Second Life as a Soldier

Ben lay curled on his side, teeth clenched, arms wrapped tight around his torso as if he could hold himself together by force alone. Each breath came short and ragged, more hiss than air.

I jogged over and dropped to a crouch.

“What happened?” I asked, glancing at Michael.

“He froze up,” Michael muttered, jaw tight. “Saw one of the strays charging at him and just… locked. By the time I reached him, Hagremor hit him head-on, shield and all.”

Ben let out a sharp grunt as he tried to straighten.

I steadied his shoulder.

“Don’t move. Breathe slow.”

He tried a deeper breath and winced hard, whole body jerking.

Pain shows on every breath. Breathing stays shallow, muscles clenched. His color looks stable, lungs sound clean, and he isn’t coughing blood.

Likely fractured rib. Hopefully not displaced.

Not life-threatening if it stays put. Dangerous if he moves wrong.

I activated [Field Medicine (C)]

Mana settled my thoughts and steadied my hands. The skill guided my fingers along his ribs, showing how much pressure to apply, where to probe, what to avoid. I could memorize details with [Memory Recall (UC)], but [Field Medicine (C)] let me feel the problem directly, as if the body answered my touch.

I pressed beneath his left armpit and he nearly buckled.

“Rib fracture, maybe two,” I said. “Nothing piercing the lung. He can walk, but he needs stabilization.”

I pulled a strip of cloth from my field kit and pressed his left arm upward.

“Lift. Slow.”

Michael held him steady while I wrapped the cloth under his raised arm and across his chest, looping it tight enough to restrict rib movement without choking his breath. Then I eased his arm down, guiding him to press it against his side like a brace.

The binding would keep the muscles from pulling the fracture apart and stop the ribs from shifting. With the bone pinned in place, it would heal on its own time.

Ben’s breathing eased slightly. His shoulders loosened.

“You’ll walk,” I told him. “Slowly. Arm pinned like this. If you start coughing blood, stop immediately. For now, stay put. I’ll report to the sergeant.”

Ben managed a stiff nod. Sweat dripped off his brow, but he stayed upright.

I stood and raised my voice. “Sergeant!”

Fenward strode over, boots heavy in the dirt. His expression was tight, like he was holding something back.

“What’s his condition?”

“Fractured rib. Needs to be moved to the fort. He can walk with support. No deep puncture signs. No need to stretcher unless symptoms change.”

Fenward nodded once. “Check these three as well.”

He pointed at three more recruits making their way toward me. One limped, another held his shoulder, and the last clutched an elbow with a shallow cut. I gave each a quick examination and temporary fix.

Nothing major, just a twisted ankle, a dislocated shoulder, and one idiot who managed to cut his arm with his own spear.

After checking the last recruit, I turned toward the sergeant.

“Sergeant. No major injuries. They should still be sent back to the fort for proper treatment.”

Fenward’s face darkened as if a dam finally cracked.

“You imbeciles.” The word came out low at first, like he was choking on it. Then it exploded.

“I’m cursed to be assigned to this squad. First they dump a bunch of criminals on me, and now I’m handed mud-born fools who can’t even hold a line!”

He jabbed a finger at Colin, Jack, and Owen.

“You three! What have you been doing for the last three months? The horses in my stable are better trained than this! If these recruits can’t hold a formation in fifteen days, I’ll make sure none of you ever get near my house, much less serve in it!”

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His glare swept over the recruits like a blade. None dared look up.

“Michael,” he barked. “Take these men, escort them back. Report directly to the Lieutenant. Give him our status. Move.”

Michael saluted with one arm, already steadying Ben with the other.

“Yes, sir.”

The wounded began their slow march toward the fort. The rest of us raised shields a little higher, tightening our grips on spear shafts. The kill-zone lay silent again, too silent.

As the five of them disappeared toward the walls, we finished the remaining hours of our patrol. Nothing else showed up. For those of us who had spent time outside the walls on expeditions, a herd like today was messy but manageable. We could handle a few more before exhaustion became a real threat.

The same couldn’t be said for the new recruits.

I didn’t agree with the sergeant’s outburst, especially not with how he blamed Colin’s group. Training the recruits was his responsibility. Still… as much as I disliked the yelling, the recruits needed the reality it came from.

Three months in the fort, and most had only faced drills, night duties, and distant beast sightings. Today was the first time they’d felt a real charge slam into shields. The first time they saw a friend on the ground, gasping for air, ribs nearly crushed. Ben had been lucky. A few more inches and his chest might have caved in.

Harsh as it was, this was their wake-up call. Books, drills, instructors yelling, none of it teaches as fast as fear. One real fight brands lessons into you deeper than months of practice. Now they understood why we drilled formations until our arms shook. Why every step mattered. Why a single mistake didn’t just kill the one making it, it could kill the person trusting them to hold the line.

