Previously
During the service, Priest Ronda uses divine power to punish a sleeping soldier, which delights rather than terrifies Henrietta. The squad members are horrified by her reaction, recalling rumors of her violent past and prison stint.
Having finally grasped Henrietta's predicament, Priest Ronda swallowed the sigh that welled up again.
Part of her wished she could discharge Henrietta on the spot, but from what she had gathered, the girl had nowhere to turn back in society. A divorcee with a ruined reputation. She would likely end up a day laborer, freezing to death come winter.
Well, dead either way. Everyone dies once, in the end. If so, remaining in the military was better—at least she would receive a proper burial.
“No one who had no interest in military life can suddenly excel at it. You are plenty strong, Private Matyas, so you will improve with time.”
“Will I really?”
“Of course. There is still time before the autumn Stampede. You need only hone yourself until then. Besides, raw infantry are never placed on the front lines anyway. Do not rush, and do not force yourself to keep pace with the others. We are all solitary beings, after all. Your stamina may fall short of the other soldiers, but one does not need to scale a mountain to know the climb is steep. Use your head when needed, and let us adjust slowly.”
It was her way of telling Henrietta to cut corners reasonably and rest whenever she could.
Private Matyas clasped her hands together, looking deeply moved.
“Thank you for your guidance.”
Pleased with herself for acting like a true priest today, Ronda offered a warm smile.
***
Save for a few exceptional occasions, the Division Commander of Krakow led a leisurely life. His daily routine went as follows:
- Wake at sunrise.
- Check the night patrol log immediately upon waking.
- Morning training.
- Brigade commander-level briefing.
- Battalion commander-level briefing.
- Breakfast.
- Unit inspection.
- Afternoon training.
- Paperwork, approvals, and administrative duties.
- Security briefing.
- Dinner.
- Personal gear inspection.
- Night inspection.
- Sleep.
One might wonder, ‘How is that leisurely?’—yet Kalinin truly felt it was.
Outside of a Stampede, nocturnal incidents were mostly trivial, and the briefings repeated the same points every day. He had trained so much that it bored him to tears; during live-blade sparring with Billy, Kalinin even caught himself yawning.
At least training and unit inspections allowed him to move his body. Paperwork, on the other hand, was utter misery.
It was difficult to find any amusement in reading identical reports every day and scrawling the exact same signature. It might have been different if he read slowly, but having learned speed-reading, he plowed through the work far too fast.
Having dispatched his paperwork in the blink of an eye today as well, Kalinin simply sat there.
Literally just sitting.
Behind Kalinin, birds fluttered to and fro by the window, chirping away. A crow landed on a tree branch, and a cat leaped up after it. With a flap of wings, the crow took to the air, and the cat, having narrowly missed its prey, wailed in frustration.
While Kalinin sat motionless, the world outside buzzed with life. Moving through another day—routine, yet distinct.
When considered closely, the Duke's daily life was not entirely monotonous. Today, for instance, his heart had fluttered slightly when he spotted an unfamiliar envelope tucked into the pile of paperwork. But all anticipation vanished the moment he read the sender's name.
Kayla Essene Krakow.
His elder sister, who served as acting lord of the Krakow territory.
As Kalinin had well guessed, the letter consisted of a situation report on the estate and a brief greeting. It was exceedingly short.
Kayla was a woman of concise, efficient words; her pleasantries did not even fill two lines. In fact, she had not even asked after her brother's well-being.
The only reason the greeting stretched to two lines was to explain why she had not used an envelope bearing the family seal.
Her son—Kalinin's nephew—had a pet goat that had devoured all the stamped envelopes.
Kalinin had penned a reply telling her to feed the goat properly. A pointless exchange.
He had been sitting there ever since.
‘I'm bored. Should I go torment Billy?’
“Division Commander.”
The moment the thought crossed his mind, Billy walked in. For some reason, his face was scowling.
“Not long ago you were walking on air because you bought a house. What's with the face?”
