Chapter 3

"Those are a bunch of shameless bastards. Three times before dawn."

The imperial knight had certainly encountered unruly common soldiers in the battlefields he had traversed. Procuring supplies in occupied territories was a common practice. In fact, the efficiency of requisitioning and plundering was often considered a mark of a soldier's quality. Worm's detachment, which specialized in offensive raids, had little to do with such activities because they were primarily an expeditionary force. They could efficiently equip themselves from the supplies left behind at bases and the silent corpses.

However, this was his own territory where lawlessness was not tolerated. Especially after the battlefield had been raked over, the situation was different. If proper means of obtaining necessary supplies were unavailable, even friendly forces could become targets for local procurement.

There was indeed a common bond among the imperial army, but their top priority was their small unit. Through on-the-job training, they learned blind trust in their commanders and a twisted sense of camaraderie within their units, which often led to a weak sense of brotherhood within the army as a whole. Still, it was not fair to criticize their narrow-mindedness. It was a simple matter. A destitute friend or a destitute family. Which to prioritize was a foolish question.

To varying degrees, considering all the circumstances, targeting unknown soldiers could be somewhat understood. However, there were limits. Including attempts, three visits in one night was a first for Worm. They were troublesome visitors who came at all hours, more bothersome than the enemy.

"Only this guy seems to be enjoying it."

The imperial knight glared at the familiar devil mask. The spineless thieves fled when their potential vampiric loot gnawed at their hands. The only one left was the mask, satisfied with a midnight snack. Worm, the owner, was far from satisfied, suffering from lack of sleep and hunger.

"Feeling groggy, but should I eat something?"

The imperial knight, feeling sluggish, got up and looked around again. Some snored loudly under the carts, while others lay where they had fallen, using the remnants of empty barrels as pillows. However, some imperial soldiers had already started their activities. Small groups of soldiers gathered, lit fires, and warmed their cold bodies. The warm stones they had clung to all night were now cold and decorated the edges of the bonfires.

It was a characteristic of infantry to pick up anything they saw. Abandoned supplies and looting corpses went without saying, but they even stripped tree buds and thin bark for food. They were like a swarm of hungry locusts.

The smoke rising into the morning sky was no exception. When units moved, fuel such as firewood often became scarce. To solve this troublesome problem, half-dry horse manure was preferred. The excrement of horses, which ate only hay and grass, was concentrated. A kind of renewable energy. In the context of the old world, the Haiselk soldiers could be considered very environmentally conscious. Worm had no complaints. Compared to the stench of death, horse manure was a minor issue.

He took a piece of bread from his waist pouch and bit into it with his molars. The moisture in his mouth was depleted with each chew, and he had to moisten his throat with a water flask. The crowd of soldiers grumbled about the cold, lack of food, and lack of wine, moving sluggishly. It was a familiar scene, even nostalgic. It was hard to believe that the enemy was attacking the capital, showing a robust resilience.

"You're quite relaxed... Well, I can't really talk."

He blew out a puff of white smoke. Worm, too, was enjoying a post-meal smoke, so he couldn't criticize his comrades. It was all about knowing when to switch gears.

"Hey, Sir Knight, how are you feeling?"

A man's voice echoed, which he would have suspected as a hallucination or delusion not long ago. It was Dwey, his former superior and the leader of the punishment squad. Worm replied with a tone full of dissatisfaction.

"Terrible. I was almost visited multiple times last night."

Jose, standing beside the squad leader, laughed merrily.

"That's a shame. You must have looked attractive in your finery."

"Are you saying I'm a magnet for trouble? You're the one who's bad at seduction."

Worm brushed off his old friend's teasing like swatting away a fly.

"You picked the wrong target for your night visits, you fools. Come forward later, and I'll spare you with a single slap on the ass."

The squad leader made a gesture as if scolding a naughty child. Many laughed crudely, but the culprits' faces darkened. Worm didn't know what kind of training Dwey usually gave, but even a light slap from him was like a whipping.

"So, what do you want? You didn't come just to chat and build camaraderie, did you?"

"Face-to-face meeting and situation update before we're ready. The battalion commander is nagging about it."

"That's a problem. As you wish."

Worm followed the two, feeling a strange sensation. Looking back, he almost felt as if his deceased squad members were following him. But it was just an illusion. No one was behind him. The squad members, except for the three of them, had died in battle. Some of them had become patchwork skin on Dwey. To clear his heavy mood, Worm asked:

"...So, what's the current battalion commander like?"

