As Otto had anticipated, the Eleventh Company had already been relocated with the main force. Fortunately, they'd previously run into a general from the army group's staff, who gave them the necessary information—saving them the trouble of hunting down a communications vehicle.
Fourth Platoon made their way to a defensive position atop a low hill. It had clearly been occupied until recently, but was now temporarily abandoned due to the front line's advance. The site had been well camouflaged and was surrounded by trees, making it difficult to spot from both ground and air. The communications system and command post were set up inside a partially exposed concrete bunker. As usual, Otto and the others went to report to the company commander, leaving Sennia and Arcia outside with nothing to do.
"Looks like it's almost mealtime. How about... we grab lunch together?"
From what Sennia had observed, Arcia either maintained her weapon or sat lost in thought whenever she had free time—just like now. She was currently polishing her submachine gun with an oiled cloth.
"..."
Arcia simply glanced at Sennia briefly, then returned to her own world.
"Well... I guess I'll head over first, then..."
Sennia gave an awkward smile at Arcia's cold reaction and turned to leave, somewhat dejected. But just as she turned around, she heard someone calling out nearby. Looking up, she saw a young officer walking toward them. Judging by the insignia on his shoulders, he was a Night Knight platoon leader.
"Good afternoon. I'm Charlie, commander of the First Platoon."
He removed his gloves and courteously shook Sennia's hand. Normally, enlisted personnel were required to salute officers—especially since Charlie outranked Sennia by two levels—but he seemed entirely unconcerned with such formalities.
"Hello, I'm Sennia from Squad One, Fourth Platoon."
Although he didn't quite fit the mold of the typical soldier she was used to, Sennia wasn't thrown off. She greeted him in kind, matching his tone with natural ease.
"Haha, a fresh face. Are you new here?"
Charlie gave a warm, breezy smile that felt more like spring sunlight than a battlefield encounter—quite unlike the unkempt gruffness of Nordhausen or Edwin. He was clean-cut, with his hair neatly combed back like a young military noble. But unlike most of the immature and arrogant young nobles Sennia had encountered, Charlie had a refined maturity that reminded her only of Otto, who was, in fact, a military noble himself.
"Yes, I only just arrived on the front lines recently."
Sennia responded with an effortless smile. Even in military uniforms and amid the chaos of a field camp, the two still managed to embody a sense of elegance.
"Surviving the battlefield is no easy task—but it's all for the glory of the Empire."
Releasing her hand, Charlie clasped his hands behind his back in a dignified pose. Then, changing his tone:
"Do you have a moment, my lovely lady? I'd be honored to invite you to lunch."
"Of course, I'd be very gla—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Sennia suddenly felt someone grab her arm and yank her to the side.
"Arcia?!"
"Didn't you say you were going to eat? Let's go."
Without a word of explanation, Arcia forcibly dragged Sennia away. Her expression remained blank, but her grip left no room for resistance.
"Uh... excuse me..."
Sennia turned back with an apologetic wave, while Charlie simply smiled and waved goodbye as if nothing had happened.
At the logistics tent, the mess staff had already set up the food cart with prepared lunch trays. After days of nothing but canned rations—or worse, surviving on Type-4 serum alone—Sennia was beyond eager to sit down and enjoy a hot meal cooked over a proper stove.
Several soldiers were already seated at the long table. Sennia and Arcia quickly grabbed trays and found an empty spot to sit down.
"So... mind explaining what that was all about?"
Stuffing her mouth with potatoes and pickled sausage dripping with gravy, Sennia felt a rare sense of satisfaction. The image was a far cry from the "elegant" young woman from just minutes ago. Still, she hadn't forgotten Arcia's sudden and strange reaction.
"I was looking out for you."
Compared to Sennia, Arcia ate with quiet grace.
"What do you mean by that?"
Arcia didn't answer immediately. She took a few bites of her potatoes before speaking.
"That guy's a shameless flirt. He hits on every pretty girl he sees."
"A shameless flirt... pfft—hahaha!"
Forget the delicious food—Sennia burst out laughing, unable to contain herself.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, it's just... that phrase is hilarious. A 'shameless flirt,' really... hahaha..."
"..."
After a good laugh, Sennia finally caught her breath and said, "In that case, I guess I should thank you."
"I wasn't joking. He flirts wherever he goes, and probably gets away with it most of the time because of his looks."
Having scraped her tray clean, Sennia stretched contentedly.
"Well, you can rest easy about that. I'm not the kind of girl who falls for that sort of thing."
"..."
Arcia didn't reply and continued quietly eating her meal.
"What's so funny out here? I could hear you laughing from outside."
They turned to see Marcia, the field medic, approaching with her tray. She sat down next to Arcia.
"Hello."
Sennia greeted her politely.
"We were just talking about that Charlie guy."
"Charlie?! Which Charlie? The one from First Platoon?!"
Marcia's expression immediately darkened.
"Yeah..."
Even Marcia's voice trembled slightly. Sennia's instincts told her this was more serious than she had thought.
"The very mention of that bastard's name pisses me off. Wait—you said you were talking about him? You met Charlie just now?!"
"Y-yeah..."
Sennia could feel Marcia's barely contained rage.
"He didn't do anything to you, did he?!"
Marcia slammed her hand on the table, making Sennia jump. A few nearby clerks turned to eavesdrop.
"N-no, nothing happened..."
Sennia frantically waved her hands, worried Marcia might lose it.
"What did he say to you?"
Realizing she might've overreacted, Marcia took a breath to calm herself.
"He just invited me to lunch. But before I could answer, Arcia dragged me away."
"Well done, Arcia."
Marcia clapped Arcia on the shoulder approvingly.
"Look over there."
