surrounded by infantry.
“Disqualified. Disqualified.”
Lagging behind. Or protruding ahead.
“Disqualified. Disqualified.”
Every one who tumbled from their horse got sidelined, and before I knew it, exactly half remained.
“That’s enough.”
I called off the mock battle on the spot.
“Hah... hah...”
“Cough.”
The Bluecoats, battered after five straight days of grueling drills, unbuckled their visors and gulped down ragged breaths.
“Good work, all of you.”
Seeing their flushed faces, I declared the trial over.
But the Bluecoats barely reacted.
-Huff, huff.
They just pressed knees tight to their neighbors’, endlessly checking intervals.
Thud.
Then came a dull metallic clang from somewhere.
A Bluecoat who’d been eliminated ages ago was pounding his breastplate nonstop.
Thud thud thud.
The dropouts beat their chests like it was rehearsed.
That sparked it.
Thump thump thump.
The war clowns stomped in place.
“Congratulations!”
“You earned it, brothers!”
Soldiers of the 8th Legion atop the walls, peering down at the yard, burst into applause.
“Ah...?”
The Bluecoats, eyes fierce as they checked spacing, went slack-jawed at the sudden cheers and claps.
Then, one by one, they came to and clenched fists.
“Raaagh!”
They hurled off helmets, howling like beasts.
“Follow Senior NCO Jamal to get your barracks assignment. Disarm and rest up.”
Too drained even to reply, they slumped over their saddles and trailed Jamal away.
I turned to leave.
Oh.
The Bluecoats who’d flunked out early but stuck around to help with the mocks—mostly as spectators—gawked at me blankly.
Come to think of it, I hadn’t properly greeted them.
“Disarm and form up here again.”
Expectant faces lit up.
“Might be a ways off, so mount up. Dismissed.”
They scattered like the wind.
And returned the same way.
All disarmed, crisp in their blue coats.
“Let’s move.”
I led out two companies’ worth of Bluecoats—the rest returned—to exit the fortress.
“Done. Hard work. Together. Qualified. Plenty.”
Sharp-eyed Doppelzoltner blocked my path.
Eh, whatever.
Two hundred grown men or two hundred thirty—same difference.
“Let’s go!”
With the Doppelzoltner marching on foot, we veered toward a closer village than planned.
“We’ll handle spots ourselves. Mind hooking us up with booze and snacks? We’ll pay, of course.”
The village head, spooked by our sudden arrival—the Doppelzoltner loomed large—nodded belatedly.
“Lord almighty. Hope we’ve got enough to feed this horde... If not, I’ll raid the village stores and scrape together what I can!”
“We’ve already pinged other villages too. Just give what you’ve got.”
I jingled my coin pouch, and he puffed up like it was nothing.
“Sit wherever. Rest easy.”
Soon the headman and villagers brought booze and food. The Bluecoats I’d sent ahead merged in around then.
Carts laden with barrels and grub trailed them, local women in tow.
We’d scoured nearby villages, but with our numbers, it still fell short.
Not enough booze. Not enough food.
No complaints.
Make do and enjoy—that’s the field soldier’s way.
We shared the meager spread amiably.
Some Bluecoats, spirits high, belted out songs at full volume.
One stripped his top for a goofy dance. Others flirted with the barely comprehensible Doppelzoltner.
Some locked eyes with young haulers and slipped off to secluded spots.
What the...?
A good chunk of Bluecoats had vanished before I knew it.
These bastards again!
Stomach twisted, but I held back.
No need to kill the vibe.
In these borderlands, troops mingling like this with travelers was common. Bluecoats, Thracia’s elites, were always popular.
Especially now, postwar, with young men decimated.
Natural.
So what about me? I’m a Bluecoat too.
Irritation surged as I gripped my cup. Then a hot gaze prickled.
I turned. A pretty girl eyed me oddly.
Beckon.
She crooked a finger as our eyes met.
I rose, mesmerized.
“Lieutenant! Drink to me too!”
Bluecoats swarmed.
“Your words hit home—five times the battlefield to survive as Bluecoats. Truly inspiring.”
“Even outside this war, shattering enemy lines was getting tough. You spear a guy, and the Astorian pops up fine...”
“Lances too weak for their thickening plate. But charge harder, and you’re stuck in their ranks...”
I glanced at the girl who’d beckoned.
She mouthed something. Wait for you, maybe.
“Ah...”
A sigh slipped out.
“Lieutenant? What’s up...?”
Oblivious Bluecoats tilted heads.
