Surviving on the Northern Front with Gukbap

Chapter 42 : Discipline (2)

Discipline (2)

1st-rank. Someone who has just awakened mana and can perform physical reinforcement.

Among regular soldiers, one out of ten is typically at this level,

and they become 'squad leaders.'

But not this big guy.

He's just an ordinary squad member, a lowly private.

He doesn't know how to use mana.

The difference between him and me is stark.

That's why I tried to be generous and patient.

Besides, a regular from the shop even stepped in to tell me to bear with it. To hold back.

And yet,

"For an outsider working at some cheap inn..."

I no longer wanted to endure it,

and I decided not to.

"Tsk. What nonsense."

"... What?"

"Who started that whole 'for an outsider' fad anyway?"

"Khak. Khahahat! And what is this puny outsider yapping about!"

I glared at him and pressed my words out.

"There's a saying in the world I lived in. 'A puppy doesn't know to fear a tiger.'"

"No one cares about your world, you clueless outsider."

"Well, let's see who really doesn't know their place from now on."

Was it just my imagination?

Maybe they sensed that something was off—because the laughter of the audience gradually faded,

"Should we use knives or go barehanded?"

Wanting to display the difference in our levels, I spoke while infusing mana into my words.

My voice echoed through the spacious training ground.

Should we—use—knives. Or—barehanded.

Ooo—oh. Ooo—oh......oh.

A silence descended instantly.

The mood turned solemn.

"... W-wait. No."

Only then did the big guy retreat a step, looking flustered.

0

"Why does an outsider have mana—?"

Crack!

The top of my foot smashed into his jaw.

His face twisted ninety degrees, blood dripping from the tongue he had bitten, his eyes rolled back.

What followed was his massive body slowly, very slowly, tipping over.

Boom!

His hefty body crashed into the floor of the training ground.

'Ah, that felt great.'

A roundhouse kick I learned as a kid from taekwondo.

Using that with mana—man, the satisfaction was unreal.

On the other hand, the soldiers-turned-spectators had fallen perfectly silent.

Amidst them, someone muttered in self-mockery.

"Hans lost..."

As if on cue, everyone stepped back and commented one by one.

"The outsider is a mana user!?"

"Coward. Attacked in the middle of talking."

Most couldn't hide their shock.

Not surprising, since this is the 'soldiers' training ground'.

Officers above platoon leaders are in the officers' training ground,

so most here hadn't awakened mana yet.

'Now that I've shown this much, they probably won't pick fights with me over childish nonsense anymore.'

Believe it or not, I'm a re-enlistee—a veteran.

I know all too well how hard things get in the army if you're looked down on.

That's why I'd gone a bit overboard to establish discipline.

Sure enough,

Most soldiers hesitated to step forward.

The spectators started cautiously backing away from the frontline, watching warily when—

"It's a disgrace if seniors get intimidated by a newbie."

A low voice rang out.

With that, a man walked forward, pushing through the crowd.

'Of course.'

I hadn't thought it'd end with just one fight.

These Granfen people are obsessed with strength, fighting, and swordsmanship.

No matter how much my mana display scared some regulars,

there had to be squad leader-level people here who had awakened mana.

I figured one of them would step up.

'He's definitely different from the regular soldiers here.'

Long arms, a skinny frame.

He looked much scrawnier than the big guy now lying on the ground, but the aura and energy around him were on a completely different level.

Still, even a squad leader is just 1st-rank.

As a 2nd-rank, I assumed he wouldn't stand a chance against me,

but I overheard whispers among the crowd of watching soldiers.

"Is that Lieutenant Pab?"

"Why is the platoon leader here?"

"Shh! Too loud!"

I heard you, you idiots.

'Wait, did they say platoon leader?'

A platoon leader is an officer, not a regular soldier.

Officers are supposed to be in the officers' training ground, not here.

Why would such a platoon leader appear here, as if waiting for me?

—That's when I remembered who the skinny guy was.

'The guy standing behind the green-eyed one in the operations room.'

Instantly, the scenario plotted by Hank the company commander played out in my mind.

'Could it be a plan to get rid of me before the shop even opens?'

In the training ground, so naturally.

No wonder. In front of the battalion commander, he offered to help with construction, but behind the scenes, he disappeared.

Back then, I'd thought he was just a two-faced fool,

'I didn't realize he was this calculating.'

Was even the trouble stirred up by those other soldiers an intentional setup?

If so, I had to admit defeat.

I thought I'd been pretty clever, but there was a trap like this.

