I'm Also Good at Close Combat, But...

"So, you're telling me I'm to serve as the Acting Garrison Commander of Soissons."

"That's right. For exactly one month — until the official military administrators arrive from the homeland."

I studied the expression of Major General Falkenhein as he drew deeply on his cigar.

Status Analysis.

A test, is it.

"His Majesty's will is firm. So make this city… an 'exemplary occupied territory' ruled by the Empire's own hero."

"……"

My mind raced. An administrative post for a combat officer like me? And burying the ace unit of the front lines in the rear, no less?

Any ordinary officer would have raged and roared at what amounted to a demotion. It meant stripping him of every chance to earn glory.

Perhaps aware of this, Falkenhein continued.

"What, don't you want it? But your men are exhausted, and your equipment is falling apart at the seams, isn't it?"

It was an undeniable truth. The reckless maneuvering had fried tank engines, burst tires, and left the majority of vehicles grinding through destroyed transmissions.

"Rest and refit for a month. This is an order from above — and a vacation, of sorts, for you."

A vacation.

That word rang out, sweet and singular. Falkenhein pressed, half-coaxing.

"Drinking fine wine in a luxury hotel while playing king of a city — surely that beats rolling around on the front line?"

You sly old fox. You're scratching my desires in exactly the right spot.

The calculator in my head began spinning again. Soissons was one of the wealthiest cities in the eastern Republic, overflowing with supplies and famous for its wine and cuisine.

To spend a month as garrison commander of such a city?

This is an opportunity.

Far more profitable than crawling through the front lines. I could requisition the city's resources legally, and it would be easy enough to harvest the tributes of local notables eager to curry my favor.

I snapped a salute.

"I accept the order, Division Commander."

"Hahaha! Excellent! I knew I could count on you."

Falkenhein laughed heartily and clapped me on the shoulder.

"Full authority will be delegated to you. Every power needed to enact military administration — including the right of summary execution."

He gestured to his adjutant and received a single sheet of paper. My letter of appointment.

"Then it's in your hands, Lieutenant Colonel Jäger… no, Commander Jäger."

And so.

Soissons City Hall. The Mayor's Office.

Exactly four hours after parking my ass ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in this chair, I had reached one conclusion.

"That son of a bitch, Falkenhein."

I ground my teeth, glaring at the mountain of paperwork stacked across the desk.

A vacation? A honey pot? King of the city?

My ass.

This was just the goddamn Civil Complaints Office of Soissons City Hall.

"Hanna. Where's Gunter?"

"He went to suppress what looked like the start of a riot at the food distribution center, sir."

"Captain Elise?"

"Dispatched to the municipal hospital. The wounded Republican soldiers and civilian patients are mixed together — apparently it's pure chaos."

"And Erika?"

"She said she was bored to death and went out on patrol. That was one minute before her accident."

Christ, I'm losing my mind here.

I shoved the wine glass aside and picked up a pen.

"Setting priorities. Take this down."

I was working through the paperwork at speed when the office door burst open with a bang.

"Lieutenant Colonel Jäger!"

Erika came barreling in, red twin-tails flying.

"Weren't you out on patrol? What are you doing back already?"

"Patrol can wait — this is serious! A firefight just broke out at the central post office downtown! The military police are flailing around helplessly, and I was about to charge in and flatten the place myself, but they insisted I needed your authorization first!"

"A firefight?"

An excuse to escape this hellish paperwork mountain had just materialized. I put on a deliberately grave expression and rose from my seat.

"Hanna, hold the paperwork. We're going to the scene."

"Yes, sir."

I put Erika up front, climbed into a jeep, and headed into the city.

Through the window, the cityscape looked deceptively intact. The city had fallen so abruptly, without a proper battle, that the infrastructure had barely ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠suffered at all.

It would have been nice if city administration were going half as smoothly.

The jeep passed through the plaza in front of city hall and was nearing the post office when—

Crack-crack-bang! Bang-bang!

Sharp gunshots sparked off the stone outer wall of the post office building.

"Stop."

The moment the jeep screeched to a halt, I was out of the vehicle. Erika dropped out beside me and reported.

"Simple situation. Republican Army holdouts. One officer and five men have seized the second floor of the post office."

The post office window she pointed to was barricaded.

"Normally you'd just blow the second floor off with a tank gun and be done with it, but they've taken dozens of hostages — civilian employees and citizens alike — so the military police can't move in."

"Hostages? Against citizens of their own country?"

Erika snorted at my question, utterly incredulous.

