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Chapter 22 - Private Attack! (3)
Clyden wanted to say to Lydis.
‘Who is causing all this trouble!’
He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud.
“So I’m the only one who didn’t get promoted?”
“Hm? No. I decided not to get promoted either.”
“What?”
“They said it wouldn’t make sense structurally for a Captain to command a platoon, so I told them I’d stay a First Lieutenant.”
“What kind of soldier turns down a promotion?! And since when does a lieutenant get to decide whether they get promoted or not?!”
“Huh? I managed to.”
Lydis’s reply completely floored Clyden.
“This world’s rotten…”
Clyden had been getting the short end of the stick whenever it came to Lydis.
When the platoon arrived at their new quarters, they were left speechless at the sight of the barracks.
It was hard to tell if it was a military facility or a mansion.
With a grand garden out front, everyone stood stunned.
Rex quietly approached Clyden.
“Sir… Are you sure this is the right place?”
“Shut it. Don’t say a word. I’m living a quiet life from now on. I’ve learned that nothing good comes from getting involved with that girl.”
Clyden let his shoulders droop again.
As the platoon members explored the building, their amazement only grew.
“Whoa! Lieutenant, is this really where we’re staying?”
“Holy crap, check out these beds! I’m scared to lie down, it might break or something!”
“Every room has its own shower! Are we sure this isn’t a hotel?”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
With sheer money, Lydis had bought the platoon’s absolute loyalty.
Living in this kind of luxury is usually reserved only for field-grade officers.
“I’m thinking about making the military my career. If we get to stay in a place like this, I could do this for life.”
“Alright, everyone come to my office!”
At Lydis’s call, the entire group rushed up to the second floor.
The platoon leader’s office took up half the entire floor.
It was spacious enough to play soccer.
It was decorated with glittering gold and jewels and filled with refined art pieces and high-end furniture.
Even after all that, there was still plenty of space left.
“My god… You could sell just one of these things and live off the money for the rest of your life…”
The platoon members moved carefully, worried they might damage something.
“This will be our new home from now on. If you have anything to discuss or need advice, feel free to come to my office. For now, go unpack and rest. Dismissed!”
“Wait—what about my office?!”
When Clyden couldn’t find his office no matter how hard he looked, he stormed over to Lydis to complain.
She frowned and responded sharply.
“Sergeant, do you need a private office too? Why not just crawl into any old space? That suits you best anyway.”
“Excuse me?! That’s a blatant insult to non-commissioned officers!”
“Tch. Follow me.”
Lydis left her office, grumbling like she had no choice.
Clyden trailed behind her.
“So… this is my office? Is this a joke?!”
“What? Don’t like it? Then don’t use it.”
The smug look on Lydis’s face made Clyden want to punch her right then and there.
He knew that Lydis wouldn’t just take the hit, she’d probably hit back harder like she’d been
waiting for an excuse.
Truth be told, Clyden wasn’t the kind of guy who could raise his hand to a
woman.
Especially a beautiful woman like Lydis.
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
The door screamed like it had been slapped together with leftover parts.
Scratched onto it with a pocketknife were the barely legible words “Vice Commander's Office.”
The room itself was tucked away in a dark corner, with no windows, and held nothing but a worn-out desk that looked like it had been dragged in from the trash heap. It was clearly designed to humiliate him.
“You’re living in a place where people are scared to even scratch the furniture, and I get stuck in a broom closet with a desk? Seriously?!”
“If you don’t like it, don’t use it.”
“Oh come on—this is a storage room! In what world is this an office?!”
“If you don’t like it, don’t use it.”
Clyden clenched his teeth as he glared at her.
“Let’s just see how long I put up with this.”
“Hmph. There’s a saying that people who say ‘just wait and see’ are the ones you never need to worry about.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?”
Clyden and Lydis locked eyes in a fierce standoff.
That day, the other platoon members would later say that lightning practically struck the air around the commander and her deputy.
Just as the two looked like they might explode, Eres hesitantly approached them.
“Um, Vice commander? A Sergeant is here to see you.”
“Who?”
“He says he’s from the Imperial Special Forces Sniper Regiment, Platoon 1.”
“…Ugh. We’ll finish this later.”
“Hmph.”
