Detached Duty (5)
"A ship's coming in!"
"Who is it this time?"
"Looks like the flagship?"
The training fleets were trickling back into port one by one, their final drills at an end.
Every ship that limped into the harbor wore the scars of whatever it had been through — scratched, gouged, and riddled with holes from bow to stern.
Still, not a single vessel had gone down. The flagship came in last, and with its arrival all fourteen ships lay safely anchored at the dock.
"Whoa.... What the...?"
"Wow.... Look at the state of those ships?"
The trainees who clambered ashore and got a look at their own vessels — and then at each other's — were floored.
Yes, the Horned Whale boasted impressive defensive strength, but it was still made of wood. Cannonballs embedding themselves and punching holes clean through was only to be expected.
"Gulp.... We nearly died out there, didn't we?"
"That we did. We're soldiers now, after all..."
With the instructors goofing around and victory coming so easily, they'd briefly forgotten — but every single one of them had just stared death in the face and come back.
A shiver ran down their spines. The memory of frantic reloads and the sting of gunpowder smoke came flooding back, and a thin thread of fear settled into their hearts.
"But we survived."
"We won!"
"I'd better train even harder. Tripping over myself hauling shells around was so embarrassing..."
And yet confidence bloomed alongside the fear. They had won. They had lived.
Fear and dread aren't good qualities in a soldier — but having none at all is its own problem. It breeds recklessness, and reckless men usually drag every comrade beside them into the grave.
The Ethiopian navy as it stood now was calibrated just right. Chances were, they'd do just fine.
"Bwahaha, there you are, you rascals! We've been waiting! Get over here — it's a welcome party!"
"So this is the final event, huh!"
With the flagship's drill concluding the training, it was decided the send-off would be one last great feast.
The tables groaned under unfamiliar Ethiopian delicacies and an assortment of delicacies flown in from Daehan.
"Wow? There's a mountain of food here."
"The table's going to snap in half under all that."
"What's with all those bottles over there?"
The soldiers hurried off to wash up, then scattered to every corner of the banquet spread. With so many mouths to feed, mats had been laid out across the parade ground, and everyone simply wandered from dish to dish as they ate.
"KHahaha! You little pups, here's your final exam! Anyone confident in his drinking, get over here! It's a fight!"
"What! Did you say drinking! I may not win a brawl, but I'll win a drinking match, sir!"
One table stood piled to bursting with liquor brought from Daehan — bottles stacked on top and crammed underneath, an absolutely staggering quantity.
"Come at me, then!"
"Hahaha! Bottoms up!"
THUNK!
Sailors don't use glass cups — not the navy, not the army.
After one too many shattered cups, glass had been struck from the supply list entirely, replaced with cups forged from the newly developed rust-proof steel.
Those cups, filled to the brim with vicious soju, were pressed into the soldiers' hands.
"Don't go passing out on me after one cup! Khaha!"
"Ha! You worry about falling over first, Instructor!"
Pour and be poured — a battle of livers erupted across the grounds.
"Uuurgh... that's some strong stuff...."
"What? This little? Pwahahaha! A man of the sea never loses to liquor!"
Sailors could hold their drink by heritage — in the old days, ships carried spirits instead of water, which spoiled too fast at sea.
The weak ones had long since drowned, after all.
Then again, with Holy Water available, Daehan never had need of such customs in the first place — so what on earth did it say that this drinking culture existed there anyway? Nobody could quite say.
"Uuurghh...."
"Ha, just three cups, friend?"
THUD THUD THUD.
The poor trainees were dropping like flies.
Meanwhile the instructor corps — who knew what they'd been raised on — drank like it was water without so much as swaying.
"Monsters...."
"Uuugh. Just watching them makes me want to puke."
"They're on another level from us."
And when the instructors, having demolished every last trainee, declared it boring and started drinking among themselves, the trainees' spirits wilted all over again.
The next day.
The banquet grounds — that is, the parade ground — were strewn with bodies, countless people sprawled fast asleep in whatever position they'd fallen.
"Uuurgh...."
Trainees displaying the remarkable skill of grilling savory pancakes in their sleep.
These were the brave souls who had charged their instructors with liquor, full of confidence, and perished in the attempt.
"Yaaawn."
"What the? What's with these guys?"
"Still sleeping it off?"
Trainees and instructors emerging from the barracks took in the bodies scattered across the parade ground and clicked their tongues.
"It's the last day, so we'll let it slide."
"When's the ship getting here?"
"It'll come when it comes, I suppose."
Behind the marines, busy packing and preparing to depart, the trainees had gathered.
Lined up in neat rows — they'd heard the Daehan contingent was leaving today, and had spent the whole night hashing out a plan, gathering here before the departure.
"Thank you for everything!"
"Oh?"
"That's... actually touching?"
After all the roughhousing they'd put the trainees through, the marines had half expected some lingering resentment. Instead their noses went hot.
"Haha. Live well, you hear!"
"Think we'll cross paths again?"
"Good work, all of you."
"We didn't work you to the bone because we hated you, so don't hold it against us. Just say hello next time you see us."
The instructors, their voices a little thick with emotion, began trading farewells and well-wishes.
"Bullshit!"
"Say hello next time, my ass!"
"I've been waiting for this day!"
"EVERYBODY, CHARGE!"
It seemed this was not, in fact, a heartwarming reconciliation and farewell ceremony between trainees and instructors.
"WHAT?"
"Bwahaha! Fine, you asked for it! COME ON!"
"WE'LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!"
"AAAAARGH!"
THUD! WHAM! WHACK!
First thing in the morning, an all-out brawl broke out.
"We've gotten stronger — we can do this!"
"Everyone, focus! Go for the gaps!"
"Don't black out after one hit — HOLD ON!"
