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[Translator - Tangrine ]
[Proofreader - Seeker ]
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Chapter 4 - The Beginning of Military Life (3)
“Oh my, this might be too strong for our little lady here.”
The middle-aged man chuckled as he spoke.
Clyden pointed at the cigarettes displayed inside the glass case.
“How much for these?”
“Haha, They were once a rare specialty from the southern Saxon region, but after mass production started a few years ago, the price has dropped significantly. They aren’t widely known because first-timers find the smoke too harsh. Would you like to try one?”
The shopkeeper took out a cigar-shaped cigarette from the table and handed it to Clyden.
He brought it to his nose and took a deep breath of its scent.
He lit it with the match that the shopkeeper offered and took a long drag before exhaling.
“Whoa! Smoke is coming out of your mouth!”
Lina was watching in fascination but backed away while coughing.
Clyden took another deep inhale and blew out smoke rings and even let smoke escape from his nose and ears.
Lina clapped in delight and giggled in amazement.
“Haha, I consider myself quite the smoker, but I’ve never seen a trick like that before.”
“Big brother! Big brother! Let me try! I wanna do it too!”
Lina tugged at Clyden’s leg but he firmly shook his head.
“No way! This stuff is bad for kids.”
“Huh? Bad for kids?”
“Absolutely! If children smoke, they stop growing and their skin will turn dry with red eyes like a rabbit’s, and their teeth turn yellow. It’s terrifying.”
“Then why do you smoke, big brother?”
Lina pouted as she questioned him.
Clyden smirked and confidently replied,
“Hah! Because this is a gentleman’s indulgence!”
Lina scowled in protest, but Clyden simply laughed.
After negotiating, he secured a steady supply of cigarettes at a reasonable price.
It was a satisfying day for both Lina and Clyden.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Sergeant Clyden Von Rondell. Starting today, I’ll be leading the 1st Platoon. If you follow my orders properly, I guarantee you’ll have a comfortable military life. If you don’t, I promise your time in the military will be... unpleasant.”
Clyden introduced himself to the platoon early in the morning and checked the personnel.
Afterward, he joined the gate inspection unit for duty.
He found it tedious and retreated into the guardhouse.
The night patrol soldiers were fast asleep in one room.
Eres greeted Clyden with a salute and handed him a set of equipment.
“Would you like to try it on? I picked out something roughly your size, if it doesn’t fit, I can get another set.”
Clyden tried on the leather armor reinforced with metal plates.
“Hmm… It fits well enough, but it’s pretty heavy.”
“This is an officer-grade issue. It has slightly thicker plates for extra protection against snipers.”
“Just because the plates are thicker doesn’t mean they’ll make a difference. It just makes it unnecessarily heavy.”
Clyden grumbled as he picked up the helmet and put it on.
“Damn! This thing is ridiculously heavy! My neck’s gonna snap under the weight!”
“There were no spare new-model helmets, so I brought an older one. If it’s too much, I can swap it with another soldier’s.”
“Nah, it’s fine. Not like I plan on wearing it all the time anyway.”
Clyden took off the armor and helmet.
He accepted the longsword Eres handed him while rubbing his sore neck.
“Ohh, so this is the Imperial Army’s standard-issue officer’s sword?”
The weapon was a broadsword, wide and long.
As he unsheathed it, the blade let out a clear chime.
Clyden plucked a strand of his hair and gently let it drop onto the blade.
It sat on the blade without any cut-off.
Eres gave him a baffled look.
“What... exactly are you doing?”
“Huh? I heard that if a sword is sharp enough, it can cut a falling hair.”
“You expect that from a mass-produced military supply?”
Clyden tapped the blade’s edge against his palm but felt no sharpness at all.
“Is this a sword or a blunt club?”
He sheathed the sword and turned to Eres.
“Do we have anyone in the platoon with blacksmithing experience?”
“Corporal Rokin’s family has been running a forge for generations.”
“Oh! That so? Go fetch him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Eres left and soon returned with him, muscles bulging under his uniform.
“Corporal Rokin, reporting sir!”
“So, your family runs a blacksmith shop?”
“Yes, sir! We’ve been blacksmiths for five generations!”
Rokin spoke with pride.
Clyden smirked.
“Then you must’ve learned a thing or two.”
“I grew up helping my father in the smithy.”
“Excellent! Just the person I need.”
Clyden handed over his sword.
Rokin instinctively grimaced as he inspected it.
“I’m not saying this because I’m a blacksmith’s son, but anyone who’s ever wielded a real sword would be very furious. Even the foul-tempered orcs of the South wouldn’t use something this bad! It’s so infamous that people joke we only use these so the enemy won’t bother looting our swords.”
Clyden nodded in agreement.
“Yeah. That’s why I want you to sharpen it.”
“…Excuse me?”
“You’ve worked in a forge, so you must know how to sharpen it, right?”
“Sharpening a blade is a delicate skill—it takes at least 15 years of training. It’d be better to take it to a proper forge.”
“No way! That costs money.”
“You need specialized equipment for this!”
Clyden turned to Eres.
“Eres, we’ve got sharpening stones in the supply stock, right?”
“Sir! You can’t be serious! Using those will ruin the blade’s lifespan!”
“It’s fine, it’s a disposable sword. If it breaks, I’ll just get another.”
Rokin sighed.
“Sharpening takes time. I’ll need at least a week.”
“Just do it however you can.”
“…I can’t. As the heir to a five-generation blacksmithing legacy, I refuse to half-ass my craft.”
