Ding~
The gentle sound of a harp echoed through the fortress hall.
The audience below was utterly entranced by the music.
Inside the hall, the lights were bright, and laughter and cheer filled the air.
With the glorious victory over the barbarian army, the soldiers—once rotting away due to military budget cuts—had now regained much of their morale.
Though their material rewards were still meager, they were now spiritually stronger than ever.
Thanks to the heroism displayed during that ambush, Oak Town’s attitude toward those “turncoat” soldiers changed overnight.
The past complaints and resentment had all turned into the most admiring gazes.
And the treatment those “heroes” received in turn inspired many of the soldiers who had once given up hope and fallen into despair.
“I heard your Medal was personally pinned by Colonel Ryan?”
A soldier glanced enviously at a veteran dressed in uniform, a simple Medal pinned to his chest. It wasn’t even officially issued by the Army Department, but just something forged by the local blacksmith.
“Of course.”
Though the Medal was of little actual value, and unlike a formal medal, offered no special treatment or reward, the veteran who had returned from the battlefield still cherished it more than words could express, carefully stroking and straightening it.
“At the time, I was surrounded by a whole bunch of barbarian warriors—must have been seven or eight of them. There was no way I could win, so I had to fight and retreat at the same time…”
A flicker of memory flashed through the veteran’s eyes as he began recounting his battle experience to his comrades.
Seven or eight barbarian warriors?
Unlike the Imperial army, whose quality was uneven, among the barbarians, a “warrior” was a special profession. In other words, apart from slaves, logistics, and other support troops, the barbarian army was almost entirely made up of professionals.
Although this veteran was also a professional, he was only a level twenty or thirty warrior. Being chased by seven or eight at once, survival seemed impossible no matter how you looked at it.
“Whew.” The rest of the listeners unconsciously held their breath. “So how did you escape?”
“I didn’t escape,” the veteran said, still shaken. “In fact, I was completely surrounded at that point, certain I was about to die, already making my final prayers to the God of Light in my heart.”
“But…”
The veteran’s tone shifted. “Just as I was about to die, a miracle happened. A cavalryman—a member of the Death Squad—suddenly charged out, barreling right into the enemy’s encirclement.”
“Death Squad?”
One of the listeners clicked his tongue in disbelief.
Everyone knew that the Death Squad was made up of corrupt officials and scoundrels, joining only to escape military punishment.
Could people like that really have the courage to rush into the enemy ranks, knowing they would almost certainly die?
“I have no reason to lie to you.”
Tears welled up in the veteran’s eyes. “I figured he must have never expected to come back alive. He charged straight in, knocked down a few barbarians, and was dragged from his horse, slashing at them with wounds all over his body.”
“But even then, he didn’t scream in pain. Instead, he shouted, ‘Long live the Empire!’ and told me to retreat quickly.”
The veteran’s emotions grew somber and he said with feeling, “I didn’t even know him. I don’t understand why he risked his life to help a stranger like me retreat.”
“But maybe because the barbarians focused all their attention on him, I suddenly noticed a gap in their formation. I took the chance to slash down their leader, and just as the others turned on me, reinforcements arrived just in time.”
He patted his chest, still nervous. “I carried that Death Squad member back to the line. Then, for bravely fighting against the odds and slaying a Centurion, I was awarded this Medal.”
The veteran sighed quietly. “But compared to that Death Squad member? How can I call myself a hero?”
“Then, squad leader, what happened to that Death Squad member later?” The young soldier, fully immersed in the thrilling tale, couldn’t help but ask, “Did he… did he recover?”
“He died,” the veteran replied, a trace of sorrow in his eyes. “Think about it. Surrounded by so many professionals, how could he possibly survive?”
“You know, in the medical tent, I couldn’t help but ask him why. Why would he risk his life for a complete stranger like me?”
Yeah, why?
Everyone nearby looked curiously at the squad leader.
The hand stroking the Medal on the veteran’s chest suddenly turned white.
“Because, you’re a hero.” The veteran’s voice broke a little. “That’s what he told me. Compared to a piece of trash like him, someone who had gone along with corrupt officers and done dirty deeds, a person willing to sacrifice himself was more worthy of living.”
“Anyway, under military law, I should have been executed. Between a worthless scoundrel and a self-sacrificing hero, who deserves to live more?”
Gulp, gulp.
The veteran grabbed his wine cup and downed it in one go.
Bang.
“But I’m not a hero. He is.” The veteran unpinned the Medal from his chest. “Compared to me, he’s more deserving of the Medal’s honor.”
Moved by the squad leader’s heartfelt words, everyone else was affected as well—some quietly sobbing, others looking on with admiration.
“It’s alright, squad leader!” The soldier who had asked the first question nodded firmly. “I heard Old Martin say that the special envoy from the capital is almost here. When the time comes, that Death Squad member who sacrificed himself will definitely be awarded a Medal!”
“A Medal authorized by the Army Department and signed by the Prime Minister himself is worth way more than a regular Medal issued by the commander!”
The soldier patted the squad leader’s shoulder in encouragement.
“Yeah, you’re right.” The veteran managed a smile through his tears. “I know that too. In fact, I visited the Death Squad member’s hometown a few days ago.”
“Oh?” The other soldiers exchanged surprised looks.
Most Death Squad members came from the cavalry corps, and compared to the relatively wealthy cavalrymen, these ordinary folk who had only joined the army to make a living could rarely move in the same circles in such a class-divided empire.
Not noticing his comrades’ surprise, the squad leader continued, “His father runs a magitek repair shop. Sigh… he was just one month away from finishing his conscription and being discharged.”
“When I visited his home, his father was very wary of me at first. But when I knelt and apologized, telling him that his son died saving me, his father…”
“His father knelt to the ground too, and we held each other, crying our eyes out. He said, he said he couldn’t hate me, because I proved his son was a hero.”
The squad leader raised his head and gazed hopefully at the imperial envoy, now slowly making his way to the main seat surrounded by the crowd.
“Yes, his son was a hero. Once the envoy learns the truth, he’s sure to bestow an honorary Medal upon him.”
The squad leader watched the envoy expectantly.
For people of the Empire, a Medal was no ordinary token; it was not only an honor for the individual, but also glory for the entire family.
Without the Medal, the hero who saved him might even have been despised and accused of “dereliction of duty.”
Luckily, His Majesty’s envoy was here now—everything would be alright!