No More Salutes
Captain Gordon irritably slapped Ashlyn’s arm away.
“Don’t.”
“…What?”
The air around them turned as cold as if someone had dumped ice water over the lot of them. Every gaze in the vicinity snapped to Ashlyn and Captain Gordon. Still blinking in confusion, Ashlyn found the captain glaring at her with open irritation.
“From today on, no saluting. Calling people by rank—Battalion Commander, Platoon Leader, all of it—is forbidden too.”
“…Yes, sir.”
A chill raced down her spine the moment the words registered. It wasn’t that she failed to understand Captain Gordon’s order. She understood it perfectly—and that was exactly why the goosebumps rose.
On the true front lines, salutes, formal address, even rank insignia itself were banned. The rule existed to keep enemy snipers and spotters from picking out the officers. The fact that such a ban had just been imposed on the Kran trenches—where it had never been needed before—could only mean one thing.
Are the enemy that close?
Her uneasy premonition became reality almost at once. Captain Gordon dropped his voice to a low murmur.
“The Empire bastards have dug a new trench nearby. Recon reported it yesterday.”
“…What?”
“Right in the middle of no man’s land, dead ahead.”
Ashlyn’s mouth fell open wider. If the captain was telling the truth, the situation was far worse than she had imagined. A fresh enemy trench within spitting distance of their own lines—how was that even possible? Gordon let out a hollow laugh.
“Ridiculous, isn’t it? How god-awful does your recon have to be for the enemy to dig right under your nose and you never notice?”
“They could have used illusion magic to hide the work.”
“Even if they did, this is still unforgivable.”
Well, that’s true enough.
Ashlyn swallowed the reply that had risen to her lips. The recon practices here truly were a joke. On the rare occasions anyone ventured into no man’s land they stuck to the absolute minimum distance, followed only the same old routes, and filed reports so vague they might as well have been blank. It hadn’t always been this bad. Word was the passive attitude had taken root after her predecessor, Second Lieutenant Colson, vanished during a patrol. Better to do the bare minimum than risk getting torn apart by some magical beast out there, the thinking went.
And now this is the result.
The captain continued.
“If we leave it and the brass finds out, we’re finished. Every last one of us will face charges… no, full disciplinary action.”
Ashlyn quickly scanned their surroundings for listening ears. Luckily the trench was empty; even the soldiers and Sergeant Billef had discreetly made themselves scarce. Gordon pressed on without pause.
“There’s still a chance, though. Their new trench isn’t fully finished yet.”
Ashlyn turned back to him, choosing her words with care.
“In other words… you’re saying we have to raid it.”
At her immediate grasp of the situation, Captain Gordon finally smiled as if someone had at last spoken his language. He gave her left shoulder a slow, lingering squeeze and nodded.
“Exactly. Quick on the uptake—I like that. As expected of a mage.”
It was the first compliment she had heard since arriving at Kran.
“You understand why I came looking for you, don’t you? You’re going to lead this trench raid.”
“……!”
This was the combat assignment Ashlyn had wanted—had practically begged for—ever since she got here. She should have been elated. Yet the first thing that flooded her chest was a cold wash of unease.
A trench raid. Exactly what it sounded like: assaulting a heavily fortified enemy position. Far more difficult than simple reconnaissance. And the kind of “trench raid” the captain meant almost certainly meant a night attack—meaning no support of any kind from the rear. Ashlyn opened her mouth carefully.
“Ha—”
—but isn’t this a little too dangerous?
That was what she meant to say. She was certain of it.
“I’ll do it.”
What actually came out of her mouth was something else entirely. Ashlyn froze in shock at her own words, while Captain Gordon only looked relieved. He nodded vigorously, already rattling off instructions.
“Good. Put together a team of about ten—whoever you want. Too many and you’ll just get spotted. Come to the company command post before you move out tonight. I’ll brief you on the exact location and everything recon managed to learn.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gordon gave her shoulder one last encouraging pat, then leaned in to murmur against her ear.
“If this goes well, a medal’s not out of the question.”