“...Fine. I’ll join you this time.”
“An honor.”
Gulp gulp.
“Here, more.”
Gulp gulp.
“Leu...”
“Lieutenant?”
Pouring nonstop, they drank puzzled but obedient.
My plan to get them blackout drunk? Busted.
“Our morale? Key. But flashy charges just beg the mages to blast us. If they don’t know where we’re hitting, their worry multiplies tenfold. That’s how you seize initiative.”
Before long, I was deep in it, yapping endlessly about Bluecoats’ future.
“Ah.”
Snapped out too late—the girl was gone.
Fair enough.
If it saved even one more Bluecoat to fight beside up front, worth it.
“Where’d they go?”
“That way just now. Heh heh.”
But in that blink, they’d vanished.
Like a club to the skull. Then someone plopped beside me.
“Know. Feeling.”
Doppelzoltner.
“Thracia girls. No eyes. Real men.”
Clumsy Thracia laced with shared pain.
Hurt even more.
“Time to wrap this up.”
I cut it short early.
These things turn sour if dragged out.
Nothing more to it.
“Everyone, return.”
Bluecoats grumbled but rose without fuss.
“I’ll drag you out next time!”
“Short goodbyes. We’ll meet again.”
I glared at those hugging village girls till the end, then mounted my Royal Gift Horse.
“Ugh, return! Return!”
Bellowed once, spurred hard.
Morning hit like a slap.
Barracks quiet—other Bluecoats gone, I figured.
Wrong.
“You’re here!”
Heading to the yard for routine morning run, fully armored Bluecoats awaited on horseback.
“Bluecoooats!”
They snapped straight and roared as one.
“Salute Lieutenant Yannick!”
For Thracia!
Two hundred fists thumped chests in unison. I stared, stunned.
“Call us anytime! We’ll drop everything!”
“We’ll become Bluecoats beyond Bluecoats, as you said!”
They shouted.
“Infinite glory on your path!”
“Stay safe till we meet!”
Nose tingled.
“Wishing you all victory too!”
Bellowed firm; itch eased.
“Bluecoats, return to fortress!”
“Move out!”
They vanished, trailing dust like footprints.
“Horse shit, fuckers!”
Lots left behind, the bastards.
While rookies recovered from mock battles, I finalized the unit roster.
Rookies? Battle-hardened vets all.
Mix with my originals—no issue.
Let me sort purely by temperament, ignoring time served.
Wide experience, broad vision.
Quick wits, superb horsemanship.
Bold guts, iron patience.
Thus: vanguard, rearguard, reserves.
Added thirty Doppelzoltner for supply/support, twenty 8th Legion infantry—solid unit now.
“Knew you’d call soon.”
Infantry lead to Vadim, the grizzled vet I’d synced with against Astorian raiders.
“Understand me?”
“...?”
Otto von Bauer, turncoat knight still tongue-tied in Thracia, was awkward—but a knight’s a knight. Plenty uses.
Worst case, mounted infantry with Doppelzoltner.
“Lieutenant Yannick. Unit roster done... but something wrong?”
Major Evgen Sanov looked deathly haggard.
“Something wrong? Always. Too much. Endless.”
Not kidding—exhausted to death.
“How’d the commander handle this load? Even with me and staff helping, it’s endless.”
Made sense. 8th Legion’s lax commander, blasting castle walls carefree, didn’t scream buried in work.
Especially with fewer senior officers than other legions.
“Anyway, if nothing else, go. Gotta finish before commander returns. All-nighter barely cuts it.”
Hated adding work, but unavoidable.
“Planning mobile drills outside till winter. Sync hands and feet pre-real combat.”
“Smart. What do you need?”
“Rations. Oil for night ops.”
Supplies tight; frown creased his brow deep.
“...Ugh. Not generous.”
“Light travel anyway. Don’t need much.”
“Fine. Two weeks’ hardtack, one day’s oil. Check supply later, decide then.”
“Plenty.”
Staying’d just hinder—bolted from HQ.
Next day, assembled the unit.
Sixty heavy cavalry, full plate.
Thirty turncoat mercs.
Twenty versatile infantry.
One turncoat knight.
“March out.”
Me included: 152 souls left the fortress.
Heading north-northwest.
“To the front?”
“...”
“Figures. Tense, combat-like...”
Train like war, right?
Jamal eyed me, gauging direction.
“...Lieutenant?”
Silent, pressing north, his face hardened.
“You’re not...”
“...”
“Crossing the border for real?”
I said nothing.