Alright, let’s comb through these past-life memories of mine and figure out how I can always remain on top.
—
So, what exactly does it take to soothe and rally the troops?
By my reckoning, the top items that spring to mind are… of course:
“Rewards. Leave. Promotion. And morale-boosting performances. Does this sound about right?”
There’s also discharge and retirement, but let’s skip those since they’re incomparable. Anyway, these could theoretically work, but they’re not things you can just throw around like candy.
Thus, as a second option, our esteemed higher-ups occasionally make the effort to physically visit.
They’ll barge in unannounced, shaking hands and patting backs, saying “Ha-ha-ha! Hard work, huh?!” thinking that’ll be enough to inspire the troops to work harder!
“Like they’d actually believe that… Honestly, if they keep believing that nonsense, they’ll end up certifiably insane.”
One of the memories from my past life that still irks me is a week-long cleaning spree with nothing but toothpaste. And oh, don’t forget the shoe polish we had to use to redo the entire black-painted hallway because it was peeling.
But get this—the guy totally bailed at the last minute because of some “important schedule.” What a joke.
The key point here: This is all past-life stuff. Back then, it was a democratic society, so it didn’t really matter whether high-ranking officials showed up or not.
But this? This isn’t democracy we’re dealing with; this is a world of emperors and nobles. Ordinary citizens of the empire might genuinely be moved by visits from such distinguished figures.
Even in my own fief of the Duke of Bertier, the common folk revered my father deeply—not just as lip service, but with sincere devotion. Some admired his wise governance while others simply followed him out of the respect due to a noble’s station.
And remember? “When we returned from resolving tensions with Nobogorod, the soldiers were absolutely buzzing with anticipation at the news that a princess would visit.”
Imagine this: someone from an entirely different world, a person almost mythically apart and exalted. Someone seen as inherently deserving of reverence. If someone like that suddenly appears and takes the time to comfort and encourage you? The effect would be monumental.
Especially since we’re not exactly in safe territory—this is a battlefield. What’s more, the soldiers here are ones who’ve recently faced defeat.
“…Which is exactly why I’m here, Lord Kael.”
A secret arrival, and look—there goes Her Highness, donning an apron the moment she steps in. The disbelief was palpable, so I decided to re-explain.
“As I’ve heard, Her Highness has been consoling the eastern populace and boosting morale there.”
“Yes, I did.”
“It’s no different here, just… with a more immediate and dramatic effect in mind.”
Consider this: the Imperial Family, respected and revered across the empire. Imagine the noble princess descending here, personally taking the time to serve food to hundreds of soldiers with her own divine hands! Even though they belong to a legion that has already faced defeat.
An army inherently simplifies over time—it needs to for maximum efficiency. It isn’t about mocking soldiers; it’s that complexities impede military effectiveness. As a result, soldiers often regress into their younger selves. They laugh over good food, cry over someone’s d*ath—even someone irrelevant to them, rally in response to overused speeches, and their morale can plummet from trivial mishaps. And of course, the sudden arrival of someone of immense stature can help them rise from their faltering positions.
“If you’re unsure, just give it a few days. You’ll see how morale-boosting a spiritual uplift can be alongside material rewards.”
Regardless of motive, these are soldiers from a corps that’s already lost in battle. Beneath their bravado, their pride is undoubtedly injured. They’re ashamed of tarnishing the elite legion’s legacy and its storied history.
What happens when the imperial princess personally visits them in their moment of need? Not just a brief visit but instead remains for days, sweating alongside them, making an earnest effort to lift morale?
“Alright, Lord Kael. Stop already. I was merely curious, not complaining!”
“Ahaha, of course, Your Highness! I know full well that someone as dedicated to the empire wouldn’t gripe!”
“And how exactly can you be so sure?”
“If such were the case, you wouldn’t have joined us in the conflict with Nobogorod in the first place. And you wouldn’t have traveled to the East to calm the populace.”
And worry not, Your Highness. I am not some scheming advisor who plans to sit around idly while you do all the work. I have a conscience!
—
Scene Break
—
The 7th Legion had fallen, pushed back by the allied forces of Burkhai and Caden. They inflicted significant damage, yes, but ultimately it was a loss.
The legion commander and his subordinates desperately tried to reassure their men.
“This loss is meaningful. We’ve done our part. This setback will become the foundation for the empire’s ultimate victory!”
But from the soldiers’ perspective? All they see is their retreat. Empty seats where their comrades once sat, laughing and chatting just yesterday. Their once-pristine marching steps now faltering, the legion banner sagging in the wind, appearing more pitiable than ever.
Most of all, there’s the disheartening realization: they’ve scratched the unblemished reputation of the empire. What will the other legions, the empire’s citizens, and the higher-ups think of them now?
Survivors carry the burden of unease, their anxiety far outweighing relief. News of an impending second wave of reinforcements from the empire did little to ease the mood. Their shame, discomfort, and an almost inexplicable sense of disgrace weighed on them heavily.