“What about it?”
“You look like the bloated, rotting carcass of an Elek.”
“Just look at this.”
Grimacing fiercely, Billy thrust forward a Supply Request Form, packed to the back page.
“What is this?”
“Just read it.”
At the very top of the form, the applicant's name was written as Henrietta Matyas. The corner of Kalinin's mouth curled slightly upward. The flutter of anticipation he had felt upon finding that unfamiliar envelope returned.
Just what kind of bizarre supplies had she requested?
“…What in the world is this…?”
Fundamentals of Basic Physical Fitness, Self-Taught Conditioning Methods, Strength Never Betrays Effort, Swordsmanship Theory: Combat Is Real Battle, Blunt Weapon Techniques for Beginners, Combat Know-How the Knights Will Never Teach You, Understanding Weaponry, Illustrated Guide to Lower-Body Training….
Over a hundred such book titles were listed. Kalinin's gaze drifted toward the end of the sheet.
“…Muscles Know the Truth. Is this a real book?”
“Would it be?”
Billy shot back tartly at the Duke's dumbfounded murmur, his expression sourer than when he had first entered.
Naturally, Kalinin paid little heed to the shift in Billy's mood.
“How does she even know so many book titles?”
“Does that matter right now? Where are we supposed to keep all of them! When I told her it was impossible, she began filing a petition every single day.”
Billy dropped a stack of dozens of petitions onto the desk.
Written with deliberate, forceful strokes, the petitions recklessly threw around grand terms such as human rights, educational opportunity, and books being nourishment for the soul.
Among them, Kalinin spotted one petition with a rather different tone.
“Priest Ronda? Why is an Ear of Wheat getting involved in this?”
“She said while we're stocking books, we ought to stock the Scriptures too. She claims the soldiers lack faith, and going forward, she wants to push for them to read the Scriptures and write book reports.”
“Ah. Then let her. Reading books can't hurt.”
Billy's frustration erupted at the Division Commander's offhand response.
“Half of them can't even read! What book reports! How will you deal with the men's resentment? And we need space to store this many books! If we crowd them into the soldiers' recreation room, it takes away that much of their rest area.”
“Cut down the list.”
“She insists every single one is vital. Without exception.”
“Then tell her no.”
“I did tell her no, and that's why even the priest joined in and keeps sending petitions! The Supply Officer has been whining to me every single day to handle it!”
Billy huffed, having spilled his grievances in one breath. Kalinin rested his chin on his hand with a satisfied smile; indeed, no one reacted as promptly to a little poking as Billy.
“And what would you have me do?”
“Handle that Troublemaker yourself.”
“The Division Commander, dealing with a mere private?”
“The one who accepted that mere private in person was you, Commander.”
“Hmm.”
Kalinin picked up Henrietta's Supply Request Form once more and skimmed it.
Every single title…
was utterly fascinating.
“I'll step in just this once. Go bring Private Matyas here.”
Even though Billy had gotten what he wanted, he showed not the slightest hint of relief or joy.
The way the Division Commander acted as if he were bestowing some grand favor only annoyed him further.
“Well, thank you so very much!”
Bellowing his reply, Billy clamped his mouth shut and turned on his heel.
Though Billy said nothing more, Kalinin could clearly read the smoldering fury in the stiff line of his back.
“Ah, right. Billy.”
His hand on the doorknob, Billy froze at the commander's call.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did the chandelier arrive safely?”
“…”
Billy gripped the doorknob so hard his knuckles trembled, looking as though he might tear it from the frame.
What had soured Billy's mood all day was not Private Matyas's petitions.
It was that cursed chandelier!
Instead of shouting that aloud, Billy slammed the door behind him with enough force to shatter the thing to pieces.
The slam rattled through the floorboards and ceiling, reaching Kalinin's feet.
Even after the tremor subsided, Kalinin remained seated.
Waiting for Private Matyas to arrive.