Quartermaster Training (Part 2)
For several days, I trailed after the quartermaster officer, listening to all sorts of stories. I chatted with the knights and soldiers in the quartermaster section, getting a feel for their duties. But the training didn't end there. Seeing is believing, after all. They gave me hands-on time participating in the quartermaster's daily routine.
"This is the survey form we sent out to the battalion a little while ago."
The quartermaster soldiers plunked down hundreds of sheets on the desk.
"I never got one of these."
"That's because it didn't apply to you, deputy platoon leader."
The mystery cleared up the moment I glanced at the papers. It was a survey asking everyone to list any uniforms or gear that were torn or worn out beyond use. I'd only been enlisted for two months, so mine were still pristine. Plus, imperial family clothing wasn't handled by civilians anyway, so I wasn't even on the list.
"We'll consolidate the needed items by company and platoon, then use that to requisition uniforms from Tiabel Town."
"Okay, got it."
"Here's the tally sheet—please fill it out."
We divvied up the paperwork with the soldiers and got to work. I took on our 3rd Company's batch. Company HQ, 1st Platoon, 2nd Platoon... I breezed through those. Aside from a few familiar faces, most names weren't ringing any bells, so I handled it bureaucratically.
Now for 3rd Platoon. I wonder what these guys put down. Let's see... Squad Leader Bram had something. Combat pants torn? And he even noted the reason—got ripped during anti-army training. Squad 1: Coll, Ellen, Hove. Combat uniforms and belts for them. Ah, right—I remember. They got hit with powder rounds in training and couldn't wash the stains off, so they're requesting replacements. Same deal in Squad 2 with the powder-round victims requesting uniforms and belts. And... boot laces? Boot laces are from the PX... Oh. No PX at this base. Keep slipping into my past-life army habits. Guess we have to requisition even that stuff individually. Okay, noted.
After that, there were requests for all sorts of reasons. I tallied the types and quantities on the sheet, then helped finalize the entire battalion's list with the quartermaster crew.
Once we wrapped up, the quartermaster officer—who'd been silently watching the whole process—finally spoke.
"We need to head down to Tiabel Town tomorrow, right?"
"Yes. We have a schedule to check the fields."
"Take the requisitions with you while you're at it."
"Understood."
His gaze shifted to me.
"Deputy platoon leader, you come along too."
"Me too?"
"Yeah. It's simple work, but go see it for yourself firsthand. Departure's at 9 a.m.—be at the quartermaster section on time."
Oh? Didn't see that coming—an off-base errand? Kinda exciting. It's official business, so Elina won't tag along. Heading out without Elina? Pretty much a first in this life. I'll be moving with a few quartermaster folks, so I can probably slip away for some personal time. Not planning anything wild—just craving some junk food after so long. The maids' cooking is tasty but too healthy, and the mess hall's just army slop. Gotta treat yourself to snacks sometimes, right?
...Or so I thought.
Why the hell was this guy standing in front of me?
"Platoon leader."
"What's with that look?"
"What look?"
"Like you bit into something sour."
"Misunderstanding. Why are you here, platoon leader?"
"They said 3rd Company's 3rd Platoon deputy is heading out on errand, so the platoon leader should go too."
Why, though! I got the logic, sure. If something happened to me, the princess, the whole legion would flip out. But I'm not a kid—did I really need a babysitter? More importantly...
"If even you come along, who's minding 3rd Platoon? We can't both be gone."
"No need to worry about that."
"Why not?"
"Someone reliable's acting platoon leader."
...Someone reliable? Who? But the platoon leader just shrugged and didn't spill.
Fine, whatever. Not my problem. Getting dragooned like this had to come from at least the company commander... no, battalion level, so they'd have it covered.
"Platoon leader, deputy platoon leader. Done chatting?"
One of the quartermaster apprentice knights approached us then. Guess we'd killed time bullshitting.
"Ah, yeah. Ready to head out?"
"Yes. To the stables."
"Let's go."
We headed straight to the stables and mounted up. One odd thing: there were horses for the quartermaster soldiers too.
"Weren't horses only assigned to knights?"
"Right. But battalion HQ staff go on errands often, so they keep public-use mounts on standby."
Made sense. Battalion HQ handled quartermaster, personnel, intel, ops—and aside from personnel, they all involved trekking long distances.
Anyway, off we went: me, the platoon leader, one quartermaster knight, and two soldiers. The quartermaster folks led, with me and the platoon leader bringing up the rear.
Their pace up front was faster than I'd expected. Tiabel Town must be pretty far. We didn't arrive until lunchtime.
Tiabel Town was bigger than I'd pictured. Since it was near base, I figured a modest village, but this felt like Hwacheon in Gangwon Province back home.
"Stables first. We'll drop the horses and grab some food."
The stablemaster, a middle-aged guy inside, greeted us like old pals. The quartermaster knight shook his hand.
"Long time, sir. All good?"
"Bah, what trouble would I have? How about you, knight?"
"Surviving army life."
"Haha, fair enough."
Mid-chit-chat with the friendly stablemaster, he spotted Thunderer and his eyes went wide.
"No way... this horse is...?"
"Yup. A unicorn."
"Good lord...!"
The stablemaster's eyes sparkled, hands trembling. Rings a bell. Like that trainer knight. Wait—excited knight plus horn... I yanked the reins quick.
"Thunderer, no goring this guy."
"Prff-hrrm."
This psycho horse was about to cause an incident. Craving punishment from your owner?
"Oho, a lady knight too. Makes sense—no tales of unicorns carrying men."
"Yeah, somehow I ended up as its owner."
"Owner of a unicorn. You're one lucky lady."
Luck or curse, who knows... Eh, whatever. We handed over the horses. Not before sternly warning Thunderer not to pull any crap.
Out of the stables, we strolled the town streets. Lunchtime meant the air was thick with mouthwatering smells. Damn, that hits hard. My body, pickled in health food and mess slop, was screaming for rebellion.
"Here we are. Let's eat."
The quartermaster knight led us to a meat pie joint. Wonder what junk food's like in this era.
Short wait, and out came steaming fresh meat pies. First, the aroma from the crust—nutty, perfectly baked pastry making my mouth water. Sliced one in half with fork and knife; rich brown gravy-soaked filling oozed out.
Cutting's a waste. Grabbed half with my hands. Hot, but bearable. Reward after hardship. Bit right in.
Crunchy pastry first. Then the meat, mushrooms, onions burst with thick juices. My taste buds were under assault. Worlds apart from the eternal canned stew at base. Like mom's love and care packed in... Well, this life's mom never cooked for me. Noble lady turned empress—doubt she ever touched a pan. Metaphorically mom's love, then. Warm, hearty, spice-bombed... Actually, sounds more like dad's love. Emperor dad never cooked either, obviously.
Anyway, best bite I'd had lately. Couldn't hold back—shoved the pie in. Locked eyes with the platoon leader, staring at me like I'd lost it.