“Do it with the C.C.C. spirit!”
“What?”
“You don’t know? It stands for ‘Cease Complaints and Comply.’”
“In the military, when you’re ordered to do something, you just do it. No whining. No excuses. Now get to work.”
Rokin’s face turned red but he lowered his head in reluctant surrender.
“I’ll need a week to get it sharp enough.”
“Hm, just do your best.”
“…Understood.”
Rokin went out of the guardhouse with a dejected look.
Clyden leaned back in his chair and passed the time reading a book he had borrowed from the library.
By noon, the sleeping personnel woke up.
The atmosphere became awkward, unsure of how to interact with their platoon leader.
Clyden didn’t concern himself with their wary glances.
Lunchtime passed without much happening.
The moment the clock struck 18:00, he leaped to his feet.
“Oh yeah! Time to go home!”
“Thank you for your hard work, sir.”
“Yeah. Wasting time all day takes effort. Keep up the good work.”
Clyden cheerfully strolled out and headed towards home.
The soldiers watched him leave with a mix expression, his shamelessness in slacking off all day only to go home on time was almost admirable.
When Clyden arrived home, he changed into comfortable clothes.
He was about to head out.
Lina, who was doing her homework at the dining table, looked up and asked.
“Big brother, it’s almost dinnertime. Where are you going?”
Clyden smiled and ruffled her hair.
“Ah, my dear Lina. Your beloved older brother has important social activities to attend. So don’t be sad without me and do your homework, okay?”
Lina pouted, crossing her arms.
“Hmph! It’s not like you’re meeting a girl. You’re just going out drinking, aren’t you?”
Clyden gasped dramatically.
“Lina, you know me too well! To think that my dear little sister pays such close attention to my life. This old brother is truly overwhelmed with emotion!”
Lina just rolled her eyes at his acting, unimpressed.
“Hah! Very funny. Just don’t drink too much and come home early!”
Lina decided to ignore Clyden's teasing and focused on her homework.
Clyden gave her hair a playful ruffle and headed out.
The Angel’s Spoon was where the First Platoon went to eat their daily meals.
The sign featured a chibi-sized angel with an exaggeratedly cheerful expression.
“Whoever designed that must’ve been really into this sort of thing...”
Clyden muttered.
The usual dinner rush had already died down.
The room was mostly empty except for a few exhausted staff members scurrying around, clearing tables.
Clyden spotted Eres sitting in a secluded corner, sipping a cup of coffee after finishing his meal.
He walked over to him.
“Hey, Eres! Had a good meal?”
Eres glanced up with his usual blank expression and immediately stood to salute.
“Oh, knock it off! No need for that here.”
At Clyden’s casual dismissal, Eres sat back down.
Clyden pulled up a chair and sat down.
“The guys all finished eating?”
“Yes. Everyone has completed their meals.”
“Then why are you eating this late?”
“I was on duty.”
“Hmm. Looks like you’re done now. Go round up the senior guys and the squad leaders for me.”
“Understood.”
Eres set his cup down and headed out.
Not long after, a waitress approached to clear the table.
She looked at Clyden with an intense glare while doing her work.
Clyden raised an eyebrow.
“Huh? What’s with the murder stare, Connie?”
He looked up at the young waitress, a freckled girl with a surprisingly cute face.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much? Eres works hard all day, and now you’re even ordering during his break?”
Clyden looked at her for a moment before talking.
He walked over to her.
“You like him, don’t you?”
“Wh-what?! What are you even talking about?!”
At Clyden’s words, Connie’s face turned red and she hurriedly entered the kitchen.
Clyden chuckled.
“Come on, Connie, no matter how embarrassed you get, you still have a job to do. Where’s your professional spirit?”
From inside the kitchen.
“Shut up!”
Clyden pulled out a cigarette, lighting it up with a flick of his lighter.
He had smoked about halfway through when the platoon members he’d called finally entered.
“Over here!”
“Sir! You called for us?”
The men gathered around with varying levels of enthusiasm.
Sergeant Hamilton looked visibly unenthusiastic.
Squad 1 Leader Max had a neutral expression,
Squad 2 Leader Karl had his usual icy demeanor.
Squad 3 Leader Rex had a mischievous grin.
Rex sat down with an eager curiosity.
“Hehe, so what’s the occasion, sir?”
Rex asked as soon as he took his seat.
Clyden took a slow drag from his cigarette and said with a sly smile.
"Oh, I just wanted to have an open discussion with you guys about the future direction of our unit."
The soldiers exchanged wary glances, their expressions clearly asking.
What nonsense is he up to now?
Clyden called out Connie.
"Connie! Bring us five beers and some snacks!"
At his words, everyone stiffened.
Karl, as the group’s spokesperson, leaned in and whispered.
"Sir, drinking is a violation of military regulations."
"Ah, It’s fine as long as the platoon leader allows it."
"That’s… not how regulations work! If we get caught, we won’t just get a slap on the wrist—we could be court-martialed!"
"So, does that mean you don’t want to drink?"
Clyden asked casually.
"Well… I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to..."
Karl hesitated.
Clyden smirked, taking a slow drag from his cigarette before exhaling.
"You know why officers exist? To take responsibility when things go south. If we get caught,
I'll handle it. Just say I forced you."
They looked at him with admiration.
From his five years in the military.
Clyden had learned one undeniable truth, the real owners of the platoon were the veteran soldiers.
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[Translator - Tangrine ]
[Proofreader - Seeker ]
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