The next day, Roman entered the Southern Training Center as scheduled. It was a basic procedure everyone had to do before being put on the battlefield. Thus, Roman and other nobles appeared with their soldiers. The faces of the nobles didn't look good. It was because none of them had enlisted voluntarily. If their loyalty to the nation was that great, they would have gone to the Western Front, where help was needed the most, and not the Southern Front.
Soon, a man who seemed to be the commander came forward.
"I am Viscount Bale Frank, the commander of the Southern Training Centre. As everyone knows, the Southern Training Center is where basic military training is taught to soldiers deployed on the Southern Front. You will receive 3 weeks of training here and will be assigned to a reserve unit and spend the rest of your service period there."
Attending basic military training and then being assigned to a reserve unit—The process was the same for the Western and Southern Front. Nevertheless, the Southern Front didn't have many battles and even had Reserved Troops, whereas the Western Front had no Reserved Troops as they were constantly in battles.
Thus, among the soldiers, a saying circulated—A soldier who serves on the Southern Front gains a lot of weight, and a soldier who serves on the Western Front can hardly return in good health. In summary, they were polar opposites.
Even the atmosphere here told Roman everything. Far from feeling wretched at the thought of being on the battlefield, people were yawning.
"There are some facts you must keep in mind while staying here. Whatever your status might be before enlistment, here, you are only a soldier performing military service. Anyone who breaks the rules of the training center will be sent to the Western Front as a punishment."
It was funny to consider sending others to the Western Front as punishment. Still, the absurd thing was that it actually worked. Even imagining something like going to the Western Front from the Southern one was terrible. Thus, they paid a little more attention.
Viscount Bale's speech was short. When he was done speaking, the troops disbanded.
"Everyone, unpack in the assigned dorms. The training schedule will be announced in the evening."
Finally, they were admitted, and for now, they belonged to Southern Training Centre.
Just when Roman was about to head to his own dorm, a soldier approached him and said, "The commander wants to meet you."
Roman's thought of Viscount Bale making eye contact with him throughout the speech wasn't a delusion.
The first thing Roman was greeted with in the commander's room was the bright smile of Viscount Bale, which was far from seen in the welcoming speech.
"Come on in! The road to the Southern Front must have been difficult."
"Yes. It wasn't much."
"Come and sit."
Drr.
Viscount Bale pulled a chair by hand. It was kind of awkward. Roman had seen Viscount Bale for the first time in his life, but Viscount Bale acted as if they were old acquaintances.
"You know how excited I was to hear that you were being deployed to the Southern Front? Roman Dmitry, the Youngest Ranker of the Cairo Kingdom! Oh, I was so excited to know the sleeping dragon was born in Dmitry. Ah, are you fine with coffee?"
"Yes."
Viscount Bale was humming when making the coffee. While a soldier could have performed this task on his behalf, he chose to handle it himself.
The commander's room was instantly dyed in the aroma of coffee.
He took a sip of coffee and smiled as he put Roman's cup ahead.
Tak.
"Drink it. Actually, the reason I called you here is to ask something. Rumor has it that Marquis Benedict used his powers to place you on the Southern Front. Is that true?"
This one-sided favor had a purpose. It wasn't something huge.
Viscount Bale's eyes were looking at the coffee, but he wanted something from Roman.
Roman didn't know for what purpose this was being asked, and seeking neutrality, he judged he didn't have to hide it.
"Yes. I didn't ask for it, but Marquis Benedict did do that."
"Is that so?"
Viscount Bale's expression brightened. Actually, he had already confirmed the truth to some extent. Still, he had to check it through Roman, and when he got the answer he wanted, he couldn't hide his happiness.
"Right. I will tell you my point straightforwardly. I want to look good to Marquis Benedict. The Southern Training Camp isn't a bad place, but it is nothing compared to the lavish life in the capital. That is why I will take care of you, so that nothing is lacking for you while you stay in the training center. I don't mean to ask for much. Just do one thing—Later, when you meet Marquis benedict, tell him that Viscount Bale Frank took good care of you. That is all you need to say."
It was a straightforward and blatant statement.
Bale Frank—Like Dmitry, he, too, was a noble from the outskirts and had the grand dream of entering the Central Government. However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get into the Central Government.
The training center was a location that received requests from numerous nobles' families, and Marquis Benedict wasn't someone he could even touch. He was the core of the noble faction. It was an area that Viscount Bale could never touch normally, and he needed a way to make the link with him. And that is what he judged Roman Dmitry to be.
'Marquis Benedict has done a great task for Roman Dmitry. If Roman Dmitry swears allegiance to Marquis Benedict at any time, he will be able to lead me to the noble faction. This is a rare chance to enter the Central Government.'