Sennia and Marcia followed Arcia's gaze and spotted Charlie entering the mess hall with a tray. He scanned the room, spotted Marcia, and without a word turned around and left.
"..."
Some people go silent when they're truly angry. Marcia was one of them.
"Whatever. Better not to see him. But I'm still going to have a word with him—he needs to be stopped from messing with you."
She let out a deep breath. Sennia could only smile awkwardly.
"Private Arcia Levanovsky Virdona!"
Marcia suddenly shouted in a commanding tone.
"Ma'am!"
Arcia immediately straightened, spoon frozen midair.
"I'm assigning you to protect Sennia from Charlie. Can you do that?!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Why was the normally quiet and well-behaved Arcia so quick to comply...? Well, Sennia thought, maybe this was one of those surprisingly cute sides of people you only discover in moments like this.
......
"A heavy toll—direct assaults always end up like this."
"No kidding. Back in Vervana, our whole company was nearly wiped out. Half my body almost got blown off by a shell."
"That really was the worst we've seen since the war began. Three whole companies charged alongside the infantry… No idea what those staff officers were thinking."
It was a rare moment for Charlie, Edwin, and Nordhausen to meet in one place. The three were gathered and chatting, Charlie still holding his lunch container.
"By the way—what's the story with that Sennia from your platoon?"
Sensing the conversation cooling off, Charlie seized the moment to change the subject.
"Something's off about her," Edwin replied flatly.
"How so?"
"Her tactical training and battlefield awareness are clearly below standard. And I really doubt Altasa's training program has dropped its bar that low."
"..."
A brief silence settled among them before Edwin suddenly remembered something and added:
"Wait a second—why are you asking about her? Don't tell me you've set your sights on her?"
He grew visibly agitated. Even the usually silent Nordhausen turned his gaze toward Charlie, waiting for a response. Charlie's reputation for romantic exploits had spread far and wide across several companies.
"I'm warning you—she's our comrade. Don't pull any of your usual tricks."
"You've got the wrong idea," Charlie replied, raising his hand in defense. "I just happened to run into her and exchange a few words. Her manners and bearing didn't feel the least bit inferior to someone like me—a noble by birth. That's all. Got curious, is all."
Everyone knew Charlie's personality all too well, so Edwin and Nordhausen both continued to eye him suspiciously.
"Alright, alright—I swear, I won't try to pursue Sennia in any way. Satisfied?"
Faced with their persistent doubt, Charlie had no choice but to make a solemn vow. Only then did Edwin finally sit back down.
"Otto talked to me before about her. Said higher-ups gave instructions to ensure Sennia's safety. If we piece it together… she might be some kind of 'undertrained noble,' with high-level protection."
At that, all three froze.
"Then why would the higher-ups send someone like that here?" Charlie asked, following Nordhausen's reasoning.
"The most distinctive thing about the Night Knights—besides our combat prowess—is that we're politically independent. We serve only the Emperor. Our orders may come from others on the battlefield, but that's only because the Emperor has temporarily loaned us out. No one outside has the authority to make personnel decisions within our ranks, nor can they access our internal records."
"Okay… and your point?" Edwin asked, unimpressed.
"The records," Nordhausen emphasized.
"You mean… political asylum?" Charlie's voice dropped slightly.
Having been involved in internal affairs clean-up during the peaceful forty-year span, Nordhausen had witnessed the brutal inner workings of political power. With his experience, he quickly zeroed in on the critical detail. And although Charlie didn't dabble in politics much, his instincts as a noble told him the same.
"Not necessarily," Nordhausen hedged, "but… consider her silver hair."
That one line made all of them inhale sharply—even Edwin was starting to catch on.
"No way. You're kidding… right?" Edwin muttered, dumbfounded.
His thoughts flashed back to two days ago, when he boldly declared he wanted to serve Princess Hielaina. And now—he might already be doing exactly that?
"As far as I know," Charlie began, connecting the dots with his noble background, "only House Isa is known for silver hair. And Melissa Isa… is Princess Hielaina's mother."
"Not a word of this conversation leaves this room," Nordhausen said at once, a hint of regret creeping into his voice. The curiosity that led them here now felt dangerously close to treason.
"This goes deeper than any of us want. I don't know anything. If this ever gets out—don't you dare mention my name."
Given that the current Emperor of Dazilet had taken the throne over Hielaina—who was the late Emperor's chosen heir—the political undercurrents swirling around them were far more terrifying than they'd realized.
"Hey—has anyone actually seen Princess Hielaina in person?" Charlie asked after a pause.
"I doubt it," Nordhausen answered before the question was even finished.
"She's always kept a low profile. The papers barely mention her."
"What are you three whispering about over here?"
A sudden voice made all three of them flinch. Thankfully, these were battle-hardened veterans—they didn't show it outwardly.
The newcomer was Andre, the commander of the 11th Company. Beside him stood a woman with long hair tied back.
"Captain!" the three stood at attention and saluted. Andre returned the salute and got straight to the point.
"This is Shatiel. A new recruit. I'll be leaving her in your care."
Andre looked directly at Nordhausen as he spoke. Nordhausen turned his eyes toward the straight-backed newcomer. After Andre introduced himself, Shatiel stepped forward and saluted. Nordhausen returned it with full formality.
"But… we haven't taken any casualties in our platoon," Edwin blurted out in confusion.
"That's fine. We'll just reassign someone to another unit. Shatiel is more than capable—and soon, you'll have an important mission."
Andre's tone made it clear he wasn't interested in elaborating. He left only a cryptic message, which confirmed to Nordhausen that Andre likely knew more than he was letting on.
"Understood," Nordhausen replied calmly, keeping up appearances.
"Oh, and the two of you—bring Otto over later. I've got new orders for you."
"Yes, sir!"