“Our 7th Legion’s honor… No, the honor of the Imperial Army itself, is being dragged down because of us.”
“Meanwhile, in the Pavillion region, the 12th Legion is making astonishing achievements.”
“d*mn it. When we return home, will we just face ridicule and criticism?”
As the mood within the 7th Legion sank lower, an unexpected voice suddenly rang out.
“What is this? I had such high expectations for the 7th Legion, famed as the empire’s shining spear.”
“Y-your Highness?!”
An unimaginable figure had unexpectedly arrived at the camp. Princess Isabel Heldenberg, the second princess of the Empire, stood before the 7th Legion, much to everyone’s shock.
From the legion commander down to the lowest-ranking soldier, all froze in disbelief. There was no prior announcement of the princess’s arrival, and no preparations had been made to receive her.
“Why didn’t headquarters notify us?!”
“This is bad. Very bad! The stain of defeat is already enough; if this happens…”
Gloomy futures flashed through everyone’s minds. It seemed inevitable that her first words would be, “I’m deeply disappointed.”
It wasn’t just a royal visit—she might as well be the emperor’s eyes and ears. Perhaps she’s here to personally assess the situation before deciding on punishments!
“It’s over…”
“We’re doomed…”
Just as despair was settling in among all ranks, from the commander to the lowest soldier…
Clap, clap!
The princess softly applauded before addressing the gathered troops.
“To hear that someone falls after a single thrust with a spear is strange, don’t you think? In fact, a spear often breaks on its first strike. Meanwhile, even though your blades may have dulled, you’ve inflicted grave damage on the enemy. That is no small feat.”
She finished her speech with a radiant smile—a sight so beautiful it could only be compared to an angel descending from heaven.
The soldiers, who initially braced for punishment or reprimand, were now filled with relief. She had come not to judge or punish but to offer solace and encouragement, with the authority of the emperor and the royal house.
“Ah, we’re right on time, Lord Kael?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
A young man standing politely beside her stepped forward.
“Is this around lunchtime for the imperial legion?”
“Indeed, Your Highness.”
“Then fetch an apron for me, please.”
Everyone stood stunned, completely at a loss for words. The princess had already done so much by coming here during such troubled times. Surely she didn’t mean to personally serve food to the soldiers?
“Your Highness, that isn’t necessary!”
“Let me. I want to personally serve a ladle of this hearty soup to every soldier who’s fought tirelessly for the empire.”
All attempts to dissuade her failed. Once she decided, no one could stop her. And so, as lunch approached, the entire legion learned of the princess’s presence.
“Hey, more of that watery soup and stale bread… Wha—?!”
“What’s going on? Why the sudden commotion— cough cough?”
Standing at the soup-serving line, a stunningly beautiful woman greeted the soldiers. The sight shook their battle-weary hearts to their core.
An angel. It had to be! An angel descended to comfort them!
“Here you go. The meal may be the same as yesterday’s, but eat well and rise strong again.”
“Your Highness!”
The officers nearby confirmed that this was, indeed, the princess. It was astonishing enough that such a noble, beautiful, and elegant figure had come here—but that she was personally handing out food to them, despite her elevated status? The effort and sweat she invested spoke volumes.
“Your Highness, you’ve done enough.”
“No, I’ll continue until everyone has been served.”
She ignored those trying to stop her and continued distributing food without pause, smiling warmly, thanking each soldier for their hard work, and offering gentle encouragement.
It was simple, almost trite, really. But that very simplicity was what made it so impactful in the battlefield environment. The legion, which had been struggling under the weight of defeat, was transformed in the most natural way.
After the meal, the princess didn’t stop there. She went on to visit and tend to the injured, participated in prayer services for the fallen, and conversed with the soldiers in person.
From that, the commanders and troops alike gained a powerful belief: the empire still recognized them not just as defeated soldiers. They understood that they had to rise, to meet the empire’s expectations.
—
Scene Break
—
I trust the princess is doing well. I have faith in her. But this alone isn’t enough. Now that we’ve started, we need to build it up even more.
“Wouldn’t it be too bad just to stop at a simple morale boost?”
A nearby stream caught my eye—it wasn’t too big, nor too small, just right. A memory of one amusing anecdote bubbled up, and I couldn’t resist.
“If only I don’t get scolded for wasting oil.”
Fewer people around is better in this situation. Which is why I spent over two hours oiling a rock all by myself.
“Throwing this oil into the river next might be a bit tricky…”
—
[Comic illustration appears here]
—
An angel descended from the heavens, no doubt about it!
“Here you go. Eat well, and keep your spirits up.”
The soldiers couldn’t believe their eyes—it was truly Her Highness herself, serving food! Her efforts left her sweating profusely, her lips tightly pressed—but she showed no signs of stopping.
The princess wasn’t just performing a ceremonial visit; her actions ensured the soldiers understood they were valued, even in defeat. And with that, the 7th Legion regained its footing.
