Chapter 40

"Seeeeennn!!"

With a rough shout, a log resembling a battering ram struck the earth. The cylindrical piece of wood, equipped with four handles, was a tool used for ramming the ground. Steam rose from the bodies of the men engaged in the heavy labor, and they were drenched in sweat, having shed all but their lower garments. The earthworks, carried out by these mud-covered soldiers, were nearing completion. The retaining boards were removed, and the formed terrace-like earthworks were now being trodden upon by Worm.

"Surprisingly sturdy for a makeshift fortification."

He praised their dedication, feeling the reassuring sensation through the soles of his boots. The earthworks had been compacted, removing air and moisture from the ground, turning the pile of earth into a defensive wall.

"Better than the temporary walls of Dandueg. Everything there was rushed, but this cut-through was designed to be backfilled."

Deborah answered, her gaze fixed on the distance. The half-trained soldiers of the drill squadron were busily transporting welcome supplies to the top of the earthworks, known as the horse track. The slope of Orzeka, which usually served as one of the six entrances to Zerebes in the Celta Peninsula, now stood as an impassable ridge once again.

"The only difference is the color."

The cut-through, now backfilled, had returned to its pre-construction appearance. The only difference was the bald hill that cut into the green carpet covering the embankment.

"The slopes of the ridge are still covered with grass to prevent landslides. Any bald spots will stand out."

Yogim lovingly stroked his receding hairline. "Touch not the god, and he will not curse you." Worm gently averted his gaze and turned to the new recruits gathered at the top of the earthworks. They had completed the earthworks and washed off the mud, now donning the equipment they had discarded.

"From a distance, they look like a fully armed army."

Worm, who had experienced many battles, noticed their fragility. Despite their outward appearance, their inner weaknesses were evident. One recruit was repeatedly taking shallow breaths to suppress rising nausea, while another was trembling with his spear, his face contorted with tension. The tension was contagious, and even those who had completed the earthworks were exhausted. In this state, those who had been worn out by the earthworks were in better shape.

"Perhaps we finished the work too quickly."

"Without proper manners, our guests didn't even inform us of their arrival."

Deborah lowered her usually clear voice, and Yogim whispered in response. Worm agreed with the couple's unspoken understanding. If there were experienced non-commissioned officers, they would walk around, teasing and checking on the soldiers. However, the current Myard Principality Army, especially the drill squadron, lacked such personnel. Still, everyone, including Worm, had once been inexperienced. Memories of his first combat experience flashed through his mind. In the forest where he first killed someone, he was covered in fresh blood and vomit. It wasn't something that could be dismissed as mere inexperience. He needed to take care of them a little.

"I'll be away for a bit."

"Sure, count on you."

With the drill instructor's permission, Worm began patrolling the earthworks. Deborah and Yogim's idle chatter wasn't out of boredom. They knew from experience that excessive tension lowered morale and caused fatigue. Therefore, the veterans, while their eyes gleamed, laughed at uninteresting stories out loud.

Worm, wandering aimlessly, targeted a single recruit. The recruit's eyes were tightly closed as if in prayer, unaware of Worm's approach.

"In this dappled sunlight, you might feel sleepy."

"Huh, what?"

The recruit's reaction was slow, his mind wandering.

"Gaston, it's the Guardian Captain."

A nearby soldier, unable to bear it, announced the imperial knight's arrival. Gaston, called by name, blinked in surprise, like a corporate warrior who had overslept. He turned around but in the wrong direction. Worm, amused by his fluster, patted his shoulder and guided him to face him.

"Hey, are you still half-asleep?"

"No, sir."

Stammering, the recruit, recalling the etiquette drilled into him, tried to salute, but Worm gently refused.

"No need to salute, relax. Gaston."

"Sorry, sir, I'm not half-asleep."

Mistakenly thinking he was being reprimanded by the imperial knight, Gaston stood at attention. The surrounding soldiers watched with a mix of sympathy and anticipation.

"I see. I'm walking around because I'm so sleepy. If I fall asleep, that terrifying drill instructor will hit me. Have you seen the sparring in the drill field?"

"Yes, his skills are remarkable—"

Worm cut off the flattery, which made him itchy.

"Ha, stop it, I was the one who ended up swollen all over. Thanks to that, I got a severe scolding from the healing mage. I never want to do that again."

The imperial knight's genuine disgust made Gaston's cheeks relax. He must have been scolded by Deborah, who used harsh physical language during training. The shared bitter memory of fists created a bond between the knight and the recruit. The initial halting conversation progressed as mutual understanding deepened. The cramped situation of the battlefield could make people talkative if given a chance.

