Trench Works (Part 2)
I wasn't imagining things. The squad members dismounting from their horses and wagons, and the miners just emerging from the mine—all of them had frozen in place, confirming they'd heard it too.
"A real female?"
"Hey, Leonid! Is that female yours?"
"Whoa! Whoa! First human female I've ever seen!"
The kobolds came swarming over, crowding around the platoon leader. He stood there stiffly, at a complete loss for words. I was just as flustered. It was the first time since reincarnating that I'd dealt with such outright rudeness, and my tolerance was apparently a bit low.
Still, I snapped out of it quickly and started thinking about how to handle this sudden mess.
For starters, the platoon leader had given me a heads-up. Kobolds have a completely different culture from humans, so whatever they do, just roll with it. Put another way, human customs don't apply to kobolds. And the fact that he'd said this to me, an imperial princess...
It meant even invoking royal authority wouldn't faze them.
Not that I'd planned to pull rank on them anyway, heads-up or not. This mine in front of us was a mana stone operation, and kobold cooperation was essential for extraction. Oppressing or harming them in a situation like this? It'd hit mana stone supply immediately, and unrest would spread through every mine in the Irons pine Mountains.
As a princess, I knew better than to prevent such issues if I could—or god forbid, cause them myself.
So, in the end, if we were just going to let this slide...
"Sorry, but the platoon leader and I aren't like that."
No choice but to suck it up and play along.
The kobolds peeled away from him at my words and surged toward me, unleashing a torrent of chatter.
"What does 'like that' even mean?"
"Sounds like she's not Leonid's female."
"Then whose is she?"
"Must have another male."
"Or maybe those guys behind her?"
"She has all those males to herself?"
"Eek!"
Listening quietly, I realized that aside from their word choice, it felt exactly like dealing with little kids. Their looks, the way they just blurted whatever—yep.
I'd handled types like this before. Not that I'd majored in early childhood education or anything, but during my service, there was this one direct junior who was extremely innocent, you could say.
He'd lived alone with his grandma before enlisting. His parents, realizing he had intellectual issues, just dumped him on her and cut contact. Grandma took good care of him, but being elderly, she never handled medical records, military exemption paperwork, or anything beyond basic ID stuff.
The draft board should've caught something during his exam if they'd done it properly, but those clowns? No paperwork? Straight to active duty, stamps galore.
Anyway, that junior and these kobolds had a lot in common. So maybe the way I'd handled him would work here.
"Those guys aren't mine."
"They're not?"
"Nope."
"Then which male is yours?"
"I don't have any males."
"Eek!"
Treat them like adults who happen to be childlike, but keep the words at their level.
"Want us to introduce you to some?"
"We've seen tons of human males around here."
"What kind do you like?"
Why were they so obsessed with pairing me up with a guy? Some kinda matchmaker fetish?
Anyway, stay calm, Arselia. Patience is key, even if the conversation veers off.
"I don't want to meet any males."
"Why not?"
My past-life male identity clashing with my current princess status had turned me into this awkward hybrid. But past-life stories weren't really shareable, and kobolds probably wouldn't get it anyway. Pass.
"Just... I'm still young."
"Young? How old?"
"Twenty."
"Twenty? How old is that for a human?"
The kobolds launched into a heated debate about human age brackets.
The one who finally cut through the chatter was the platoon leader, who'd finally regained his composure.
"Kobold folks, it was great catching up after so long, but we need to start work now."
"Ah, right. Duty calls. Kids! Back to work!"
"Bye, female! Come again!"
With that farewell, they set to loading ore onto the wagons the human miners had prepped. A far cry from their goofy chatter earlier, they moved with seasoned efficiency.
As I watched the dramatic shift, the platoon leader approached me.
"Uh... thanks for smoothing that over."
"Yeah, I think I handled that one pretty well."
"Ahem. You managed the kobolds impressively. Did you take Xeno-anthropology at the academy?"
"Nah. Just got lucky."
Truth be told, if I'd studied kobold culture, I wouldn't have panicked at all. But back at the academy, I'd been like...
'Xenostudies? That's just a diplomacy subfield. Pass.'
...and hadn't even considered it. With two older brothers, I figured I'd never be heir anyway.
But the future's unpredictable...
Fuck.
"Ahem. Anyway, about this trench construction op. First and Second Platoons will handle the wooded position; Third Platoon and HQ go to the defilade. Build out your assigned spots, then regroup here for lunch. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Any questions, ask the Second Platoon leader."
Now the real trench works kicked off. We grabbed tools from the kit box by the mine entrance and headed to our sites.
I followed First Platoon's guys to our spot. True to the name "wooded position," it was tucked along the path we'd taken—camouflaged at first glance.
But stepping inside revealed the truth: it wasn't hidden so much as overgrown, blended into the foliage. Great for concealment from enemies, but we'd be blind to them too. Even for an ambush, you need some sightlines...
What the hell had they done last construction cycle?
"Gary, you're First Platoon's deputy, right?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"When were you last here?"
"Late spring."
Just three or four months ago? How'd it overgrow this much?
"The mountains are mana-rich, so vegetation grows fast. Sometimes mutant weeds pop up packed with mana."
"No wonder they mine top-grade mana stones here."
"Exactly."
Tch. Natural overgrowth like this? Can't really complain.
"Let's just get to work. Hob, Jack, Matthew, Ga... Galen? Wait, Gareth?"
"Gareth, ma'am!"
Damn, got it wrong. No nametags on these uniforms, hard to guess.
"Okay, Gareth—sorry. You four, with me to bag dirt."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Gary, take the rest and clear the entry path first."
"Got it!"
I led the four soldiers to a nearby spot.
"Low rocks here. Let's dig."
I took a shovel from one and recalled my past life. Shovel ace. Time for him to revive.
Stance set, I struck the earth. A bit rusty, but muscle memory kicked in.
"Whoa, Lieutenant."
"How're you this good with a shovel?"
"Good? Flatterers. Quit gawking and dig."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Hah, got the upper hand.
...Or so I thought, not even a minute later. I had to rethink fast.
The soldiers' shoveling was on another level. Form, speed, bagging—everything.
I needed lessons from them.
"How are you guys this good?"
"Farming families. Been leveling fields since kids."
"Ah..."
Forgot the era difference. Modern Korean army "shovel ace"? Laughable to agrarian folks.
"Actually... you're better than we expected, Lieutenant."
"Ahem. I'm decent at most things."
"Bit late to say, but you don't need to dig. Just supervise."
To them, a princess shoveling was the real shock, not my skill.
"Nah... if you draw the sword, you gotta cut grass, right?"
"Pardon?"
Oh, Korean proverb. What's the imperial equivalent?
Brain fart.
"...Never mind. Keep digging."
"Yes, ma'am."