'Damn it.'

As my mind raced,

the platoon leader under the green-eyed officer spoke expressionlessly.

"Let me introduce myself first. I am Pab, leader of Hank company's 1st platoon."

As expected, from Hank's company.

"As you already know, I'm Ian, the cook assigned directly to the battalion commander."

I made a point of emphasizing "assigned directly to the battalion commander," and his eyebrow twitched, but he replied calmly as if it was no matter.

"That's the kind of spirit befitting the Duchy. I like it."

"You flatter me."

"... Flattery, huh. I heard you're friends with that crazy bastard, and you sure have a mouth on you."

He gave a short laugh and drew his sword.

The tip of his blade slowly pointed at me, and he said,

"Since the newbie outsider has trained my subordinate, I'll have to personally teach you a thing or two as well."

A sense of pressure began to build from him.

It was a sword aura and stance totally different from the likes of Flaco or Derek's gang.

It was different. Completely different.

'Probably at least 3rd-rank.'

My frontal lobe and instincts were quick.

They decided I couldn't beat this scrawny platoon leader as I am now.

With no food buff, I, a mere 2nd-rank, stood no chance.

In that case,

'If I can't fight, I'll have to negotiate diplomatically.'

I had to resolve this situation one way or another.

"I'm honored, sir, to be taught personally by the platoon leader, but as you can see, I haven't even been issued a sword yet."

"......"

"You're not planning to instruct me when I don't even have a weapon, are you?"

Before I even finished speaking,

someone tossed a sword in its scabbard, and it landed in front of me with a dull thud.

"Not anymore, apparently."

Who the hell threw that?

It's a real shame I didn't see it.

"Pick up the sword."

Looking at the arming sword on the ground,

I glanced up at the scrawny man again.

There was a strange excitement in his eyes.

I had a gut feeling his 'instruction' would be exceedingly harsh.

"There are a lot of eyes watching. Is this really alright?"

"I merely intend to give you some sword instruction. Of course, it's possible something unfortunate could happen during the process."

"The battalion commander is behind me, you know."

At that, he grinned again and shouted into the air.

"I, the platoon leader, am right here giving sword instruction to the outsider recruit! That is all you witnessed, soldiers! Understand?!"

"Yes!"

"Yes!"

The soldiers' thunderous voices filled the training ground.

The hostility toward an outsider recruit is more intense than I thought. Damn it.

"Can't I refuse your instruction?"

"Don't you know the chain of command? Disobeying orders is punishable by death. Now, quickly draw your sword."

Looks like a diplomatic solution won't work.

My heart pounded violently as the reality of having no escape set in.

Am I really about to fight a 3rd-rank like this?

'I'm bound to lose.'

A clash seems inevitable,

but there's no way I can win by fighting head-on.

Then,

'I'll have to ambush him while he's off-guard.'

Should I pretend to draw the sword, lean forward, then charge?

And while charging, pull out the kitchen knife hidden at my waist and swing it.

I ran several such simulations in my head, but

'No chance.'

I could already picture my surprise attack being parried, my finishing blow bouncing off, and a sword hole appearing in my stomach.

The wall between me and the 3rd-rank platoon leader was too massive.

Sweat ran down my back,

and at last, a realization struck me.

'Am I weak?'

Arrogance.

Just because, as an outsider, I could use mana now,

just because I'd reached 2nd-rank in a short time,

just because the system let me get strong easily—I'd gotten carried away.

'What's more important than getting stronger is surviving.'

I'd only ever thought of getting stronger, but right now, I was weak.

Trapped by the shallow tricks of that green-eyed guy, Hank the company commander, I was about to die.

Why wasn't I more cautious?

Why?

But

Now's not the time for self-blame.

I didn't endure all this way just to die so meaninglessly.

So I need to recall.

Somehow, a way to survive this crisis.

Just then, embarrassingly,

that guy's face surfaced in my mind again.

'Jeros, you son of a bitch.'

If that tardy bastard showed up, would things change?

That shameless jerk might just step in and mediate.

Even though he's just a low-rank guard, he talks trash even to the officers...

'Ah? Ah. Aha!'

Damn, I remembered.

Why only now?

"... Haha."

I let out an involuntary chuckle,

the scrawny platoon leader reacted.

"What are you doing now?"

He seemed unable to understand my expression,

but I ignored him and picked up the sword from the ground.

"So you've finally decided to learn."

"No. I appreciate the instruction, but I must decline after all."

