As Cedar and Lance made their way through the bustling streets, the energy of the capital enveloped them like a tide. Refugees, merchants, and soldiers filled the roads, each absorbed in their own struggles. The hum of bartering voices mixed with the clatter of wagon wheels and distant marching boots.
The military sector lay only a few blocks away, but their journey was slow, punctuated by the chaotic vibrance of city life.
A sudden cry pierced through the noise. Cedar turned to see a young girl, no older than ten, sprawled on the cobblestone near a market stall. Her basket of fruit had toppled, scattering apples and oranges into the street. Tears brimmed in her wide eyes as she scrambled to gather the scattered produce, her small hands trembling.
Without hesitation, Cedar stepped forward, kneeling beside her. He plucked an apple from the ground and placed it gently back into her basket.
"It's alright," he said with a soft smile. "No harm done."
The girl glanced up at him, her tear-streaked face a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment.
"Thank you, sir," she whispered, clutching the basket tightly against her chest.
Cedar stood, brushing dust off his knees, and watched as the girl hurried off toward a nearby alley. For a moment, he lingered, his thoughts lost in the simplicity of the act. Lance broke his reverie with a hearty clap on the shoulder.
"You've got a soft spot for kids," Lance teased, though his tone carried more warmth than mockery. "Planning on raising one of your own someday?"
Cedar chuckled. "Hey, I fell a lot when I was a kid too. No harm helping someone get back on their feet." He paused, smirking. "And it's not like I'm using magic for it."
Lance grinned knowingly. Soldiers were trained in magic, but regulations forbade its use in public settings—even harmless spells like healing. It didn't help that healing magic happened to be Cedar's weak spot.
As they continued toward the military barracks, another distraction caught their attention. A young boy, perhaps twelve, stood near the roadside with a tray of steaming pastries balanced precariously on one arm.
"Fresh flower buns! Sweet and warm!" he called, his voice cracking with enthusiasm. "Best in Otreau, only fifty cents!"
Lance came to a halt, his stomach clearly overtaking his sense of urgency. "Fifty cents for a single bun? That's daylight robbery!" he exclaimed, though his eyes betrayed his curiosity.
The boy grinned and held up a piping hot pastry. "Worth every coin, sir. I swear on my life!"
Cedar shook his head with a laugh, fishing out a few coins and handing them over. "Alright, you win. Two buns."
The boy deftly handed over two pastries. Cedar tossed one to Lance and bit into the other.
The boy did not bluff, the bread was indeed delicious.
The sweet, floral aroma hit first, followed by the rich, buttery filling that melted on his tongue. After weeks of bland rations, the flavor was nothing short of bliss.
"Well?" the boy asked eagerly, bouncing on his toes.
Lance took a deliberate bite, chewing slowly as if weighing his verdict. Finally, he nodded. "Alright, kid. Best buns I've had in weeks. Maybe even months."
The boy's grin widened, and he gave a theatrical bow before darting off to hawk his wares to the next passerby. Cedar and Lance resumed their walk, savoring the fleeting comfort of warm food in a world overshadowed by war.
When they reached the gates of the military barracks, the atmosphere shifted. The chaos of the streets gave way to focused activity as soldiers unloaded supplies and exchanged clipped words. A soldier in the same uniform as them approached them, his expression tense.
"Cedar Caliane?" the soldier asked, his eyes darting between the two men.
Cedar straightened. "That's me."
"The major has requested your presence. Immediately." The messenger hesitated before adding, "He's in the central command building. It's urgent. Please follow me."
Cedar exchanged a glance with Lance, who gave him a reassuring nod. "Guess they didn't waste any time," Lance muttered.
The sweetness of the bun still lingered faintly on Cedar's tongue as he licked his fingers, turning to follow the messenger.
Yum, he think to himself, reminding to get more later for Ivan to taste it.
The fellow corporal escorted him through the labyrinthine corridors of the military quarters.
Officially, Cedar still held the title of corporal, though his rank was more a placeholder than a formal recognition. Continuous deployments had left no room for proper ceremonies, but the nature of this summons hinted that his contributions might finally be acknowledged.
As he entered Major Frederick's office, Cedar's attention immediately landed on a familiar face.
The young blonde noblewoman from the airship stood beside the major, her striking blue eyes and sharp features mirroring his own. It was clear now—they were siblings.
She was Celeste Gardihaus, the daughter of Baron Edward Gardihaus, the high-ranking mage who had sacrificed himself during the battle for Alieth.
Major Frederick, a tall and commanding presence, acknowledged Cedar with a curt nod, his expression as serious as ever.
"Corporal," he began, his tone measured but carrying respect, "I've reviewed the reports on your actions during the evacuation. Your decision to create a diversion allowed critical personnel—including my sister—to escape. For that, the Union owes you a debt of gratitude."
Frederick's gaze was piercing, but approval flickered beneath the stern exterior. Stepping forward, he opened a small box, revealing two gleaming insignias within.
"I'm aware your rank has remained unofficial due to the relentless nature of your assignments. Today, that changes."
Cedar stood at attention, his posture firm and expression composed, though the gravity of the moment weighed heavily on him.
Major Frederick stepped forward, opening the small box to reveal two distinct items within. "One is your new rank insignia," he began, his tone steady. "You will be summoned later to formalize the adjustments and receive further instructions. The other is a medal of commendation—a tangible acknowledgment of your contributions. While your actions have been recorded in the Union's reports, this represents your service in a more material way."
Frederick held Cedar's gaze for a moment before continuing. "Effective immediately, you are promoted to the rank of sergeant. You will command a squad of five soldiers and hold operational authority over your assigned missions."
Cedar gave a sharp nod, accepting the box with steady hands. His voice was calm, but resolute. "Thank you, Major."
Beside the major, Celeste Gardihaus offered a polite inclination of her head. "Your actions aboard the airship that day were vital, Sergeant," she said, her tone formal but carrying genuine gratitude. "You brought stability when it was most needed. For that, I thank you."
"It was my duty, ma'am," Cedar replied, his words measured and respectful. He held her gaze briefly before turning his attention back to Major Frederick, ready to face the challenges ahead.
Frederick's demeanor softened, if only slightly, as he laid out Cedar's first assignment as a sergeant.
"Your initial mission will be a critical one. You are to lead your squad in escorting a convoy carrying munitions, enchanted artillery, and defensive equipment to the front lines outside the capital. Once there, you'll assist in fortifying positions and coordinate with other sergeants to ensure the convoy's safe arrival."
The weight of the mission was unmistakable. The supplies were vital to the Union's war efforts, and this task would serve as a test of Cedar's leadership in a high-stakes situation.
Frederick paused, his expression hardening. "The capital may seem secure now, but the tides of war can shift without warning. Your actions in this role will shape your future—and the Union needs leaders it can depend on."
As Cedar turned to leave, the insignias in hand, he felt the weight of his promotion.
This was more than just a title; it symbolized trust and opened the door to greater responsibilities. He had worked hard to reach this moment, and now, with his determination renewed and a clear sense of purpose, he was ready to take on the challenges ahead.
Like Howser told him before, gramps would be proud of him.