He had no intention of hiding the purpose. This was a deal. A deal that one got in return for a comfortable life in the south. The Southern Training Center was a place where the commander ruled. That was why even though he openly asked for an improper solicitation, Viscount Bale didn't look the least bit shameful.
'Interesting.'
Roman kept smiling while hearing his proposal. Marquis Benedict and Viscount Bale—They weren't naturally meant to be together throughout their lives. Still, right now, he was being given a favor that he didn't have to refuse. Thus, Roman said, "I understand. I will never forget this kindness."
That was all.
Roman kept the smile on his face and accepted the favor.
Roman exited the commander's room.
He was going to head back to his dorm straight away, but just then, he met someone with a familiar face.
"You were here!"
It was Henry Albert—The person who had caused a riot in the inn. Contrary to the appearance of him hastily running away back then, he looked calm now and said, "As I pondered my actions, I realized that I did not do anything wrong to apologize to you. In short, Dmitry is just a Baron family on the outskirts and I, the second son of Albert, said I wanted to use the inn. Does it make sense to run into a fight only for that?"
Yesterday evening, Henry couldn't sleep. It was because he was angry. He was born and brought up in a rich family, so he couldn't accept being humiliated by someone from a Baron family. It didn't matter to him if Roman was the Youngest Ranker. From what he heard, Dmitry was originally a family of commoners, so unlike him, they couldn't be called true nobles.
His stomach boiled in anger, and he waited for today. When he entered the training center, he thought that even Roman wouldn't be able to mistreat him.
And at Roman's blunt reaction, Henry pushed further on.
"You touched the wrong person. Do you know what family my mother is from? It's the Frank family. Now you know what mistake you made? Right, the commander, Viscount Bale Frank, is my uncle! So apologize to me! I will not let this slide, especially to my uncle."
The background he believed in is Viscount Bale.
Even though Roman was the Youngest Ranker, here, he was just a soldier and nothing more.
Thus, Henry felt proud of himself. This time, he was sure of his victory.
But…
"So?"
"…Uh?"
"Your maternal uncle is the commander of the training center, so what?"
"You—Do you not understand this situation? My maternal uncle clearly stated in the welcoming speech that anyone who broke the rules would be sent to the Western Front. The disciplines don't just refer to acting like soldiers. It includes those who don't behave as my uncle likes, and guys like you are included in that!"
He was frustrated. Roman was showing such a reaction even when he knew who his uncle was. Cold sweat began to drop down his head, thinking that Roman might pull out his sword again.
"I don't think you know what the Western Front is like. Even if you are a 3-Star Aura Swordsman, you will die in a moment out there. You stay here and wait! I will bring my uncle and see if you can act this proud then."
He took a step back to take one forward. Until then, Henry Albert firmly believed his uncle would solve his problems.
"Uncle!"
Seeing Henry, Viscount Bale smiled broadly.
"Oh, my. My nephew is here?"
To the general public, Henry Albert might not be much, but to Viscount Bale, he was the lovely nephew he wouldn't wish to even see get hurt. In particular, Henry resembled Viscount Bale's sister too much with his brown hair and playful appearance.
"But why is my nephew looking like he will cry?" Viscount Bale asked after checking Henry's expression.
"Uncle, what would you do if someone from a Baron's family threatened me?"
"What? Who is that bastard?!"
Viscount Bale got up from the seat. A child had threatened his pretty nephew. There was no need for him to listen to this any further.
He grabbed the sheathed sword on the wall with an angry face.
"Take me to that bastard right now. How dare someone touch my nephew at this training center?! I will crush him down!"
"Really?"
Henry's expression brightened. If his uncle would handle this, then he was sure everything would work out. Once one entered the training center, the commander's orders were absolute.
Henry walked hastily as he thought Roman would run away the moment he saw Viscount Bale.
"It is that guy."
He pointed to the other person with his finger. It was Roman Dmitry.
That idiot didn't run away.
Seeing him waiting for them, Henry raised his lips into a smile.
Viscount Bale arrived a bit late, and as soon as he saw who was pointed at the other end of the finger, his expression hardened. He closed his eyes and opened them again. He turned to look at Henry and then back at Roman. He truly wanted to deny that the one his finger was pointing to was Roman. On the other hand, Henry was waiting for Roman to be reprimanded.
Viscount Bale felt lost.
'This crazy bastard is trying to block my growth.'
He made a quick decision before Henry even said anything else. Viscount Bale slapped Henry on the cheek.
Whack!
Along with the enormous sound, Henry's proud face instantly changed.