Signe, who’d gone to the car ahead, came back with her arms full of snacks. Like a squirrel just before hibernation, she stuffed small sweets—candies and chocolates—into the pockets of her military gear, saying she’d share them with her peers when she arrived at the Port.
Leonardo, who was spraying the muscle relaxant she’d brought onto the back of his hand, was about to say something when he saw how her gear was bulging more and more, but decided against it. She was someone who couldn’t sleep from excitement about her upcoming enlistment, and he didn’t want to ruin her mood by telling her her personal items would be confiscated the moment she entered the Port.
The military was an organization where nine out of ten regretted joining once they were in, anyway. There was no need to scare her in advance. He only told her to eat as much as she wanted as she tore open a new packet of crackers.
The mark on the back of his hand that had been bothering him all along faded to a faint outline, then disappeared after they’d ridden the train for about two hours. It didn’t hurt. Still, it sometimes felt strangely hot and itchy—enough to make even him, a fire mage, feel as if he’d been burned.
With about thirty minutes left to their destination, Leonardo and Signe changed trains. The train they boarded next was a modern locomotive headed toward the military demarcation line, and it ran much faster, adding mana as propulsive force to its internal combustion engine.
With no seats left, they set their gear down in a corner by the window and leaned against the wall. The car held plenty of regular passengers, but greenhorns in military uniforms like Signe were common, too. They were smoking heavily from anxiety.
In fact, Signe was the unusual one; the typical expression before enlistment, as Leonardo remembered it, was mostly as {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} gloomy as theirs.
Unlike the Imperial Knights or the Council’s army—both notoriously difficult to enter among the empire’s three main military institutions—the Imperial Army had a relatively low barrier to entry. As long as you passed the physical test, anyone could become a trainee unless there were major disqualifications like a mental disorder. Becoming an official soldier was harder than that, of course.
In other words, among the enlistment candidates, people who had lived at the bottom of society were common. And the reason they volunteered was usually the same.
To survive.
“The atmosphere feels dark...”
“That’s how the military is. It’s not like you’re going on a picnic.”
This time, Leonardo answered Signe firmly as she muttered while reading the mood. He also warned her with a small gesture not to look around too much, in case someone decided to pick a fight.
Maybe it was because he’d been reminded of what he’d looked like when he enlisted.
The boy—so small there had barely been a uniform that fit him—had folded up his long trouser cuffs and smoked like them. The boy’s eyes, reflected in the window, were full of animosity. Anger toward the enemy, but also a deep desperation to survive alone in this land.
Jumping into a war zone to survive. It sounded contradictory, but it was also the surest fence for a boy that age against human traffickers or pedophiles. He’d later learned those people were rampant in the military, too, but at least there weren’t many who would boldly covet an ally’s backside when an enemy might be closing in to slit their throats.
‘Has it been more than ten years already?’
That day, he’d boarded a train bound for Lederpol, the old downtown. In the early stages of the war, as people evacuated to Castbell while the Turandos Army conquered Bellmayer’s western fortress, it was the only train still heading for Lederpol—moving against the crowd.
The old material transport train, nowhere near as fast as trains were now, slid into hell carrying boy soldiers who’d volunteered, practically sold off. Of course, after the war ended, the military imposed an age restriction so only those fifteen or older could enlist. But back then, the war was in full swing, and they conscripted indiscriminately, without distinguishing between children and the elderly. The military wouldn’t refuse cannon fodder that rolled in.
Outside the window—cloudy and bleak, as if it might rain—flames and ash were scattered. Beyond the horizon, the sky, soaked in sparks and blood, was dyed a solid red. Inside the train, an unpleasant silence circled, as if those about to die were barely breathing.
The damp, sticky heat unique to transport cars. The squeal of makeshift chairs shifting with every roll of the iron wheels. Back then, one guy sobbed as he clutched an old-style communication magic tool. A voice mixed with static leaked from it—the owner of the voice bringing news that the Raina Logia Army, locked in on the frontlines, had failed to retake the fortress.
