Chapter 47

'We're fucked... Really fucked...!'

The dueling ground Yaan designated was the Diana estate's training yard.

At Yaan's blood-curdling declaration, the eleven men-dragged out like pigs to slaughter-gulped dryly.

"Commander, you really don't have to do this because of me..."

"The duel's already been declared."

While saying so, Yaan waited for the men approaching slowly. Soon, when they saw the Penal Corps brand on Yaan's shoulder, their faces turned ashen.

"Wh-what's that? Why does a knight bear that brand?"

"I heard one showed up at the last knighting-His Imperial Majesty spoke to him personally..."

"Holy hell, he's a big fish! What do we do now...?!"

They were already the targets of the duel-the worst possible situation.

Heads pressed together, the men weighed every option, desperation etched on their faces.

"Pretty well-informed for market thugs."

"Your face was on the front page of today's paper, Commander."

"It was?"

"You didn't know?"

While they spoke, Yaan stepped forward; the men dropped to their knees in unison, begging for mercy.

"W-we're sorry! We didn't know your esteemed self!"

"We swear this will never happen again! Please...!"

Their opponent was a knight-and a mad dog from the Penal Corps at that.

After a quick calculation, they realized bowing their heads was their only chance.

"Are you all of them?"

"Pardon?"

"The drugs. You know my subordinate was involved. Are you the only ones?"

They had no room to think. Anything that might help them survive-even offering their livers-was on the table.

"O-only us! We told no one else-"

The instant the man opened his mouth that far-

Slash!

The man clutched his throat, trembled violently, and collapsed.

"E-eek!?"

"P-please! We admit defeat...!"

Before their words of surrender finished, Yaan's sword swept across their throats, one after another.

"G-guh!?"

"Aaaargh!"

"Please, please spare us...!"

Now it was Dandel whose face turned ashen.

Seeing Yaan calmly closing in on the survivors, they realized they had no choice and rushed him.

"U-aaaah!"

About five remained.

Stopping a simultaneous charge required even a seasoned soldier to accept grave risk.

[Movement route analysis complete. Displaying on screen.]

Yet Yaan evaded their strikes as if he had foreseen every move, cutting them down one by one.

'No way-he's got more than just enhanced sight.'

The view through the left eye Ren implanted felt like riding Glaepnir again.

Muscle contraction, pupil direction, momentum-after calculating countless variables, the left eye predicted their next moves as silhouettes.

'Great, now I'm hearing that brat's voice in my head.'

With Nill's voice echoing in his brain, Yaan sighed inwardly.

Still, being able to use it without Nill's direct help was definitely a plus.

In moments, Yaan had cut down four. As he closed on the last man, Dandel called out urgently.

"Y-you don't have to go this far! It's an old grudge, but you don't need to kill them all...!"

"I'm not doing this for your revenge."

Without expression, Yaan drove his sword into the final man's throat.

"G-guhk!?"

"I planned to tell you once anyway."

Once silence fell, Yaan wiped the blood from his blade and sheathed it.

"C-Commander..."

"Dandel Klaus. You're the only noble-born officer in our unit, the only member without the brand. Do you understand what that means?"

Hearing that, Dandel answered uncertainly.

"O-our unit is directly under Prince Klaus..."

"A prince thirteenth in succession running a private Penal Corps-think no one will move against him?"

Prince Klaus's inheritance rank was 13th. Twelve other heirs above him eyed the throne.

In the Empire, all of them secretly built their own power bases.

Using the Penal Corps-who had nothing left to lose-wasn't Klaus's original idea.

"The main reason no other noble has succeeded is that the Corps can't be controlled."

"...."

A noble-born officer wedged among Penal Corps soldiers who killed their superiors like meals.

The mere fact he was still alive proved the Greyhounds' legitimacy.

"Of course, the biggest safeguard is Commander Cain backed by House Lorenz, but the leash on this rootless unit is you, the deputy."

"M-me, sir...?"

At Dandel's puzzled question, Yaan pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

"Our unit's only noble, a minor one we can discredit any time-plus you're a bastard."

Yaan listed his plight mercilessly; Dandel clenched his fists.

"If you're implicated in anything unsavory, Prince Klaus and the Commander will be blamed."

"Then... if I leave the unit..."

"The Penal Corps will be judged too risky, reorganized into a regular unit-worst case, back to their old lives."

When the unit was formed, Yaan had told them:

He'd get them whatever they wanted-just fight and die.

His soldiers, the Greyhound Independent Company, followed that to the letter.

That meant Yaan had to fulfill his duty to them.

"Someday I'll take your role. Imperial favor, noble ass-kissing-whatever it takes."

That was Yaan's blueprint; Dandel was just a part in it.

He was speaking to his aide.

"Until then, don't get tangled in any trouble. Anything in my way gets removed, no questions asked."

"...."

With that, Yaan turned and walked into a corner of the mansion.

