Глава 12

<i>New red wheat seeds, a burdenbeast saddle</i>

<i>Mill operation unit, looking for previously owned</i>

<i>Spine massager? May need mail order</i>

<i>Two woolen coats, Swinton's tailorshop, dad's needs its hem trimmed short.</i>

<i><The Romance of Ives> (crossed out) (I said, I forgot)</i>

<i>Grab some cheap candy to tide the kids over</i>

<i>Ask George if you can borrow his medal!</i>

Piers.

Yes, Captain!

I heard your leave was approved.

Yes, I suppose it went rather well. It's all thanks to...

It's all thanks to that babyface of yours, lad.

The brass occasionally want to put up a facade of caring about their subordinates. They call it good branding.

Haha, I guess the brass happened to be in a good mood.

The mill back home stopped working and the old carpenter there broke his leg again, so my mother asked me home to help out.

Ten days of leave, minus eight days on the road. A day and a half is more than enough for me to deal with that rickety antique!

I left an extra half-day open, just in case my dad needs help tilling the other part of the field.

Oh right, I should pick up another dozen work gloves. The ones back home are past their prime.

Hmm. Is this... a shopping list?

That's right, Captain. Just so nothing is missing. I don't know when I'm going to get time off again.

Hopefully you've earned yourself a real medal or two by then.

Of course. All for Victoria!

That's the kind of ambition I want to see, lad.

I once knew a bloke named Todd. He and I fought against those Spire Casters out on the frontier, and he earned himself a solid gold medal.

What a beautiful thing that was, glittering as it hung on his chest. It shone so brightly nobody could take their eyes off it.

Our beloved Duke Windermere personally awarded him the medal, which is the highest of honors for any soldier. But, at the celebration banquet later on, old Todd had a bitter look on his face.

Can you guess why?

Because he wasn't satisfied with the merits he earned?

No, no. It's much worse than that.

He couldn't lift his mug to take a swig of beer. His hands got replaced with a pair of wooden prosthetics, hah!

The veteran officer grins, showing a mouthful of yellowed teeth.

The young soldier laughs dryly. He knows this is one of the officer's many poor jokes.

The wind is so strong on the deck that the soldier has to hold on to the brim of his hat, letting out a loud yet harmless sneeze.

No matter the season or weather, standing on the deck of a prancing high-speed battleship always makes one want to wrap himself in his coat.

The young soldier thinks to himself– Wells is in charge today; how many cans of rations did that pudgy, bald man swipe?

But, the creamy vegetable chowder he makes is without equal, and if fortune is on his side, that old bastard might even throw in a healthy serving of fowlbeast into the soup.

He figures that he should leave after the sun sets and he finishes dinner.

The mobile fortress they're stationed in has already reached Londinium's vicinity. When the weather is clear, they can even see the pinnacle of The Shard on the horizon.

After returning to the station, he'd board the logistics squad's transport vehicle and head to the nearest town first, where he'd be able to have a drink or two at the tavern.

In the early morning, there'd be cobblers heading into town to sell their wares. Two boxes of tobacco would let them hitch a ride.

The young soldier recalls those barns from back home, always filled with the fermented smell of composted straw.

Even now, that smell occasionally wafts to him in his dreams, making him want to pinch his nose. But at the same time, it represents a connection with his hometown.

If it only occurs occasionally, then so be it. He furrows his brows quietly, deciding not to continue deluding himself with these sentiments.

Even if it's only occasional, he doesn't want to experience that stench again. He must admit, that is always the biggest impediment every time he returns home.

Ugh, the fog's rising again. I'll never get used to Londinium's bloody weather.

Wasn't much better when we were stationed at Leithanien's outskirts, but at least you could enjoy a little sunshine in the afternoon.

Go. Tell the Captain, we can't see a thing at this weather observation outpost. Something's interfering with the radar too. We should head back.

Caster's forces are obediently maintaining formation, Gododdin moved his men further back. Other than the few familiar faces in the forward team, old Wellington's main force still hasn't shown up.

Other than our dear Duke Windermere, the remaining seven dukes are watching on from the sidelines. The patrol's over.

Sir, that Sarkaz...

None of our business. The brass always have their own agenda.

But, I heard that Londinium's...

Piers, I've been a soldier for over a decade. After drinking and playing cards, the most important thing I've picked up from being in the army is–

Those rumors you hear are always bunkum and balderdash. Never pay any heed to them. The officers in the back have their eyes on the map and will take care of everything; ours is but to do and die.

Isn't it our duty... to defend Victoria?

Only they can decide what Victoria is, boy. Our job is simply to follow orders.

Go and head back. Our day of peace is over.

I ought to treat myself to a hot shower. This damn fog's making my bones ache.

Maybe things have been too stressful these days. The young soldier begins to thank himself for taking some time off to unwind.

The battlefield always puts people on edge, even more so when you don't know where the when or where war will break out, or who you can trust.

He thinks to himself, it's a bit clammy.

He lifts his hand to undo the first button of his shirt. Seeing as how his dear officer had just declared the end of the armistice, a little disregard for protocol shouldn't matter.

He thinks of the fireplace back home. A few years ago, he came home wearing a brand-new military outfit, unwilling to undo even a single button despite sweating profusely from the heat of hearth. For that, the young lass Shirley laughed at him for quite some time.

The young soldier curls the corner of his lips.

Heh. That's why I didn't bring you your sappy romance novel. Payback.

Main cannon output is normal. Confirming target destroyed.

Good.

Begin preparations for the next phase. The dukes will react soon.

Your Highness.

Y-Your Highness!

Hmm, a new face?

Y-Yes! Your Highness, I was just promoted from the mercenary unit by the General!

It... It is the greatest honor... You've always been my...

It's an honor to make your acquaintance as well. What is your name?

My name... My name is...

(whispers) I don't have a formal name... They just call me 'Elbow.'

Uhh... Damn, I should've picked a name from a book.

'Elbow'... Why that name?

It's nothing, I just got burnt when I was drinking soup... I mean, it's a stupid story, hardly worth your attention, Your Highness...

You must've been holding your bowl too high.

No! It was 'Plug'! That bastard ran into me! The next time I see him, I swear...

Your Highness.

Oh, I... I'm sorry, General, Your Highness.

You may leave. It seems you still have a lot of work to do.

I heard they're serving creamy vegetable chowder at the airship garrison tonight. Don't miss supper time.

Thank you, Your Highness Theresa.

We...

'When each battle ends, the Sarkaz have a home to return to.'

We'll be able to return to Kazdel soon, right?

Of course.

I prefer to be with them rather than with the aristocrats of the Royal Court.

Each and every moment, the collective souls of the Sarkaz force me to my knees, immersing me in our long and painful history.

But they... these newly-grown children, give me a tangible sense of the future.

And... what should we do with this future? Consign it to another round of wars sweeping across the land?

When scorched earth spreads as far as the eye can see, will these new seedlings sprout as we hope?

Hope is as weighty as ever, Manfred.

Your Highness...

In accordance with the Military Commission's plans, a section of Londinium has been detached. As of right now, it has arrived at the designated location, parked between the main city and the dukes' encirclement.

It will become the cornerstone and launchpad of our next offensive, and this airship will also temporarily dock there.

The Duke of Windermere should soon receive news that her high-speed battleship has been destroyed, but she also cannot ignore the threat this airship poses, which in turn will help the Nachzehrer King's front develop.