The soldiers of the Third Battalion had long been ready. Anyone who was not truly incapacitated had come of his own accord as soon as Mulan was brought in for trial. While the court was still discussing Mulan's request, nearly seventy soldiers had already gathered outside.
Clearly, these soldiers carried themselves very differently from the military police and the security troops outside, some of whom had never seen bloodshed. Dozens of them appeared together, and even without firearms, the force behind their angry stares left the security troops on edge. Fortunately, they simply stood outside and made no aggressive moves.
Soon, after conferring with some of the tribunal members, the judge agreed to grant Mulan's request.
As the wounded soldiers of the Third Battalion appeared in court one after another, displaying their wounds with the help of doctors and nurses and recounting their experiences in a soldier's fashion, the "Battle of Certain Death" endured by the Second Corps' Third Battalion gradually took shape in the minds of everyone present.
It had not been a battle fought simply for victory, but a battle for survival. In the end, only seventy-seven soldiers of the Third Battalion had survived.
Once the last soldier had been taken out of the courtroom, Mulan was once again the only defendant left. He kept watching the room. Many people were talking, many remained silent, and many were beginning to show signs of unease.
"Second Lieutenant Jonester, moving as your injuries, those of your men, and your accounts may be, it seems rather exaggerated to claim that an understrength battalion held off an enemy several times its size and still managed to withdraw."
A prosecution officer made the remark. Mulan looked at him expressionlessly. Despite everything he had explained, he had no convincing way to refute this particular doubt and could only ignore it. Just then, however, another voice rose from the gallery.
"I heard those soldiers say that you're an outstanding marksman, Second Lieutenant Jonester. Might you give us a demonstration?"
Mulan turned toward the voice. It belonged to a tall man seated near the edge of the front rows. He wore a crisp black formal suit, a top hat, leather shoes, a white shirt, a black bow tie, and white gloves, and carried a walking stick. His features were sharply defined, his expression calm.
Despite how much the man stood out from his surroundings, Mulan seemed only now to have noticed him. Collecting himself, he replied.
"I'm standing trial."
"Your Honor, I would like to see this second lieutenant's marksmanship, so that we may determine how much of his heroism has been embellished."
The man addressed his request directly to the judge, then continued without waiting for an answer.
"Second Lieutenant Jonester, if you haven't brought a gun, you can borrow one here."
Mulan felt a faint jolt of alarm.
"You mean, fire it in here?"
The man smiled.
"So you did bring a gun. It should be in that leather bag the nurse is carrying."
Mulan instinctively glanced at the bag, then suddenly realized how quiet the courtroom had become. He looked at the judge, then at the others. Some were looking at the gentleman, some whispering, and some sorting through documents, yet all their sounds seemed distant.
Before Mulan could think further, the man abruptly reached into his pocket. A moment later, he flung his hand upward, tossing three gleaming silver coins into the air.
"Fire!"
As the man's commanding voice rang out, Mulan's thoughts raced. Instinct overrode reason. Almost instantly, he reached toward the nurse's waist and drew the revolver from the bag with lightning speed.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The gunshots were deafening in the enclosed room, mingled with the clear ringing of bullets striking the three silver coins.
The shots had come so suddenly that the judge ducked behind his bench with his hands over his head. Many others were still cowering in their chairs, while several military men had only just reached their sidearms. On the floor in front of the bench, a slightly distorted coin spun before slowly toppling over.
Before the echoes faded, Mulan had already returned the gun to the leather bag. At least three military policemen beside him were nervously aiming their weapons at him. For the moment, the courtroom remained deathly silent.
Clap, clap, clap...
"I thought you would hit one at most. Excellent shooting!"
The man applauded, then looked toward the front.
"Your Honor, please continue the trial."
The man spoke casually, but the fact that an officer on trial had brought a gun into court and actually fired it immediately sparked an uproar.
"Your Honor, Second Lieutenant Jonester brought his sidearm into court and fired it during the hearing! This is contempt of court!"
"What are the military police doing? Why wasn't the defendant disarmed?"
"Second Lieutenant Jonester, who gave you the right to fire a gun in court?"
