Accepting her hug, I realized that this was the first time I’d heard Professor Glory’s first name. When she released me from her firm grasp, I said, “Well then. Do you mind giving me a brief report of the situation here, Vanesy?”

  Vanesy acknowledged Sylvie with a polite nod before reaching behind her desk. After a moment of rummaging, she held out a rolled-up parchment, but started speaking even before I could open it.

  “Right now, it’s just me and my division of three thousand soldiers. My division is on the smaller side but we have with us fifty-eight mages, twenty of whom are conjurers while ten are long-range augmenters, to make up for the numbers,” she recited.

  I nodded in understanding while I skimmed through the parchment. “There’s supposed to be one other captain along with you, right?”

  “Captain Auddyr and his division are making the march up here from Maybur City. I can send out a transmission if you’d like,” she answered.

  “No need. Truth be told, I’m not even expecting any ships to veer off this far south,” I admitted, handing Vanesy back the parchment.

  “I heard about your big plan set up for those Alacryan bastards up the coast,” she said, eyeing me. “You think it’s going to work?”

  “It’ll slow them down, and with any luck, sink a few of their ships.”

  “A shame we won’t be there to see it,” she said regretfully. The bright-eyed professor, whom I had fought next to down at Widow’s Crypt, removed a leather flask from her drawer, pulling out the cork with her teeth before gulping down what I assumed was alcohol.

  “Care for a swig, General Leywin?” She winked, holding the flask up.

  “I’m a minor, you know.”

  Vanesy scoffed. “If you’re old enough to go to war, you’re old enough to drink.”

  I grabbed her flask and took a gulp. The smoky liquid seared my throat as it made its way into my stomach, warming up my insides.

  ‘Is it smart to inhibit yourself like this before a battle?’ Sylvie asked with a tone of disapproval.

  Relax. It’s just one sip, I replied.

  Stifling a cough, I handed the leather bottle back. “That’s got quite the kick.”

  “Mhmm,” Vanesy agreed. “Although you’re going to need a bit more than that to keep yourself warm out there. Aren’t you freezing in that outfit?”

  I looked down at my attire. While I wasn’t expecting a battle, I was dressed for one. My inner gray garment was skin-tight, with the sleeve reaching to my wrist. While thin and elastic enough for me to freely move in, it was also strong enough to withstand sharp edges to a certain degree. The only thing I wore over this was a simple black tunic that draped loosely over my shoulders. The sleeves stopped at the elbows, allowing unimpeded movement of my arms.

  I shook my head. “I’ve grown used to constantly surrounding myself with mana to keep me warm. Honestly, even the cloak is just for appearance’s sake.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here. Commander Virion wanted me to have you speak in front of the soldiers—you know, for motivation.”

  “About that…” I grinned. “Let’s hold off on that until Captain Auddyr arrives. I was hoping to have a little fun in the camp.”

  “Uh-oh,” Vanesy groaned. “What are you up to?”

  I shook my head disapprovingly. “Now is that any way to speak to your superior?”

  “Fine,” she said, relenting. “Just don’t mortally wound any of my soldiers.”

  “What kind of person do you take me for?” I replied innocently, putting my cloak back on as I headed back toward the cloth door. “Are there any soldiers who’d recognize me?” I asked, remembering how the head chef had bowed to me.

  “We’re pretty far out from any sort of mass communication. I just had a letter delivered by carrier with the latest updates, but I haven’t announced any of it,” she answered. “With your shaggy hair and those plain clothes, you’ll easily pass as a new recruit picked up from the countryside.”

  “There’s an old saying that a wise man appears weak when he is strong and strong when he is weak,” I replied, pointing at the dazzling armor she wore, engraved with intricate decorations.

  “It’s for protection, not for showing off,” she argued.

  “Not when the design on the armor matches your bond’s armor,” I teased, glancing at the silver armor hanging on a stand next to Torch.

  “You’ve turned into a wise-ass since they made you a Lance,” she grumbled.

  “Oh please, I was a wise-ass long before becoming a Lance,” I rebutted.

