I woke without any nightmares.

  That made it the first peaceful night since I had regained consciousness after the battle. It had been three days since my confrontation with Varric.

  My right arm was now functional and mostly healed, though I was still not cleared to use [Mana Reinforcement (UC)] with it. That restriction should be lifted within a day or two. Using [Mana Manipulation (UC)], I could sense the damage clearly. Multiple small tears ran through the muscles of my arm. The problem was not the severity, but the cause. These injuries were created by forcing too much mana through my body, and because of that, their healing speed was slower than normal. Even [Vital Restoration (UC)] was less effective than it usually was.

  Still, it was progress.

  Another good sign was that I had not slipped back into my gloomy state.

  I had resumed my personal training. The sergeants’ quarters had a small training yard in front of the building, just large enough for individual drills. I used it whenever my arm allowed. I had also finished reading every book Lieutenant Cicero had given me. And I had not stopped there.

  Using [Memory Recall (UC)] and [Applied Military Theory (UC)] to their fullest, I spent hours formulating training plans, analyzing possible paths forward, and reviewing the profiles of Garran, Varric, Barry, and Kael. Based on their backgrounds, crimes, and combat tendencies, I began assigning provisional roles in my mind.

  After washing up, I prepared to head out.

  I had made several plans the previous night, and I wanted to speak with the squad to gauge their reactions. As I gathered the notes I had written, a knock came at the door.

  I turned and opened it.

  A man stood outside.

  “Sergeant Edward?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He extended his hand in greeting and stepped forward without hesitation. “Peter Roscoe,” he said. “Lieutenant Cicero asked me to bring you to him.”

  He was around six feet tall, fair-skinned, his uniform clean and properly fitted. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. There was something practiced about his posture.

  I was slightly surprised by the expression he wore. It felt as if we had known each other for a long time. Still, I did not comment on it. I gathered my papers and nodded.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  We made our way toward the command building.

  “Is there something I should know?” I asked as we walked. “Why the lieutenant is calling me?”

  Being summoned by my direct superior did not bother me. I had planned to meet him anyway, after speaking with the squad. But the smile Peter carried was starting to unsettle me.

  “I don’t think there’s anything you should be worried about,” he replied, still smiling.

  I returned the smile and looked ahead.

  I was not sure why it bothered me so much. It felt like he wanted to say something, but was deliberately holding back.

  We reached the command building and knocked on the lieutenant’s office door.

  “Sir,” we both saluted simultaneously.

  “At ease,” Lieutenant Cicero said.

  His gaze went to my arm. “I see your arm is functional again, Edward.”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied. “But it is not fully combat-ready yet.”

  He nodded.

  “I had a meeting scheduled with you in two days,” he said. “But since I have already called you early, we will address everything today.”

  He reached into a drawer.

  “First, your sergeant badge,” he said, placing it on the desk. “You are considered promoted as of the end of the beast tide. Your first full month will be counted as complete in seven days.”

  He continued without pause.

  “Starting today, you will assume your full responsibilities as sergeant of the Royal Army, Seventh Legion, Darrow Battalion, Company Eleven, which include maintaining discipline within your squad. Your squadmates have caused several issues while you were recovering. They are no longer allowed to occupy the southern wall area.”

  I smiled inwardly. Given how they behaved there, I was not surprised. Most new privates would have avoided that area entirely.

  “This company focuses on healing,” Cicero went on. “Normally, sergeants meet multiple times each month to discuss company level plans, but you are the only sergeant in this company who is combat focused. You will be an exception. Instead of attending those meetings, I expect detailed reports from your squad after every mission.”

  He leaned back slightly.

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  “Your squad should be fully assembled within two weeks. During those two weeks, you will report directly to me. We will begin working on the skills we discussed before you start taking assignments.”

  “You’ve read your duties?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then coordinate with the supply division to requisition equipment,” he said. “I hear your spear was destroyed during the battle. You can request a replacement. As a sergeant, you are entitled to a rune spear.”

  It seemed he was unaware that my previous spear had also been a rune weapon.

  “Well, about that,” I said. “There are some things I wanted to discuss regarding how I intend to handle my squad.”

  “Go ahead,” he nodded.

  I glanced at Peter, who was still standing in the room.

  “Oh,” Cicero said, noticing my look. “I forgot to introduce him properly. This is Peter Roscoe. He will be joining your squad.”

  My frown was immediate.

  “He is an intelligence private,” Cicero continued. “Like you were. He specializes in mana analysis and threat assessment.”

  That caught me off guard. With his name, he was either a minor noble or the son of a wealthy merchant. I had not expected an intelligence private to be assigned to a death squad. I had assumed that even after my promotion, I would continue handling those duties myself.

  I pushed those thoughts aside and extended my hand.

  “Welcome to the squad, Private Peter,” I said.

  He shook my hand firmly. “Happy to be here,” he replied with a smile. “And happy to help keep the criminals in line.”

  I frowned.

  “Now, Sergeant,” Lieutenant Cicero said, drawing my attention back to him. “You wanted to discuss something.”

  I took a deep breath and gathered my thoughts.