"He's a big fish among the dregs, on par with Battalion Commander Jief."

"That's good."

Jose, who had a sarcastic nature, said this. The man must be quite impressive.

"He's a bit of a nag, though."

Dwey added, looking exasperated.

"It's no wonder, dealing with these guys. What's his background?"

"He's from the former Central Front Army. During the Four-Nation Alliance War, he fought against the Liberato Commercial Federation in the east."

"A leftover from the Central Front. Impressive."

During the Four-Nation Alliance War, many units were dispatched to the Sarajevo Fortress, but there were also significant battles on the eastern front, which bordered the Commercial Federation. It required patience and flexibility, a task unsuitable for weak or brutal soldiers.

"He's capable enough to take charge of my squad and keep them in line."

"A beast trainer, then."

Dwey, whose unruly subordinates were being mocked, laughed it off. It was the same tone as before. That's what made it unsettling. The sticky madness he felt on the battlefield was not a fleeting anger. There was a clear turning point in his emotions. Was it a deep-seated malaise that had thoroughly seeped into him, or something else?

"Battalion Commander is an ideal trainer. He's loud and doesn't need a whip. After all, he has two fine arms."

"What, Jose. Do you want to be a trainer too?"

"Hah, maybe if it were a beautiful woman, but I have no interest in keeping a bearded beast."

Trying to probe the situation, he found himself relaxing in the light-hearted banter. After a few rounds of trivial conversation, the group stopped.

"Well, we're here. Listen up, Worm. Your manners—"

"Squad Leader, this is Worm. Think of a tea party."

"You were worried for nothing. With so many troublemakers, a model student throws off the balance."

The orderly tent, with neatly arranged chairs and tables, was a stark contrast to the disheveled state of Dwey's squad. The battalion command post was well-organized, a rare sight among imperial soldiers. Inside the tent, at the very back, was the battalion commander, Dwey's superior.

Given that he commanded a punishment squad, Worm expected a towering, brawny figure, but the battalion commander was of average height and build. However, his eyes were sharp, and combined with his hawkish nose, he exuded a fierce, bird-like ruggedness.

"I am Battalion Commander Glastoff Phillips. Are you the Guardian of Worm?"

"Yes, I am the Guardian of Worm."

Worm straightened his disheveled demeanor and replied. Despite the grand title of Imperial Knight, he held no unit or role, a ceremonial position equivalent to a squad or platoon leader at best. Facing a battalion commander, his body naturally tensed.

"Your numerous battle records and service under Dwey led me to expect a formidable warrior, but rumors are unreliable."

Worm felt the battalion commander's critical gaze as he entered.

"I don't understand rumors, but I also wonder if I lived up to my title."

"An Imperial Knight is also humble. Impressive."

How to respond? Humility could turn into arrogance. It might be better to take the compliment at face value. The former superior came to his rescue.

"Enough of the pleasantries. Others are waiting."

"What, no more pleasant conversation?"

"Battalion Commander is always eager to take what belongs to others."

"Haha, you make me sound like a child. Don't worry, I won't steal anything."

"Haha, as expected of our commander. You have a good sense of humor."

The two superiors were enjoying a cultural exchange, not a hostile confrontation. The battalion commander, after a lingering glance at Worm, finally got to the point.

"Now, are all the key members of the battalion here? Everyone, pay attention. I will now explain the future operations. The defense of the Selta Peninsula and the expulsion of the Creist Kingdom's forces from the Mayerd territory have been achieved through the valiant efforts of the Principality Army and the Imperial Army."

It was a significant victory. The outer lines of the Zerebes Mountains were partially occupied, and Selta was on the verge of falling. The desperate resistance of the soldiers at Cape Raga, combined with the counterattack of the Imperial Army, had driven the Rehazen Knights into Lake Selta. Although the field army was not completely destroyed, it was an undeniable victory, with the heads of the knights, including the commander, lined up. Yet, no one was celebrating.

"We might as well call it a foregone conclusion. While the men are away, a bandit is about to break in."

Everyone understood what he meant without being told. The invasion of the capital by the Liberato Commercial Federation was common knowledge, even among the common soldiers.

