Arrival at the Golden Battalion
“…….”
Wyverns were nothing new to her. She had memorized their habits cold, had even taken part in dissection drills more times than she could count. And yet, facing the real thing like this, tension still coiled tight in her gut no matter how she tried to fight it. Private Marcel must have noticed the flicker of unease in her, because he leaned in and murmured, almost under his breath.
“That’s an Imperial recon wyvern, ma’am. Looks scary enough, but they usually just circle and look around before they leave. You’ll be fine.”
Heat flooded Ashlyn’s cheeks. An officer, and here she was letting a private see her flinch. She felt ridiculous.
“…I didn’t ask, Private.”
“Yes, ma’am….”
That ended the conversation. Silence settled over the vehicle. Ashlyn forced her gaze straight ahead and made herself a silent promise.
No need to be afraid. Something like that—I can put it down in a heartbeat if I just do what I was taught.
Paros border zone. The forward trenches of the Istar Army were held by the 13th Corps’ Golden Battalion.
Three years had already passed since the standoff between the Barbaros Empire and the Morning Star Alliance began. In that time the trenches here had evolved until they almost resembled an underground city. From above, three thick, long trench lines twisted together with slender communication trenches; every so often a sentry post bulged outward like a watchtower.
The mood in those forward trenches was thoroughly bleak. No surprise there. A stench sharp enough to sting the nose rose from no place anyone could name; every time you forgot about them, putrid slimes would bubble up from the trench floor. Add in the demon-rats grown fat as cats prowling about, and gloom was the only possible atmosphere.
Major Brandon’s office, however, was another matter. Carved deeper into the trench wall and finished in clean white concrete on every side, it boasted chair, desk, and every stick of furniture a man could want. It was almost comfortable. And inside that snug little room the major was grumbling to himself.
“I’ve told them a dozen times not to send me greenhorns who are nothing but enthusiasm. Those bastards in Personnel at HQ have done it again….”
He had good reason for the complaint. Staff Headquarters Personnel had just informed him they were sending “another” new officer. The major let out a sigh so deep it seemed to hollow the floor. The pale face of a young man floated before his eyes.
James B. Colson. Second Lieutenant.
The fresh officer had vanished with his entire platoon less than a month after arriving. They had never found the bodies, but everyone might as well call them dead.
Disappeared on patrol—so the cause of death was obvious. Either the beasts that haunted the no man’s land had eaten them, or an Imperial wyvern recon team had finished them off.
Not even a week had passed since that incident. And now they were sending another brand-new second lieutenant?
Personnel claimed the new officer had volunteered, so there was nothing they could do. Cowardly excuse. Even if some clueless rookie asked for this posting, were they really supposed to just smile and take him?
“We still haven’t found Colson’s corpse and now I’m going to have to clean up another body.”
No—bodies, plural. The major gave a bitter little smile. An incompetent soldier only got himself killed; an incompetent officer dragged dozens or hundreds of men into the meat grinder with him. Just like Colson….
Major Brandon was still swallowing a groan when the orderly waiting outside stepped in with unwelcome news.
“The new second lieutenant is waiting outside, sir.”
“…Speak of the devil.”
“Sir? I didn’t catch that.”
“Never mind. Tell him to come in at once.”
Brisk footsteps approached almost immediately.
So this is the idiot who volunteered. Let’s see what he looks like.
The major lifted his head without much interest—and his gaze froze in mid-air.
“Huh? What the—?”
A chill ran down his spine the moment he saw the new second lieutenant.
“Well.”
The new officer was a woman. That much was fine; uncommon, but not a problem. What mattered more was that she was a Magic Army officer. The pentacle patch on her officer’s cap made that plain.
Nobody said the idiot was a Magic Army officer!
The liquor haze burned off in an instant. This was the first time a Magic Army officer had ever been assigned to a unit under his command. The major’s eyes flicked rapidly over the new second lieutenant.
She was the living textbook of an “eager green officer.” Blonde hair pulled back tight so it wouldn’t sway. Jacket without a single crease. Stubborn blue eyes, shoulders locked at rigid right angles. The sharp military bearing almost drowned out how striking she was. The second lieutenant snapped a crisp salute toward Major Brandon.
“Second Lieutenant Ashlyn Wintercrown, reporting. I have been ordered to this battalion as of today.”
Thud. A second shock hit the major.
What? Wintercrown?
Wintercrown—the legendary magic house that could drop a bird from the sky with a word. Why would someone from that family be here?
Distant cadet branch, not the main line. Climb any mage family tree far enough and they all turn out related anyway.
He recovered his composure somehow and cleared his throat at Second Lieutenant Wintercrown.
“Ahem. Right. Welcome. Second Lieutenant Wintercrown. I look forward to your performance.”
“Thank you, Battalion Commander. I will give my assigned duties everything I have.”
Ah… still too much enthusiasm. Heavy.
The major made no effort to hide his sour expression.
“…Right. You must be tired after the long trip. Head inside for now. Company Commander Gordon will fill you in on the details.”
“Yes, sir!”
The second lieutenant left under the orderly’s guidance. The major watched her back with uneasy eyes. For some reason the dead Second Lieutenant Colson kept rising in his mind, leaving him unsettled.
Still—she’s Magic Army. Maybe she’ll be different?
He already knew the answer to that question.
No different.
Mage or not, a bullet kills you just the same. The Silver Battalion up on the absolute front had already lost two Magic Army officers to shellfire, instant deaths both.
In the old days mages had been one-man armies, but technology had advanced; the god that ruled the battlefield now was the gun. And before it, no mage was invincible.
Of course he wasn’t dismissing magic’s power. Magic was still formidable—tremendous force, no question.
But it was equally true that mages had grown far more vulnerable than before.
Think about it. In a pitch-black no man’s land, who made an easier sniper target than a mage throwing around bright, flashy spells?
And even with specialized training, bookish types stayed bookish; their stamina usually lagged behind other officers.
In short, a “Magic Army officer” was poor cost-performance. High firepower, but a nightmare to maintain—like a weapon that was powerful yet fragile.
And now that awkward weapon had been forced into his hand. Major Brandon let out a low groan.
“Ugh. At least this isn’t the absolute front. Maybe it’ll be all right.”
But he refused to think any further. Whatever happened next would not be his responsibility. It was all Personnel’s fault. Yes—exactly.
The long-awaited first interview with her superior left a strangely unsettled aftertaste.
What was that sour look earlier?
Ashlyn chewed her lower lip and replayed the meeting with Major Brandon. The reek of strong liquor that hit from a distance, the flushed face, the eyes that made no secret of finding her a burden—everything disappointed her.
She hadn’t expected a red carpet just because she was a Wintercrown. But this… she couldn’t help the way her spirits sank. The orderly called to her as she stood there, crestfallen.
“This way, Second Lieutenant. I’ll take you to the company.”
“Very well.”
The whole way through the trench corridors behind the orderly, Ashlyn clicked her tongue inwardly.
Appalling.
The environment was bad enough, but the condition of the soldiers was worst of all. They crouched wherever they pleased in corners, swapping jokes. Some were openly gambling at cards for money.
The most shocking sight, though, was the men sprawled asleep against the walls as if they owned the place. Trench life was hard, yes—but wasn’t this taking slackness too far? Instinctive disgust wrinkled her brow. And in that exact moment—
“Fuck! Where the hell are you looking?!”
The sudden stream of curses made Ashlyn freeze mid-step.
“Move your goddamn feet, you idiot!”
She swore she had never heard language that crude from anyone, ever, in her entire life.