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “I was going through my duties and the squad’s resource allocations. According to regulations, I am allowed to requisition runic equipment. Spears, shields, and armor. Instead of that, I was thinking of requesting standard equipment along with mana liquid and other materials used for rune engraving. I can draw runes on the equipment myself.”

  Lieutenant Cicero raised an eyebrow.

  “You could do that,” he said slowly. “But why would you waste your free time drawing runes?”

  “Because equipment without runes is significantly cheaper,” I replied. “For the same cost, I could acquire enough rune materials to outfit four full sets of equipment. I also plan to use rune materials as an incentive to keep my squad motivated.”

  I did not try to hide how I intended to handle them.

  “That’s dangerous,” Peter said immediately, before the lieutenant could respond.

  Both of us turned to look at him.

  “Sorry, sir,” Peter said quickly, taking a step back.

  Lieutenant Cicero raised a hand. “No, Private. Go on. Share your thoughts.”

  “Sir,” Peter said, straightening slightly, “providing criminals with high-quality equipment is risky. If they reach their limits, or decide to turn on us even at the cost of their own lives, they could seriously injure us. Even with mana oaths in place.”

  He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then continued.

  “And as their mana cultivation grows, their resistance to the oath will increase. We also know that even the strongest oaths have loopholes.”

  The lieutenant turned his gaze to me.

  “These are valid concerns,” Cicero said. “Even I would be wary of that.”

  I met his eyes.

  “I believe they value their lives like anyone else,” I said. “If I push them to the point where they are willing to attack their own sergeant, knowing full well that the mana oath would kill them in the process, then I have already failed as a sergeant.”

  I paused, considering my words.

  “A mana-bound criminal attacking their own commanding officer is not logical,” I continued. “The better option would always be to run.”

  The mana oath mechanism was not as foolproof as I had once believed. It worked well when instructions were clear and focused, making it easier to restrict someone from causing harm to fellow squad members. But when it came to activity based restrictions, it was far harder to implement and left many loopholes. If someone truly wanted to escape, they could. As long as they avoided cities and major towns, it was possible to evade the oath’s enforcement for a long time.

  That also explained why almost all of my current squad had committed some kind of offense after being arrested. It was one of the main reasons they had been sent to the fort. Escape was almost impossible here, and even if someone managed it, they would be surrounded by wildlands. Alone in the wilderness, their chances of survival were almost nonexistent.

  Peter frowned at my response.

  “Private Peter,” I said calmly before he could speak again, “could you give us some privacy? I would like to discuss something with the lieutenant.”

  I did not have a problem with him questioning my decisions, but I had doubts about his position in my squad. I needed some of those questions clarified by the lieutenant, and I wanted to understand how Peter’s presence would affect my squad without him being present.

  He looked surprised, but after a moment, he nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  When I turned back, Lieutenant Cicero looked mildly amused.

  I ignored that and went straight to the issue that had been bothering me.

  “Sir,” I said, “I can’t help but notice that Private Peter is either from a minor noble house or a wealthy merchant family. His assignment doesn’t make sense to me.”

  Cicero did not interrupt.

  “I didn’t think death squads were assigned intelligence privates,” I continued. “Especially when I already have experience doing that job myself. So I need to ask this directly.”

  I met his gaze without flinching.

  “Am I still the sergeant of this squad,” I asked, “or are my decisions going to be scrutinized and overridden by him?”

  My question only seemed to increase his amusement.

  “Your behavior confuses me, Sergeant,” Cicero said after a brief pause.

  “You wish to treat criminals, people whom even ordinary commoners would gladly kill if given the chance, like normal soldiers. Yet you immediately remove someone you suspect might be a minor noble from the room, and then question a decision made by your superiors, whom you know for certain are nobles.”

  His voice remained calm.

  “That is something even the sons of knights would hesitate to do.”

  I realized then that I could not explain myself to him.

  I could not tell him that my behavior came from values carried over from memories of Earth. In those memories, mercy toward even the most heinous criminals was not considered weakness. Torture was frowned upon in most parts of that world, and many of the methods casually accepted here felt disturbingly close to it.

  As for how to treat nobles or superiors, those memories offered no help at all. In this world, I knew I was supposed to fear nobles. To revere them. But I had never been taught how to behave around them. And the memories from Earth only made that worse, where questioning authority was not only allowed, but encouraged.

  Cicero studied me for a moment longer before continuing.

  “But to answer your question,” he said, “you are still the sergeant of this squad. No one is scrutinizing your decisions.”

  He paused, then added evenly.

  “At least, not more than we already were.”

  I accepted that.

  “You are also correct,” he went on. “Death squads do not normally receive intelligence privates. However, some lieutenants expressed concern over your lack of formal command experience. As a result, Private Peter was assigned.”

  I frowned slightly, but did not interrupt.

  “You can trust him,” Cicero continued. “He has a clean record. Even if his opinions differ from yours at times, he is there for the betterment of the squad, not to undermine you.”

  I nodded.

  “Is that all?” he asked. “Or is there something else you wish to discuss?”

  “That’s all,” I replied.

  He dismissed me with a nod.

  I collected my sergeant’s badge, turned, and left the office, preparing to have a conversation with Peter.