A barrage of noisy demands turned the solemn courtroom into a clamorous mess. Mulan looked at the man, who simply sat there as though none of it concerned him. Everyone around him seemed to ignore him entirely. Mulan found it bizarre, and his mouth twitched. Is he messing with me?
Bang, bang, bang...
The judge struck his gavel hard several times, his wording stern.
"Second Lieutenant Jonester, you brought a firearm into court and openly discharged it here, showing grave contempt for this military court. You will be handcuffed. The court will then enter deliberations."
That got out of hand...
Mulan looked at the man again in frustration. He knew that this person had to be someone highly unusual. He could only hope it had not been a simple prank.
The uproar finally subsided. The nurse and doctor had redressed Mulan's wounds, and he now sat handcuffed in a chair.
Of course, after those three astonishing shots, presumably no one in the room would underestimate him again.
The agitation in the courtroom mirrored the turmoil inside Mulan. His personal leather bag had also been temporarily confiscated. After a long wait...
Bang, bang...
The judge tapped the wooden block with his small gavel, quickly bringing the courtroom to silence. A slip of paper lay on his desk, presumably bearing the verdict reached during deliberations.
The elderly judge studied the defendant before him for a long while. In his heart, at least, he respected this brave second lieutenant. But reality was neither black and white nor as straight and orderly as lines on a page.
After a moment of silence, the elderly judge began reading the verdict.
"The Third Battalion of the Second Corps bears undeniable responsibility for the failure of its defense..."
At this, several officers in the gallery rose to their feet, while some others let out quiet sighs of relief. Mulan's heart tightened, but he did not panic. He was waiting for what the judge would say next.
The judge glanced at the badly wounded second lieutenant sitting before him. His face remained solemn and unmoved.
"However, upon examination, it has been established that the Third Battalion did fight tenaciously. In view of the overall misjudgment of the situation at the time, and the vast disparity in strength between our forces and the enemy, the culpability of the Third Battalion and its commanding officer, Second Lieutenant Jonester, may be appropriately mitigated..."
The judge paused again before announcing the final decision.
"This court hereby rules that the Third Battalion shall receive no honors for this campaign. The Third Battalion shall be disbanded, and its personnel reassigned to other units. Second Lieutenant Jonester shall be relieved of his military post and reduced to the rank of private."
The judge finished reading. Mulan remained motionless as discussion broke out throughout the courtroom.
Then Mulan slowly stood, his slightly hoarse voice carrying over the noise.
"Your Honor, I accept this judgment and will not appeal. My term of service has ended, and my physical condition is far from promising. I therefore request my discharge here before the court."
Requesting a discharge during a trial was, of course, against procedure. However, the Dilga Military Court had the authority to order a defendant's discharge. With Mulan volunteering the request and the senior military officers all present, the process would be more efficient if the court accepted it.
The courtroom fell quiet for a moment before growing noisy again. Some felt relieved; others had mixed feelings. Mulan himself was among those who felt relatively relieved. A request made at this moment would most likely be approved by the court, and those "plaintiffs" would certainly clear the way for it.
Sure enough, after a moment of silence, the judge nodded.
"Second Lieutenant Jonester's request is granted."
The military trial was over. Holding an envelope issued by the court, Mulan was carefully helped onto a stretcher. There was no reason to put himself through more pain now. He glanced toward one side of the gallery, where the gentleman in black stood and tipped his hat to him.
Once Mulan's stretcher had been carried out of the courtroom, the people inside gradually dispersed.
The outcome of this military trial caused little stir. Even the local newspaper devoted only a small piece to it. For Mulan, however, it marked his passage over a major hurdle.
Although his discharge request was quickly approved, his injuries were still severe. Mulan would need more time to recuperate before taking a ship home. During that time, however, he discovered something else unusual about himself.
Twenty days after the trial, Mulan's injuries had healed at a rate well beyond normal, to the point where he could move about. Though he was still wrapped in bandages, he found that his injured left arm seemed stronger than his right. Yet the Mulan Jonester in his memories did not appear to have been left-handed.
This world felt familiar in all sorts of ways, sometimes making Mulan wonder whether it was a parallel version of Earth. Yet the differences outnumbered the similarities.