With that he disappeared around the bend in the trench. Almost the same instant, a low voice rumbled from directly behind her.
“You mustn’t.”
“Ah—!”
The sound was so close it seemed to vibrate through her bones. Ashlyn whipped around with a startled jolt—and received a second shock. Sergeant Billef, who moments earlier had been nowhere in sight, now stood right at her back. His face was the most ferocious she had ever seen on him. Only the fact that his fangs remained hidden kept him from looking ready to tear someone apart on the spot. The strangest part was where he was looking: he was glaring at her left shoulder—the exact place the captain’s hand had rested.
Ashlyn didn’t dwell on it. Trying to parse a Wildman’s every motive was a waste of time. She muttered,
“You scared me. At least make some noise when you come up from behind.”
The murderous air around the sergeant eased a fraction. He snorted, amber eyes flashing as he repeated himself.
“Anyway—you mustn’t.”
“Mustn’t what, exactly?”
“The trench raid. Doing it like this, with no preparation. You can’t.”
“Were you eavesdropping?”
“Hard not to hear when I don’t want to.”
“…What did you just say?”
“Doesn’t matter. No is no.”
A dull throb started behind Ashlyn’s temples. She lacked the energy even to demand why he was suddenly like this. Sergeant Billef looked equally frustrated. He let out a low grunt, chose his next words with care, and delivered them one by one.
“If we go like this, everyone dies. Especially you—guaranteed.”
“What?”
The irritation of a moment earlier vanished in a flash, replaced by pure anger. Ashlyn dropped her voice to a razor-edged hiss.
“Even insults have limits.”
Wildman or not, unused to human etiquette or not—that remark had crossed the line by a mile. Gennady, however, seemed to feel no such qualms. He tilted his head and looked down at her.
“I have no intention of insulting you. I’m simply stating a fact.”
“Is that so? Then what exactly am I supposed to do? Should I have thrown myself on the ground in front of the company commander and refused?”
“Yes. If it came to that, you should have.”
This fucking werewolf—
A string of curses she had never once spoken in her life rose to the back of her throat. Ashlyn crushed them with superhuman willpower. Rank difference or not, the man was a veteran NCO; she couldn’t simply crush him the way she might a private.
“So it was advice, not an insult? How very kind of you. Did it never occur to you that you might be overstepping?”
She closed the remaining distance and stared up at him. The height difference forced her neck into an almost painful angle, but she refused to step back. Instinctive pressure rolled off him in waves; she held her spine rigid. She could not afford to lose any more face here. Through gritted teeth she said,
“A sergeant from another unit has no business acting like he has the authority to interfere in 4th Platoon’s affairs.”
For the briefest instant Gennady’s amber eyes flickered. His dry lips parted. After a short silence he answered,
“…I have no authority to interfere.”
The unexpected compliance made Ashlyn frown. He continued.
“But I’ve seen what happens when trench raids go out like this more times than I can count. May I speak frankly?”
“……”
“If we leave as things stand, even one man coming back alive would be a miracle.”
Sergeant Billef’s thick brows twisted. Looking at that expression, Ashlyn found herself unable to speak. It was the same face he had worn a week ago when he took her hand—the face of someone who had just been cut by a tiny, razor-sharp shard of glass. In this case…
It was the face of someone who was worried.
Impossible. Why would he worry about her? Right now Sergeant Billef was simply a veteran looking with pity on a green officer about to throw herself into a reckless operation. That was all. Nothing more.
His features smoothed back into impassivity as he went on in a level tone.
“We need at least another half day of preparation. Terrain recon, enemy outpost positions, barbed-wire and mine layouts—all of it has to be checked.”
The sudden, systematic argument left Ashlyn momentarily blank. The usual clipped, broken speech was gone; he was almost eloquent. Had he always been able to talk like this?
Regardless of the question, she felt herself being persuaded. At the same time the full recklessness of what she had almost done hit her. Fear and shame welled up together, and she blurted out something that sounded like an excuse.
“…But the captain ordered us to move out tonight.”
“I’ll help you.”
Ashlyn jerked her head up again to stare at him, unable to believe what she had just heard.