The Unreturned Whistle

Most of the soldiers who had been sound asleep in the barracks were jolted awake by the sudden, terrifying noise.

Many sat bolt upright, disoriented and panicked. In the darkness, the sounds of collisions and whispered curses erupted into chaos.

"What's going on?"

"Enemy attack?"

"Assembly? Who assembles in the middle of the night?"

They were still groggy. Even after hearing Karl's order, they had no idea what to do for a while.

A nighttime emergency assembly was completely unheard of to them.

They couldn't find their clothes, couldn't locate their leather armor, and put their shoes on the wrong feet. Everything descended into chaos.

At that moment, the role of junior officers and noncommissioned officers became abundantly clear!

Brendan, Roland, and Richter practically sprang to their feet the instant they heard Karl's voice and the whistle.

Without the slightest hesitation, they began roaring at their men in their respective areas:

"Get up! Everyone, get up! Emergency assembly! Move!"

"Take your weapons! Your armor! Assemble outside!"

"Hurry up! Stop dawdling! Do you want to be punished?"

Someone instinctively tried to light an oil lamp to see what was happening, but Karl's cold, stern voice immediately came from outside: "Put out that lamp! No light of any kind! Do you want to be a target?"

Smash!

A noncommissioned officer immediately knocked over the freshly lit oil lamp. After the sound of breaking glass and a brief cry of alarm, the camp sank into darkness once more. Only the faint moonlight and the glow from the braziers in the distance provided a little illumination.

Before long, people began scrambling out of the barracks.

Some wore nothing but undershirts and carried their weapons. Some had failed to fasten their armor properly, leaving it clanking noisily. Some were even barefoot on one foot.

The ranks were sparse, like an anthill that had been disturbed. More and more people poured from the various doorways, running toward the indistinct figure in the center of the training ground.

There were no orderly formations, only chaotic running and the officers' hoarse shouts directing everyone.

Under Brendan, Richter, and Roland's nearly brutal efforts to whip the disordered crowd into shape, the chaos gradually and barely settled into some semblance of order.

The soldiers stood panting, their bodies still swaying involuntarily. Their equipment was askew, and many still had traces of sleep and fear on their faces.

But no matter what, everyone had finally arrived, and they had managed to maintain a semblance of silence. Only their heavy breathing rang especially clearly in the night wind.

Brendan was the first to organize the combat troops under his command. He hurried to Karl, struck his chest with his right fist, and reported in a steady voice: "Sir! Twenty-four combat troops should be present, and twenty-four are present! Assembly complete!"

Roland followed close behind. Though he was still somewhat nervous, he imitated Brendan and reported: "Sir! Twelve auxiliary troops should be present, and twelve are present! Assembly complete!"

Richter was last. The City Defense Army veterans he had brought had the highest level of discipline. Though the sudden alarm had left them flustered as well, they recovered the fastest. "Sir! Thirty City Defense Army soldiers should be present, and thirty are present! Assembly complete!"

Karl's gaze swept over the troops before him. They looked somewhat disheveled in the darkness, their equipment was disordered, but every single one had arrived, and they had managed to restore a basic level of order in a short time. He was actually quite satisfied.

After all, this was something they had never trained for. Achieving this much had already far exceeded his expectations.

It proved that the money he had invested, the discipline he had established, and the officers he had selected had all played their part at a crucial moment.

He showed no hint of satisfaction, maintaining his stern expression as he said in a deep voice: "This was only a drill, but remember the chaos tonight! The enemy won't give you time to light lamps, nor will they wait for you to put on your armor! After tonight, nighttime emergency assemblies will become part of your regular training! Now, dismissed! Return and continue resting. Sentries, double your vigilance!"

The soldiers breathed sighs of relief, though fear and shame still lingered. They murmured among themselves as they returned to the barracks in groups of three and five.

The officers stayed behind, quietly reviewing the chaos that had just occurred and the areas that needed improvement.

Charlotte, who had been silently observing from the side all this time, finally walked forward.

She pulled her gaze from the backs of the departing troops and fixed it on Karl. Her eyes remained bright in the night, carrying unmistakable approval.

Charlotte spoke, her voice gentler than before: "Although it was chaotic, everyone managed to assemble on time despite having no preparations at all. The officers reacted swiftly and brought the situation under control. Karl von Schmidt, it seems I may have to revise my expectations. Perhaps you really can hold out a little longer in the Northern Territory... Maybe you can even truly hold it."

She paused, then asked seemingly casually, "Your territory is in Carnford, correct?"

"Yes, Carnford." Karl answered firmly, a ripple stirring in his heart at the subtle change in her opinion of him.

Charlotte nodded. Her tone was calm, yet seemed to contain a promise of some kind. "Good. I'll remember that. If I ever have the opportunity to inspect that area, I'll visit."

With that, she turned without waiting for Karl's response. She strode away on her long legs, and her figure soon merged into the darkness beyond the military camp and disappeared.

Karl instinctively wanted to see her off, but he swallowed the words that had reached his lips.

He stared blankly in the direction where she had vanished. In the night wind, it seemed that a faint trace of her hair's fragrance still lingered.

Suddenly, he remembered something. He raised a hand and touched his pocket, his fingertips brushing against the cold metal whistle.

I still haven't returned the whistle to her...

He gazed at the empty street and gave a helpless smile.

While Karl was lost in thought, someone suddenly came up beside him without warning, startling him.

"She truly is a dazzling yet thorny jewel of the Northern Territory." Richter had somehow crept up beside Karl. He, too, gazed at the dark street, his voice filled with undisguised admiration.

Karl rolled his eyes at him, annoyed. "You scared me. What, do you know her?"

He was somewhat curious, yet inexplicably nervous, as if someone had glimpsed one of his secrets.

Richter turned his head, wearing an expression that said, Are you kidding me? "What? Sir, Miss Charlotte Rochefort! The Count's daughter! Who in Fran City doesn't know her? I've served here for so many years and seen her several times. She's either riding a tall horse and leading a patrol out of the city, or practicing swordsmanship on the training ground in full military attire. It would be hard not to notice her."

Karl's curiosity grew stronger at that. He pressed on, "Which child is she? Is she the first wife's daughter, or was she born to a mistress?"

Richter scratched his head, trying hard to recall. "She should be the Count's second child, right? I remember she has an older brother. As for whether she was born to the first wife..."

He lowered his voice. "That's impossible to say. Count's romantic affairs are no secret in Fran City. He has several mistresses. No one dares discuss Miss Charlotte's mother in public. In any case, the Count absolutely dotes on this daughter of his. Otherwise, how could he let a girl practice with blades all day like a boy and even take charge of part of the city's defense patrols?"

Karl nodded thoughtfully after hearing this.

Richter suddenly realized something and stared at Karl in surprise. "Wait... Sir, you've only been in the Northern Territory for a few days, haven't you? How do you even know the Count has mistresses? Did the news spread that quickly?"

Karl couldn't help laughing. "What's so hard to guess? Which noble doesn't have a few mistresses? My father, Old Schmidt, has at least three or four long-term mistresses, as far as I know. As for how many illegitimate brothers and sisters I have, even he probably couldn't count them all. Otherwise, how do you think I earned the title of 'most useless son'? There are only so many resources to go around. The legitimate heirs can't even get enough. How could someone like me possibly get any?"