The Frail Soldier (2)
"We're thinking of providing them with a building that used to house the old guard post."
"But that's not in use anymore, right?"
Hildeva blinked at my point.
"True, but there aren't many places that can sleep ten people at once. Otherwise, they'd have to split up, and they said that's not an option."
"I see..."
Hildeva adjusted her glasses and stared straight at me.
"What's wrong?"
"If it's not too much trouble, how about letting them stay at my inn?"
"Pardon...? But I thought the guard squad was already set to use the government building, and they won't be getting extra funds for lodging..."
"Don't worry about that. I won't charge them."
"You're giving them the inn for free?"
"And meals too."
Hildeva looked at me like I was some kind of weirdo, her face practically asking what I could possibly gain from such generosity.
"That way, there shouldn't be any major issues, right?"
"But providing special favors to the guard squad like this could be seen as..."
Hildeva's concern wasn't unfounded. A private business owner like me feeding and housing the guards for free could be interpreted as bribery or undue hospitality. An experienced administrator might brush it off as trivial, but Hildeva was a young official fresh on the job. Flexing that kind of leeway wouldn't come easy to her.
I decided to give her a little nudge.
"Then do it like this: the city covers the cost for preparing a private inn."
"Huh...?"
"The guard squad is coming to help our city, aren't they? It's just a small gesture of goodwill. Strictly legal, of course."
"Hmm..."
She was still mulling it over. I could tell why—budgets were already tight, and dipping into them for something unnecessary must have stung. Tightfisted as she seemed, that's exactly how a good administrator kept a city running smoothly.
Fine, then. Another approach.
I rummaged in my pocket and pulled out a pouch.
"Oh, and while I'm here, take this first."
Hildeva took the pouch with a puzzled look. When she opened it, her eyes widened. Inside was part of the change I'd gotten from Mollo yesterday—change from breaking an Abyssal gold coin, so a hefty sum.
She counted it roughly, her lips moving as she calculated.
"Why are you giving this to me?"
"A donation. The city's prosperity means prosperity for my inn too."
Hildeva glanced at me, then fetched a receipt form. We each signed two copies and split them.
"Thank you for the donation. We'll put it to good use."
"Of course."
"Then, when the guard squad arrives, I'll send them to your inn, Bertrand."
"Got it. I'll go make preparations."
As I turned to leave City Hall, Hildeva called out from behind.
"Excuse me, Bertrand."
I looked back. She adjusted her glasses again.
"But why the sudden change of heart? Doesn't this put you at a loss?"
"Think about it. Once the search is done, do you really think the guard squad will just head back and file a simple report on whether Golruk is here or not?"
Hildeva listened quietly.
"Wouldn't they prefer a warm meal in a cozy inn room over gnawing on combat rations in some abandoned barracks?"
"You see far ahead."
"Like I said, a thriving city means a thriving inn."
Back at the inn, Kali was sitting sternly on the short steps leading to the entrance. I'd barely stepped away, and he'd already stationed himself to guard the door.
"Kali!"
At my voice, he barked excitedly and came running. Tail wagging, he circled around me. I scratched his back and headed inside.
First, I went upstairs to check the rooms for the guard squad. The single for the sergeant and the multi-bed ones for the squad showed no major issues, so I came back down.
I fetched ingredients from the storeroom. Dinner would feature two menus. One: lamb tomato stew with bread and steamed potatoes. The other: a full course from appetizers through main to dessert.
Why split the menus? To treat the leader properly, naturally. Officers and enlisted don't share tables—that's military protocol, even for a squad of just ten.
I hung a large cauldron over the hearth, lit the fire, and started heating it. More ingredients from the storeroom.
First up: the stew, which needed long simmering. Chopped veggies seasoned with salt and pepper, sautéed in butter till sweet. Once browned, I poured in clean water to cover, added spices, and brought it to a boil.
A quick taste—perfectly seasoned.
From what I knew, guard provisions were abysmal. Stale bread and moldy cheese every day... So they often spent their own coin on extra ingredients and spices.
This menu alone would make them plenty happy.
Potatoes could steam closer to dinner; the officer's course didn't need rushing either. But the onion soup appetizer for it should prep now: thinly sliced onions sautéed in butter till golden, then water, wine, a touch of flour, and simmer low and long. Like the stew, better the longer it cooks, so I left it on low.
Cauldron and pot filled the hearth completely.
Stirring the stew now and then to keep it from sticking, I prepped the hall for guests. Before I knew it, the sun was dipping low.
Kali's furious barking erupted outside. I opened the door to see guard squad members scrambling back from an open-topped wagon, fleeing him.
"Whoa! Get away! Shoo!"
"Kali! Here!"
At my command, he lolled his tongue and trotted back obediently, like nothing happened.
"Whew... that dog's ferocious."
"Hunting breed, I guess. Come on in, everyone. Long journey—good work."
The guards wore iron armor and helmets. Lightweight, not full plate, but heavier-armed than usual.
"Where's the squad leader?"
They all looked identical in uniform—no telling who was who.
"That's me."
A soft voice came from the back. A small-statured guard led his horse forward by the reins. His skin was so pale and delicate, he looked like a girl in ill-fitting armor.
"Hello, Squad Leader. I'm Bertrand, owner of the Crossroads Troll Inn."
"Sergeant Illian."
Even her voice was thin and high—perfect for mistaken identity.
"Thank you for rushing here to help our city. Please enjoy a delicious meal at the Crossroads Troll tonight, rest on soft beds, and shake off your travel fatigue."
Illian flinched at my smooth greeting, murmuring a timid thanks.
"Hand me the reins—I'll stable the horse. Lead your squad inside; tables are ready."
She passed the reins and turned to her men.
"A... attention...!"
Her voice was too quiet amid their rowdy chatter. She tried again.
"Attention...!"
A few finally turned.
"Uh... everyone, inside... go on..."
"Hey! Get in there!"
Before she finished, they stampeded inside on their own. Illian shot me an embarrassed glance, mortified.
I pretended not to notice and pointed to the wagon.
"Could you send one squad member to bring those horses over?"
"Oh, uh? Y-yes..."
She fidgeted helplessly. What was with her...?
As I opened the stable for her horse, I saw her struggling alone to unharness the wagon.
I hurried over and took over.
"Why do this yourself? Send a subordinate."
"Ah... they're probably tired..."
"Give it here and go inside. Your table's partitioned off separately."
"Ah... yes, sir."
I stabled the wagon horses too and rushed back to the hall.
All three tables for four were full. I'd set them for three per table.
But the sergeant sat alone at one meant for her squadmates, staring at the table's grain.
Helmet off, her short blonde hair fell limply. In the light, she really looked like a girl. Her skin was flawless, translucent enough to see wine sliding down her throat. Eyelashes long as matches stacked three high. Narrow shoulders, slender neck—she didn't look like city guard leadership amid these boisterous, rough soldiers.