I thought back to my first expedition outside Stonegate. I’d learned the same truths, but from a different angle. It wasn’t just about surviving the fight. It was noticing how orders moved us, how one soldier panicking forced five others to compensate, how a leader’s mistake spread through the formation like fire.

We finished our shift and headed back toward the fort. Before leaving, Sergeant Fenward reported our sector status to the squad replacing us. I hoped they wouldn’t face anything too dangerous… but a small part of me wished they would at least see a low-tier herd like we did. Experience mattered more than comfort. That’s true for every soldier.

The new recruits walking beside us didn’t stare curiously at the trench works anymore. Their faces looked stiff, eyes distant. Fear had settled into them.

The rest of the squad wasn’t in much better mood. The outburst from the sergeant had already soured the atmosphere, and now fatigue and uncertainty piled on top of it. No jokes from Jack. No loud banter from the conscripts. Silence took us to the gates.

Once inside, we headed straight to wash up and then moved toward the mess hall for dinner. After eating, I planned to sit with Colin, Jack, and Owen to help lighten the mood and go over what happened calmly. Michael and I could offer the recruits the perspective of a Tier 1 facing real threats. That seemed far more useful than treating today like a disaster.

As we walked out of the mess hall, one question that had been nagging at me since the sergeant’s outburst finally slipped out.

“Can the sergeant really decide your placement in his house?” I asked. I didn’t know much about how noble houses recruited soldiers, and I wasn’t sure how much authority a sergeant actually held.

The three of them exchanged looks. Jack glanced around the hall before grinning his usual grin.

“He likes to think he can,” he said.

Colin smacked him lightly on the back of the head and shook his own.

“No. We were invited to his house by Lieutenant Fenward,” Colin explained in a calm tone.

Owen added, “But it doesn’t hurt to stay on his good side.”

I nodded as understanding settled in. That made more sense, and it also hinted at the hierarchy within House Fenward. I stopped asking questions. I’d recently learned that showing too much curiosity about noble houses could draw the wrong kind of attention, and sometimes even lead to an invitation you couldn’t refuse.

So instead, we focused on what actually mattered. We started gathering the new recruits in the longhall, planning to go over what happened on patrol. Colin began speaking in a steady, careful voice, breaking down every mistake and every decision.

That was when the Lieutenant’s aide, Gilbert, entered the longhall, now converted into an impromptu classroom for briefings and study sessions. He waved me over.

“Edward. Lieutenant’s asking for you.”

His tone was casual, almost friendly. After so many visits to the Lieutenant, we’d grown familiar enough.

“Do you know why?” I asked, surprised. I hadn’t visited him since rune duty began. He was the one who’d told me to stop reporting to him while I was assigned there; I wasn’t scouting beast movements and had almost no interaction with the conscripts. And today was only my first full day back with the squad, so I barely had anything to report yet.

Gilbert shrugged. “No idea. Just said to bring you.”

I nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

I excused myself, and we made our way into the Company 3 office.

Maps were spread across a side table, stacks of reports piled beside them. The Lieutenant looked up from a sheet as we entered.

“Ah, Edward. Good. Come here,” he said, glancing back at the papers. “I was reviewing squad reports… and noticed you haven’t used the library access or visited the healing unit. You requested special permission for both. Are your plans changing?”

My stomach tightened. Embarrassment and fear twisted together. The Lieutenant never shouted, but I really didn’t want to disappoint him. Especially knowing he might have pulled strings for me.

I bowed my head slightly. “I’m sorry, Sir. With rune duty and the library closing in the evening, I haven’t had time. I was planning to study a little first, then visit the healing unit. I’ll use the access as soon as I have daylight hours available.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “How much time would you need at the library?”

“I was hoping to spend the full eight hours it’s open… but I can make good progress with at least six,” I answered.

He leaned back, measuring my words. “So you really want this? You’re willing to sacrifice sleep?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Can you read under a mana lamp?”

“Of course,” I replied quickly. After carving runes by campfire light, a mana lamp felt like a luxury I rarely got to use.

He stood, gathering a few papers. “Then come. I’ll open the library for you. Use tonight to read as much as you can. You will patrol trenches tomorrow during the day. After that, your squad has night patrols for three days. Use your daylight to visit the healing unit.”

I blinked. “You… will open the library yourself?”

“Why not?” he replied simply, already walking toward the door. “The library stays open during the day because of logistics, not rules. And I’m the Lieutenant. If I want it open, it opens.”

I followed him out into the night, stunned. I hadn’t expected him to go out of his way.