"That's what I'm saying. The officer in there doesn't seem right in the head. Something like, 'Reactionaries who would betray their homeland and surrender to the Imperial Army have forfeited their citizenship' — or whatever."

He's insane.

Every era, every nation, has its problem with radical fundamentalists. A man who can't accept defeat and takes it out on innocent civilians.

The instant the ringleader officer briefly showed himself at the window, I used the skill.

The exhausting type.

The man was in no state for rational conversation. If he wanted a glorious death in battle, I could simply shoot him dead — but unfortunately, hostages were in the mix.

Mass civilian casualties here would throw a wrench into city administration going forward, too.

"Hanna. Get me the loudspeaker."

"Here you are, sir!"

Holding the megaphone, I stepped out in front of the post office. Hanna watched over me at my side, her face tight with worry.

Charming Speechcraft.

"Second Lieutenant Julien on the second floor — can you hear me? This is Lieutenant Colonel Max Jäger, commander of the Imperial Army's Jäger Battlegroup."

The clamoring building fell utterly silent in an instant.

"I hold your courage in the highest regard! That fighting spirit of yours — refusing to lay down your rifle even amid the collapse of your corps command — would draw admiration even from an enemy like me!"

First, flatter him. Prodding his sense of honor is step one.

"But tell me, Lieutenant! Do you truly wish for your noble struggle to be remembered as nothing more than a 'massacre'? Dying with your nation's citizens as your shield — is that the chivalry the Republic taught you?"

"Silence, you Imperial dogs!"

A roar came from beyond the window.

"These people were going to welcome you with cries of surrender! No mercy awaits traitors to the fatherland who abandoned their own citizenship! We will perish here together with all of them, proving the will of the Republic!"

Just as predicted. A textbook fanatic.

"Lieutenant, I shall show you what true honor looks like. I will enter — alone."

"What did you…?"

"Sir?!"

Erika and Hanna grabbed me at the same time, but I shook off their hands. My 3D Minimap painted the building's layout in sharp clarity — the enemy positions, and the crude tripwire rigged behind the door.

"I'll go unarmed and unarmored. In exchange, one condition. Send all the civilians down to the first floor. This is a request for a final conversation — commander to commander."

Ding!

Shortly after, the firmly sealed front door of the post office swung open, and terrified citizens spilled out.

"Sir, please…"

Hanna clutched my sleeve. I gave the back of her hand a light pat, then unbuckled my holster and tossed it to Erika.

"Do not fire a single shot until I give the signal."

I walked slowly into the post office.

I climbed the desolate staircase and stopped before the second-floor office. Beyond the door, the red dots on my minimap were waiting for me.

Creeeak—.

The door opened, revealing the mad-eyed lieutenant and five stragglers. Grenades and outdated rifles hung in their hands.

"So you really came alone, you arrogant Imperial bastard."

Second Lieutenant Julien hooked a trembling finger into his grenade's safety pin. Around him sat crates packed with explosives. If those went up, the entire second floor of the building would be vaporized.

"You kept your word, Lieutenant. Now put an end to this disgrace and finish it like a soldier."

I advanced, one step at a time. His breathing grew ragged.

"Stay back! I'll kill you! We die together!"

Tension flooded his finger. The instant before the pin came free—

Now.

The world slowed. Slowed so far that even the trembling of Julien's eyelids grew tedious to watch. A world compressed to one-tenth speed. The three seconds granted to me now swelled into a generous reprieve of thirty.

I kicked off the floor and leapt with time to spare. The motes of dust suspended in the air seemed frozen where they hung.

First, I drove my right foot toward his wrist. My slowly rotating heel struck his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hands with perfect precision. With a dull smack, the grenade tore free of his grip and soared into the air.

Twenty-five seconds left.

Twisting my posture mid-air, I landed and seized him by the collar. Julien's face was frozen in a dumbfounded expression, unaware that he had even dropped the grenade. I collapsed his center of gravity completely and slammed him into the floor.

BOOM.

Even the shock of the impact crawled up through my palm, sluggish and slow. I turned my eyes upward. The grenade, tumbling down in its lazy rotation. I bent my knees and sprang lightly, snatching it out of the air.

The pin was already half out. I pressed it home with my thumb, reseating it, then rammed the grenade into the holster I'd stripped from his belt.

Fifteen seconds remaining.

I charged the remaining soldiers. I made to strip every round from the magazines and bolt actions of their rifles — but the time left wasn't enough.

5… 4… 3…

In haste, I manipulated the system window and raised Bullet Time's level. It was because I trusted in this that I'd walked in alone.

Hurry up.

Ding.

2… 1…

Again.

Once more, the world sank into stillness.