His face scrunched up at my words.

"... You inferior fool. I said disobeying orders is punishable by death. Guess you really are an outsider at your core—with no need to show the Duchy's courtesy."

"Even so, I am now a soldier of the Duchy. So I'll do all that I can as one."

I stuck the sword upright in the ground and dropped my left knee to the earth as I spoke.

"Under the blessing of the True God, I request an honorable duel, lieutenant Pab."

*

I don't recall exactly when I asked Jeros this.

― How do you get away with talking back to your superiors as a guard, Jeros?

I asked because, although the hierarchy among the other soldiers was incredibly strict, Jeros was always so free-spirited.

And his answer was so typically Jeros.

― Just beat them all up.

― Isn't that insubordination?

― Tsk, you outsider. Don't you know common sense? Heh.

That's how Jeros taught me about 'duels' in the Duchy.

He especially enjoyed explaining this part.

― The only way you can refuse a superior's order in the Duchy is through a duel. And in the North, avoiding a duel is extremely, extremely, ex-tremely dishonorable. Kukuk.

A system befitting the North, where strength and honor rule.

When I first heard about duels, I thought it was someone else's problem and let it go in one ear and out the other.

I just thought, 'Ah. That's why Jeros can do whatever he wants.'

But

'Who'd have thought it would become my lifeline.'

The scrawny platoon leader's mouth fell open in shock.

He'd recognized my intent when the word 'duel' came out of my mouth.

"For an outsider to utter the sacred word of duel..."

His shock soon turned to anger, and then he sneered as if amused.

"All you're doing is delaying your death."

"Just not today, it seems."

"... You son of a—"

Gnashing.

He finally couldn't take it and started grinding his teeth.

"Your answer?"

He stared at me for a long time,

then finally assumed the same posture and spoke.

"With the blessing of the True God, I accept your duel, outsider."

Okay. It worked.

Inside, I cheered and followed with my next words.

"The duel will be three days from now at noon, right here. Does that suit you?"

If I could, I'd push it a month, a year back,

but in the Duchy, the longest you can postpone a duel is three days.

"... Accepted."

The challenger gets to set the schedule.

As soon as the scrawny man gave his answer—

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Applause rang out from somewhere.

I turned toward the source of the sound.

"Interesting. This just got interesting. Heh."

It was that crazy, squinting bastard.

* * *

The best local food spot in the frontline village of Granfen, Wyvern Tail, was packed with people.

The waitress, accustomed to scenes like this, skillfully continued serving food.

"Tomato soup and wheat bread, as you ordered!"

The most expensive set meal at Wyvern Tail was placed before a man in a brown robe.

The man had his hood drawn deep, and instead of picking up his spoon, he began to fan his hand at the dish.

The steaming vapor followed his motion and touched the tip of his nose.

'The smell's not bad.'

Expectantly, the man picked up his spoon.

He savored a spoonful of red liquid,

then tore off a piece of wheat bread to dip into the soup and eat.

Chew. Gulp.

Just the right touch of umami spread through his mouth.

'As expected. The reputation is deserved.'

You could see the chef's skill in this dish.

The harmony of soft wheat bread and tangy soup was impressive.

But for a gourmet like him, there was something left to be desired.

'Is it a problem with the ingredients themselves? The unique taste and aroma of the tomatoes are lacking.'

Originally, tomatoes are a vegetable grown in the mild lands of the continent's central regions.

Meaning, the tomatoes used in this soup had traveled a long way and had been harvested some time ago.

'If only the ingredients had been fresher, it would have been perfect.'

While the chef's skill is important in food,

this moment reminded him once again that the ingredients themselves are just as crucial.

It brought to mind the food he had eaten on his way here.

A clear soup, vigorously boiled with freshly caught bear meat.

Not just the meat—the radish had also seemed freshly harvested, bringing a strong aroma.

'It was a harmonious flavor.'

And how perfect had the seasoning been?

A pleasant saltiness had spread warmly through his mouth.

Just recalling that dish made Schutmann, the junior knight, smile unconsciously.

'I'll get to eat that soup again soon.'

He couldn't help but feel curious and excited.

He wondered if that stewed dish had truly been as delicious as he recalled,

or if he'd only thought so because he'd eaten it on the road.

After all, flavor changes according to situation and mood.

"Is the food not to your liking, sir?"

Seeing Schutmann deep in thought with his food, the waitress asked.

"No, I just had something on my mind for a moment."

Snapping out of his thoughts, Schutmann resumed his meal.