Chapter – 97
“Something wrong?”
“There is.”
“What is it?”
“Not a good place to talk here. Let’s go inside and talk.”
“Sure.”
“But… what are all those?”
“I brought some weapons and tools.”
“Weapons and tools…?”
“I’m donating them to the unit.”
“D–Donating?”
“Equipment isn’t everything, but it’s still best to use good gear.”
“Haha… ha….”
Begman let out a dumbfounded laugh.
Never in his life had he seen a low-ranking private donate equipment to the unit.
“A rich young master is different, I guess.”
“As expected of Sigmund!”
The reconnaissance members were deeply moved by Carlisle’s generous donation.
The Decaron Army did not have good finances, so supply was always lacking.
To them, Carlisle bringing new equipment must have felt like rain after a long drought.
“They were made by dwarves, so they should be decent.”
“W–Who did you say made them?”
“Dwarves.”
“Kid.”
Begman spoke with a somewhat awkward smile.
“It’s already amazing enough that you spent your own money to donate new equipment. But there’s no need to exaggerate and say dwarves made—”
“It’s likely true.”
Kudo stepped forward and cut in.
“Private Carlisle befriended a dwarf tribe called the Firehammer Tribe at the Morel Mountain Range.”
“Is… Is that true?”
“I was there with him.”
Marder and Wilson also jumped in and added a word each.
“I saw it myself, Sergeant.”
“So did I.”
Hearing the testimony from Kudo and the others, Begman’s eyes widened.
“S–So… these things here were really made by dwarves?”
“Yes.”
“M–May I take a look?”
“As much as you like.”
With Carlisle’s permission, Begman approached the cart and opened a crate.
Scrang!
Just opening the box made a chill from the blades brush against the skin.
Begman realized he didn’t need to touch or test the weapons Carlisle brought.
Just a glance was enough to guess their sharpness and durability—clearly mastercraft.
“All of this… is ours?”
“Yes.”
“Haha… hahaha….”
Begman was so stunned he could only laugh weakly.
It was shocking enough that someone would donate equipment with his own money, but to think it was made by dwarves—born craftsmen?
“Let’s head inside and talk.”
“Y–Yes! Let’s!”
Begman led Carlisle into the fortress as if escorting an honored guest.
The interior of Bowden Fortress, after the unit reorganization, was now far larger, and the number of personnel had multiplied.
‘Ugh, this is chaotic…’
Carlisle missed the old Bowden Fortress.
It was shabby back then, yes—but with fewer people, it had been relatively quiet…
“You’re back.”
Helen spotted Carlisle and spoke.
She had already been promoted from Lieutenant to Captain.
“Private Carlisle, returning from leave.”
“Right. No need for a formal report. You may rest at the barracks. But… what are those crates?”
Begman answered in Carlisle’s stead.
“Those are equipment the kid donated to the unit, Captain Helen.”
“What do you mean, Sergeant Begman?”
“It’s true. And guess who made them…”
“To think you would donate equipment made by dwarves. Ridiculous.”
After hearing the whole story, Helen clicked her tongue and looked at Carlisle.
“It’s not against the rules, is it?”
“Of course not.”
Helen shook her head as if it were absurd.
“It is a burdensome donation, but the unit has no reason to refuse. It strengthens our forces.”
“That’s a relief.”
“As commander of the 3rd Company, I thank you.”
Helen gave a small bow to Carlisle.
“Sergeant Begman.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Move Private Carlisle’s donated equipment to the Reconnaissance Barracks—”
At that moment—
“Everyone, freeze.”
A knight appearing to be in his late 30s approached and halted the reconnaissance squad.
“Attention!”
Helen saluted sharply.
“At ease. Now… what are these crates?”
“Equipment donated by Private Carlisle, sir.”
“Private Carlisle… You mean that Private Carlisle?”
“Yes, sir.”
The knight scanned the area and spotted Carlisle, then nodded.
“You are Private Carlisle, correct?”
“Yes.”
“‘Yes’?”
The knight’s eyes sharpened.
“You see a battalion commander and don’t salute?”
“Huh?”
“Huh?”
The battalion commander’s expression twisted.
“Private Carlisle.”
“Yes.”
“Get down and give me push-ups.”
“Why?”
“…….”
The battalion commander closed his eyes tightly and looked to Helen.
“Company Commander?”
“My apologies.”
Helen quickly bowed.
“I must have failed to discipline him properly. Private Carlisle hasn’t fully adjusted to—”
“And you call that an excuse?”
The battalion commander cut her off harshly.
“A soldier should act like a soldier! Even if he’s a son of the Sigmund ducal house, a mere private dares talk back to his battalion commander, and on top of that, refuses an order?”
“The fault lies with me as his direct superior.”
“This is unacceptable. Your company’s discipline is rotten.”
He scanned the area and continued.
“Let’s see here…”
“Private Carlisle!”
Helen barked.
“Get down! Now!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“One: get your mind. Two: straighten yourself. One!”
“Mind!”
“Two!”
“Straighten!”
