He said it was near the blacksmith's shop."
In most territories, manor houses weren't particularly large. The Friel Manor, however, stood apart. Due to its long-standing rivalry with Dusel Manor, it had been fortified and reinforced far beyond the norm. Still, it wasn't exactly spacious inside.
But with the blacksmith's shop as a landmark, finding the place wasn't hard.
The forge was alive with smoke, sparks, and the rhythmic clang of hammer against metal. More bustling than other areas, it seemed to be a center of activity with many soldiers and passersby lingering around.
"Where is it?"
Leo scanned the surrounding buildings, his eyes landing on several two-story houses that looked aged but intact. As he stepped into the nearby residential area—still lacking a precise address or any familiar faces—he wandered cautiously.
Then a voice called out, stopping him in his tracks.
"Leo?"
He turned, and a rare smile crossed his face.
"Garrett! You're alive!"
It was Garret, a fellow soldier he had often sparred with in the castle. Leo had grown considerably, but he still didn't consider himself Garret's equal. The man possessed a raw strength that seemed innate. Even now, despite countless battles, Garrett bore no visible wounds.
"Yeah, I'm good. But you too, huh? You ended up here as well."
"I came with the conscripts. They said reinforcements were needed…"
"I heard more were coming into Izell," Garrett nodded. Then, lowering his voice, he asked, "Looking for someone?"
"Yes. Any news about my comrades?"
Garret pointed across the square.
"Captains and lieutenants are quartered over there. Those four houses behind the back shed—those are soldiers' lodgings. Your friends should be in one of them."
"Thank you."
"It's good you're here, Leo. Just be careful… things are getting more dangerous."
Leo thanked him and walked toward the houses Garrett had indicated. He knocked on the door.
No response.
He cautiously turned the handle, and the old door creaked open. The house was modest—a small common area, four rooms on each floor, and the scent of old wood mingling with the faint odor of a neglected chamber pot in the corner.
"Still can't get used to this," Leo muttered, frowning at the pot. Indoor usage was common in Town and castles, but it did little for the air inside.
All the room doors were shut. Unsure which belonged to his friends, Leo knocked gently, going from door to door.
Eventually, upstairs, one door cracked open.
"Le… Leo?"
The voice was groggy, disoriented.
"Arden!" Rohan grinned. "Kenneth!"
Kenneth stirred in his bed, blinking in disbelief.
"You made it! You're really here…"
Relief flooded the room as the three old friends embraced, the joy of reunion tinged with weariness.
But then Leo noticed something—Kenneth's hand.
"Your hand…"
He couldn't finish the sentence. Two fingers were missing.
Kenneth smiled wryly and raised it for a better look.
"Ah, this? Just a souvenir from battle. At least it wasn't my dominant hand. Lucky, right?"
His tone was light, almost teasing, but Leo could see the pain buried beneath.
"Have you… heard?" Arden asked, more serious now.
"About the others? Yeah. Ray told me…"
The room fell silent.
Arden, usually the loudest and grumpiest of the trio, stared at the floor, the weight of loss etched across his face.
They didn't dwell on it.
Instead, the conversation shifted—home, family, and rumors.
"Ellie's got a boyfriend now? Ram? Leo! You sly bastard!" Kenneth teased.
"Mother's doing okay… thank goodness," Arden added, his voice softening.
The heavy fog of grief slowly began to lift.
"So, Leo, are you really going to keep staying apart?" Arden asked.
"I'm not even a sergeant. There's no reason to separate me from the conscripts," Leo replied, though he too longed to stay with his comrades.
"Well, for now, it is what it is," Kenneth shrugged.
They exchanged news—about the people to watch out for, the mood among the ranks, tips for getting by in the chaos. It was clear that, even in war, camaraderie made life survivable.
Leo didn't come empty-handed either.
He pulled out pemmican, jerky, and salt—a small treasure trove in these parts.
"Whoa, is this real pemmican? This stuff's expensive!"
"And jerky too? Man, we're eating like kings tonight!"
For the first time that day, laughter returned to their voices.
But time passed quickly. The golden sun began its descent.
"I should go. I've been away long enough."
"Already?" Kenneth asked, disappointed.
"Yeah. Let's meet again soon."
"You better!"
They parted with warm farewells, and Leo returned to his quarters.
He had left his spot unattended, a small source of anxiety, but thankfully, everything was where he left it. The same unfamiliar faces lingered, unaware—or uncaring—of his absence.
As he was about to sit, someone entered.
"Leo! Smith! You here?"
It was 2nd Squad Leader Dorf, who had left the Izell castle two months earlier.
"Yes, this is Leo."
"Good. Step outside for a bit."
Dorf brought Leo and Smith behind the building, away from listening ears.
Once there, his tone relaxed.
"Been a while, huh? You must've had your hands full back at Izell."
"Definitely tougher than before," Leo replied honestly.
"Well, you'll be busy here too. The numbers have dropped drastically—lots of casualties. When you return to Izell castle, it won't look the same."
The grim news tightened their expressions, but Dorf continued without pause.
"You're being reassigned. From now on, you'll operate with the original unit. Due to shortages, your squads are being restructured."
He handed each of them a slip of paper.
"You're also being promoted—corporals, both of you. Assigned to the White Division under my command. I'm the White Colonel now."
The two stared blankly at him.
"You'll each be in charge of ten men. Most are conscripts, so they'll be manageable. Just keep them alive."
With a pat on the shoulder, Dorf walked off.
Smith turned to Leo, stunned.
"We're… corporals?"
"Apparently," Leo replied, equally stunned.
Despite the abrupt promotion and vague instructions, they knew the reality—orders were orders.
They collected their assigned men and began organizing.
The list included just names—no backgrounds, no ranks. One name appeared twice, causing a brief mix-up.
"We'll just go with the stronger one," Leo decided. "First come, first served."
It wasn't his mistake. It was the fault of whoever wrote the list so carelessly.
Leo, unlike most corporals, had prior experience—as a squad leader in South Korea's military. Back then, leadership meant managing soldiers with a warm meal and little else. But now, he had real authority—and real weapons.
He greeted his new squad with supplies in hand.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Leo, your new corporal."
Tension softened.
Despite his record,Leo was still a teenager in their eyes. Legally a man, but younger than most of them.
Still, his poise and sincerity gave weight to his words.
"We'll be under Colonel Dorf moving forward. You might not know me, and you might not trust me yet—but I will never leave any of you behind. We live and die as a unit. I'll do everything I can to protect you. But you have to protect each other too. Let's make it home—together."
There was no applause, but the silence was no longer awkward. Some even nodded slightly.
He requested brief introductions, and though hesitant at first, the soldiers shared their names, hometowns, and ages.
Later that night, some of the new squad members began sneaking into Leo's building to claim space near him.
Space grew tight, and a few complaints rose from the other conscripts—but Leo and Smith quickly took control, reorganizing the quarters by unit.
This wasn't favoritism. This was how it was meant to be.
And in that moment, Leo realized something.
He wasn't just a survivor anymore.
He was part of something bigger.
He was a leader.
He had become a true member of the Izell Army.
And with that came a new mission—
To protect the living, and carry the memories of the fallen.