The Tribal Wars

At 5 a.m. the next morning, Heisen awoke to the early sunlight. He went straight to the washbasin, meticulously brushed his teeth, splashed cold water on his face, and dressed quickly. Within five minutes, he was ready and headed to the mess hall.

In the mess hall kitchen, each team had its own dedicated chef to prevent mass poisoning. The food was also managed separately. Heisen went directly to the chefs of Team 8.

“Ensign Heisen! Good morning!” They greeted him stiffly, immediately stopping their cooking.

“Continue as usual,” Heisen instructed.

Perhaps news of yesterday’s events had spread, as the chefs seemed visibly stressed. Heisen, however, paid them no mind and watched as they cooked.

“Distribute the food equally, regardless of rank.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Allow a double serving. Wine is limited to three glasses per person at night. If anyone insists on more, report it to me.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Your responsibility ends with the distribution. If there’s food poisoning, it’s not a problem if it’s an isolated incident. But if it affects the entire Team 8, you will be held accountable.”

“Yes, sir!”

“If anyone has questions, ask them now. Don’t wait until later.”

“…Yes, sir!”

“Any questions?”

After a brief silence, a chubby, middle-aged chef raised his hand.

“Oh, I’m Chef Gaji. Usually, there’s no additional charge, so the portions will increase. What should we do if we exceed the budget?”

“Re-plan the menu and report the expected amount. Food is part of training. The budget may be higher but should not be exceeded.”

“Understood. One more question, Lieutenant. Is there anything you don’t like?”

“I don’t think so. I’m the type to eat whatever is served, as long as it’s nutritionally balanced. I leave everything to you.”

“Understood.”

Chef Gaji nodded, satisfied. Heisen smiled in relief and patted his shoulder. In infantry, meals are as crucial as training. Proper management is essential.

“Bring the prepared meal to my room. Thank you.”

He gave these instructions and checked the time. It was 5:30. He returned to his room and studied the maps on the walls, memorizing the surrounding geography.

The border post of Gurna adjoined the Duchy of Diodor. The two countries were constantly engaged in territorial skirmishes and occasionally had to deal with raids by the Cumon tribe.

Heisen picked up the soldiers' diaries and began reading.

“…”

There was not much useful information. Not all the journals were complete, and most non-commissioned officers came from civilian backgrounds with low literacy rates. He sighed and continued reading until a diary caught his eye.

“Kakuzu.”

He called out through the door.

“Oh—What? I didn’t sleep!”

A large man responded in a groggy voice.

“Don’t lie. Tell Sergeant Zerega to summon the diarist.”

“Got it.”

A few minutes later, Sergeant Zerega and a middle-aged soldier arrived, both gasping.

“You called me?”

“I didn’t call Sergeant Zerega, but that’s fine. What’s your name?”

“Prior Edal, sir.”

The middle-aged soldier answered nervously.

“Edal. Your diary mentions battles with the Duchy of Diold and Cumon tribal raids. Is that all?”

“No, that’s all I remember.”

“I see. Then interview all the soldiers and record as much information as possible. You’re good at summarizing the main points.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Sergeant Zerega.”

“Yes, sir!”

“A journal without purpose is meaningless. If only those who could write did so, we wouldn’t capture all the information. From now on, journals will be abolished. Instead, get Edal to report. This applies to everyone below the rank of sergeant.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Adjust Edal’s workload by either increasing his salary for the extra time or reducing his actual training time. We’ll respond accordingly.”

“Yes, sir!”

“That’s all. If you have no further questions, you may leave. But don’t ask them later.”

“Understood.”

The two quickly left.

Fifteen minutes later, breakfast was brought in.

“Kakuzu.”

“Huh? What now?”

A muffled voice came from outside the door.

“Check if the same portion of food I received was served in the dining room.”

“Eh! I’m eating.”

“Do it while getting seconds. I’ll share some bread with you as a thank you.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll do it.”

Kakuzu happily went downstairs. Meanwhile, Heisen ate his meal. The meat was well-seasoned, but the milk had a slight odor, so he decided to give it to Kakuzu as a gift.

“The storage is not well managed.”

Poor food quality control increases the risk of food poisoning. Although he had warned the chefs, he suspected it might be a supply issue.

“Everyone gets the same.”

“I understand. Thanks.”

He handed over the bread and milk to Kakuzu, who began eating without hesitation.

“But food rations will vary from person to person.”

“No, especially not based on rankings.”

“Why not? Important people can eat more.”