Lydis and Clyden glared at each other and then turned away.
The sergeant who had been glancing around in awe noticed Clyden and saluted.
“Sir! I am Luigi from the Sniper Regiment reporting!”
He had a good physique with sharp, hawk-like eyes that made a strong impression.
Clyden returned the salute.
“Ah, yes. Good to meet you. What’s your enlistment number?”
Clyden would not have started as a sergeant if he had not been an aristocrat.
He couldn’t treat veteran NCOs lightly—seniority by years of service still held weight.
“I’ve been in for three years now.”
“Ah, I see. Understood!”
Clyden stiffened up immediately.
In the NCO world, if someone was from another unit, you could let it slide.
But within the same unit? Rank took a back seat to experience—seniority decided everything.
“This barracks is… quite something. I’m honestly a bit jealous,” Luigi said.
“Oh no, please—you don’t need to speak so formally. It’s uncomfortable hearing honorifics from a senior.”
“In that case, I’ll speak casually. We’ve prepared a little welcome party for you. Be there tonight.”
“Yes, sir. Um… it is just a welcome party, right?”
At Clyden’s cautious question, Sergeant Luigi grinned.
“It’s a lower Division gathering.”
At those words, Clyden could only groan internally.
The lower divisions, an unofficial organization that exists in the non-commissioned officer line.
It was a group with distinct functions and dysfunctions, with some still existing and others no longer.
Since NCOs generally stayed in the same unit for long stretches until
retirement.
They naturally banded together in their role as middle managers.
Originally formed by younger NCOs, not senior Master Sergeants or Sergeant Majors, the purpose was to share worries, exchange tips, and build camaraderie.
In some places, the meetings had devolved into drinking parties or venues for senior NCOs to haze their juniors under the pretense of ‘military discipline.’
Units where the original purpose survived still maintained the group.
Where its dysfunctions outweighed its value, the gatherings had disappeared on their own.
“Just some friendly advice… you’re the youngest. It’s gonna be rough.”
“Do these meetings happen often?”
“Well, everyone’s posted in different areas, so it’s hard to get the whole crew together. We only met when our training schedules lined up. Tonight’s special, since it’s your welcome party.”
“A real welcome party?”
Clyden’s question was met only with another grin.
Luigi said nothing, just clapped him a couple of times on the shoulder and disappeared.
“Should I just go crazy and blow the whole thing up? No, they’d actually kill me. There’s got to be another way…”
Clyden clutched his head, desperate for a solution.
Refusing an invitation from senior NCOs was essentially begging for a difficult rest-of-service.
Since it was a gathering for Clyden, making excuses and not attending was considered an act of ignoring the seniors.
“Seriously, why did I even come back to the army? Should I just desert?”
At the Lower Division gathering that night, Clyden did everything he could to survive the hazing as the rookie.
He handled all the chores, ran every errand, and worked hard to get in the seniors’ good graces.
Even when they gave him absurd or demeaning orders, he carried them out without complaint.
Every word and action here could determine whether his remaining military life would be smooth or hellish—so he gave it his all.
He even guided the senior members to the second location of the gathering with wide, innocent deer eyes.
Afterward, he pulled in a favor from Hamilton, who helped him score points with the seniors.
In the end, the lower Division gathering wrapped up without any major incidents.
“The hell is this?! Do you think this is a weapon?!”
The next morning, Clyden was already shouting at Eres.
Who had just returned from the headquarters hauling a pile of newly issued gear.
“Oh, well… they said Special forces gets supplies tailored to their unit's specific mission.”
“And what exactly does that have to do with tools?!”
“They said since our unit handles civilian assistance missions, there’s no need for weapons so they gave us this instead.”
“So you thought it was fine to come back with a shovel and a pickaxe?!”
“They said there's no reason for our unit to fight, so all they gave us were shovels and pickaxes… What was I supposed to do about it?”
“Damn it!”
Clyden shouted, kicking over the pile of shovels and pickaxes in a fit of anger.
They were spotless without a speck of rust, gleaming like they’d just come off the line.
Clyden couldn’t stand the sight of them.
“A soldier’s life might revolve around digging but shovels and pickaxes as our primary weapons? What the hell are we, construction workers?!”
