Chapter Fifty-Six: "Not a Good Person, but Friendly"

As the current commander of the Empire’s Thirteenth Cavalry Regiment, Major General Adrick had naturally become the most troublesome figure for the Imperial Headquarters. He was notorious as their number one headache.

General Adrick also possessed an unusual hobby: he delighted in discovering peculiar and exceptional talents from all corners, recruiting those he favored into his army to serve as members of his personal guard.

Take, for example, Kevin, the bald man who had once sparred with Shaya. Kevin had originally been a mere squad leader in another cavalry unit, renowned for his prowess and promising future. One day, while on leave, he encountered his fellow soldiers embroiled in a street fight with a group of thugs. Without hesitation, Kevin joined the fray, single-handedly driving off dozens and chasing them down two streets. In the chaos, he fatally stabbed one. Court martial sentenced him to death, but General Adrick happened to be at the military tribunal and, out of curiosity, inquired about the incident—why had Kevin intervened when the matter didn’t concern him?

Kevin replied, “Those were my comrades! If I don’t help them when they’re bullied, how can I expect them to guard my back on the battlefield or shield me from incoming arrows?”

Adrick then asked, “Didn’t you stop to figure out who was right or wrong before jumping in?”

Kevin’s response was a rolling eye: “I’m not a judge!”

Adrick was greatly pleased, using his authority to transfer Kevin into his own regiment, making him a member of his personal guard.

When Shaya arrived at the Thirteenth Cavalry Regiment’s garrison, the second person he met was Kato.

Kato was a tall, slender man with light wheat-colored skin. Despite his lean frame, he was sturdy. When he smiled, his eyes sparkled with cunning, the kind of person Shaya would have avoided in Wildfire Town—such men were either swindlers or smugglers.

Kato also served as one of General Adrick’s personal guards. His martial skills were average; though brave in combat, within the famed Thirteenth Cavalry Regiment, he wasn’t remarkable. Kato’s true talent was his knack for resourcefulness—he could always circumvent the corrupt quartermasters and procure all manner of forbidden goods for his comrades.

Juniper gin, rye whiskey, premium tobacco from the Tokutu tribes, caviar from the southern inland sea—all banned in the army, but Kato could get them.

The Thirteenth Regiment was strict in discipline, yet General Adrick was not an unfeeling commander. He treated his men well, and during deployments or victory celebrations, he’d have Kato procure treats to reward his troops.

Kato’s path to the regiment was equally legendary—he had been a quartermaster in another unit, famed for acquiring forbidden items. Once, a general asked him to bring a woman into the camp. At the time, they were fighting nomads on the Empire’s eastern frontier, deep in the desert. Somehow, Kato managed to sneak a prostitute into the supply convoy and delivered her to the general’s tent. The affair reached the tribunal; the general suffered disgrace, and Kato barely escaped severe punishment. General Adrick, ever on the hunt for “talent,” recruited him into his ranks.

When Shaya followed Kevin to the regiment’s base, Kevin handed him over to Kato. “Kato! Outfit this kid.”

Kato, eyes shifty, approached, sniffing at Shaya with his hooked nose before grinning broadly. “I smell a rookie. Well, rookie, from today you’re our brother! Ask me for anything you want—ham? Tobacco?”

Shaya was momentarily speechless, but Kevin frowned impatiently. “Kato, stop wasting time. The general’s waiting to see him.” With that, Kevin hurried off.

Watching Kevin’s retreating back, Shaya hadn’t spoken before Kato patted his shoulder amiably. “Don’t mind him. He’s a hothead, but a good guy—you’ll see in time.”

Kato paused, then turned to examine Shaya’s horse. It was the mighty black stallion Shaya had seized from the Dark Night Guards, kept and raised behind his mountain, now chosen for this trip.

Kato’s eyes widened with professional scrutiny as he looked over the horse, then at Shaya. “Did you bring this yourself?” He stroked his chin, grinning slyly. “I see you’re not so simple yourself… This is a top-class warhorse, trained rigorously, and there’s a brand mark on its leg!”

Shaya tensed, cursing his carelessness—after all, he’d acquired the horse through violence; if discovered…

Kato noticed Shaya’s anxiety, laughed, and lowered his voice. “Relax, whether it’s stolen or seized, it doesn’t matter. Here, especially among the general’s personal guard, none of us are saints, hah!”

Not saints… Is that how one describes his own men?

Kato bent down, scooped up some mud, and smeared it over the brand on the horse’s leg, grinning. “Later, I’ll get a knife and scrape off the branded skin, apply some medicine. In two days your horse will be lively and unrecognizable. Remember, if anyone asks, deny everything! Hmph, who in our regiment dares trouble you?” His tone was full of pride.

He swiftly led Shaya to receive two sets of uniforms and a suit of armor and weapons.

Shaya was thrilled. In his hands was a double-edged sword, cross-shaped and jet-black, its cold blade gleaming. Though standard issue, the fine steel and expert craftsmanship befitted the elite army of the Byzantine Empire.

He lovingly stroked the blade, as if caressing a lover. Such a sword, in Wildfire Town, would fetch a fortune…

This was the finest weapon Shaya had ever used!

The fire fork didn’t count—it was only a fire fork…

There was also an oval shield, lined with leather. On its face, inscribed in Byzantine script, was a line of symbols. Shaya deciphered it:

“Rodria! Advance, or die!”

He sighed, recalling Kevin’s tales of the regiment’s glorious history—indeed, such honor was deeply woven into every facet of the unit.

Because of Shaya’s tall frame, he received a large set of armor—a light suit, crafted from thick leather and iron plates. Three plates protected each shoulder and the chest, skillfully forged by Shaya’s estimation.

His uniform was typical Byzantine military attire: a short-sleeved tunic lined with felt and leather, snug and sturdy riding trousers, tightly wrapped leggings that narrowed his calves, and leather boots with spikes inside, making a brisk, commanding sound with every step.

“You’re now just in the personal guard. We don’t wear heavy cavalry armor unless assigned to battle—then we get the real gear! Four-meter-long lances, giant oval shields half a man’s height. With your build, you’ll handle them easily.” Kato laughed, friendly as ever, and slipped a small bottle into Shaya’s palm—a bottle of potato liquor, not the finest, but forbidden in the army.

Kato winked, his gaze warm and conspiratorial. “Don’t tell anyone. Every new brother gets a gift—it’s our guard’s tradition. Enjoy it tonight in your tent, rookie!”

This gesture quickly won Shaya’s affection. He began to like this place.

And the people in this guard suited him—the affable Kato, the straightforward, headstrong Kevin, both seemed good sorts.

Though, as Kato said, everyone in the guard was “no saint”—such a reputation…

Hmm, joining such a unit—for Shaya, was it a blessing or a curse?