“Such discrimination is pointless. Typically, non-commissioned officers exert more physical effort, depleting their nutrition. Officers who don’t move much end up with excess nutrition. You saw those sergeants’ bellies, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Subordinates expect fairness from their superiors. Often, it means fair compensation for their efforts. As a superior officer, I will pursue that fairness.”

Heisen stated it firmly. Equal work must be rewarded with equal compensation. Achieving this is surprisingly difficult due to varying roles and factors of luck and misfortune.

“Hah, Emma would say everyone should enjoy the meal together.”

“…Maybe.”

The black-haired young man smiled nostalgically.

At 7 a.m., upon arrival at the training center, everyone was already lined up with tense expressions. Following yesterday’s incident, it seemed none of them had the will to rebel anymore.

“Now, let’s begin the training,” Heisen commanded calmly, giving out instructions.

First, just like yesterday, he had them run tirelessly.

“The most crucial aspect in battle is speed of movement. Excess fat. We’ll start by trimming that down.”

“Yes,” responded Sergeant Zerega, enduring the pain as his side was gripped tightly.

Unlike yesterday, everyone managed to finish in under an hour.

“Good. Let’s do it again.”

“…Yes!”

They repeated the run without complaint. An hour later, several people dropped out and would need additional running.

“The rest of you will do squats, abs, and back exercises in pairs. Push each other to move faster. A split-second movement can determine life or death.”

“Yes!”

Responses were becoming more prompt. These were soldiers who had served on the front lines, likely believing that survival lay in following the strong.

Morning training ended, and lunch was served—steamed fish called "abito." Everyone attacked the meal with renewed vigor. Some struggled to eat, likely due to the rigorous training. Heisen allowed them an extended break, waiting until they felt hungry.

“Eating is foundational for building your body. Emergency situations may arise where you won’t eat for days. Make sure you eat.”

“Yes!”

“I don’t think you can slack off. Moving your break forward means delaying your training. Your workload remains the same as everyone else’s.”

“Understood.”

In the afternoon, sword training commenced, with soldiers wearing light armor and sparring in pairs. They switched opponents every five minutes.

Among them stood a swordsman who handled his weapon with finesse.

“Sergeant Buz.”

“Yes!”

“Are you proficient with a sword?”

“Yes!”

“Then teach others. Choose two who excel.”

“Yes!”

Sergeant Buz eagerly replied.

Later, they practiced collaborative drills, with one soldier in heavy armor being attacked by three. Sergeant Buz led, instructing Privates Salima and Abanda.

“Sergeant Buz, your swordsmanship is impressive,” murmured Kakuzu.

“Ah, and I have plenty of real combat experience. A variety of attack patterns.”

The foundation of their training seemed solid. Heisen observed Sergeant Major Samuel and Sergeant Zerega. While not unfit, they didn’t move as fluidly, likely due to prior laxity.

As the sun set and training concluded, everyone collapsed in exhaustion. They had pushed themselves to their limits.

“Good work. Meal in 30 minutes. Take a 15-minute break and head to the cafeteria. You can have up to two refills and three drinks.”

“Huh? Um, anyone?”

“As a reminder, the 8th Platoon isn’t on security duty. But excessive drinking is on you. No leniency for training if you’re not feeling well. Everyone trains with the same intensity.”

“Yes!”

The new soldier replied cheerfully. The sergeants watched with complex expressions, likely due to Sergeant Major Chomo’s monopolization of the alcohol.

Heisen left for his room and returned to his reading. Dinner was brought promptly, and Heisen ate, refilling Kakuzu’s plate twice. The giant required double the energy; if needed, dried meat would suffice.

After dinner, Kakuzu fetched Private Edal. They discussed the battle times with the Duchy of Diordo and the Cumin tribe attacks, reviewing the daily report.

“Good document. No issues. Tomorrow, I expect the same.”

“Have you already read it?”

“Yes. Speed reading is my forte. Try it out sometime. Reading a book a second saves a lot of time.”

“Hehe.”

Private Edal smiled wryly. Heisen tilted his head, wondering if he had said something unusual.

“Also, could you analyze this? Compile the daily report into geographic data.”

“Okay.”

“If you feel unrewarded, let me know. We’ll consider and adjust.”

“This is part of the mission, too.”

“Missions come with rewards. Training, security, and combat are worth extra pay. You deserve compensation.”

Private Edal hesitated, surprised and confused, but eventually smiled and nodded.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“No need for thanks. It’s pay for your work. Be proud of your skills and effort.”