“One!”
“Mind!”
“Two!”
“Straighten!”
Carlisle, not completely oblivious, obeyed. He didn’t want his squad to suffer because of him.
The battalion commander, finally appeased, spoke.
“Captain of the 3rd Company.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Discipline your men properly. Your company’s military discipline is a disgrace.”
“It will be corrected.”
“I’ll be watching. Also…”
He glanced at the donated equipment.
“These will be confiscated.”
“But sir, the equipment was donated to the 3rd Company by Private Carlisle.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then why—?”
“Who permitted you to bring unverified equipment onto base without the commander’s approval?”
“Private Carlisle had just returned. He didn’t have the time to report to you yet—”
“Captain.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Write a statement in my office. I will review it and decide the appropriate punishment.”
“……”
“The rest of you — bring the equipment to the battalion commander’s office. Move.”
“M–Move!”
The soldiers began carrying Carlisle’s donated equipment away.
“What the hell—”
“You brat!”
Carlisle attempted to protest, but Begman shouted before he could.
“Cocky little private! Just because you’re from the Sigmund House, you think you can do whatever you want, huh?!”
“……?”
“Don’t stare at me with those eyes! Want me to beat some sense into you? You want disciplinary training today?!”
Begman gave Carlisle a meaningful glare.
‘Kid, please. Endure this.’
‘You want me to endure this?’
Carlisle answered through his expression.
‘Just endure it! If you don’t, we all get screwed!’
‘…Hah.’
‘I’m begging you. Please.’
“…Fine.”
Carlisle swallowed his anger. Barely.
This was the army. Acting on impulse would only make things worse.
“Private Carlisle.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you. Fix your behavior. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the voice of a private? Is that all you’ve got?”
A vein popped on Carlisle’s forehead.
‘I’d rather have my head hung on the ramparts.’
Carlisle decided he was done. He could not, would not, tolerate this.
He hadn’t reincarnated just to bow down to this kind of nonsense.
‘Fine. If you want war, let’s die together.’
He was about to open his mouth—
“Battalion Commander! Barbarian movement detected within 5 kilometers!”
Marder rushed over.
“What?”
“They’re likely laying magic stone traps nearby!”
“Where exactly?”
“I need a map to pinpoint the location!”
“Good! Report to the command tent at once!”
“Yes!”
Marder followed the battalion commander quickly.
Marder winked at Carlisle as he passed.
Clearly, the “barbarian activity” was a lie he made up on the spot to defuse the situation.
“Whew…”
Carlisle exhaled and forced his anger down, then turned to Helen.
“Who is that battalion commander? Why is he such a stubborn old fossil?”
“……”
As a commissioned officer and commander, Helen couldn’t respond to that.
“Private Carlisle.”
“Yes?”
“It seems the battalion commander has… grand ambitions.”
“What kind of ambitions?”
“This is purely my personal impression… but upon returning from leave and speaking with him, I felt something.”
“……?”
“He is very eager for promotion. And… he seems full of zeal to ‘reform’ you.”
“…What did you just say?”
Carlisle doubted his ears.
Reform?
Who was reforming whom?
“Good. Tomorrow, we will remove the traps with the recon squad. I’ll give detailed orders to you separately, 3rd Company Commander.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
“Honor!”
After Marder left—
“Heh.”
The battalion commander poured himself a glass of whiskey, grinning triumphantly.
“Carlisle von Sigmund… the Sigmund House’s disgrace…”
He muttered, recalling Carlisle’s face.
“Others may have stood by and allowed your behavior, but not I. I will fix that rotten attitude of yours, no matter what. Hehehe.”
Lieutenant Colonel Cravel believed Carlisle’s notorious behavior came from a lack of harsh discipline and training.
“B-Battalion Commander.”
The 1st Company Commander spoke cautiously.
“Is it not dangerous to meddle with Carlisle von Sigmund?”
“Tsk.”
Cravel clicked his tongue.
“What danger?”
“He is the Duke’s son. If you mishandle this—”
“You know nothing.”
“…Sir?”
“The Duke didn’t send that brat to the army just for duty. He wants him to grow into a proper person.”
“He does?”
“No one has succeeded in correcting him. Even his father, the Duke, failed and gave up. Unless it’s a severe issue, he just looks the other way now.”
“Hm…”
“But imagine—if someone manages to reform that brat?”
“Well… that would…”
“The Duke would be overjoyed! He would see me as his benefactor! If the disgrace of the Sigmund family becomes an upright heir, how could a father not rejoice?”
“When you put it that way… it makes sense.”
“This is an opportunity.”
Cravel’s eyes gleamed with ambition.
“Idiots avoid him for fear of trouble, tearing their hair out. But that’s because they’re fools. I see that brat not as trouble—but as fortune. If I successfully reform him, becoming a retainer of the Sigmund family will be child’s play!”
“A r–retainer of the Sigmund family…!”
“Watch me. I will fix that brat and earn the Duke’s favor.”
Lieutenant Colonel Cravel clenched his fist, burning with aspiration.
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