Second Life as a Soldier Chapter 92 - Grounding

As I walked out of the command building, the first thing I did was look for a secluded spot.

I found an empty training yard. Many of the yards were deserted at the mont, most soldiers still occupied with reconstruction, guard rotations, or recovery. This one felt different. It was peaceful, set far from the other buildings, with a lone tree standing in one corner.

The air carried the dull scent of dust and iron. The ground was marked with shallow grooves, signs that the yard had not been used for several days.

At first, I thought I would sit down in the shadow of the tree and try to sort through my thoughts. The conversation with Lieutenant Cicero still echoed in my head. But as I stepped farther into the training yard, my gaze fell on the spears and shields stored in a small equipnt rack.

For the first ti in a long while, I did not feel the urge to turn away from them. I did not feel the instinct to avoid them.

I set the stack of docunts Cicero had given on the rack, weighing them down with a stone so the wind would not scatter them. Then I picked up a spear.

I picked it up with my left hand.

My right arm stayed close to my side, stiff and aching. My left hand was my non-dominant one. I had never trained with a spear this way. Even the grip felt wrong at first, unfamiliar and awkward. The balance was off. The weight distribution felt uneven.

I adjusted my grip slowly, fingers shifting along the shaft until it felt at least manageable.

At first, I only wanted to feel the spear in my hand again. But as I stood there holding it, the thought ca naturally. If I was going to hold it anyway, I might as well practice with my non dominant hand. So I began.

I started with the most basic drill. The thrust.

Each movent drove straight forward from my center, hips and shoulders aligned, power flowing through my arm into the spearhead. The motion was simple, almost crude.

Then I transitioned into defensive movents. My hands guided the shaft in controlled arcs, sotis circular, sotis linear, redirecting an imagined blade away from my body. I focused on balance. On recovery. On staying grounded instead of fast.

The spear felt flat and uncomfortable in my left hand. It demanded my full attention just to perform the basics correctly. That alone forced my mind to stay present.

After about ten minutes, I began incorporating my skills. [Flowing Spear Style (UC)] and [Unbroken Stride (UC)]. I started moving across the training yard, slow at first, then with increasing confidence, emulating exchanges against an imaginary opponent. Each step tested my balance. Each adjustnt reminded how much I still relied on habit.

After thirty minutes, I stopped.

I returned the spear to its place, picked up the docunts, and made my way toward the tree. My breathing was steady, my muscles sore mostly because I was using them again after almost twenty days. Those thirty minutes had given my mind sothing I did not even realize I needed.

Space.

Training with my non-dominant hand had forced everything else out. The dead. The guilt. The argunts. The words spoken in anger. For a brief while, my world had narrowed to movent and control.

But now it was ti to think.

As I walked to the tree, I smiled, thinking it would have been a good place to share a drink with Jack and Colin. The thought faded just as quickly when I rembered that it was no longer possible. I sat down on the ground.

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The soil was dry and coarse against my palms, the bark rough against my back as I leaned my head against the trunk. A slow breeze brushed across my face, carrying the distant sounds of the fort settling back into routine.

I closed my eyes, and one positive sign stood out. Even after thinking about Jack, I did not spiral into bleak thoughts. My mind was working again, moving forward instead of circling the sa despair. I was thinking about the future. About responsibility.

So I went back over the conversation with Lieutenant Cicero, the weight of the docunts still resting in my lap.

The first realization that struck was how much I had changed. Over the last two years, my mind had been conditioned to follow orders, to complete the tasks assigned to . Telling a superior that I had not done what was expected weighed on far more than I had anticipated. Part of wanted to stand up and start reading the books Cicero had given imdiately, just to erase that failure.

But I did not.

Another realization followed. During that conversation, without consciously deciding it, I had stopped thinking about abandoning the army altogether.

I wanted to live up to the trust Walter had placed in . To the trust Lieutenant Cicero was placing in now. I wanted to find out whether I could truly beco what they believed I could be.

For now, my first goal was simple. I needed to be able to use my skills properly again. I needed to return to training at full intensity.

Unsurprisingly, my biggest motivation to improve myself had another source. The news about Lief.

The idea that he might form a core and beco a noble filled with genuine happiness for him. But I could already imagine the smug look on his face once he learned about it. The thought made snort softly.

And I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face on every front. I already outranked him, which covered one part. If I trained harder and beat him in a sparring match, that would take care of another.

Just imagining it brought a faint smile to my face.

But there were other things I could no longer ignore.

I opened my eyes and looked down at the docunts Cicero had handed . Detailed reports. Records of the people the army fully expected to treat as expendable. As tools. As bodies to be placed between danger and everyone else.

From Walter, to Sergeant Fenward, to Captain and even Cicero, everyone had accepted that reality. Even Varric had wanted to use the badge to enforce control.

To force obedience.

I stared at the parchnts for a long mont without opening them.

Was that really the direction I was supposed to take?

I had seen them fight willingly. I had also worked alongside them during construction. But it was clear there was a difference between the way I thought and the way they thought, but relying on the threat of a mana oath did not feel like the right decision.

In my past life, I was not a student of history, but I knew this much. Our history was filled with examples that proved one thing: the threat of violence can force obedience, but it never creates loyalty. The mont I lost the power behind that badge would be the mont I lost my squad, and most likely, my life as well.

The more I thought about it, the more certain I beca of one thing. I did not have it in to use the mana oath every ti my life was in danger, or every ti a situation beca difficult. I had seen the pain it caused Kael when the sergeant used it on him. Only soone who thought of others as less than human could use sothing like that casually.

That kind of thinking was no different from how nobles treated commoners.

I had almost used the mana oath that morning. But that was because I was angry, not because it was the right choice. And I would not hesitate to use it if they truly put my life, or soone else’s life, in danger. But only if it was absolutely necessary.

That led to the next problem.

How was I supposed to make this squad work together?

The confrontation earlier that morning would likely have only damaged the rapport I had built with them. I still believed I could work with my current squadmates. I was already thinking of ways Barry and Kael could be integrated into squad duties. Varric might be more of a problem, but just as I had done in the past, I might be able to use his competitive nature again.

The real concern was what would happen when new privates were added. If they turned out to have the sa, or worse, morale than my current squadmates, the equation would change entirely.

The only reason I had managed to build any goodwill with the conscripts in the first place was because I had worked alongside them before becoming their officer. My promotion had already put the current mbers on guard. For new mbers, it would be even worse. They would not know who I had been before becoming a sergeant, and there would be resentnt toward soone whose role was simply to give orders.

I needed to find a way for the squad to see as an authority figure without relying on the threat of a mana oath.

I did not yet know how to do that.

But I knew where to start.

Before reading reports written by people who already saw them as expendable, I needed to speak to my current squadmates directly. To understand them on my own terms.

Only then would I open the files.