Many of the body's original memories were jumbled. Mulan hoped to keep living and to learn about this world. If possible, he hoped to return to the home where he had the internet and games.
The trial had taken place in early October, known in ancient times as the Month of Golden Fall or the Month of Entering Stillness. Now, at the end of the month, Mulan finally set off.
Inside the tent, Mulan packed his personal belongings: a suitcase and that yellow leather bag. A ship ticket lay on top of the bag, bearing the name "Princess Niseriel." Departure was at one in the afternoon.
The clatter of hooves and rumble of wheels sounded outside the tent, followed by a voice.
"Mulan, how's the packing coming?"
"All done."
As Mulan answered, an officer entered from outside. It was the military police warrant officer. Apart from the Third Battalion's soldiers, he had visited Mulan more often than anyone else. After those soldiers were reassigned to other units, he became Mulan's most frequent visitor.
Without a word, the warrant officer picked up Mulan's suitcase. Mulan slung the leather bag over himself and followed him out.
Mulan wore a shirt beneath a black overcoat, his left arm still supported by a gauze sling. A black hat sat on his head. His slightly curly brown hair had been tidied, and his stubble shaved clean. His bright black eyes were lively, and he was fairly tall. Though his injuries had left him looking somewhat thin, he still cut a striking figure.
The carriage outside was the same one that had taken him to his trial a month earlier, but this time Mulan felt much more at ease. After saying goodbye to the doctor and nurse who had come to see him off, he climbed aboard with the warrant officer.
Dia Port was a large deepwater port, roughly half an hour to an hour's carriage ride from the military camp.
As the carriage drew closer to Dia Port, the roads grew busier. More carriages and rickshaws appeared, and on the other side they could see a train being loaded with freight, steam rising above it.
The sight of the train reminded Mulan of the bustling prosperity of the twenty-first century, but also brought to mind the terrifying Steam Tanks on the battlefield.
"Mulan, we're here."
Mulan turned his gaze from the carriage window to the military police warrant officer sitting opposite him, then looked through the window on the other side. The carriage had reached the port. Outside, a towering ship lay at the deepwater pier, steam rising from its three enormous funnels.
Mulan and the warrant officer opened the door and climbed out together. Mulan gave him a sincere smile.
"Thank you, Brooke. And I'm sorry."
"There's no need to thank me, or to apologize. I believe you're a hero, and I'm honored to be your friend!"
Mulan said nothing more. He stepped forward, hugged him, and patted his shoulder. This young warrant officer had dreams of becoming a hero, but Mulan hoped he would never truly experience the cruelty of war. He himself had no desire to witness it a second time.
When Brooke tried to help him with his suitcase, Mulan declined and picked it up first himself.
"I'm not that weak anymore. Don't worry, Brooke. I'll make it home safely!"
The warrant officer smiled and saluted. Mulan Jonester's constitution really was remarkable.
"Then have a safe journey home. I hope we meet again!"
"Goodbye!"
Only after the warrant officer's carriage departed did Mulan pick up his suitcase and turn toward the boarding area.
The port held not only passenger liners but also warships. Some were clad in iron, others were still wooden, and there were steel warships belching steam as well. Their massive gun barrels left no doubt as to their power.
After presenting his ticket, Mulan boarded the Princess Niseriel without trouble. It was hardly a luxurious liner. Its large size and affordable fares meant that it carried a great variety of passengers, while also serving as a cargo ship.
By comparison, Mulan was fairly respectably dressed, so the crew members he encountered treated him politely. He also had a cabin of his own. Small though it was, it offered privacy.
But Mulan did not hurry to his cabin. After boarding, he set his suitcase beside him and stood at the deck railing, looking down at the port and out toward the distant sea.
All sorts of people moved through the busy docks, loading and unloading cargo, boarding and leaving ships.
Tooooooot!
A loud blast of the ship's whistle rang out. The Princess Niseriel was about to depart.
Mulan lowered his head and looked at the leather bag beside him. His sidearm, the Ring of Light, lay quietly inside, waiting for its owner to draw it. And its owner faced his new life with both apprehension and anticipation.
P.S. Since my contract status hasn't been updated yet, there's only one chapter for now!