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Some say that love is a river that drowns the tender reeds of the will. Some say love is a sharp blade that will leave your soul bleeding. Some say love is a hunger, an endless, agonizing thirst. I say, love is a blooming flower, and you, its only seed.
Chapter 1 Admission to the camp
Early fall of 1884 of the Western Asian Imperial Calendar.
It had just rained, and lead-gray clouds shrouded the sky over the city of Vaal Castle, making it appear gray and gloomy. A dusty stagecoach came from a long way off, its driver and horse exhausted, its faded body imprinted with dried mud marks, jingling into the marketplace before finally stopping in front of the stagecoach.
One booted foot stepped out of the carriage, then the other, and above the boots was a pair of slender legs, and after that, a black traveling dress, and beyond that, a beautiful young face. A fair, even face, straight nose, soft lips, and hazel-green eyes like emeralds, bright and glowing under long lashes.
Without the wretchedness and fatigue of a long journey, the woman surveyed the unfamiliar city, picked up her carrying case, refused the fellows who had gathered to solicit her, and walked out of the post.
Wall City is not a friendly city.
Crude buildings blocked out the light, the streets were dark and narrow, the pavement slabs were imprinted with deep car tracks, and rainwater covered the large and small stone cracks, splashing murky water as soon as you landed on your feet.
Ragged children were frolicking in the street when a half-grown child tripped over warped gravel. The black bread in his hand rolled across the street, smeared with sewage sludge, to be picked up by another good-luck boy, and before he could bite down, the child's mother rushed out to grab the thief and slapped him across the face, snatched the bread back, cursed, and shoved it at her still-crying son. The child stops crying, looks at the heavily slapped boy with a big grin, and gleefully nibbles on the mud-covered bread, forgetting the pain of the blood seeping from his busted knee.
Drunk and unable to pay the bill, the drunkard was beaten by several shopkeepers, dragged backward, and thrown out into the street, with thick sputum and blood stains on his bruised face, provoking a burst of laughter from the surrounding area.
The city constabulary lazily patrolled, crookedly buttoned up in their red uniforms, routinely entering liquor stores to extort money, ignoring thieves fleeing on neighboring streets, and a constable passing by a limp drunkard, noticing a patch of sludge on his freshly polished boots, lifting his foot to dry it on the unconscious man.
A couple of urchins on a street corner caught a skinny rat playing judge. The poor little thing arched restlessly in the cage, jumped up and down as it was poked with a wooden stick, and finally was doused with lamp oil and ignited into a ball of fire. The kids dressed as judges and lawyers laughed aloud as they listened to the rat's screams, and the sickening stench of burnt meat wafted through the air.
The driver waved his long whip, and the makeshift wagon ran with its new guest, a pair of green eyes gazing silently from the window, skimming over the beggar creeping along the side of the road, the homeless man rummaging through the garbage, the urchin with a cruel smile, the vigilante pawing at his bag of money as he walked to the next store, and the selection rounded the corner.
As the premier military base in West Asia, the Val City base is located on the city's outskirts, as if it were another city a stone's throw away from Val City. Thousands of military personnel are stationed at the massive base, and the many departments are so orderly that they intimidate the local populace.
The door to the Military Administration Office was knocked on in the lazy afternoon, and the Captain behind the desk sat up sliCaptaintraighter.
"Come in."
The woman who pushed her way into the room, still in her traveling clothes and presenting the cold determination of a soldier beyond her playfulness, gave a proper military salute. "Report, Windsor has been ordered to report for duty."
The Captain hid his awestruck disorienCaptainand took the presented file, his eyes pausing momentarily at the Top Secret notation.
"Windsor, Bassa City transfer, Imperial Royal Military Academy graduate, excellent military skills, good performance ...... Sorry, you report as a private!?" The unmistakable affiliation noted stunned the Captain.
"Yes, Captain."
The CaptaCaptaindn't help but exclaim ouCaptainch lord, have you offended?"
"My subordinate was only ordered to report to the city of Val; I know nothing of the rest."
The unsoftened nail silenced the flood of curiosity and brought back sanity. The attributes of the file marked it as not to be probed. The Captain came to his senses and weiCaptain, unable to stop himself from speculating on this peculiar resume.
This beauty probably provoked the anger of an influential person, suffered a reprimand, and may not even intend to let her go back alive. It is easy to get involved in the fate of the unpredictable for the sake of the future or to avoid it. The Captain glanced at the cold face of the Captain, closed the file with a snap, and rang the bell to call in the orderlies.
"Newcomer reporting for duty, take her to be placed."
The orderly respectfully inquired. "Please, sir, to which division."
"The infantry battalion has made countless reports complaining of a shortage of men, and just-" It was a rare beauty, and the Captain's heart softened, leaving Captain'sen. "Take it to report to Hans."
Several infantry brigades were at the Val City base, each divided into five battalions and each Battalion into ten companies. The company commander of the Third Battalion's fifth company, one of the theBattalioBattalion'selded warbands, and the bottom of the army's pecking order.
Infantry companies have a high combat effectiveness but a high battle loss rate.
Lieutenant Hans, who had served in the vanguard for many years, was known to have a bad temper, with a hideous scar on his cheek that was hard to look at and especially frightening when angry. His fierce brows were furrowed, and he stared at the newcomers with great displeasure, showing his dislike.
"Basic training?"
"Yes, sir."
"Know how to use a gun?"
"Yes."
"Go get your gear and meet in a group in thirty minutes. Hopefully, you didn't just muddle through the test with a face."
After assigning the newcomers, who seemed not to fight them, Hans cursed his superiors again with a foul-mouthed whisper.
The situation in Vallejo is chaotic; there have been many battle losses in the past while, and there is a significant lack of experienced veterans. He has repeatedly emphasized the need to replenish the workforce. Still, the result is that those assigned are either recruits or women, and there might be a chance to train in other leisure times. Still, at the moment, it is just in time for the insurgents in the city of Vallejo to attack the city hall. The 3rd Battalion has been ordered to devote the Battalion to purging the Battalion, hoping that the unlucky ones who come at an inopportune time are lucky enough not to be killed in action on the first day of reporting for duty.
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