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Chapter – 29
Just as he himself had said, Carlyle truly found himself in a troublesome situation.
Until he passed the Noble Proof, Carlyle would have to serve under Helen’s command as a low-ranking soldier.
If Helen decided to push him into a deadly mission?
If he were surrounded by barbarian warriors?
“My head will become their soccer ball.”
Carlyle frowned at the thought of a barbarian warrior kicking his severed head around like a ball.
“That would be unpleasant.”
If he had to die, he at least wanted his body to remain intact this time.
In his previous death, he had been crushed under a dump truck weighing several dozen tons—there hadn’t been much left to recover.
“No, wait. Why should I care about that? I’m already dead, and this isn’t even my body to begin with.”
As he was lost in thought, Helen’s voice pierced through his ears.
“Repeat what you just said.”
“Huh?”
“Didn’t you hear me?”
Helen glared coldly at him.
“Say it again.”
“Shit’s fuc—ah.”
Whoops.
Carlyle’s expression stiffened.
He realized he had let something slip while lost in thought.
He had been such a scoundrel for so long that speaking without restraint had become second nature.
“I’d better keep my head straight.”
At least until he passed the Noble Proof, it would be wisest to behave.
Carlyle wasn’t foolish enough to pick a fight with the person currently holding his life in her hands.
Especially not someone who had a grudge against him.
“Why do I have to pay for Carlyle’s sins? Ugh.”
Unfair as it was, there was nothing he could do.
Having possessed another man’s body, he had no choice but to bear that man’s karma as well.
“Private Carlyle von Sigmund.”
“Yes, Lady Helen.”
“On your face.”
“On my face.”
Carlyle hit the ground instantly.
“……!”
Helen blinked in surprise.
“Just like that?”
The same shameless rogue who had once slapped her across the face—Carlyle von Sigmund, the Sigmund family’s second son—had obeyed her order without hesitation.
The others watching were equally stunned.
“That crazy bastard actually followed an order?”
“Did I see that right?”
Carlyle’s reputation was so infamous that none of them had ever imagined seeing such a scene.
But only for a moment.
Helen’s cold voice cut through the air.
“As a low-ranking soldier, you dare curse in front of your superior?”
“My apologies.”
“Does noble blood give you that right?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I’ll let it slide this time—but this will be the first and last. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Stand.”
“Stand.”
Carlyle rose immediately at her command. Helen’s icy voice followed.
“Be careful. If this happens again, I’ll have you punished according to military law.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Follow me.”
“Yes, Lady Helen.”
Carlyle followed her silently toward the fortress.
“Even a mad dog becomes tame on the battlefield, huh?”
“This is insane.”
“What is he planning?”
The onlookers were confused and uneasy.
To them, Carlyle was like a ticking time bomb—it was actually more comfortable when he was causing trouble, because at least then they knew what to expect.
“Return to base.”
“Yes.”
The escort unit, having handed Carlyle over, hurriedly left Bowden Fortress—as if they had just passed off a live explosive.
Carlyle followed in silence as Helen spoke without looking back.
“From this moment, you’ll serve in the reconnaissance unit as a private.”
Carlyle frowned slightly.
He had expected to be assigned as a miner or laborer, not a scout.
“So she really means to work me to death.”
He knew all too well how grueling reconnaissance duty was.
“Why so quiet? Are you afraid, Sigmund scion?”
“N–no, ma’am.”
He barely stopped himself from saying, ‘I just hate annoying work.’
That habit of blurting out whatever came to mind really was dangerous.
“You’re aware, I assume, that a Sigmund noble can’t command soldiers until he earns his commission.”
“Yes, Lady Helen.”
Ding!
A quest window appeared before his eyes.
[Noble Proof]
Fight in three battles and earn recognition from your comrades as a worthy commander.
Type: Normal
Progress: 0% (0/10)
Reward: Promotion (Private → Second Lieutenant)
Note: If you fail to receive unanimous approval, you must restart the quest from the beginning.
“Always with the damn duty and honor.”
Carlyle never did like the Sigmund family’s creed.
“What’s so wrong with enjoying life without responsibility?”
Helen’s voice cut through his thoughts again.
“Let me be clear—your actions will be judged strictly by military law. Act according to your rank and fulfill your duties.”
“Yes, Lady Helen.”
“And you’d better control yourself. If you even think about harassing anyone, make sure it’s worth dying for. Because I’ll execute you on the spot.”
“……”
“Why aren’t you answering?”
“……I’ll remember that.”
