Midnight's Straggler (9)
The straggler on the verge of collapse was none other than Sergeant Illian. She flailed her arms, gasping for breath, before finally tilting sideways and tumbling over. On all fours, she started dry-heaving onto the ground.
"You okay?"
Sergeant Illian, her shirt soaked with sweat like she'd fallen into a river, shook her head.
"Ughhh... H-hello... sirrr..."
Spitting a long string of saliva onto the dirt, she heaved a few more times before finally lifting her head to look at me.
"Take a breather."
"Y-yeah..."
Crawling like a beast, she eventually collapsed sideways like a dying horse. As she lay there on her side, her shirt rode up, exposing her sweat-drenched, smooth belly. It rose and fell rapidly with her ragged breaths, like some living creature pulsing in and out.
We waited for her to recover, and after a long while, she came to and lifted her head.
"Boss... what brings you here...?"
"Just passing by. You sure you're alright?"
"My mouth tastes like blood..."
She spat on the ground and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.
"Hoo..."
Finally stabilizing her breathing, she pushed herself up onto her elbows. Knees bent, arms resting on them, she took deep breaths. From above, I could see her modest breasts clearly through the open neck of her shirt. But she looked so pitiful, on the brink of death, that it stirred nothing in me.
"I wanted to drop by the inn... Hoo... but no time... couldn't make it."
"No worries. Come when you have some free time. Sounds like you're busier than ever lately."
"New company commander... adapting's tough."
She lowered her head with her usual uncertain expression.
"What can you do... if the boss says jump, you jump..."
"Exactly... and with long-term service selection this year... gotta work harder."
Long-term service selection... for NCOs, it's a life-or-death matter. Looked like she'd chosen to stay in the NCO ranks instead of aiming for officer.
NCOs have two paths: get recognized for talent and climb to officer, or give up on that and stay NCO for guaranteed stable service time.
Given her background and skills, officer might be a stretch anyway. Even so, NCO life isn't easy...
"Didn't they credit you for taking down that lone Groluk by yourself?"
"Ah... Captain Lambert said it was just a fluke... luck..."
"Then what's important?"
"Better to hire mercenaries than weak NCOs lacking stamina and combat skills..."
Lambert wasn't wrong. In real combat, NCOs lead soldiers and clash head-on, so most are battle-hardened machines. Those who aren't don't survive.
But if she was lagging even on basic runs... unless she bet her life on it, no room for optimism.
Truth be told, without me, her squad would've been wiped out by that Groluk. Like Lambert said, pure luck.
That guy's sharper than he seems the more I learn.
Sergeant Illian grabbed the fence and stood.
"Gotta go. Stay too long, get chewed out."
"Yeah, go ahead."
She bowed to me and scampered off toward the guard post.
Heading back to the inn, I saw only one wagon in the parking lot. Yesterday a whole caravan had rolled in, gone by morning.
In the center stood the statue, bathed in the setting sun's red glow, glaring majestically at the mountains.
Good thing we had that; otherwise, during the last break-in, we'd have lost goods and paid out claims.
Inside the hall, I set the bread on the bar, and Idi slunk over.
"Wh-what's... that...?"
"Bread. Bakery boss gave it to try."
"Oh...?"
Idi eyed me warily, then stroked the bread.
"So soft... bet it tastes amazing...?"
"Weren't you dieting?"
I pinched her side. Soft flesh squished between my fingers. She yelped, yanked away, and bolted—with a loaf already in hand.
"Moderation, girl."
I took the rest to the kitchen. Tonight's menu was soup and pork chops; perfect side. Not enough for all guests, so staff meal separate.
Pelei entered to fetch ingredients, froze seeing me, then breezed into the storeroom.
She emerged with a basket full, plunked it on the counter, and spoke.
"Payday."
"What, raise again?"
"Some to me."
Her salary was nominal; I covered their bank debt with it. So she got zilch. Lodging and food covered, not a shopaholic like Idi—did she even need cash?
"What for?"
"Veggies."
I glanced at her basket: carrots, onions, peppers piled high. More veggies?
She caught my look.
"Inn supplies."
"Separate snacks? Why?"
"Can't eat off-menu ingredients freely."
I stared, then sighed.
"Just... sneak some. Don't be so rigid."
She immediately grabbed carrots and peppers from the basket.
Too thorough... good for bossing, but her future demon or human spouse might drop dead.
Even I felt awkward. Better say it.
"Hey, your meal plans are so tight, no room for snacks."
"So?"
"Don't preserve everything. Leave some. For munching."
She set veggies down, rummaged apron pocket, pulled another folded meal plan.
"Not changing the plan, just—"
I took it, saw notes, shut up.
"What's this?"
"Snack schedule."
Below menu, neat list of quick bites. Della's handwriting. She'd helped with books when I was out.
Scribbles beside it too.
"You and Della?"
"Not done yet."
She snatched it back.
"Even snacks planned? Too much."
"What then?"
"Buy more from Mollo. Sweets. Demon army rations had 'em."
"Yes."
She grabbed veggies and left.
Reminded me of first meeting in Kerno: she ate raw carrots and cukes alone, skipping meals with me and Ammugar.
"You vegan?"
"No."
"Why raw veggies over good food?"
"Fattening."
She whooshed out.
Pot on stove for cooking, then footsteps behind—sneaky.
"Idi?"
"Eh...?"
Turned: her creeping in, frozen, bread crumbs on mouth.
"How'd you know...?"
"Hear footsteps. Can't miss 'em."
"Really...? Tried quiet..."
"You're no trained assassin."
She grinned, scratched head.
"Knew it was me how...?"
"Hear enough, recognize anyone."
She tilted head.
"Magic...?"
"Think Holy Sword owner gets it free? Anyway, why?"
"Heard snacks... curious..."
I facepalmed. Those tits—when would they stop growing?
"Oh yeah, after hall close, got a job."
"What...?"
"C'mere."
Pulled her out, gave orders. She prepped, confused.
"Here...?"
"Bakery hit, we prep too."
She got it, did as told. Better safe.
Late night in bed, knock.
"Bertrand..."
Idi peeked in.
"Gotta check downstairs..."
"Caught one?"
"Yeah..."
I slipped out. Inn dark, lone candle on landing. We walked dim hall.
Descending, peered over railing at hall below. Pitch black, faint light from outer door lamp through windows.
"Sure?"
"Yeah... sure..."
Clink! Pewter mug rolled across floor.
Definitely hooked.
"Let's go, Idi."