  Vanesy leaned back against her desk and gazed past me, as if looking far into the distance. “‘Appear weak when you’re strong.’ I like that.”

  “Feel free to steal it,” I said as I headed out of the tent. I couldn’t tell her that the quote was from an ancient general from my previous life, but she didn’t seem to be curious about its origin.

  ‘What did you want to do?’ Sylvie asked curiously as she nestled on top of my head.

  Evaluate the current level of our soldiers’ competency, of course.

  Sylvie’s sense of doubt flooded my mind. ‘You mean play-fight with them?’

  Just for a little bit.

  ‘Even as your bond, I sometimes find myself worried that the fate of this continent relies so heavily upon you.’

  Chapter 11

  A Simple Cook

  Lifting the tent flap, I caught sight of the guard stationed outside. As soon as our eyes met, his giant body stiffened into a salute. “Gen—”

  “Remember…” I said, winking at the guard as I pressed my finger to my lips.

  Without waiting for a response, I made my way back to the growing cluster of soldiers, who were cheering louder than before.

  The fight between the half-elf girl Cedry and the long-armed Jona seemed to have come to an end, and a new pair of fighters now brawled on an earthen platform conjured by one of the mages.

  The two soldiers’ casual spar had escalated into a full-blown event, and the audience moved logs and tree stumps to make seats. Some of the more enthusiastic members of the crowd were making wagers with their peers, from the meat slices of their next meals to more precious resources like the alcohol they had smuggled into camp inside hidden water pouches. All in all, there was a jubilant atmosphere in the camp, unbefitting the continent’s current circumstances.

  Blending into the crowd, I made my way toward the front of the makeshift arena, where I found Cedry and Jona watching from the ground.

  “It was a good fight,” I remarked, taking a seat next to Jona, the dagger-wielding soldier. “Who ended up winning?”

  The half-elf who fought using gauntlets—just like my father—gave me a victorious smile as she raised up her hand, flaunting her victory in front of Jona.

  Jona ran a hand through his short, disheveled hair in frustration. “One time, Cedry. You’ve won one time.”

  “The first victory of many to come,” she snickered.

  I nodded to the half-elf in acknowledgement of her success. “I wish I could’ve seen how it ended.”

  Laughing, Jona stuck out a hand. “My name’s Jona, and this immature girl next to me is Cedry. I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Are you a new recruit?”

  “I guess you could say that.” I shook both their hands. “You can call me Arthur.”

  “Well, Arthur, judging by how things are going, we should be able to enjoy a lot more fights tonight,” Jona said, returning his focus to the fight currently taking place.

  It ended nearly as soon as it began, with a large, bear-like augmenter landing a finishing blow on his light-footed opponent. As the defeated soldier jumped off the stage, nursing his stricken cheek, my gaze turned to Jona and Cedry once more. Jona’s features were ordinary, with sharp angles and a slight, beaked nose. Cedry, on the other hand, stood out a bit more. With her radiant gaze that seemed full of life and her playful demeanor, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was popular with both men and women. Just in the short time I’d sat down next to them, at least a dozen of her peers had walked by, making jokes or congratulating her on her win.

  “—country bumpkin! Get your head outta yer ass,” a loud, gritty voice snapped.

  I turned toward the source of the voice to see the bear-like augmenter staring back down at me.

  I looked around until I realized he was talking to me. “Do I really look like I came from the countryside?” I asked Jona.

  “Stop going after fresh recruits, Herrick—and grow the balls to at least spar with someone in your own weight class,” Cedry hissed at him, eliciting a howl of laughter from the rest of the crowd.

  I got to my feet. “It’s okay. We’re just having fun, right?”

  “Yeah,” the balding Herrick quickly agreed. “I’m using this time to show the new recruits some pointers.”

  Taking off my cloak with Sylvie inside, I hopped up to the elevated stage and held out my hand. “Well then, please give me lots of pointers.”

  Herrick grabbed my hand, squeezing a little too tightly for it to be a warm gesture. “I’ll give you the first move.”

