Welcome to Voluntary Enlistment
The special perks for voluntary enlistees in the special training course weren't infinite. In fact, that was only natural. Even if it was meant for nobles, not all nobles went through the special course. Those who'd aimed for the officer academy but got pushed out due to poor grades or bad luck usually couldn't handle instruments anyway. And purely by the numbers, more nobles ended up in the military band after being funneled there than chose it voluntarily. The military music training unit ran on this bizarre system precisely because there weren't enough noble volunteers.
Anyway, back to the perks. One of the special course benefits—exemption from afternoon training—had ended not long ago. Now that even the regular trainees could manage basic playing, everyone gathered for full ensemble practice.
But there was one more change.
"Miss Konstantia. This new mallet we got issued... doesn't it seem meant for a different instrument?"
"Ah, no, it's for the marimba too. Changing the material alters the tone, so there are several types in use."
As ensemble practice began, more trainees started coming to me for advice. The one in front of me now had scurried over, puzzled by how much softer and fluffier it was than her old one.
Mmm, that fresh newbie scent.
Cute aside, I wasn't puzzled by the sudden attitude shift. Bluntly put, I wasn't oblivious enough to miss it. I'd half-expected this.
After carrying a fellow trainee through the entire march, who in their right mind would tell her to her face, "I don't see you as a peer, so get lost"? If I were that brazen, I'd probably be public enemy number one among the commoner trainees, even more than I already was.
Embarrassing as it is to say myself, that hadn't been easy. A person was way heavier and clumsier to carry than gear, and even with this blessed body, the end of the march had pushed me hard. If I could've wrapped myself in aura, maybe, but it was a no-aura march.
In the end, I'd powered through half on sheer willpower. If not for her soft chest rubbing against mine in unintentional encouragement, I might've tapped out midway. I'd looped thoughts like "Ooh, right here feels good, huh?" in my head, slipping into enjoyment mode to make it through.
Since what I'd pulled off was such a feat, trainees had looked at me with newfound respect ever since. Honestly, I'd have preferred a bit more contemptuous glaring... but I didn't regret my choice. It wasn't like I'd gotten hurt for fun—if that cost me the officer exam, how tragic would that be?
Commoners had other paths to officer, like rising from NCO to second lieutenant in the Empire, but most retired before then. Only with luck and skill did they snag it right at the end. No wonder commoner applications to the military band were rising, opposite the nobles' trend.
From their view, it was make-or-break. I didn't want to suffer for trivial reasons or help others at huge personal cost. But if it was life-changing for them and just a mild hardship for me... why not? Unless you're seriously twisted, anyone would do the same. Plus, getting clung to by a beauty... good things are good.
Trainees' attitudes shifted after that, and Elisia, who'd stuck with me, got an image boost too. She probably would've earned it eventually without me. The frail rich kid—miss, in this world—had been mocked for wheezing before. But Elisia had grit. Her relentless best-effort despite weakness moved people.
Take the march: gasping like death, yet she finished without falling behind. Time was the issue, but she'd have won over the commoners eventually. My help just sped it up—positive.
I glanced at Elisia, lost in such thoughts.
"Ah, um, so... you pull the daegung string like this..."
She was advising another trainee. Her timid vibe didn't scream "teacher," but a special course grad had the chops. Plenty for newbie regulars.
Actually, by request frequency, Elisia outpaced me. I dominated range, but I was percussion—unpitched, melody-free. Easiest for beginners, basic principles simple. Drunken tavern aunties bang tables to songs, right? Advanced levels spike for all, though.
Then it's subtle flaws you can't self-spot. That's why people pay for lessons—experts correct what you miss.
High-difficulty instruments from the start? Even players hear "something's off" often. They retry, then seek advice. String aspirants like Elisia's daegung especially.
...Yeah. Daegung. No Earth analog, so my mental translator straight-translated: great bow. Huge literal bow—not violin bow, but arrow-shooting one.
Pre-mana conduction speaker, when bands hit frontlines, someone thought: "Play and fight simultaneously? Epic." Spawned instrument-weapons. Most scrapped for impracticality; survivors lost weapon role post-rear deployment.
Daegung's the latter. Now a string: pluck, bow with arrow-shaped plectrum, strike.
