Chapter 23: Commissioning Ceremony

“Sir Noah Willard. Step forward.”

At the call of my name, I took a single step ahead.

Beyond the long desk sat three civil officials. Stacks of documents were piled high before them, ink bottles neatly arranged at their sides. Pale sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the room in a sterile, almost indifferent glow.

It was a world utterly removed from the battlefield.

No mud. No blood. No screams.

Only order. Only silence.

“Taking into account your distinguished service on the western front, formal approval has been granted for the promotion of you, the heir to the Willard Marquis family.”

The voice that delivered the announcement was calm, measured—almost devoid of emotion.

At the same time, the soldiers who had been standing silently in the corner began to move.

“Accordingly, you are hereby commissioned as a Brigadier General in the Royal Army.”

A small box was opened.

Inside, resting against dark velvet, lay a newly forged insignia.

One of the officials received it from the soldier and approached me without a word. Then, with practiced efficiency, he pinned it onto my chest.

The metal was cold.

So cold it almost felt unreal.

“Any objections?”

“None.”

“Very well. This promotion to Brigadier General is, by all accounts, unprecedented. However, it is in recognition of your exceptional achievements on the western front, and with the expectation of your continued service to the military henceforth.”

A seal was pressed onto a document.

The dry, sharp sound echoed faintly through the room as the official continued speaking in a purely procedural tone.

“You will, effective immediately, be assigned to the eastern front as an aide to Her Highness, the Second Princess. We expect you to demonstrate the same exceptional capability there as you have on the western front.”

…A princess.

If I recalled correctly, the Second Princess was known to be remarkably capable—someone whose name carried weight even within military circles.

“That concludes your proceedings. You may now take your leave.”

And just like that—

The ceremony ended.

No salute. No congratulatory words.

For an event as significant as a promotion to Brigadier General—especially for someone about to serve directly under a royal princess—it was astonishingly brief. Almost… hollow.

“Excuse me.”

I gave a short bow and exited the room.

“…Hah.”

Walking down the corridor, I reached up and touched the insignia pinned to my chest.

There was no mud on it.

No blood.

The battlefield felt distant, as though it belonged to another world entirely, while here in the capital, an illusion of peace still lingered in the air.

“I’m back, Shia.”

Still caught in that quiet, drifting sentiment, I returned to the guest room within the royal palace.

“Mm! Welcome back!”

Waiting inside was Shia.

I wasn’t free to linger long. There was no time to remain in the Willard territory—I had to come to the capital, and soon, I would have to head to the eastern front.

But leaving Shia behind in her fragile state had not been an option.

And so, at least until now, we had traveled together.

“…Brigadier General.”

Shia stood and hurried toward me, her gaze immediately drawn to the insignia on my chest.

“A rather dramatic rise, wouldn’t you say? My first official rank—and it’s already Brigadier General. The privileges of a marquis family, I suppose.”

“Even I started as a Major,” she replied with a faint, incredulous smile. “This is beyond unusual.”

“Well, of course it is! I did make quite a name for myself on the western front.” I let out a small laugh. “I fought like a one-man army, you know? I am a member of the Willard family, after all.”

“…You didn’t push yourself too hard, did you?”

The familiar expression I had always known—her confident, composed face—wavered.

In its place, a flicker of anxiety surfaced.

“Of course not,” I answered firmly. “There’s no point in dying.”

As if to steady her, as if to keep her from falling apart, I gently pulled her into an embrace.

“I’m your little brother, remember? I’m not that fragile.”

“…Yes… that’s right.” Her voice trembled slightly as she clung to me. “That’s right… I believe in you. So… don’t die…”

“…Yeah. I promise.”

What right did I have to say that?

The thought flickered briefly through my mind, but I buried it before it could surface.

Slowly, I released her.

“Alright—how about we go sightseeing in the capital? It’s been a while for you too, hasn’t it?”

Time to shed the stiffness of military life.

I removed my cloak first, hanging it neatly before changing into simpler clothes.

“Sightseeing, huh… It feels a bit late for that, doesn’t it? I worked here enough to grow sick of it.”

“Maybe it’ll feel different when you’re not working.”

“Do you think so? …Well, if I’m going with you, Noah, then anything is fine.”

“Heh… that’s a nice thing to say.”

Now dressed in plain, unremarkable clothing—enough to pass as a commoner—I changed my shoes as well.

“Alright.”

I turned back to her with a small, genuine smile.

“Let’s go.”