I serve as both trainer and Staff Officer to the 6th Special Task Brigade's only combat unit—an all-female platoon. While managing their growth, I continue reporting regularly to my superior.
"Their training results are excellent. Discipline is tight, judgment sharp, and their attitude serious."
When I deliver my report, Lieutenant Colonel Althea listens carefully, nodding with a contemplative expression.
"I'd like to say that's reassuring, but..." She studies my face. "You're holding something back, aren't you, Second Lieutenant?"
She's sharp. Her battlefield prowess might be average, but when it comes to reading people, she's easily among the best I've met. I speak honestly.
"They're a little too perfect. It feels unnatural."
"More so than male soldiers?"
The last platoon I led was competent—disciplined, functional, good soldiers. But this new platoon is on another level. Their progress is swift, and training them is almost effortless.
It reminds me of my past life, when I taught elite advancement classes at a cram school. Those students were all aiming for the top, and their focus was razor-sharp.
"They're the easiest group I've ever trained. It's like someone already filtered out the top talent before I even got here."
Althea's lips curl into a soft smile. There's something behind that expression—satisfaction, maybe?
"I see. You're as capable as I hoped. You've realized it already—they're what we call 'select' infantry."
"Select?"
I tilt my head, prompting her to explain with her usual calm demeanor.
"I gave equal protection to all women in the Medelin Territory. But not everyone is suited for military life. Those who couldn't keep up left of their own will."
"I see. That makes sense."
Althea must have opened the gates wide at first—accepting any woman who came seeking shelter. But naturally, not all stayed. Soldiering isn't for everyone.
"And the ones who left?"
"Some work at Brigade Headquarters now. Civilian staff. Cafeteria, laundry, tailoring, and weapons repair."
"That explains it."
Come to think of it, the non-combat areas are mostly staffed by older women and aunties. I always thought it was odd, but now it makes sense. Each of them must have a story of their own.
"The military's a huge machine," I muse. "It consumes a lot—and that creates jobs. You're using that to support the women, aren't you?"
"Exactly."
Althea nods quietly.
"You're quite observant."
"A Staff Officer who isn't perceptive is useless," I say with a wry smile. "If that's the case..."
I smirk.
"As the brigade grows, the number of civilian staff will increase too, right?"
"Indeed. I'd like to expand it further. After all, the state is footing the bill."
Althea looks rather pleased. She doesn't have to drain her own budget, so her conscience and resources remain intact. I find myself relaxing as well.
"I'm all for it. Our dear homeland barely lifts a finger for the vulnerable. Honestly, I feel no guilt at all about draining the treasury a little."
"Hey now," Althea chuckles. "Be careful what you say around a member of the Five Royal Families."
Her laugh is easy, almost mischievous.
I lay the documents I've prepared on her desk, finally feeling at ease.
"Anyway, here's the proposal for improving the 1st Women's Infantry Company."
"That was quick."
"The issues were obvious."
I maintain a confident posture, aiming to look like a capable Staff Officer—because I am one. The problems were easy to identify. I suspect previous officers just couldn't be bothered.
Althea reads through my proposal swiftly, then nods in understanding.
"I see. That's why you're a headache."
Did I miss something?
But Althea just laughs lightly.
"I get it—you're requesting new boots and tents to support marching, and even bulk orders of undergarments. Practical choices. Undergarments can be used in first aid, and staying clean prevents disease."
"You've got a good eye. For boots especially, we need to measure each soldier and keep proper records."
Foot shapes vary widely. Ideally, a shoemaker or podiatrist should do the measuring. We can't afford true custom shoes like the nobility wears, but the Schweidel Empire's shoemakers use standardized wooden molds. Buying based on those will make a huge difference.
Right now, though, the army doesn't do that. They issue free-size boots, so most soldiers have to modify them—or suffer.
"Infantry who can't march aren't infantry at all."
"Fair point. You're serious about mobility, huh? Very well. For this level of expense, I'll handle it myself—no need to go begging the higher-ups."
The upper brass—or rather, the imperial family—are notoriously stingy. Althea choosing to pay from her personal funds is actually faster and smarter. I imagine the higher-ups will just pretend not to notice.
Then her gaze sharpens.
"But... about shortening the rifle. You do realize cutting the barrel reduces range, yes? That's a major issue in infantry combat."
"Of course."
I nod and explain.
"Shorter range means we'd be forced to advance under fire—and that's a recipe for heavy losses, especially in bayonet encounters."
