The soldiers marched down a crooked, winding slope that looked like it had been drawn by a child. The terrain, shaped like a gentle mortar groove, bore clear signs of long years of heavy traffic. Along this mountain path, a loosely scattered formation advanced.

“Pretty sorry sight, isn’t it? Not just the uneven stamina, most of them haven’t even finished basic training.”

As if trying to hide her embarrassment at showing a messy room to a guest, Deborah scratched her head awkwardly. Walm stepped in to defend the chief instructor.

“At least they have training. That already makes them more civilized than Highserk.”

“Oh? Trying to comfort me, are you?”

“I wish that was the case, but I mean it.”

Calling it On-the-Job Training made it sound better than it was. In reality, it was a method of forcing clueless farmers to learn the job through actual combat. Under the blood-soaked guidance of veterans, raw recruits were rapidly forged into soldiers. On top of that, the Highserk empire’s recruitment standards were refreshingly simple, meaning no resumes or interviews required. All they needed was a healthy body and their own life to offer. What a wonderful organization and workplace it was.

“Still… having reinforcements from an imperial knight is reassuring.”

“I’m just glad it’s you people. Otherwise, I’d be out on the streets with nowhere to go.”

After seeing Ayane off to the field hospital at the front, Walm was immediately faced with a problem… his unit assignment.

Mobile artillery was something everyone wanted, but Walm was still, at least on paper, a soldier of the Highserk Empire. On top of that, the nature of his abilities raised concerns about friendly fire, making it difficult to integrate him into Mayard forces. The Justus Brigade, which had many former Highserk soldiers, was already fully engaged at the front, locked in delaying actions. Which left him without a proper assignment.

As the idea of leaving him idle as a reserve “firefighting” force was seriously being considered, Deborah’s training company stepped forward. They were in that gray zone between regular soldiers and conscripted militia. If one were to strip away the polite justifications of those in power, it meant they were considered expendable. They were trained enough to be useful, but not so valuable that losses would be deeply mourned.

“Hah… If even a knight ends up wandering the streets, the world’s really coming to an end.”

As the light banter continued, Walm suddenly heard a gentle voice from behind.

“It seems you and my wife are quite close, Walm.”

He turned stiffly, like a rusted puppet. Standing there was Yogim, Deborah’s husband. Despite his usual gentle expression, his eyes held no warmth at all.

“You idiot… a man’s jealousy isn’t a good look.”

“Haha… what are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

The sturdy chief instructor wrapped her arm around Yogim’s bicep. What exactly were the commanding officer and her assistant doing during a march? Walm felt a wave of secondhand discomfort.

At the same time, he understood that it was a kind of switch. The more capable a soldier was, the better they were at it. One moment, they could be gently speaking to horses or livestock, and the next, calmly stirring an enemy’s guts with the tip of a spear.

Walm looked to their son for help, but perhaps accustomed to his parents’ blatant flirting, Moiz didn’t even glance back. Walm quickened his pace to walk alongside him.

“Shouldn’t you be enjoying some family time?”

“Ah… well… I think I’ll pass for now.”

That was a roundabout complaint. It wasn’t surprising he felt awkward. Still, something about the hesitant reply felt off to Walm. At Dandurg, Moiz had shown strength that rivaled his parents. He wasn’t the type to tense up like a fresh recruit. And Deborah had mentioned he fought in the battle of Aidenberg.

Back then, after the decisive defeat, the area around the fallen capital had turned into hunting grounds for Mayard soldiers. Yet Moiz had survived that hell and even made it back home without being taken prisoner. Compared to that, the current situation should’ve been far easier. At least now, there were still options… however few.

“Good to see you’ve got a sense of independence.”

Putting on a lighthearted tone, Walm tapped his shoulder with the shaft of his halberd. Idle hands were dangerous as they gnawed at one’s sanity. Even an imperial knight was, at heart, no different from a boy swinging a stick.

“It’s nothing that impressive… Ah, we can see it now.”

“That’s the Orzelika pass, huh?”

Just beyond the curve along the mountainside was the training company’s assigned position.

“One of the six passes that make up the outer line of the Zerebes mountains, huh. On the way back from Refun, we took Kagatsu pass… same idea, using the ridgeline.”

“This one’s also a defensive stronghold created by cutting through multiple ridges.”

A road carved through the ridge functioned like a natural rampart. Any force attempting to pass through would be fired upon from the high ground on both sides. It was simple, but highly effective.

“So this is just the forward position? With the supporting castle behind it, even a large army could be stopped.”

The ancestors who carved out the six passes of Zerebes had been obsessively thorough, almost to the point of madness. With defenses like this on land, they could focus resources on their navy. It likely reflected their confidence in not losing at sea.

From a military standpoint, it was far stronger than Aidenberg. It was no wonder the military god Gerald Berger had chosen to leave it alone.

“During the Great Rampage the forward position was breached, but they held the line at the fortress behind.”

“I like defenses with depth. Though having a fallback can make troops retreat too easily.”

Walm had no desire to relive the kind of war where “hold at all costs” orders were endlessly repeated. Still, once soldiers got used to retreating, it was hard to break that habit. Unless the leadership which served as the brain and nerves of the army, were replaced, the unit would break again.

“By the way…”

They hadn’t even encountered the enemy yet, and all he could think about was battle. Realizing how warped he had become, Walm took the cue from the couple behind him, and decided to change the subject. Of course, he had no intention of embracing their son for no reason.

“The six passes of Zerebes… Orzelika pass, Kagatsu pass, Kokuro pass, Cape Gala… what were the others again?”

Walm glanced at Moiz for help. The young man answered readily.

“Tarmakane and Asarina.”

“Impressive. Tarmakane and Asarina, huh… You’ve got a good memory. You should at least memorize key friendly positions.”

“I’ll be staying in Selta for a while… And my mom…I mean the chief instructor, made us run all six passes during training marches.”

Forced marches in preparation for emergencies were essential for rapid deployment. It seemed the Mayard army had conducted highly practical exercises.

Walm was impressed, but his interest quickly shifted to Moiz’s slip of the tongue. With a mischievous grin, he pressed the issue through silence alone, and Moiz started talking.

“Guardian Chief… um… if you could keep that between us… from the instructor and her aide…”

“Keep what?”

The cold response hit like a blade. Moiz’s face twisted in despair.

Walm figured he had pushed the teasing a bit too far, since if Moiz panicked, that would be a problem. Even as an imperial knight, he had no desire to face retaliation from that couple.

“Relax, I’m joking. I’ll keep it to myself.”

“…Thank you. Being chased all night… or sparring until my face and backside swell up… no thanks.”

To an outsider, it might’ve sounded like a joke but knowing those two, it wasn’t. Especially Deborah. Her punches could literally send someone flying. An average soldier would be in tears, begging for mercy.

Walm himself had once been battered in a mock battle and carried to the infirmary, only to be scolded by Ayane afterward. The memory was still fresh.

“Yeah… those hits are no joke.”

“Heh, even you can’t handle it, Guardian Chief?”

That unexpected moment of shared understanding brought the conversation to life. Come to think of it, Walm had never really spoken alone with Moiz before.

There was no shortage of topics. Their idle chatter continued uninterrupted, right up until they reached the forward position.

Translator – Lyxxna