Becoming a Swordmaster by Reading Chapter 7

The next day.

In a corner of the garrison base where the main battalion was staying, a group of soldiers was busy greeting the morning.

They were the soldiers of the 3rd Corps' 2nd Transport Unit, who had to set off again today.

The soldiers were frantically preparing breakfast on one hand and getting ready to leave on the other.

Naturally, the infantry were checking their swords and shields first, the archers their bows, and the light cavalry their horses.

And among them, the infantry were all soldiers of Ernst's subordinate 3rd Infantry Platoon.

“If you've all finished checking your equipment, hurry up and move for your meal!”

Naturally, the one who was mixed in among the soldiers early in the morning and giving orders to the 3rd Infantry Platoon was Deputy Platoon Leader Chevalier.

At Chevalier's thunderous roar, the soldiers of the 3rd Infantry Platoon reluctantly moved their feet as if they had no choice.

Chevalier watched them, his eyebrows twitching as if his mood was displeased.

‘They're no better than mercenaries.’

As Chevalier had observed, the military discipline of the 3rd Infantry Platoon was not very good.

Compared to the 1st Archery Platoon or the 2nd Light Cavalry Platoon, which were organized together in the 2nd Transport Unit, the difference in level was clearly visible.

But it couldn't be helped.

Ernst, who was supposed to train and manage the 3rd Infantry Platoon directly, was not in a normal state.

What's more, among the personnel of the 3rd Infantry Platoon, there were an unusually large number of soldiers who were so-called ‘troublemakers’.

It was a law of nature that in any group, there were useless idiots, but the 3rd Infantry Platoon was particularly severe in that regard.

And the fact that the 3rd Infantry Platoon was organized like this was all Ernst's fault.

For the sake of war efficiency, the good-for-nothings were intentionally dumped into the 3rd Infantry Platoon, which was commanded by the idiot Ernst.

They had appointed Chevalier as the deputy platoon leader to at least maintain the appearance of a unit, but that was it.

There was no way a platoon could function normally with only the deputy platoon leader being competent.

It was only because Chevalier was giving the orders that the soldiers of the 3rd Infantry Platoon were even moving, albeit reluctantly.

‘Sigh…. To think I have to be satisfied with this.’

That being said, Chevalier couldn't just complain about being assigned to the 3rd Infantry Platoon.

It was because Chevalier, though of a slightly different kind, was also one of the troublemakers of the Allied Forces.

‘I'm reaping what I sowed. It's truly amazing that no one died in battle with this kind of discipline.’

It was when Chevalier was making a bitter face on one hand, while also letting out a sigh of relief inwardly on the other.

One of the soldiers of the 3rd Infantry Platoon standing at the end of the meal line cheerfully waved his hand at Chevalier.

It was the 1st Squad Leader of the 3rd Infantry Platoon.

“Deputy Platoon Leader! Don't just stand there, let's eat together. That person will probably be skipping meals and wandering through dreamland anyway, so don't miss your meal too because you're late because of him.”

The soldiers knew too.

That Chevalier went to wake Ernst up every morning.

And that he was often late because of it and ended up not eating breakfast.

Sure enough, Chevalier was thinking of going to wake Ernst up right now.

‘Still, for a few days he seemed to be waking up well on his own in the morning, but now he's like this again. I guess he drank all of the whiskey he left behind yesterday.’

In fact, Chevalier had recently been harboring a little hope while watching Ernst.

Not only was he attending meetings without oversleeping once, but the strong smell of alcohol that always emanated from his body was gradually fading.

On top of that, he had proposed a brilliant military strategy to Havier and could be said to have saved the 3rd Corps from a crisis.

It was not strange at all to harbor a little hope.

That Ernst might become a little more like a person.

But now, that hope had vanished like melting snow.

And for good reason, as Chevalier had overheard his conversation with Havier from Ernst's side.

That he wanted to receive a bottle of good alcohol, not some other reward.

Of all things, a bottle of alcohol, not money or honor.

While Chevalier thought it was very Ernst-like, he honestly couldn't hide his disappointment.

At the same time, he was also disappointed in himself for harboring the vain hope that Ernst might have become a little more like a person.

He was ashamed for having had such a thought, even for a moment.

‘I guess people don't change in the end. But why didn't he drink the alcohol right away yesterday?’

Chevalier was a cautious person.

That was why he wanted to check one last time if Ernst was really the same.

He had personally handed him the alcohol Havier had given him and watched to see if he would drink it.

But confusingly, Ernst did not drink the good alcohol right away, even after receiving it.

He had only poured a glass for Chevalier.

What's more, he had filled the glass to the brim with alcohol that would have been a waste to drink alone.

It was an action from Ernst that one would not normally see.

‘So I was going to watch a little longer, but I shot myself in the foot. Did he intentionally pour me a full glass to chase me away? So I couldn't take any more?’

Judging by the fact that he hadn't gotten up yet, this possibility seemed high.

Ernst must have drunk all the remaining alcohol by himself and was now unable to come to his senses.

The mere thought of it made his blood boil, and for a moment, he thought about just letting Ernst sleep and eating his meal as the 1st Squad Leader had suggested.