The trainees threw themselves in with gritted teeth. Unlike their first meeting, they no longer dropped after a punch or two — they clawed at arms and legs, grabbed on, and dragged their opponents down with sheer stubbornness.
WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP.
"Khahaha! You dare, in THIS place?!"
"Looks like we can't hold back on you lot after all!"
"FULL POWER!"
The instructors at full strength were a terror. They dragged men across the ground by the legs wrapped around them, and bodies went flying every which way.
That day, the trainees were treated to the rare experience of flying through the sky — birds not required.
THUD! THWACK! CRASH!
"Kgh—! No way!"
"What IS this? They're monsters!"
"They're too strong!"
The trainees' formation collapsed almost instantly. Unless weapons were involved, an even fight looked well out of reach.
For a long while, the two sides grumbled and wrestled on.
"Damn it..."
CRASH.
When the last of the Ethiopian navy's would-be chargers hit the ground, a brief silence fell.
"Hah. Hah. Hah."
"Hah. These guys are no joke."
"Haaah... don't make me talk...."
The marines, too, were spent, sprawled every which way across the field.
"Pwahaha, how'd you get a bruised eye socket?"
"Tch. I didn't know he could headbutt."
"And where's YOUR shoe, huh? Khahahaha!"
"Beats me — someone grabbed my leg, I swung, and next thing I know I'm flying through the air hugging somebody's shoe."
The instructor corps was bruised black and blue, clothes torn, an absolute wreck from head to toe.
HOOOOONK—
"Looks like the ship's coming in."
"Hey. Let's head out before they get up — one more round and we'll all be sore for a week."
"Yeesh. Yeah, let's move."
Perhaps a little spooked after all, the marines hurried to gather their things and board the ship.
In the eyes of the Ethiopians still sprawled on the ground, and in the eyes of the Daehan men climbing aboard, a hint of moisture had gathered.
They'd rolled around and suffered together for quite a long stretch — camaraderie had taken root without anyone noticing.
Men can't very well hug each other and sob, so perhaps this morning brawl was simply their way of saying goodbye.
HOOOOONK—
The Daehan steamship, loaded with its sailors, began to pull steadily away from the harbor.
"Sniff... sniff...."
"Dammit, why are you crying?!"
"Because losing just isn't FAIR!"
"Damn it all. Sniff...."
As the ship shrank into the distance, sobs finally began to spread across the parade ground.
Hate and affection grow from the same root, they say — parting, it seemed, was simply sad.
Ethiopian or Daehan, apparently men everywhere were creatures incapable of honesty.
"Next time, I'll WIN for sure!"
"Me too!"
"WAAAAAAARGH!"
Or not.
The year 4070 brought a cold snap of unusual severity across the entire globe.
"Brrr, it's freezing. Why is this winter so cold already?"
"Oh, you're back? Real winter hasn't even started yet — this is bad news. There's barely anything to eat as it is..."
"I'll go look around."
Europe's farming households paid their entire harvest away in taxes and survived by foraging whatever they could from the nearby woods and rivers.
"Haah.... The forest's so far away now...."
The farmer who stepped outside his house sighed without meaning to.
Every hillside had been stripped of timber for shipbuilding, leaving the family short on firewood and with ever fewer places to scrape together emergency provisions.
Crunch, crunch.
He wandered the woods for ages, but all that answered his footsteps was the sound of thin ice cracking beneath his boots.
The tallest tree stood maybe three times his height? Could you even call this a forest anymore?
"This is bad. I'd better gather at least some firewood..."
He looked around hoping to pick up even a few nearby branches, but nothing met his eye.
"Haah..."
Shoulders bowed under an invisible weight, the gaunt, hollow-cheeked farmer trudged home empty-handed.
He'd have to take the axe out and fell whatever stunted saplings he could find.
Forests shrinking like this was absolutely not good for human survival.
With fewer trees came landslides, and with less soil to drink up the rain, even farming would grow harder.
CLUNK.
"Honey, I'm home."
"Oh, you're back? Find anything?"
"No... nothing."
"Whew..."
His wife's arms and legs were stick-thin, yet her belly swelled round and full.
With a child on the way, the couple hadn't the faintest idea how they were going to survive.
"I'm thinking I might try hunting...."
"Is that safe? You'd have to go deep into the forest..."
All that remained now was fishing and snaring animals, but with hardly any bait to be had, hunting was the only option left.
Trouble was, only treacherous mountains remained — distant, and crawling with dangerous beasts.
"No help for it.... We have to survive somehow, don't we?"
"Sniff..."
"Don't worry too much. We'll get through this."
"Okay..."
But however the couple hoped they'd scrape by, that winter was bitterly, brutally cold.
The farther north in Europe, the crueler the cold bit — and countless people who could neither eat their fill nor prepare for the season froze to death before spring ever came.
And the troubles didn't end when winter did.
Clop, clop.
"Ugh, dammit, why is the ground such a muddy mess?"
"Must be all the rain we've been getting, sir."
"Whew.... Move along, quickly."
And the rain, too, fell with unusual persistence.
Cold temperatures plus relentless rain plus scarce sunshine — the grain simply refused to ripen.
And the village the tax collector rode into was unnaturally quiet.
"Sniff sniff — what is that smell?"
"Er... smells like rotting corpses, sir?"
The soldier who'd come along as escort remembered the stench from some battlefield long ago.
"What!?"
"No one's about, sir. An epidemic, maybe?"
"God! We leave. NOW!"
The village was strewn with collapsed houses and steeped in a dread, desolate air. Europe's epidemics were still alive and well.
Until people's nutrition and sanitation improved, the plagues would never truly die.
Even in Daehan, where everyone ate well and lived clean, the occasional outbreak still surfaced — so when exactly would this continent come to its senses?