Second Life as a Soldier

I had a hard time finding my next words.

When I first started planning how to lead my squad, especially during the first day of training, I had been impressed with myself. It felt like I was finally moving in the right direction. Like I had found an approach that made sense.

And while our coordination was improving, the later days were far from smooth.

Garran, Varric, and Barry did not know how to work as a team. Their egos bruised easily, and they reacted poorly to criticism or unexpected moves. On just the second day of training, Varric and Garran turned a sparring session into a full-on fight, trying to hurt each other. If we had not been using practice weapons, at least one of them would have been seriously injured.

Even with practice weapons, I still had to perform first aid on both of them.

All of it started because Varric did not like Garran attacking instead of defending during a drill.

It took Kael and the rest of the squad to pull them apart. After that incident, I made it a point to observe every training session closely and intervene before things escalated again.

Barry caused trouble as well, though his was different. Most of it was mischief. Provocations that either pissed off Varric or Garran. Barry was never seriously injured, mostly because he was fast on his feet and I intervened before it fully turned into a chase around the training yard.

The only thing keeping us moving forward was simple.

For the first time in a long while, all four of them had the chance to improve their skills without restrictions or the constant threat of death. This also made them listen to me, at least to a certain extent. The threat of stopping training proved far more effective than I had expected.

And despite losing their tempers during drills, they were familiar with each other’s natures. Once training ended, they joked as if nothing had happened.

“We are making progress,” I said finally, “but there are still issues.”

I was not sure how much Private Peter had already reported.

“Ah, yes. Issues,” Lieutenant Cicero said calmly. “Private Peter has informed me.”

He gestured toward a bench at the edge of the training yard, indicating that I should follow him. As we walked, he spoke again.

“But before we discuss your method of leadership,” he said, “what is your opinion on Private Peter?”

I could hear it in his voice. He was enjoying this. Not just my difficulties with the squad, but my disagreements with Peter as well.

Over the past week, I had tried to include Peter in squad training. He did his job, but as an intelligence private, I wanted him to actively participate in designing training exercises.

Whenever I pushed him to contribute, he produced sharp, insightful ideas. He identified flaws in formation drills, pointed out inefficiencies in one-on-one combat, and helped us improve faster than I had expected. His work made it clear that he was an experienced soldier. Even with some analytical skills of my own, I would not have been able to produce the same results he did.

I was lacking far more than I had realized in the experience department.

I could only imagine how effective he would be if he participated fully.

“Private Peter’s input has been eye-opening,” I said as we took our seats facing each other. “And very helpful. As time passes, and once we are at full strength, his value will only increase.”

“What about him questioning your methods?” Cicero asked. “From what I know, he still has concerns.”

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He paused deliberately.

I did not see anything wrong with that. Questioning decisions was part of his role.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” I said.

After a moment, I exhaled and added quietly, almost to myself, “Maybe he isn’t completely wrong.”

Managing just four of them was already giving me a headache. I was not sure how I would handle things once more members were added to the squad.

“And you still want to take this route?” Cicero asked.

This time, I went silent.

Some of the resolve I had on my first day was wavering as time went on. I thought for several long seconds, then took a deep breath, steadied myself, and met the lieutenant’s gaze.

“Yes,” I said.

Then I continued, more firmly.

“No matter how much I think about it, no matter how many negatives I can list, I still believe limiting their growth is not optimal. And I believe that if they are allowed to grow, we could form a very strong squad.”

“I believe Private Peter has already presented arguments for why empowering them could be harmful to the army,” Cicero said. “I don’t entirely agree with him. But it is my duty as your superior to point out the consequences for your career if your methods succeed.”

I frowned.

“So if this squad becomes successful,” I said slowly, “I’ll be stuck with it? Because the next sergeant wouldn’t follow my methods, even if they worked?”

This was one of the points Peter had raised, and I was not fully convinced by it.

“That is partially correct,” he replied. “But there are multiple reasons for that.”

He leaned back slightly.

“The type of sergeant usually assigned to a death squad does not have enough mana, at Tier Two, to control more than a single Tier Three combatant within the squad.”

“You mean commoner sergeants,” I said.

“Yes,” he replied bluntly, and continued.

“In your squad,” Lieutenant Cicero continued, “Garran is Level 35 in the Initiate class, already at high Tier Two mana cultivation. Varric is Level 38, also high Tier Two. Barry and Kael are both above Level 30 and solidly mid Tier Two.”

He tapped the table lightly as he spoke.

“If you add six more Tier One conscripts, subduing all of them would require over seven hundred mana points. If your method works, all four of your current members will reach Tier Three in less than two years. At that point, you would need over twelve hundred mana points to control the squad.”

He looked at me knowingly.

“That may not be a problem for you,” he said calmly. “But most Tier Two sergeants assigned to death squads do not possess that level of mana capacity.”

I did not ask how he knew my mana capacity.

“But that is not the only reason,” he continued. “Even if the army assigns a sergeant with sufficient mana, you already understand that politics plays a significant role within the Royal Army.”

He leaned forward slightly.

“Tell me, Edward. What do you think would happen to a sergeant who leads a squad of criminals more successfully than anyone else in history?”

My first instinct was to think that such a sergeant would receive recognition and praise. Then I gave it a second thought. If that were true, we would not be having this conversation.

“He would be labeled a criminal sympathizer,” I said slowly.

Cicero nodded.

“Exactly.”

I exhaled.

“So leading a successful death squad would not only hinder my promotions,” I continued, “but also discourage other lieutenants from accepting me. Anyone who takes me in would risk being associated with that label.”

Isolation.

I had already seen signs of it. When I ate with Garran and the others in the mess, fewer people sat nearby. Conversations died when we arrived. If my reputation continued down this path, I would be left alone in this fort.

I sighed, the weight of it settling in.

“So my choices are simple,” I said quietly. “Either I follow traditional methods. Or I tie my entire career to one squad, with no path forward. And that is only if you allow me to continue.”

I looked at him directly.

“And even then, you would face consequences for supporting me.”

This time, Lieutenant Cicero smiled.

“I do not believe your little experiment will affect my reputation,” he said lightly.

Some tension eased from my chest.

“Also,” he added more seriously, “I don’t think it’s all negative. I won’t lie to you and say I can predict what the future holds for a sergeant leading a powerful squad of criminals.”

He paused.

“However, people often forget something important. In the end, despite politics, the only truly foolproof path to advancement in the army is results.”

He met my eyes.

“A successful squad is a successful squad, regardless of how it was formed or who is in it.”

I waited, not daring to interrupt.

“Do what you believe is right,” he said finally. “At the very least, you will have my support.”

A significant weight lifted from my shoulders. The lieutenant’s support meant a lot to me, and it also meant I was not completely wrong. There was potential in my method, especially since the lieutenant was not known for entertaining poor ideas.

Our discussion continued for another hour, hashing out details and talking through effective approaches for working with my squadmates, along with the drills I should conduct once the squad expanded. At the end, just before dismissing me, he spoke again.

“Your remaining squad members have already been selected,” he said. “Collect their files from my office before you go.”

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added,

“I have taught you what I believe is necessary. If you are ready, I strongly suggest you complete your class trial before taking your first mission outside the fort.”