Second Life as a Soldier

One month after the Captain’s announcement, I had to report to Chief Sapper Brydon Carse.

Carse’s office sat low in the command building, half carved from the same stone as the fort and half patched with timber that smelled faintly of pine tar. The room hummed with a dozen low conversations. The air smelled of oil, damp leather, and the faint sweetness of rune-dust.

Chief Sapper Brydon Carse himself was a broad-shouldered man in middle age, the sort of man whose face had learned to frown out of habit. Officially, he held the rank of lieutenant. He spoke with the dry, practical cadence of a man used to plans and failures.

“Good morning.” He stepped forward, and the room quieted. “All of you here have some experience with sapper work. Last month’s survey is complete. We’ll begin fortifying the walls and towers from today, and we’ll also repair the moat and trench lines. We’ll be working on a four-day schedule, which includes your rest day. The remaining three days, you’ll serve with your regular squads. To compensate, every man will receive one extra crystal per month.” He paused to let that sink in. Mana crystals were precious to ordinary soldiers; even one extra could mean faster cultivation, or more savings for retirement.

“Plans for the next five months,” he continued, laying them out with the blunt clarity of a field map. “For the first two months, four squads will focus on wall reinforcement. We’ll inject a mana-stabilized gravel-lime mix into the foundations, molten where required, to bind the stone. The rune crew will etch Earth-Stability runes along the inner base to resist seismic or tunneling attacks. Two squads will deepen and widen the moat, creating dual-layered spike trenches along the northern and eastern approaches, the primary corridors for the beasts. One squad will handle gate reinforcement, replacing weakened hinges and coating the gates with ironwood plating. Squad sizes will vary between fifteen and twenty men.”

He paused, tapping the table. “Third month: the gate team joins the wall squads, making five squads assigned to stone skirts, sloped stone to deflect charges. Outer walls will receive detachable palisade spikes and fire-rune troughs for oil defense. The seven squads remain in rotation; by the third month, five will be on wall work, and two will continue moat expansion. The moat teams will also construct a secondary rampart: a low, curved earthwork set fifty meters from the main wall. This rampart will be equipped with removable palisade spikes and prepared as the position for our forward defensive squads during tides. Together, the rampart and forward field will slow surges and funnel attackers into bottlenecks for our ranged units on the main curtain.”

He finished with a look that said the work was far from over. “After that, the Rune-Master’s crew will take over most of the workload. One squad will remain on a testing rotation during breakdays. We begin after lunch today. I’ll hand detailed plans to the company lieutenants, assignments, material lists, and rotations. I’ll name the seven squad leaders now.”

He called out seven names. I was about to move, thinking the meeting was over, when he spoke once more.

“Edward of Oxspell.”

I stopped in my tracks, confused. I hadn’t expected anything; after all, I was just a new Private.

“Before we go into finer detail,” Carse said, eyes on me, “I’ll note this: you are not to lead any fortification squad. Lieutenant Fenward showed a few of your repaired pieces to the Rune-Master. He was pleased. We’re assigning you to the moat team. Your sergeant will be Baren Holt.” He pointed at Sergeant Holt, who stood like a wedge of basalt near the doorway. “In the spike trenches, we’ll build strengthening runes. Material will be issued, although only low-mana binding mixtures will be used. Don’t mistake the job as unimportant because of that. In a normal tide, these runes would be marginal. In a grand tide, these are what will reduce pressure on the wall. You will reinforce trenches in your area per the design the sergeant issues. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.” I said.

“Dismissed. Report to Sergeant Baren after lunch by the eastern gate.”

I left the command building with my head full of plans, rune diagrams, and a small list of new responsibilities. The fort seemed different that day, busier somehow, as if everyone heard the same drumbeat Carse had set. Morning drills came next. We moved through formation exercises and squad drills.

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For the first time in a while, I felt a sense of relief. Over the past month, things had finally tilted in my favor after the expedition. I’d gone from struggling to survive among conscripts to becoming someone with a name and a small measure of respect. Walter’s training had helped me build confidence in my own combat ability, and I’d also proven I could repair armor, patch wounds, and etch simple runes.

Now, another opportunity had opened up. Expanding the moat and rune work might be labor-intensive, but it showed that I was earning recognition among the fort’s leadership. It was a small step, but it made a difference.