But,

“Hoo.”

His own nature, which valued principles and rules, held him back.

And so, Chevalier opened his mouth towards the 1st Squad Leader.

“You guys make sure you don't skip your meals. We'll have to force march every day for a few days starting from today.”

“Oh my. So you're going to wake him up after all. I get it. We'll eat hard enough for the Deputy Platoon Leader's share too.”

It was when Chevalier turned his back on the 1st Squad Leader's voice and started walking.

“Where are you going in such a hurry without even eating breakfast?”

A familiar voice was heard, and Chevalier raised his head in surprise.

The person who had spoken to Chevalier.

That person was none other than Ernst.

What's more, it was not just any Ernst.

It was a perfectly fine-looking Ernst who didn't reek of alcohol at all.

‘This person… why is he here?’

It wasn't just Chevalier.

The other soldiers of the 3rd Infantry Platoon, including the 1st Squad Leader, also looked very surprised at Ernst's appearance.

Because there was no one who didn't know that Chevalier had brought alcohol to Ernst.

And so, after a moment of silence had swept over the area.

Chevalier came to his senses a step late and answered Ernst's question.

“…You're awake?”

“Yeah. As you can see. So where were you going?”

“I was on my way to the Platoon Leader's barracks. To tell you that breakfast is ready.”

“Then there's no need to go. I'm right here. Go and get in line.”

“Yes.”

Ernst strode over to get his meal.

Chevalier watched his back and thought.

‘Can I really have hope?’

***

Roden did not need to stand in line to get his meal.

No matter how famous an idiot he was, he still held the title of platoon leader.

It was the same for Chevalier, who was the deputy platoon leader, and the two of them received their meals at the very front of the line, thanks to the soldiers' deference, and found a suitable place to sit.

“Enjoy your meal!”

One of the soldiers sitting nearby greeted Roden like this.

Roden glanced at the owner of the voice and then returned the greeting.

“You eat a lot too, Zailo.”

Zailo was the name of the 1st Squad Leader who had been talking with Chevalier earlier.

Although he was the most friendly within the 3rd Platoon and there were few in other platoons who didn't know his name, Zailo was inwardly surprised that Roden had mentioned his name.

He hadn't thought that the idiot platoon leader would know his name.

Of course, for Roden, who had a good memory, it was nothing special.

Zailo had greeted Roden first several times as he went to and from the meeting barracks.

What's more, in the process,

‘Why are you greeting him, Zailo? He won't even remember who you are because of his alcoholic dementia anyway.’

Since someone had given Zailo such a rebuke, there was no way Roden would not remember his name.

However, what was nothing special to Roden could be a surprising thing to someone else.

Zailo, who had received an unexpected response, was speechless for a moment as if surprised, then soon smiled brightly and opened his mouth.

“Yes! Thank you, Platoon Leader!”

Roden gave a light nod to this, and Chevalier, who was watching him from the side, made a strange expression.

Roden, who noticed the expression, asked.

“What are you staring at so intently?”

“…It's nothing. By the way, did you not drink the alcohol you received from the Company Commander yesterday?”

“What? Ah, the alcohol. I didn't drink it. I'm saving it to drink later. Whiskey is supposed to be more delicious after it breathes, you know.”

“So you just didn't drink it because you were trying to save it.”

“It's not a drink you see often on a battlefield. Of course I have to save it. By the way, we're leaving right after we eat, right?”

Chevalier was slightly surprised that Roden was curious about today's schedule, but he didn't show it and answered.

“Yes. I think we'll be leaving right after checking our military packs.”

“Without training?”

“Returning to the unit is also part of the operation. During an operation, it's common not to conduct training so as not to unnecessarily lose strength.”

“That's true. But isn't it okay to swing a sword to not lose your touch when we take a short break during the move? Personally?”

Chevalier was very curious as to why he kept asking such questions, unlike his usual self, but he held back the question.

It was a principle as a soldier to answer a superior's question first.

“We can't stop you from doing personal training. In fact, an individual's shortcomings are often compensated for in each person's training, which is done in their spare time.”

After hearing Chevalier's answer, Roden's expression brightened for a moment.

Anyone could see that he was satisfied with Chevalier's answer.

Chevalier, whose doubts deepened at the sight, could no longer hold back and asked a question.

“But why are you asking about that?”

Roden grinned and opened his mouth.

Then he suddenly threw out the following counter-question.

“Do you know what the most delicious alcohol in the world is?”

Chevalier wanted to hear the answer to his question first rather than answer, but he held it in once more.

Because as a soldier, it was his priority to answer his superior's question.

“…The most delicious alcohol in the world? I'm not sure.”

“Ah. As I thought, you don't know. Right. That could be. Since Chevalier doesn't enjoy alcohol like I do.”

“……”

“The most delicious alcohol in the world is that. The alcohol you drink after a good workout and sweating. So I was saying, when we take a short break during the move later, would you help me with my personal training?”

What is this person saying right now?

What is he asking me to help with?

Personal training?

Chevalier, who was blankly following the flow of his thoughts, suddenly widened his eyes.

He had never thought that Roden would suggest training first.

Personal training, of all things.