Chapter 13
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Actually, I Wanted to Rise in the Ranks
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Truth be told, I wanted to rise in the ranks.
Hold it in, Richi. You knew this was coming, right? You saw it a mile away?
Just smile and brush it off like it's nothing. Endure—three strokes of endurance can save a life...
"Ooh! The future war hero! Sir Richi Reinhardt!"
"I believe in you! I believe in you!!"
"Sir Richi! Please, grant me a spot if you can!"
"I'm cavalry! Cavalry all the way! I want to charge with the cavalry!"
"Not infantry—engineers! I want to go to engineers!"
"...You goddamn bastards!!"
Fuck! How am I supposed to hold it in seeing this shit?
The moment word got out that I'd chosen the Officer Department, these piranhas swarmed me.
Like gods might drop some scraps if they begged hard enough.
And you know what's even more infuriating? Half of them are just messing with me.
They know damn well there's no chance, but they're doing it to annoy me!
Otherwise, who'd beg empty-handed? They'd offer something!
You real sons of bitches! Why keep tormenting me? What did I ever do to you!!
"Get lost, you idiots! And you first! Want cavalry? Then learn to ride properly! Bottom ranks in horsemanship and you talk cavalry? Next! Think engineers just need muscle? No brains, you're done—done! Spend that yapping time studying one more letter!"
"Ooooh!! The future war hero prophesies!"
"Write it down quick! You—horsemanship! You—study!"
"Applause! Clap!!"
I knew the nobles here weren't exactly refined... but this is too much, right?
All worries about the future, ambitions for promotion—they vanish in an instant.
Really spend four years with these clowns? Might as well do four years at the military academy.
...Ah. No, scratch that. Still better than the academy. At least this is paradise by comparison.
Thinking of the academy suddenly makes their antics seem cute.
Yeah. Yeah. Whatever, it's better than there. At least these are people.
"H-Hey, guys. Enough already."
This time, Michel stepped in to help me out, as expected.
Sob sob. Buddy. I'll repay you someday, no matter what.
Want frontline duty? I'll get you there. Or promotion track? I'll make it happen!
Hey! I'm the second son of the Reinhardts! Can't do it myself, but I can pull strings!
"More importantly, what wind blew this change? You swore no officer ambitions."
"Lester, who was the wildest beast just moments ago, suddenly acting normal—it's chilling, nose-plugging, goosebump-inducing. Look, chicken skin."
"Should I go back to beast mode then?"
No, not that. Sorry, whew—man.
"Got a chance to think seriously about it. No matter how I turned it over, this path seemed the surest for my future. So I changed my mind."
"...Richi."
"Yeah?"
"You get a girl or something?"
...Lester, you real beast. Some animal instinct?
How does he sniff out girls and say crap like that? Starting to scare me.
"Nah, not joking. Genuinely curious."
"What logic leads you to that, my friend Lester?"
"Heard guys always change their minds over a girl."
Not entirely wrong. But nothing's started yet, so denying it guilt-free?
"Cut the useless worries and finish your assignment already."
I slid over the island-hopping tactics homework I'd been tormenting Lester with.
Look at that face crumple. Feels like ten-year heartburn melting away!
"Goddamn island tactics! Can't we skip this?!"
"Sure, skip it. But you'll never command in the field, dead or alive."
"Can't I just tell my adjutant to read the map?!"
"Ever think you might be that adjutant?"
Think officers just boss around from day one? Nah, you do adjutant work too.
Tell your superior, "Uh, I can't read maps! Hehe!" in that spot.
Bet he laughs, then calls, "Drag this idiot out." Your promotion? Dead that day.
At least no friendly fire here.
Screw up navigation, soldiers won't stay quiet.
"Hold up, Richi. You got the same assignment."
"Yup."
"Done already? You know island tactics?"
"As second son of Reinhardt, shouldn't I?"
Plus, pre-possession: four years academy, five years officer life.
Don't know this world's strategies, but basics? A cut above you lot.
"Whoa... We're still lost in this mess! Driving me nuts!"
"Jealous, Richi. Island tactics essential for field commanders."
"Eh. Not really into field command anyway."
At my words, Lester, Michel, and the other classmates all turn with a "Huh?"
They think they misheard. Nope, you heard right.
"What? No field command? Officers go frontline!"
"Agreeing with Lester this time. Desk officers get no respect. Same as bureaucrats. Knights'll look down too."
You guys—and most people—are dead wrong.
Soldiers fight. Officers command. Armies clash.
That's it? Nah. How many headaches in between?
Fight naked? Need weapons. Bare skin? Wear clothes.
No food? Gotta feed 'em before, during, after fights.
Only fall in battle? Drop during marches, rests, even shitting. Fill gaps? Conscript. How?
Grab soldier, done? Train to full capacity.
Manage all that? Roads, wagons—endless worries.
"Well? Counter me. Still think field life's best?"
"Surrender. We lose. Please stop. Head hurts."
"Damn... Thanks to you, even more set on field command..."
Don't worry, Lester. You're no rear-echelon material either.
Michel... Hmm, needs watching, but prime obedient lackey potential.
Tempt him to rear duties with me?
"Hey! Richi! You here?! Department head prof wants you! Hurry!"
News hit the faculty too, looks like.
Same spiel again? Nah, probably not.
"Fight naked? Of course arm them. Bare in battle? Clothe them. Food? Fill bellies before, during, after. And..."
"Enough. I get it."
Thanks, prof. Hate repeating myself too.
"Heard the news—thrilled at first, then puzzled. Want officer, not field command. Expected a Douglas-type Division Commander."
This prof ain't some desk drone.
Recent Imperial Army ops staff—elite.
Now at academy managing officer hopefuls.
Surely rolled battlefields with Dad and bro.
Reinhardt name burned in.
But second son eyes rear? Shocking.
"But... as you said, those points are vital. Crucial. Issue: even inside army, those roles get shunned."
Obviously. Army's purpose? Defend from foes.
Combat-centric group. Honors battle.
Climb higher? Shine in fights.
Reinhardts prove it: Grandpa, Dad, bro.
Win on frontlines, glory follows.
Rear duties? Tedious, grueling, endless complaints.
Few appreciate the toil. Just "cushy job."
Yet vital—screw up, court-martial certain.
Not shun it? Makes no sense.
Lester, Michel, world ain't primitive.
Perception's the problem. Gotta endure it.
Me volunteering for hell? Prof's floored.
"Reconsider. No rush to decide future. Who knows? Maybe Marshal Excellency or 1st Division commander's valor and wisdom await."
Dunno about wisdom, valor's iffy.
"Thanks. But my mind's set."
"May I ask why?"
"Someone's gotta do it. And I trust our frontline commanders and soldiers. Trust them enough to handle what they need."
War, truce, war, brief peace, war. Empire vs. Koenihesen status.
Trouble brewing inside soon. How sure? Protagonist gripes about army woes then.
Woes vary, but rears included.
My gut says so. Possession sensor pings!
"What they need..."
Likes my answer. Prof's lip quirks up.
Usually: "Grad school interest?" Lucky he's soldier over scholar.
"Another fine soldier from Reinhardt. Glory later—support now. Hero's sidekick over hero. Respect your will. Chase that future hard."
Prof interview done. Next up...
"Hey! Richi! You bastard! How could you?!"
Speak of the tiger—he appears at hall's end: Enter.