This assignment also gave me the perfect chance to practice my skills, [Basic Rune Theory (C)] and [Siege Rigging (C)], while directly contributing to the fort’s defenses. It let me apply [Applied Military Theory (UC)] on a larger scale, thinking not just at the squad or company level, but at the level of the entire fort.

After the drill, we went for a quick meal. The kitchen’s stew was thick and hot, beast meat, barley, a puncture of turnip. I left early enough to meet Sergeant Baren at the eastern gate after lunch.

By the eastern gate, a small crowd had already gathered: twenty men in various garb, a few familiar faces from morning meeting, others new. The trench lines lay beyond, the first outer ditch cut shallow and waiting. The soil was dark, the edge of the forest breathing in a long, green sigh. A wind pushed through the clearing, carrying with it the smell of wet roots.

Sergeant Baren Holt’s face was carved from weather. He drew a line in the earth with his stick, then leaned in until the men saw the map: the wall, the distances, the approach.

“Phase one, next twenty days,” Holt said flatly. “We dig the first outer trench at four hundred meters from the wall. Four to five meters wide, two meters deep. Spikes on the inside and outside. These aren’t to be manned; don’t waste time smoothing surfaces. Their purpose is to stop and slow Tier-1 beasts.”

He tapped the earth with the stick. “Think of them as a secondary wall. If you walk southeast from the eastern gate the surveyors marked where you start. You dig toward the north.”

Then he looked up. “Edward, Ben, Albert, Jack, you four have sapper experience. Help the others. You’re responsible for checking the work after shifts. If you see a problem, you tell me.”

He paused, then added, “Also, Edward, for the first two or three days, the pikes won’t be ready. After that, you’ll work two hours less on digging and use that time for the rune work.”

I nodded. The mention of digging brought back too many memories, latrine pits, punishment drills, and every sapper specialization exercise I’d been put through. My hands almost itched from habit. Another long day of manual labor awaited.

The Count Albrecht’s manor

Count Albrecht’s study smelled of old paper and cold wax. Aelius, his butler and oldest confidant, entered carrying a sealed packet of intelligence. The city of Stonegate never slept without its ears to the ground.

“My lord, a report from Fort Darrow,” Aelius announced softly. “Concerning the threshold-breaker recruit.”

Albrecht looked up from his ledger. The firelight traced the deep lines of his face, etching age into patience.

“Is there anything of note? The last reports said little beyond his survival; two months in the fort is hardly an accomplishment.”

Aelius unfolded the parchment. “Still the same, my lord. Yet if I may observe, he is being shaped into something useful. A former sergeant named Walter has begun training him in combat. The boy assists in fortification work and minor rune repairs. In time, such tasks will earn him the respect of common soldiers.”

He passed the parchment across the desk. Albrecht read it in silence, his expression unchanged, though his voice hardened slightly when he spoke.

“We shall see if he survives the grand tide,” he said. “If he excels, if he proves himself, he may yet flourish.”

He paused, the faintest flicker of thought passing behind his eyes. “Aelius… reduce Julius’s allowance by half, and strip Marcus of his responsibilities in the Royal Army.”

Aelius hesitated, the faint rustle of his robe the only sound in the room. “My lord?”

“There must be consequences for such reckless conduct,” Albrecht replied evenly. “Their actions invited questions about my house and gave their enemies ground to take root. This is what happens when decisions are born of impulse rather than thought.”

His tone never rose, but the words carried a restrained fury sharpened by centuries of command.

Aelius’s voice lowered. “Forgive my boldness, my lord, but what if the young masters choose to retaliate against the recruit in response to this punishment?”

Silence pressed down on the room like a closing tomb. Even the candle flame seemed to hesitate.

“This punishment is not for what they attempted,” Albrecht said at last, his voice cool and deliberate. “It is for how they attempted it. If they rely on such schemes in the capital, they will bring shame upon this house. If they cannot learn from failure, even when correction comes directly from me, then I do not mind losing a grandson out of seventeen. As for Julius… he will make a fine oath-bound guardian of our line.”

He spoke with such casual cruelty that it sounded less like judgment and more like routine housekeeping, as if he had not just condemned his own grandson and great-grandson to death and slavery.