Shovels and pickaxes…
Among humanity’s greatest inventions and arguably the military’s most relied-upon gear.
They say to treat your rifle like your lover, but the truth is the tool you’ll spend the most time holding isn’t a gun—it’s a shovel.
In the military, every measurement was based on shovels.
Half a shovel deep, one shovel wide—hell, the phrase ‘doing shovel work’ became so synonymous with pointless effort that it made its way into civilian slang.
Even Sky Kong-Kong with a shovel was a staple amusement among bored senior soldiers during work hours.
By the time they’re discharged, soldiers might forget everything else.
But every single one becomes a certified specialist in shovel work.
“Where do you think you’re going?!”
“They told me to pick up the new recruit.”
“A new recruit? Someone actually volunteered for this messed-up platoon?”
“Right? Can you believe some lunatic crawled his way under your command, sir? The world’s gone nuts, tsk.”
“What the hell?!”
Clyden fumed, but Eres didn’t even look back as he strolled off toward headquarters.
Clyden glared down at the shovels and pickaxes and suddenly, a brilliant idea came to him.
“Hey! Everyone, gather up!”
The platoon members, who had been killing time with nothing to do all rushed to the training field.
“We’re starting a barracks renovation. Right now.”
The troops looked at each other, bewildered.
The building had just been finished less than a month ago what could possibly need fixing?
Ignoring their confusion, Clyden began handing out instructions one by one.
“Knock that wall down! Tear it all down!”
He took the empty storage shed Lydis had thrown at him and started transforming it from the ground up.
He completely demolished the wall facing the garden and then installed a massive window on the opposite side.
The rubble from the wall was reused along with some leftover lumber to create a folding screen-style wall.
Now, they had an unobstructed view of the garden.
After banging away for a bit, Clyden managed to put together a simple desk and chair.
“Whoa! Sir, you can make stuff like this?”
“What? If you can’t even build something like this, don’t even bother telling people you served in the military.”
“But, uh… what do we do with all that leftover debris?”
“Hmm… isn’t there somewhere we can dump it?”
“No idea, sir…”
As Clyden stood there weighing disposal options for the pile of leftover junk.
Lydis, who had been enjoying a leisurely break in her office, stepped outside.
Only to be completely stunned by the sight of a full-on construction zone.
“What the hell is going on here?!”
“Oh, what is it now? Looking for something to complain about?”
“How dare you damage my building!”
“Tsk, you don’t get it, do you? Since when was this your building? This is government property, ma’am.”
“I know that much. But what does that have to do with demolishing a building?”
“Ah, perhaps you didn’t graduate from the Academy, so you might not know this but facility management and maintenance within the unit falls under the duties of an NCO. ”
“I… I did know that!”
“Then what’s the problem? I’m just doing the job that an NCO is supposed to do. Is there something about that that bothers you?”
“N-No! Well then… carry on.”
Lydis, who hadn’t graduated from the military academy and had landed her post through connections, was always defenseless when that particular subject came up.
She simply lacked the knowledge to argue back.
That didn’t mean she was okay with Clyden tearing down parts of a building she had grown fond of.
Clyden smirking and throwing the NCO rulebook at her, she had no real way to push back.
All she could do was turn around and walk away.
“Man, that felt great.”
Clyden let out a satisfied sigh, finally having gotten one over Lydis for the first time in a while.
Just then, Eres approached with an unfamiliar man.
“What’s up with that sour face?”
It was rare to see Eres looking visibly annoyed, but his expression was practically radiating displeasure.
Clyden looked toward the man approaching and asked.
“Hey, is that our new recruit?”
Eres looked at the man beside him and let out a long sigh.
Just as Clyden was about to say something more, the man took a bold step forward and looked Clyden dead in the eyes.
“You’re the vice commander here, right?”
Everyone around them turned to the man with raised eyebrows, taken aback by his attitude.
Clyden for his part, gave a slow and incredulous grin.
“Oh? Did you hit your head before you came here?”
“How dare you! I am the third son of the Duke of Deviron, the Sword of the North! Show some respect!”
Clyden turned to Eres with a look that screamed explanation.
Eres cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Ahem… this is Case Hugh Deviron, third son of the Duke of Deviron.”
Clyden turned to look at Case and said—
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[Translator - Tangrine ]
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