  Letting go of my hand, he spread his arms out, a smug grin pasted on his greasy face as he glanced over toward a group of women seated in the audience.

  While Herrick’s body seemed a bit too round to be efficient in battle, the layer of mana enveloping him told me he was a competent mage.

  Wanting to see how he fought, I willed forth only a limited amount of mana into my body, then stepped in to attack.

  As my fist approached his abdomen, I could see the mana gathering where he thought I’d hit. The giant augmenter barely flinched as my fist sank into his heaping stomach.

  “You’re going to have to try harder than that, country brat,” he grunted as I pulled away.

  I shook my hand. “So strong.”

  “Now, let me show you some pointers.” His smile grew as he glanced again at the group of women watching us.

  He swung a giant hand to swat me off the platform. Taking the hit, I landed on my bottom rather embarrassingly, but without any injuries. “Oh man, I couldn’t even react.”

  Irritation flickered across my opponent’s face as I failed to go sailing off the platform. “You’re lucky I held back or you would’ve gone flying. Those Alacryan bastards aren’t going to go easy on you, though.”

  “You’re right. Thank you.” I tried to sound enthusiastic, like a country bumpkin who was now part of a military filled with mages of noble blood—but it was becoming tiring.

  The fight went on for several more minutes with Herrick trying to swat me out of the arena using his meaty hands, while I pretended to get the full brunt of his attack only to stumble a few feet.

  “Come on, Herrick. I know you’re going easy on him but don’t baby him all day!” cried a soldier, and his peers agreed.

  “I just don’t wanna hurt the twig, you know?” he replied, frustration evident on his face.

  So far, by the calluses on his hands and the way his arms naturally attacked, I’d gathered that he used a heavy axe as his primary weapon. However, other than his decent control in body-strengthening, he had no tricks up his sleeve. Deciding that my assessment was over, I took my chance when Herrick reached over to grab me.

  I twisted my body and tossed him over my shoulder and out of the arena. The whole act looked like one big blunder. Even Herrick was surprised to find himself looking up at me from the floor.

  “Wait, I tripped!” he cried, looking around desperately as he waved his hands. “That doesn’t count.”

  The crowd erupted in laughter and jeers, and they mockingly booed Herrick as he stomped away, cursing.

  Even using only ten percent of my mana, and without employing any elemental spells, Herrick was a joke. But I couldn’t say that out loud, of course.

  “Looks like I got lucky,” I said helplessly up on the stage, scratching my cheek.

  “I wanted to beat Herrick’s giant ass, but I guess that can’t be helped.” A tall woman with her black hair tied tightly behind her head jumped up onstage. “Let’s see if you really were just lucky, greenhorn.”

  “Please go easy on me,” I said placatingly.

  My opponent was well over six feet—a few inches taller than me—but her thin, toned frame made her look even taller than she actually was. With her dark complexion and sharp, narrow eyes complementing her straight black hair, she looked like a panther ready to pounce.

  “I’m used to fighting with a staff so I’d appreciate it if you used a weapon as well,” she said as a wooden staff appeared from the dimension ring on her finger. By the ring she had just used and the rich colors of her clothes, it was obvious that she was a noble, but that fact seemed trivial to her.

  “Don’t kill the kid, Nyphia!” her friend cried, sounding genuinely concerned.

  I feigned a timid chuckle. “Sorry, the smith is repairing my sword right now, but I can—”

  “Someone give the boy a sword his size,” Nyphia snapped impatiently as she stretched her neck.

  Almost immediately, an unfamiliar soldier threw me his short sword, still in its sheath. I carefully slid the blade out of its scabbard and covered it in mana to dull the edges.

  Unlike Herrick, my new opponent didn’t let her guard down. She dropped to a low stance, and held her wooden staff out with its tip aimed at the ground while her feline eyes peered straight into me.

  “Poor boy, getting marked by Nyphia,” someone muttered behind me.

