Second Life as a Soldier

After talking with my squad, I stood up, ready to talk with Sergeant Darric. But looking across the campfire at him ordering people around and asking to set up a big private tent reminded me of Sergeant Fenward. I sat down again with a tired expression, earning a few smirks from my squad members. I smirked back in return, earning a disappointed head shake from Peter.

But I had just had a long conversation with Sergeant Cole, then got into a verbal sparring match with another sergeant. There was a limit to my brainpower when it came to conversations, especially polite conversations. So I decided to give myself a break. It’s not like we are going anywhere today.

“Silas, is the stew ready?” I asked. Maybe lunch would give me the energy to deal with Sergeant Darric.

Then I turned to Peter.

“What do you think about Sergeant Darric? Will we be able to reach any amicable solution with him?” I asked. This was my first time dealing with a professional disagreement, and I was not a great judge of people when it came to officer-level personnel. My interactions with them had been limited, most of them with combat-focused people who were part of the infantry.

There was nothing wrong with taking Peter’s opinion. After all, he was more experienced than me.

“It will be hard,” he said, sitting down on the ground beside me. “You did threaten him with your spear,” he pointed out.

I just shrugged. I did not think that much when I acted. Even with all the planning-based skills, anger has a way of making them ineffective.

“But in some way the sergeant was the aggressor and did ignore army rules first. Also, if it came to your word against his, currently your word would hold more sway and weight in front of the captain,” he said.

“Why?” I asked.

“You are the sergeant of the death squad. While position-wise you both are equal, there is always an inherent bias toward combat sergeants. Second, as long as we do not lose more than half of our squad by the end of this expedition, the whole expedition will be considered a great success.” Peter paused.

Sometimes his ability to be objective when analyzing surprises me, as if half the squad dying does not also mean he has a 50% chance of dying.

“But most importantly, your medal gives you the largest edge,” he continued.

“I have been thinking about why everyone keeps mentioning my Iron Medal. I know people in the army respect it and that it has benefits after retirement, but I am sure there would be many soldiers with medals,” I said.

By the time I finished asking, Peter looked so surprised as if I had started talking in a foreign tongue mid-sentence.

“How could you not know the importance of the Iron Medal?” he asked. Then, without giving me a chance to reply, he carried on. “Benefits after retirement are the least important thing about the Iron Medal. Let me ask you this: how many people received medals after the Grand Beast Tide?”

“I think around 15,” I replied.

“How many of those were fit to return to duty?”

This time I paused, going through the list of people who received medals that day, slowly realizing that more than half had either died or been severely injured and deemed unfit for duty.

“Six. But that was from one Beast Tide, and from what I know, people on the war front receive more of these recognitions and medals,” I said.

“Yes, but even after considering that, there are fewer than 200 actively serving medal holders with the ability to fight in the entire army, which consists of seven legions totaling more than 150,000 soldiers. After retirement, they are hired by big noble houses, sometimes earning more in one year than they did in their entire tenure,” he said.

I was surprised. I knew the medal provided a lot of respect, but I had never cared enough to look into the details of it.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Then why now? It’s not like I could lose it.”

“You already know,” he said, pointing at Kael and the others.

I sighed knowingly, fully aware of what he was getting at. Sometimes I feel being ignorant is far better than being informed. If I had not known about the reputation the medal carried, I would not have cared about harming that reputation by being called a criminal sympathizer.

“This is why I would suggest when you try to talk to him, try explaining about the squad—”

“No. I will talk to him. I am not explaining myself to anyone. Whatever I say will only appear as me being defensive. Let them think what they want,” I said.

“Any other advice?” Debating my view with Peter or explaining my logic to Lieutenant Cicero is something I don’t mind, but if I started explaining my way of working to everyone, that is what I would end up doing my whole life.

“Well, try not to threaten him with your spear this time,” he said.

This time I looked surprised. It was the first time I had heard Peter make a joke. He smiled after seeing my expression, then continued.

“For now, just starting a conversation could appease him. I don’t know him personally, but if I were in his shoes, I would definitely doubt a young sergeant like you, thinking you got lucky with the promotion and that the increase to your ego might affect your decision-making in handling your squad.”

“Are you analyzing his perspective or taking this as an opportunity to criticize me to my face?” I asked jokingly. To my horror, instead of defending himself, he just shrugged and said,

“Those were my thoughts in the first month after joining your squad.”

I nodded, suddenly realizing something.

“YOU… you joined one month back!” I said. I never thought Peter could make two jokes in quick succession. It looked like the arrival of the vanguard had allowed him to loosen up a little.

“Yes. Taking the first step could help. If you are comfortable, a small apology could also help, but nothing that would make it feel like we are feeling guilty.”

This time I nodded.

“This is not for now, but I would suggest that after reaching Fort Dunvale, we establish ground rules with Sergeant Darric in front of Sergeant Cole. So if he breaks those ground rules on the return journey, we can have Sergeant Cole as a witness,” Peter said.

He made a strong point. I had been planning to have a ground-rule conversation with the sergeant today, but doing it after reaching Fort Dunvale would make much more sense. Sergeant Cole had already said he would evaluate my squad’s performance. If needed, this might give us extra leverage in setting up ground rules for the return journey.

Finishing the conversation with Peter, I took a bowl of stew and went back to enjoying the forest and my surroundings. Most days, the forest stayed humid with almost no wind, but today there was a constant breeze, making the forest and the clearing bearable for the first time in a long while.

After enjoying a slow meal and a session of meditation, I finally made up my mind to have a conversation with Sergeant Darric.

I made my way to the spot where the supply squad had set up. My squad had occupied the south side of where the watchtower once stood, the supply squad was to the north, and the vanguard to the east. With three carts dragged by mule-like beasts, the supply unit had covered a large area. Thankfully, with the vanguard added to watch duty, it was easy to cover the whole area.

My approach toward their side caused a few raised eyebrows. I made my way directly to the sergeant, who was sitting outside his tent on a folded chair. I was surprised he carried it, but maybe he was from a rich house. Sergeant Fenward also used one, though his was far better looking than this.

“Hi, Sergeant Darric. I think we started on the wrong foot. I was hoping we could talk and resolve some of our differences,” I said, extending my hand.

“That’s all you have to say?” he asked without moving.

The first thought that came to mind was that Peter was wrong. It looked like he was not easy to please and would not make this conversation easy.

Retracting my hand, I looked at him, half tempted to just go back and meditate some more. But now that I was here, I might as well try a little more. Taking a deep breath, I looked him in the eye and said,

“I am not here to justify my actions.” Taking a small pause, I activated [Battlefield Command (UC)]. It might be considered rude, but I wanted everyone in his unit to hear what I was saying.

“But I do recognize that despite our differences, we will be working together for at least the next month. We will need to be in constant coordination. Fighting like this is not going to help us, and even a small gap in communication can cause a fatal mistake out here in the wild.”

As if surprised by my actions, he stood up and stared at me for a few seconds, deciding his next move.

This was why I used [Battlefield Command (UC)]. For better or worse, in the death squad I was the sole one in charge. Only Peter in my squad could complain against me, but in a normal squad like his, endangering his own unit over a small dispute could lead him into trouble.

“What do you say we put away our differences while we are in the wild?” I said with a sweet smile, extending my hand again.

He spat on the ground but then took my hand and clasped it.

“Fine,” he said.

Satisfied, I nodded and turned back to leave, only to spot three vanguard privates coming from behind me. One of them had dented armor, while the two archers looked like they had just come back from a walk in the park. What was even more surprising was that they were carrying the severed head of the ape that had attacked my squad.

Looking at my surprised expression, the private carrying the ape head gave me a wink.