Then came the grim message that even rear units and boy soldiers were being deployed to the front.
Maybe someone had connected the line to tell the walking corpses on their way to enlistment what the situation was, but it was a pointless kindness that made you want to kill them.
In that moment, Leonardo realized that not only he, but all the nameless comrades in the car, were focused on the voice spilling from the tool. The thread of fate binding them was pulled tight, and the emotional tremor ran through them all. After that, two guys vomited in the car, and one wet himself. No one on the train cursed or spat at them.
“This station is Bellmayer Port—Bellmayer Port!”
At the attendant’s shout from the next car, Leonardo woke from his heavy thoughts and returned to reality. The view outside, which he’d been unconsciously glaring at, had already retreated from flames and ash. Vegetation recovering from the scars of war was budding, putting out new leaves.
“Teo, looks like we’re here.”
“Yeah.”
The sour, sickening stench of the past almost brushed his nose as the memory followed, then vanished. The smoky smell still filling the car remained, but Leonardo thought this was far better.
Because it was an era when an enlistee on a train could still picture a future.
And until that era arrived, he thought his role wasn’t entirely absent.
Even if his name remained in this land as someone dishonorably discharged.
The two passed through the checkpoint without difficulty after getting off onto Bellmayer Port Station’s platform. They went through the waiting room side by side and out into the square in front of the station building, where they bought the private military supplies Signe said she needed. Since snacks would be overlooked the least and camouflage cream was tolerated to a degree, Leonardo helped by loosening her packed gear so she could hide the purchases throughout her luggage.
Afterward, they walked together toward the tram stop that led to the escort-vehicle boarding area. In the distance, figures in the same-colored uniforms swarmed. It was a sight that drew a sigh from a former soldier almost automatically.
From then on, Signe spoke noticeably less, as if the reality of enlistment was settling in. Somehow her stride seemed shorter, too, so Leonardo quietly matched her pace. They were just about to cross the last crosswalk to the stop when she suddenly halted and spoke awkwardly.
“Thanks for coming with me this far.”
Leonardo, mid-step into the street, stopped. Signe continued with a wide smile.
“Still, coming while talking with someone on the way to enlistment—I’m not lonely.”
After a quick scan of their surroundings, Leonardo pulled her in toward the inner edge of the sidewalk. Seeing they had no intention of crossing, the traffic guide blew his whistle again at the congested lane.
The crawling carriages began to pick up speed. Leonardo adjusted his hat in the shade behind the corner of the wall, then replied casually.
“No need for thanks. I did as much as you did. I went with you to that strange place.”
“Still. You could’ve parted ways there, but you came to see me off because you were thinking about me.”
Signe, perhaps embarrassed by her own words, nudged him with her elbow as if demanding he admit it. Leonardo shrugged, meaning she could think whatever she wanted. After a brief, awkward silence, feeling it was time to wrap things up, he pulled his wallet from his inner pocket.
One, two, three... He counted the bills one by one, then gave up and grabbed a dozen or so at once. It was too much for pocket money, but his hand moved on its own.
He smoothed the bills, folded them twice, and dropped to one knee in front of Signe. Then, without permission, he rolled up her trouser cuff slightly. Startled, Signe reflexively stepped back.
“W-what are you doing?”
“Hold still. This is the safest place.”
Leonardo moved closer on his knees. He took her ankle in one hand and shoved the bundle of bills down inside her sock and military boot. Then he fixed her trouser cuff again and even retied her loosening bootlaces tight.
After checking both sides in turn, he suddenly grinned and looked up.
“Sometimes there are bad guys who extort money from kids under the pretext of ‘training’ them. If that happens, don’t fight back—just give them what’s in your wallet. Use this.”
Finished, Leonardo stood and brushed at his knees. Signe, who’d been staring at him, lowered her gaze and looked blankly at the bootlaces he’d tied for her. They were much neater and tighter than if she’d done it herself. When she looked up at him again, it was only natural that her face had warmed slightly.