"That guy over there—"

The chatty foreign knight was a rare sight. Curiosity can kill a cat. Worm, relying on his blue flame, didn't hesitate to invite other recruits. He didn't let anyone whose gaze met his slip away.

"That's Evrek."

Gaston, who had been chatting, readily introduced his comrade. Worm, initially thinking him unreliable, realized he might be more capable than expected.

"You're from the same hometown?"

"Yes, most of us are from the same region."

Forming a unit from the same hometown was advantageous for solidarity. The downside was that if the unit was wiped out, the region would lose its workforce. Hiding his darker thoughts, Worm asked:

"Evrek, you don't seem very energetic. Have you been given enough food?"

"We were given flatbread and beans at a waystation."

"Those hard, jaw-breaking ones? Looks like you missed a meal."

The whole-grain bread, baked to last, was difficult to eat without softening it. Some soldiers soaked their portions in advance, but the recruit in front of him had neglected to do so. It wasn't something you could eat on the march.

"Embarrassingly, I couldn't bite into it and put it in my pocket."

"Of course, you need to soften it in hot water. I have some left too."

Worm pulled a fist-sized piece of hard bread from his waist bag. It was an alien object that required all the moisture in your mouth to eat.

"I've softened it a bit. Just gather saliva and chew patiently. Eat when you can."

Worm tore the bread with his strength, handed half to Evrek, and threw the rest into his mouth. It was still hard. The more he chewed, the more moisture was drained from his mouth. A hint of regret crossed his face, but he couldn't change his attitude in front of the soldiers.

"Thank you!!"

Evrek, expressing his gratitude, followed the imperial knight's example and stuffed the bread into his mouth. Worm himself had struggled to chew. The result of stuffing more than half into his mouth was immediate. The repeated chewing, the clay-like stickiness and hardness, filled the recruit with suffering.

"You seem to like it."

"Hey, Evrek's face is terrible."

"The Guardian Captain has a special jaw. That's why he can do it."

"Fu, ugh, it's tough."

The battle between his jaw and the hard bread would become an unforgettable experience for him. He wouldn't make the same mistake again. The other recruits laughed at their comrade's plight. The excessive tension was gone. Worm had learned military life this way. Noisy and troublesome, but a routine he would never return to. The bitterness of tar numbed his brain.

With a thin smile on his face, the imperial knight left the scene. He laughed and joked with the soldiers, exchanging light-hearted banter. It was a cruel deception. While he listened to their complaints and concerns, he couldn't let them see his true feelings as a knight. Even the boisterous squad leader must have had similar feelings. The reason for his refusal to be promoted was clear. After exchanging comforting words, Worm completed his patrol of the earthworks and returned to Deborah.

"You've gone to a lot of trouble."

"It was a good way to pass the time."

Worm, who had been putting on a brave face, straightened up under the serious gaze of the couple.

"Worm, I have a favor to ask... Can you look after the soldiers?"

Worm, feeling dizzy at Yogim's request, shook his head.

"Stop joking. I'm supposed to be used for stopping power."

"I'm not asking you to command them. Just keep an eye on them. I wanted to ask Mois, but he's exhausted."

"Your son, who has combat experience in Dandueg?"

"Because I'm his father. Maybe I was too lenient with my children. The battlefield is different when it comes to humans and monsters, you understand."

Worm understood what he meant. While monsters could be killed casually, many showed strong resistance to killing humans, even if it meant their own death. Even seasoned adventurers felt this way. It was different from the professional killers of war.

"…I can't refuse a beautiful woman's request."

"Heh, you're a smooth talker. I'm counting on you. Teach them the battlefield."

Worm, outwardly agreeing, moved away from the cut-through and settled in a corner of the flat area. He took out a soldier's cigarette from his pocket and lit it with his blue flame. The purple smoke, carried by the mountain breeze, mixed with the crowd and dissipated.

"Lazy face, let them slack off a bit."

He sighed, exhaling smoke at the lazy demon mask. Raising his gaze, he saw Mois directing the earthworks. Shifting his eyes, he spotted the recruits he had spoken to.

"Haha, they look so happy… Well, I set it up that way."

Innocent and pure, they knew nothing of the color of war. The feeling of organs being torn, the death cries of enemy soldiers, the dying comrades. He should have taught them the horrific and brutal nature of war, as a veteran skilled in killing.

In a way, the Haiselk Empire was kind for not showing them the illusion of hope. Inhaling the purple smoke deeply and exhaling it, the recruits seemed to fade into the mist. In the world divided by the white smoke, Worm spoke his true thoughts.

"I shouldn't have asked their names."

The imperial knight, grimacing at the bitter taste on his tongue, stopped his escapism and returned to the ranks.