Standing silently among the bleeding corpses, Dandel nodded and followed.

"Bainsburg! We're at Bainsburg!"

Port city Bainsburg had nowhere near the capital's crowds.

Those who came were merchants bound for Janskarl or soldiers headed to the front-most waited in the trains for the next departure.

"This time we're lucky-no delay."

"Agreed."

Yaan, Ren, Cain, and Dandel-who'd shared the trip to the capital-left the station of their second port city and headed for the freight car.

"Only my unit was drafted-why is the Commander coming too?"

"Same reason as at Kerdan. A morale visit."

"When will His Highness arrive?"

"His orders will be on this train; probably next week."

While they talked, they reached the freight car, where soldiers loaded supplies bound for the front.

"The port handled transport, but knights load the ship. See you aboard."

"Understood."

With that, Cain walked toward the ship with Dandel. Watching them, Yaan boarded Glaepnir, occupying two whole cars.

Whoooom-

With the hum of the engine, Glaepnir rose from its spot. Soon Yaan moved the colossus onto one of the transports moored at the edge of the harbor.

"Loading complete! Please proceed to the passenger quarters!"

At the deckhand's call, Yaan and Ren nodded and climbed the stairs to the deck on one side of the transport.

"Oh, you're here."

"Look, company commander! The sea!"

The deck was already packed with sailors preparing to set sail.

The harbor was jammed with people who seemed to be the soldiers' families, waving and shouting war cries at those departing.

"Victory to the Empire!"

"Come back alive, son!"

"I'll follow soon! Keep my bunk warm!"

As if to smother their rising worries with cheers and shouts, the people waved frantically, and the soldiers waved back.

Leaning on the rail, Yaan watched them with vacant eyes.

"E-excuse me, are you perhaps a knight?"

"Huh?"

A youthful voice came from the side. At first he thought it was for Cain and glanced that way.

"Thank you, Commander! It's an honor!"

"I'll come back alive for sure."

"Commander, me too!"

"Over here, please!"

But seeing Cain already surrounded by new recruits and officers, Yaan turned toward where the voice had come from.

"...Are you talking to me?"

"Yes! That's right!"

There stood a soldier who looked like a fresh recruit. Blond hair poked out from under his cap, gleaming in the sun.

'Too small-did he really pass the conscription exam?'

Barely 160 cm, frail build, and a snow-white face that looked like it had never known hardship.

"I saw you loading the colossus in the freight car, so..."

"Ah, right. That's me."

The rank badge said private. When Yaan saw the brand on her shoulder, his eyes widened.

"Penal Corps?"

"Ah, yes! I'm assigned to the lower deck of the Second Fleet cruiser Veloster!"

Perhaps because she'd noticed the brand and the knight emblem on him, the soldier-clearly nervous-looked at Yaan with wide eyes. After a moment Yaan nodded slowly. No one joins the Penal Corps without a story.

"So, what do you want from me?"

"W-would you sign this, please!"

The soldier pulled off the helmet slung on her back and held it out.

"...A signature?"

Why would she want his name?

Thinking that, Yaan glanced sideways and saw what Cain was doing, then took the helmet with a nod of understanding.

'Firing Prohibited Zone'

'Colossus behind here'

'Veteran certified by Silver Knight'

Uniforms, helmets, handkerchiefs... Cain wrote countless phrases requested by soldiers in an elegant hand.

"There's a more famous knight right over there."

"That place... isn't somewhere someone like me can go."

The soldier looked a little smaller as she said it.

Perhaps he'd been on the Kerdan front too long-he'd forgotten how Penal Corps are treated. Remembering, Yaan shrugged and took the helmet.

"What should I write?"

"Please write... 'Irene'."

Irene?

Yaan gave a puzzled look and read the name engraved on the left breast of her uniform.

'Ilak Fenton... So it's an alias.'

He had a fairly good idea of her-no, of her-story.

"Whose name is it?"

"M-my younger sister's."

"Your sister took your place and entered the Penal Corps for you?"

Yaan's question wasn't aimed at the soldier before him, but at the brother who had sent her to war in his stead.

"...!"

"Don't worry. I won't ask."

Eyes wide, the woman in front of him nodded frantically. Yaan wrote the real name 'Irene' on the helmet and handed it back.

"If you're shipping out on Veloster, I'll see you again over there."

With that, Yaan tapped her shoulder once and turned to extract Cain from the soldiers still mobbing him.

"Wha-Lieutenant Yaan, what's up?"

"There are thousands of deckhands here; are you planning to sign every one of their helmets?"

Saying that, Yaan led the group into the passenger quarters. Ilak-no, Irene-watched the spot where Yaan had stood with vacant eyes.

Clang-! Clang-! Clang-!

"We're setting sail!"

The massive transport let out a wail like a cry. Slowly pulling away from the harbor, the great steel ship carried those who had entrusted their lives to it toward the front lines.

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