First sight shocked me. What instrument is that? Even I'd endured "percussion = jack-of-all-trades" crap. Bows? Never touched in past life. No chant-sync magic on Earth.
"Attention, all!"
"...Attention!"
As trainees warmed up informally, the supervising instructor bellowed from front.
Everyone froze, echoing.
"Freezing now! Silence and standby!"
Freeze. Not ice AC. She raised fists, silver rings on middle fingers clinking clear ding-ding.
"On the firewood pile, unripe paulownia pile, dry charcoal pile, log pile, star pile..."
"...gather them all, collect them up, and burn them in one blaze."
⟨ Yeongchang (Chanting) ⟩
Three instructors chanted in sync, mana-laced voices to her beat. ~3 minutes in, air shimmered; flames bloomed midair, orbiting walls at varying speeds. Chasing fireballs collided—explosion. Winds whipped hair wildly, but eerily quiet.
Not just the flash. Everything silenced—even breaths. Dense mana/aura clash blocked non-infused sound: soundless zone.
Why nations trained human bands over speaker metronomes.
Why my translator whispered "mana conduction speaker," not "magic speaker."
"Attention, all!"
"Attention!"
Instructor's mana voice; trainees echoed with mana too.
"As scheduled... ah, right. Yura Konstantia trainee?"
"Yura Konstantia trainee!"
"Follow Lieutenant Selim Jungwi. Commander summons."
"Yes, understood!"
Sudden name-drop; I reflexively barked rank-name, stood tall. But...
...why me again?
Can't rebel with "explain or I won't go." I grabbed my instrument, rose. She always led these escorts.
Trailing her, noise returned. Away from "frozen" field. Breezes, crisp boots, fabric rustles. I ventured:
"Lieutenant Selim. May I ask a question?"
"...Ah, sure. Shoot."
Casual now, unlike first polite guide. That was pre-enlistment. Still, not harshly strict—just proper superior tone. Post-"junior confirmed," friendlier.
"What’s this summons about?"
"Knew you'd ask. ...Sigh."
Obvious question. She'd prepped, yet sighed? Serious. I clenched fists worriedly.
"Ah... I really wanted you as my junior..."
"...Problem there?"
"Big time. Damn contrarians... I mean, the Combat Military Band."
"...?"
Still clueless. My band knowledge: month of crash-course "easiest service route." No imperial internet.
"...You really just eat and play instruments?"
"...I'll correct that."
"Nah, not wrong."
Voluntary band enlistee clueless? Her eyes flashed doubt, then self-nodded. Instructors saw me as "instrument maniac."
"One of the few still playing at the front. Had an opening, heard of you, want interview."
"I'm still training..."
Voice shook. Front? Insane. Why'd I pick band?!
I scrambled mental escapes.
"That's why they want you. Commander's rule: train rookies themselves."
"Possible? Yanking mid-training trainee?"
"For 2nd Combat Military Band, yes."
She cupped ears.
"Commander's pointy-eared... er, dark elf? Service monster."
"Even long service doesn't break rules..."
"Started private, now colonel-star whispers."
"..."
"Elf penalty slowed her; she's colonel despite."
I shut up. Service-Cthulhu? Pre-reform vet? And she wants me for marine-band frontlines?
Cold sweat trickled. Smash that interview.
Worse came officer fail, NCO post, disgraced noble—better than frontline life-or-death.
I steeled pounding heart.
× Everyone has plans.
"Long live the Emperor! Yura Konstantia trainee, reporting as summoned."
"Long live. Sit, Konstantia. This is from 2nd Combat Military Band—"
"Pass."
"...?"
...Until fireball to brow.
"...Colonel Eski?"
"Colonel, we'll take this trainee for 2nd Combat Military Band. Interview done. Mind giving me space with my new subordinate?"
Struck vital before resisting, I gawped.
"You're a fun one."
No, why?! What'd I do?!
"M-May I ask what that means?"
"Sounded like Elvish to me. But Colonel Lea didn't blink. Subordinate spouting Elvish should provoke something."
"...Ah."
"Come with me. Can't hand mysterious talent away!"
No fuck, imperial common auto-translates to listener's native?!