"According to the original plan, resistance is being put up at the bases, taking advantage of the terrain, but it won't change the overall situation. In fact, if we get stuck in key positions, our forces will be tied down in various places. Without excellent reserves or readily available cavalry, active defense is a luxury we can't afford. The headquarters is already shifting to a siege of the capital."

The forces dispatched to Mayerd included a cavalry battalion and a light infantry battalion. Together with the garrison, they totaled three and a half battalions. All were excellent units capable of enduring the mobility of field warfare, irreplaceable in the current empire.

"You diligent men might be wondering why we're sitting idly. But there's a rare healer in Mayerd. She and her team of healers are treating wounded imperial soldiers who can return to the front lines. In three days, a company can be added to the ranks. Consider this a period to rest and recover from the fatigue of marching and fighting. It's frustrating, but necessary. If the relief fails, the only ones left will be the soldiers besieged in the capital. A siege without reinforcements against the powerful Liberato Commercial Federation is a slow suicide."

It was fundamentally different from the attrition warfare at key points experienced at the Sarajevo Fortress. There was no source of reinforcements or supplies in the rear. It was a literal all-out war. Expecting a shortage of supplies from the northern countries was unrealistic. They would lose by sheer national strength.

"We must be the decisive move. Understand?"

◆

In the deepest part of the battalion headquarters, where the operation plan had just been conveyed, the tent was eerily quiet, as if the previous bustle had been a mirage. After gathering so many people, a literal human clearance had been carried out.

"Where's the Guardian?"

"Jose and he went back first. Don't be so eager to take others' subordinates."

Dwey, his subordinate, pleaded with a troubled expression. True, he had a naturally mad look, like a bandit threatening a noble to reveal the location of his treasure. Glastoff, however, was enjoying the situation.

"Fine, I'll let it go. It's in my blood."

"If we had a few more people like you and Worm, the empire wouldn't have been absorbed."

The knowledgeable squad leader, despite his appearance, was mocking Glastoff's roots.

"If we had a few more people like you and Worm, history might have been different. But it's just a futile fantasy. Rest assured, my heart is with the empire, not the long-decayed city-states."

"Are you also thinking about what happens after the empire falls?"

Because of his excellence, he harbored ambition. The Phillips family, descendants of the countless small states that devoured each other to survive, were among the survivors. Compared to those who were exterminated or fled to other countries, they were fortunate.

"Is it so bad to preserve the bloodline of a nation?"

Even though his family had been defeated and incorporated into the empire, the blood of a lord still stirred within him. Glastoff declared this without a hint of shame.

"Quite pessimistic, aren't you?"

"I will do my utmost. After that, the empire has learned from defeat and become flexible. There are compatriots scattered in Mayerd and the island nations. Even if we lose, complete annihilation can be avoided. Colonel Justus is aware of this."

"Southern Front Army, centered around the magic silver mines, has been sold to the island nation's Viscount Edgar de Dalmarc. The Mayerd garrison is living under the feet of the Liberato Commercial Federation."

"Even now, they are a patchwork of different parts. Living between Creist and Liberato, they might surprisingly survive longer."

"Ha, you're joking. They suffered indigestion after devouring the Ferris Kingdom. The field army, including the core Rehazen Knights, is half-destroyed, and the Three Heroes are missing. Competing with the Commercial Federation? Ha, they can't do it."

"You're quite talkative. Are you that happy to have your former subordinate return?"

A piercing gaze pierced Glastoff.

"What are you trying to say?"

"How long do you plan to stay in the punishment squad?"

"I'm fine as long as I can kill the enemy. This squad suits me."

"Imitation can become reality if repeated enough."

"What do you mean?"

"A bunch of peculiar people. They lack ambition. Even that Guardian, if he wanted, could lead a battalion, not just a squad."

In the former imperial army, the battlefield forged a constellation of talented individuals. But what about now? The brightest star had fallen, and the night was dark. Capable people must be forced into leadership roles. Glastoff, about to continue his nagging, sighed. Not because he realized it was futile.

"...Huh, it's noisy outside. Dwey, are those your subordinates?"

"Seems the rest and nutrition I gave them backfired."

A good commander must be skilled at keeping his soldiers busy. Boredom is poison. There's no benefit in giving them time to think unnecessarily.

"The conversation is over. Tighten that loose collar."

"As you command."

I'm Torton, who misses winter. It's been a while, everyone.

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