Chapter 11: New Recruits
Jima couldn’t be bothered to explain to Mr. Dongdong and strolled through the makeshift military camp. The temporary camp of the Holy Hall’s small unit had well-organized tents, with wooden walls and trenches outside.
Along the way, the human soldiers she encountered watched her warily, focusing on the horns on her head.
Jima also couldn’t be bothered to charm them. Ignoring the soldiers’ gazes, she stood in place, rubbing her cat head.
In the meantime, a military chaplain approached her with a few soldiers to inquire about her identity. After a brief argument, the chaplain left in displeasure, clearly dissatisfied with Commander George’s choice.
“Really?! Can I leave now?”
Not far away, Mr. Dongdong’s voice came.
Jima dozed off, and armored George walked over.
“You actually compensated Mr. Dongdong,” George said. “I’m glad.”
“Don’t be too happy too soon.” Jima yawned, “I was just being pitiful. By the way, where am I sleeping?”
“Wait a moment, I’ll gather the soldiers to announce your joining the expeditionary force.”
“Do it so formally?” Jima said. “I’m a succubus; if this gets out, others will think I’m here to apply for the job of a military prostitute.”
“Protocol is protocol; the soldiers need to know who their comrades are.”
Isn’t it good enough for mortals to be cannon fodder?
At that moment, a sergeant in pitch-black plate armor ran over, sweating profusely, and asked, “Commander, any orders?”
“Gather all warriors; I have important news. A powerful extraordinary being is joining our ranks.”
“Yes, sir.” The sergeant saluted and jogged away, his neck glistening with sweat from not wearing a helmet.
“By the way, George,” Jima looked at the fully armed George, who had a bloody smell about him. “Why do you always wear armor with weapons stuffed inside? Isn’t it hot?”
“No, I have cooling methods.”
Jima looked at George’s head, and sure enough, he wasn’t sweating much. She curiously asked, “How do you cool down?”
“Through light.” George replied, turning his back to Jima.
Jima instantly felt what seemed like being hit by a hot lamp, warming her up.
“I understand now; you can convert heat into light radiation. That’s amazing,” Jima said. “No wonder…”
“No wonder what?”
Jima leaned in, sniffed, then grimaced and recoiled, waving her hand in front of her nose. “No wonder there’s a stench; it must be the blood inside your armor getting heated. You really should tell your attendant to clean up properly.”
“Is there a smell? Alright, I’ll wash up when I have the chance.”
At that moment, the gathering horn sounded throughout the camp.
“Don’t you have an attendant?”
“I have one. He’s a kid, a novice. Still learning, his skills are lacking.”
“Oh?” Jima took an interest, raising her tail and asking, “Is she a little girl?”
“No, just a normal boy.”
“A cross-dresser?”
“No, just a normal boy.”
Jima’s tail drooped suddenly. “That’s boring. You should ask the Holy Hall for an experienced attendant. Don’t think that just because you stumbled upon me, a genius, that being an attendant is easy.”
“No need; I can take care of myself.”
“Commander!” The sergeant ran over and saluted, saying, “Report, everyone is assembled.”
“Good, Jima and I will come.”
Jima followed behind George, and soon they arrived at an open space in the center of the camp.
In a short amount of time, the small expeditionary force was fully lined up. Most of them were wearing long hauberks, equipped with various styles of helmets; some helmets even had additional chain mail to protect the neck and shoulders.
However, they all wore very uniform white cloaks, all emblazoned with the Holy Hall’s emblem, marking them as an armed force under the Holy Hall.
Jima roughly counted and saw just over a hundred people. In terms of equipment and personnel, they seemed less impressive than the Holy Hall’s guards she had encountered on her first day there.
George wasn’t in a hurry to get to business; he first walked around everyone, turned his head, and asked the sergeant: “Why is one person still missing?”
The sergeant in black plate armor quickly counted himself and said, “Report, sir, the numbers match; everyone is accounted for.”
“What about my attendant?”
“That, uh… horned kid?”
“You can’t just give someone the derogatory nickname ‘Gaba’ just because they don’t want to say their name.”
“Sir, I can’t control what the soldiers like to call him.”
Jima asked, “So what do the soldiers secretly call George?”
“Well…” The sergeant showed a troubled expression.
At that moment, Jima smiled at him, saying, “George is a nice guy; he won’t blame you.”
“They call him ‘Big Hammer.’”
“Is that all?” Jima said, “I thought it would be something like ‘Slaughter Can.'”
The sergeant asked in confusion, “What’s a can?”
George explained, “A rare container for preserving food through heating and sealing, usually made of glass.”
Jima realized once again how backward the production capacity of this other world was.
“Regardless, my attendant is one of us; he must be counted,” George said. “We must find him, or everyone will have to stand and wait for him to come.”
“Who knows where he is hiding?” The sergeant complained, “He always keeps his distance from the crowd.”
“While that relates to his personality, more importantly, no one has thought of accepting him,” George said. “Instead, they beat and bully him; if I hadn’t asked him when he was on the ground, he still wouldn’t speak.”
“But he truly is hard to find.”
Jima flicked a coin, examined both sides, and asked, “You’re talking about the horned kid; is he half beastman? His horns are brown, and he likes wearing a brown linen outfit, about my chin height.”
The sergeant asked in astonishment, “How do you know that?”
George said, “She has divination abilities.”
“Great, now the soldiers don’t have to worry about getting lost.”
“But I didn’t use divination.” Jima pointed to a nearby brown tent. “He’s over there.”
The two looked in the direction she pointed, and they saw the horned kid almost blending into the tent, the shadow of the tent perfectly obscuring him against the background color, making him hard to spot.
In the midst of people coming and going just now, no one had noticed him. Jima felt oddly that he resembled a small venomous snake coiled among the grass by the stone path, watching the passersby with cold eyes.
The sergeant said, “He hides really well; he has the talent of a beastman.”
George shot him a glance. “No discrimination.”
“Yes, sir.”
George raised his hand to the horned kid and said, “Come together quickly.”
The horned kid ran out of the shadows and jogged toward George. He was very thin, with his long linen clothes hanging loosely on him.
Jima patted her slightly plumper Lianxi cat, saying, “Turns out there’s someone thinner than you.”
The horned kid remained silent and appeared gloomy.
Jima thought he would be perfect for a horror film, playing a frightening little ghost.
After the horned kid gathered with the others, George brought Jima to the front of the line and loudly announced her joining, responsible for reconnaissance and divination.
Although Jima didn’t hide her horns and tail, her succubus appearance and the supernatural charm she exuded still earned her the friendliness of most soldiers.
Except for the military chaplain.
