Chapter Fifty-Seven: The First Mission

The station of the Thirteenth Cavalry Corps was situated at the foot of a mountain, about fifty miles northwest of Wildfire Town. This location was a crucial passage on the northern trade route; further northwest lay the Albachert Plain, a narrow stretch spanning a quarter of the Wildfire Field, and the only expanse of flat land in the region. It bordered the territories of dwarves and goblins, its level terrain serving as a vital corridor for caravans traveling between the two nations.

The Thirteenth Cavalry Corps had been ordered to garrison here, to prevent the armies of the Odin Empire from breaking through. The current battle plan was clear: regular imperial regiments were stationed northwest, north, and northeast of Wildfire Town, forming a barrier against the Odin invasion. The aim was to confront the enemy on the Wildfire Field, holding them beyond the borders of the Byzantine Empire. Two more regular regiments were positioned south of Wildfire Town as reserves, ready to reinforce once the Odin attack route was determined, and all other troops would move quickly to support.

This strategy was still unknown to Shaya, nor did he realize that Albachert was about to become a place of bloodshed.

Having received his equipment, Shaya was assigned a tent—he shared it with the bald man, Kevin. After changing into the military uniform inside, Shaya stepped out to find Kevin already waiting for him.

The bald man wore a stern expression. "Now I'll take you to meet the general. Listen well: no one bullies newcomers here, because the general is very fair. But if you wish to become one of us, you'll have to prove yourself!"

As he spoke, Kevin muttered a phrase well-known among the Thirteenth Cavalry: "Either leave, or become one of us. But you must earn everyone's approval—show respect when you see the general, he is our leader!"

As he turned to lead the way, Kevin hesitated, adding, "Your riding posture is stiff, your horsemanship needs work—you'll have to practice more. We are cavalry, after all!"

Though the words were blunt, there was no malice; his tone was honest and straightforward.

Shaya nodded and followed him to see General Adrick.

※※※

Clad in his uniform, Shaya followed Kevin into the main tent of the command. General Adrick was frowning over a military report freshly delivered, and beside him stood a middle-aged man with a mane of silver hair, imposing and martial in bearing.

"Albachert is the most likely route for the enemy's advance. As usual, the strongest fighting force is placed here, leaving the hardest bone for us to chew—damn, that's the tradition of the military." Adrick put down the report with a laughing curse.

The silver-haired man beside him was equally bold, pride shining on his face. "That’s how it should be. The Second and Ninth Regiments, those weaklings, aren’t qualified to fight for the spoils with us!"

"Enough, Butler. Get your men ready. I want all equipment prepared by tomorrow evening. Push the supply office—if there are more delays, I’ll draw my blade and start killing!"

The silver-haired Butler, standard-bearer of the Third Banner under the Thirteenth Cavalry Corps, straightened, struck his chest in salute, and strode out. On his way, he encountered Kevin and Shaya, glanced at Shaya, and laughed, "The newcomer looks sturdy—a good soldier!"

A good soldier...

Watching the silver-haired man leave, Shaya felt odd about the compliment.

General Adrick lifted his gaze, scrutinizing Shaya in uniform. The scar across his face reddened with excitement, making him appear even fiercer, yet his eyes inspired no fear in Shaya—rather, a sense of kinship.

"You look good in uniform. You’ll be a fine soldier." Adrick touched his forehead, his hawk-like eyes sweeping over Shaya. "How does this skin feel?"

Shaya lifted his head, neither humble nor arrogant. "Not bad. Looks sharp."

"It is sharp. I know how to pick men. You’re as sturdy as a young bull, but your eyes are as fierce as a wolf cub—ha!"

Shaya said nothing. Was that praise?

For some reason, standing before this commanding general, Shaya felt uneasy, as if the man’s presence pressed down on him.

"You’re local? Grew up on the Wildfire Field?"

"Yes," Shaya nodded.

"You must know the terrain well."

Shaya nodded again.

Adrick stood, walked over, and took down a large leather map hanging on the wall—a map of the Wildfire Field. He pointed at it. "Can you tell me where we are?"

Without hesitation, Shaya stepped forward and indicated the correct location.

"You can read? You know Byzantine script?" Adrick smiled with satisfaction, his scar twitching. "Tell me about the northern terrain."

Shaya considered for a moment. "We’re blocking the southern end of the Albachert Corridor. Heading north, you pass through Albachert and reach Odin... The flank borders the dwarves’ territory. Those hills and caves—no one dares venture there. Further over is the goblins’ Red Wasteland, barren, with only goblin tribes and wolf packs roaming. A few mountains nearby house bandit strongholds. Anything else you want to know?"

He looked up, meeting the general’s gaze directly.

The more he spoke, the more relaxed Shaya became—inwardly scoffing, having seen dragons, what was there to fear?

Adrick was pleased with his answers. He nodded, picked up a small iron badge from the desk—a horseshoe-shaped piece, embossed with raised patterns.

"This is your rank: a common private. But I can’t give it to you yet." Adrick locked eyes with Shaya, his gaze electric and voice grave. "You must face a trial—a task. When you return, as my personal guard, I’ll pin this badge on you myself."

Shaya raised his head, meeting Adrick’s eyes unwaveringly.

"I will send a squad of scout cavalry north; you know the terrain, so go with them. Learn what you must." Adrick hesitated, then said, "Kevin, accompany him. Teach him well."

Before Shaya could respond, Kevin, standing rigidly at attention, immediately struck his chest and barked, "Yes, General!"

※※※

Before departure, since they were to serve as mounted scouts, Kevin took Shaya to the supply office for cavalry gear.

When it came to choosing weapons, Kevin selected a heavy flanged mace, while Shaya refused it, also passing on the lance, finally picking a pole-axe.

He clearly had a particular fondness for axes.

The cavalry pole-axe was about a meter and a half long, double-bladed, with a spike at the head—useful for both hacking and thrusting. Shaya chose this hefty weapon, and Kevin made no comment.

Back in the tent, as they packed their things, the blunt man hesitated, glanced at Shaya, and said quietly, "Your horse draws too much attention. To avoid trouble, best not to use it for now. I’ll lend you one of my spare mounts."

Shaya paused, studying the man’s sincere, bald head.

Clearly, Kevin had noticed the peculiarity of Shaya’s steed but had kept silent. Seeing Kevin’s candid gaze, Shaya smiled, went over, and patted his shoulder. "Thank you."

He was beginning to like this bald fellow.