Carlyle felt wronged, but he wasn’t stupid enough to argue.
“Recon squad, assemble.”
“Assembly!”
Helen led him to the barracks where the scouts were quartered.
“Introducing a new recruit. Name: Carlyle von Sigmund. Rank: Private. He’ll serve with us from today.”
“……”
The scouts’ expressions twisted all at once.
“Why us!”
“Damn it!”
No one dared speak aloud under strict discipline, but their faces said it all.
“There will be no special treatment due to his birth. Treat him according to his rank. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Helen turned to one of the men.
“Begmann, you’re the senior here. Take care of him.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Begmann’s expression was sour, but he didn’t argue.
“Follow me.”
He led Carlyle inside the barracks and pointed to a shabby cot in the corner.
“This’ll be your spot. Drop your stuff and change into uniform.”
Carlyle obeyed without protest.
“Comfortable enough.”
He actually preferred the worn military uniform to the stiff Sigmund attire.
It was frayed and patched, but broken in—far easier to move in.
He’d always hated the constricting feel of formal uniforms anyway.
Sure, it didn’t look stylish, but that didn’t matter to him.
It always felt like the clothes were wearing him, not the other way around.
“Ahem.”
Begmann cleared his throat, uncomfortable.
“So this is the North’s most handsome man, huh? Not a lie, apparently.”
Usually, a fresh recruit looked awkward in uniform—but not Carlyle.
He was so good-looking that even the ragged uniform seemed stylish on him.
“Didn’t expect you to be so obedient. Keep it that way. We don’t care about your noble blood, but if you start acting up, we’ll make sure you regret it. Heh.”
With that warning, Begmann left the barracks, clearly planning to “keep an eye” on him later.
Left alone, Carlyle lay back on the cot and rested.
Compared to the plush, springy bed at home, it was basically a wooden plank—but he didn’t complain.
Seeking comfort here in Kuverin was as pointless as wishing for clear water in a mud pit.
“Might as well get into battle soon.”
He wanted to complete the Noble Proof as soon as possible—then he could shed the “private” title and live more comfortably as an officer.
“I wonder if I can actually kill someone.”
The thought troubled him.
In his previous life, he’d been an ordinary man, far removed from war.
“Guess I’ll find out when it happens.”
He found himself wondering what he’d look like facing an enemy in life-or-death combat.
Carlyle spent the next few days acclimating to life at Bowden Fortress.
The other scouts avoided him, treating him with silent disdain.
It wasn’t open hostility—it was fear.
Even as a private, he was still a Sigmund, the son of Duke Guntram, lord of Dekaron.
No one was foolish enough to provoke him.
No one wanted to risk mysterious “repercussions” later.
As a result, Carlyle was left alone—free to focus on adapting to his new environment.
The one who helped him the most was Russell, nicknamed Stink.
He’d been ordered by Begmann to look after the new guy.
Russell was a corporal, one rank above Carlyle, but he didn’t look particularly tough for a scout.
Still, Carlyle didn’t underestimate him.
Anyone in the elite recon unit had to have at least one exceptional skill.
He also didn’t ask why people called him Stink.
It obviously wasn’t a flattering nickname.
“Uh, well, you see…” Russell stammered.
“You can speak casually,” Carlyle said.
“Huh? Really?”
“At least for now.”
“But still…”
“I’m just a private right now.”
“Then—okay. You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then.”
Once Russell dropped the formal tone, he started explaining life at the fortress.
“Honestly, recon duty isn’t that bad. We just make sure the engineers can safely mine mana stones and keep watch.”
“I see.”
“Of course, it gets dangerous sometimes.”
“You run into barbarians?”
“Sure~ once in a while~”
Then Russell’s face darkened.
“…If you’re really unlucky.”
“……”
Carlyle caught the look in his eyes and understood what that meant.
“About one time out of ten, maybe. But don’t worry too much—the barbarians have been quiet lately.”
“I see.”
He answered indifferently.
If encounters were that rare, that meant fewer chances to complete the Noble Proof.
“Well, better that than people dying.”
He decided to take it positively.
Wishing for battle just to pass a test would be insane—after all, battle meant death.
For someone.
Friend or foe.
“You’ll probably go on your first basic recon tomorrow. You need to learn the routes.”
Russell was right.
The next morning, Carlyle headed out with a few soldiers.
Just a simple patrol to learn the standard recon paths.
Before they departed—
“Hey, you.”
The Barber Wilson growled as he approached Carlyle.