  I took my stance as well. I had hoped to use this casual event to get a sense for some of the soldiers here, but this girl seemed to have other plans. “Are you ready?”

  The dark-skinned augmenter let out an irritated scoff, as if I’d somehow offended her. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded to show that I was. She struck like a bolt of lightning. Her body remained low as she lunged into striking range, her staff pulled in close to her body, affording her the freedom to attack high or low. She went low, the base of her staff whistling through the air toward my chin. My shortsword rang against her staff as I parried the blow aside, stepping back and taking on a defensive posture.

  Just from her first strike, I could tell what sort of fighter Nyphia was. Her control over mana was excellent—on a different tier than Herrick—but she lacked real experience. Her moves were fast but also obvious. Most likely, she only had experience fighting against guards or other professionals who were afraid to hurt her, which didn’t help her short temper and over-inflated confidence.

  I parried or dodged each lunge, swipe, thrust, and swing she threw at me—but just barely. From the outside, it looked like I was being pushed back as I desperately tried to keep up. Nyphia’s temper reached new highs, escalating after each failed attempt to land a solid hit.

  With my back foot leaning off the edge of the platform we were on, I used the momentum from Nyphia’s over-emotional thrust to send her out of bounds to end the match—but she kept her balance with the help of her staff.

  Leaping back to the center, she shook her head. “Not this time. Amber, raise a cage around the arena!”

  “This is just a friendly competition, not a death match,” I argued.

  She disagreed. “No, this is practice for the war that’s right in front of our noses. And in war, there are no ‘out-of-bounds.’” She whipped her head around to look over her shoulder. “Amber. The cage.”

  Her friend, or lackey, raised an earthen gate around the arena with a short chant and a wave of her wand, locking me up with this rabid cat who thought herself a mighty tiger.

  I looked around; while some of the soldiers shared glances of concern, none of them spoke up. I was beginning to regret this whole idea of ‘blending in.’ I was tempted to just blow apart the arena and walk out, but I held myself back.

  With the experience from my past life, I’d come to realize that people become complacent in the presence of a powerful ally. They expect to be spoonfed victory from the comfort of the backline when someone as revered as a Lance is amongst them. At least, that was the case in my old life. I might have it backward here—who knows, maybe having a Lance with them would give them the confidence and zeal to fight harder—but I was skeptical of that. And with the possibility of an Alacryan ship, or several, veering down to this shore, I didn’t want to take any chances.

  “You make a good point.” I faked a smile, staying in character. “Please, teach me what you can.”

  With our weapons at the ready, we began once more. A real fight, especially one involving a sharp-edged weapon, took only a matter of seconds to draw to a conclusion. But with mana as abundant as it was in this world, making mistakes more forgiving than in my previous world, and fighters did little to correct their flaws. Instead, they focused on making their strengths even stronger. Even I had succumbed to that mistake when I first came to this world—that is, until that was beaten out of me by the asuras back in Epheotus.

  Nyphia dashed toward me once more, this time feinting left before using the other end of her staff in a quick, ascending swipe.

  I dodged close enough to detect the oaky smell coming from her polished staff, and countered by pushing it up with my free hand. This threw her off balance, and I finished by sliding my foot behind her back foot and pushing forward.

  Between the strength of my assimilated body and the added mana, Nyphia was sent tumbling backward. The crowd of soldiers—which had become tense since the cage had been conjured—cried out in dumbfounded amazement at the turn of events.

  Glaring at me balefully as her face reddened with embarrassment and anger, Nyphia was unable to form the proper words to express herself. Then a mellow, husky voice rang from the crowd. “Mind if I join in on the fun?”

  “You’re not joining anything! I just trip—” The dark-skinned noble’s words caught in her throat as she realized whose voice it was. “M-Madam Astera!” Nyphia lowered her head as she spoke. “Forgive me for my rudeness.”

  The woman my opponent referred to as Madam Astera was none other than the head cook who had regarded me with a respectful nod when I’d first arrived. The chef hopped up over the cage with a nimbleness that made Nyphia’s movements seem infantile.

 

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