"Exactly. So, what's your counter?"
"There's a trade-off that makes it worthwhile, ma'am."
I'm grateful that Althea is quick to follow my logic. I press on.
"The current imperial infantry rifle is too large for our soldiers. Reloading is awkward, and the weight is excessive. The rate of fire drops noticeably."
The standard musket in the Schweidel Army is long and heavy—designed for bayonet advantage, but clumsy in actual combat. Even I find it annoying. Reloading under 20 seconds is nearly impossible. In a shootout, a few seconds can decide everything.
"If we're already disadvantaged in range, then we should at least make them easier to handle."
"True. Weight reduction is always a principle in military design... but still."
Althea frowns. Guns are the lifeline of infantry.
"At that length, it's basically a Cavalry Rifle, isn't it?"
"Yes. We're planning to repurpose those."
We need about two hundred rifles, including spares. That rules out custom procurement. We'll gather the Cavalry Rifles sitting unused in storage.
"But infantry don't have cavalry mobility. How will they win with cavalry weapons?"
"That's where the trick comes in—something I couldn't include in the report."
I lower my voice slightly.
"I'll be modifying both the barrels and the bullets."
Honestly, I wish there was another way. But this is our best option.
"Right now, all our bullets are spherical. I'll reshape them—make them acorn-shaped."
The design is similar to what I knew as the Minie ball in my previous life.
"With a concave base, they'll trap combustion gases better. That means higher pressure, more accuracy, and much greater range."
Althea raises a skeptical eyebrow.
"Wouldn't a longer bullet fly off course?"
"Exactly. That's why we'll cut spiral grooves in the barrel—rifling. That spin stabilizes the bullet."
I pull a sample bullet from my pocket and hand it to her.
"These can be cast in sand molds. Barrel modification is tedious, but the performance difference is massive. It was good enough for poaching, even from a distance."
In my younger days—after being reborn—I often hunted with an old ex-soldier. We'd sneak into noble forests and take down game. The meat was food. The pelts sold for a decent price.
Althea looks astonished.
"I'm amazed you didn't get caught. The gamekeepers would've fed you to the trees."
"I was careful. Fast and quiet. Honestly, it's the same idea as now—strike and vanish."
Gamekeepers patrolled huge areas with few men. And during feeding times, their attention was elsewhere.
Althea sighs, lips twitching into a crooked smile.
"I had you pegged as a 'diligent, capable man,' but I'm upgrading that to 'diligent, capable, and dangerous.'"
"I'll take that as a compliment."
In this country, following the law as a street orphan was a death sentence. We had to bend the rules to survive. That was my quiet rebellion.
"I know a barrel smith who can help with the modifications," I say.
"You rogue."
Althea chuckles and studies the bullet again.
"We'll need a large quantity. Will we make it in time?"
"For now, just a few rifles will be enough. We'll assign them to our best sharpshooters—to target enemy officers, NCOs, and buglers."
"I see... So we treat them as sniper rifles for now. Full deployment will take at least a year."
She pauses to think, then gives a small nod.
"Very well. I'll fund it myself. If it's my budget, I don't need approval."
Looks like she intends to keep the weapon development under wraps. In the end, it's hard to say who's more cunning—her or me.
She continues with a thoughtful tone.
"Once new weapons are introduced, they eventually fall into enemy hands. The best way to keep them out of enemy hands is not to share them with our allies either. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Completely."
Once they're spread across the entire Schweidel army, they'll inevitably get captured or leaked. And then the enemy will use them too—turning battles into bloodbaths of equal firepower.
As much as I hate hiding it from my comrades, the secret stays sealed—for now.
Althea clasps her hands on her desk and looks up.
"I've approved everything so far. Is there anything else?"
"There is."
I slide the next proposal across the desk.
Notes:
• Althea - Colonel Althea Medelin. Female. Brigade Commander of the 6th Special Task Brigade. Young woman in her twenties with long black hair. Noble from the Medelin family, a rival to the Litreille clan. Professional and disciplined, yet approachable. Holds a high rank despite her age, indicating exceptional ability. Relationship: Superior to Euner Krombelts, welcomes him to the brigade.
• Schweidel Empire - A once-powerful empire that has lost much of its territory after more than a century of war. It is located in a continent where absolute monarchies are at their peak, and colonies are being established. The empire is currently fighting to restore its lost lands. It is surrounded by neighboring countries that are heretics and long-time enemies, despite being different sects of the same religion.