Valeriy

The Fatui, a symbol of Snezhnaya's might, a formidable army that protects its citizens... Professional, efficient, calm, decisive... So many words have been used to praise them. Whenever the soldiers and Landcruisers parade through the square, they are greeted with thunderous cheers and blessings. To enlist, to be tested time and again, and to become a Fatui soldier as tough as steel... For many children in Snezhnaya, this is the dream of a lifetime. But reality is way harsher than such rosy expectations suggest. Physical fitness, obedience, the ability to learn, mental resilience... The demands of every test are as cold and cutting as spikes of ice. And that is to say nothing of the elite Grenadier Guards First Regiment, a renowned unit known as the Barricade of Glupov and the Hammer of Teplo... Rumor has it that even those who fail to make the regiment can become the sharpest blades in the regular army. The Adventurers' Guild's hardest commissions are all in a day's work for them. Generally, members of the Guards Grenadier Regiment go to great lengths to conceal their identities, and all information concerning the unit is to be kept confidential wherever possible. Yet such formidable warriors will always have admirers, some of whom take the most unlikely approaches to finding out more about the regiment. Major Valeriy Ivanovich Denisov has recently become the only exception. His current assignment often takes him out in public. No matter how low a profile he keeps, he inevitably draws attention from all quarters. His towering frame, his brightly polished armor and gear, his impeccable appearance, his meticulous manner... He is everything the average citizen pictures when they think of an exemplary soldier. Over time, Major Valeriy has become the face of the Grenadier Guards First Regiment. Faced with public attention and reporters holding their Kameras aloft, Valeriy's stance is clear: He doesn't mind, doesn't respond, and doesn't care. He simply goes about his business, undistracted. But... should anyone try to dig deeper intelligence from these glimpses, studying his regiment to plot something that might threaten Snezhnaya's interests... Very well. Let them wait for good news... And for the moment the "fortress" itself comes bearing down on them.

Long ago, in the land of snow. The newly crowned Tsaritsa Anastasya faced rebellion from many among the fae nobility. Unlike Emperor Monomakh before her, she did not muster the Druzhna. Instead, she raised a new force known as the Fatui to fight the rebels. Under the Tsaritsa's banner, the Fatui achieved one victory after another, seizing the lands of many clans and swiftly routing the old armies of lords and nobles. Their glorious triumphs were too numerous to recount... One platoon of that army would grow into what is now the Grenadier Guards First Regiment. Arguably the oldest unit in the Fatui, the regiment always answers the call whenever soldiers of the highest caliber are needed. Yet for all the regiment's long history, its Special Assignments Battalion was formed only in recent years, making it an undoubtedly new addition to the ranks. As the first commander of the Special Assignments Battalion, Major Valeriy played a pivotal role in shaping its character and way of operating. An elite force within the elite, created for one purpose alone: to tackle extraordinary problems through unconventional means, and counter threats that regular units struggle to handle... And, when necessary, they must also root out threats within their own ranks. For all the fancy notions held by the people of Snezhnaya, the Fatui's centuries of expansion have inevitably allowed a few unsavory characters to slip into its ranks. As a result, standards of conduct and combat strength vary considerably from one unit to the next. Given Her Majesty's character, any soldier worth their salt should realize that the foes they must one day defeat will be far mightier than the lords and nobles of old. To that end, even the Fatui's regular units must continually improve, pushing their strength to its utmost limits. Several years ago, after Valeriy had honed the Special Assignments Battalion into peak form, several regimental commanders and even a Harbinger authorized it to act on two fronts. While eliminating dangerous monsters, the battalion also brought corrupt and incompetent soldiers to justice, markedly improving the combat effectiveness of many units. Ever since, the mere mention of the Special Assignments Battalion, or even a distant glimpse of Valeriy, has been enough to put most of their fellow Fatui on edge... They would immediately begin checking their own ranks for... anyone who had leaked military secrets, illicitly sold off military assets, or broken regulations and triggered a disastrous chain of consequences. Some of the more resourceful field officers raised hefty sums, hoping to make amends before it was too late and smooth things over with the Special Assignments Battalion. Others, more unhinged, made a desperate last gamble, trying to turn the accusations back on the battalion itself... In the end, none succeeded. Every last one of them was sent to prison. Even the proud Druzhna kept their guard up, preferring to steer clear of these "troublesome fellows." Valeriy was quite pleased by his allies' wariness. Such strong reactions were proof that the battalion's efforts were bearing fruit. If, after all their work to put the ranks in order, they ended up on friendly terms with everyone, wouldn't that mean they too had succumbed to corruption? And so the Special Assignments Battalion pressed on, guided by a simple conviction: "We're not afraid of offending our colleagues, only of not cracking down hard enough." They continued until their core objectives had been met... And Valeriy's old nickname, "Fortress Bear," began making the rounds among the troops once more. Those who had served longer than Valeriy, whether they respected or feared him, found themselves recalling his more extraordinary exploits...

"Fortress Bear" might sound rather endearing at first, but it could be a compliment or a mockery. The name originated from Valeriy's days at the Royal Military Academy. Back then, noble and wealthy merchant families often sent their children into the military to polish their resume. As the saying went, "Toss a snowball at the Royal Military Academy's library, and you'd offend five future dignitaries." And unlike the easygoing atmosphere of ordinary schools, the academy placed particular emphasis on competition, using every means at its disposal to instill a hunger to win in its cadets. Yet Valeriy, a yound lad of an ordinary miner... Had somehow placed among the top five in the entrance exams, then finished his first year at the top of his class in both theoretical knowledge and practical assessments... What made him so special? The "elite cadets" in his year tried to salvage their pride, challenging Valeriy time and time again in the examination hall and on the training grounds. Most had little to show for their efforts. Their written test scores always fell short of his, and when they led troops against him in mock battles, he routed them effortlessly. After so many crushing defeats, some of these proud young cadets found themselves being thrashed by Valeriy even in their dreams. Some called him a fortress blocking their path. Others said that when he went on the offensive, he was like a bear in armor. In time, the two names became one. Valeriy had no objection to the nickname. As it happened, his parents had always hoped he would grow as strong as a bear. How fitting! In truth, he had no intention of provoking his fellow cadets. Neither did he care about why they kept singling him out. He was simply pursuing the best possible approach to life: training his body with everything he had, focusing his mind to the textbooks, and devoting his full attention to mastering his professional skills. Every hour set aside for these pursuits had to count. And to keep the pressures of this life from breaking his resolve, he took part-time work at a smithy during school breaks... There, he could clear his head, forge armor that suited him perfectly, and earn money for his "necessary expenses" along the way. Seventy percent went home to his parents. He saved the remaining thirty percent to have suitably conventional formalwear made, to try to fit in among his peers, and to attend the requisite dinners and balls. By conducting himself properly, he would answer those who dismissed him as "vulgar, grasping, and unfit for responsibility"... Through constant trial and error, Valeriy honed his time management and follow-through to near perfection. He divided his life into blocks of varying lengths, measured in hours, each devoted to a particular task. To the children of nobles and wealthy merchants, such a routine was incomprehensible. It was mechanical to a fault, its monotony bordering on asceticism. But for a soldier striving to forge himself into something better, it was simply a matter of duty. Only the rare few who could use their time as efficiently as Valeriy could beat him fair and square... Valeriy also knew when to take the initiative and mend fences with the cadets who had competed so fiercely against him, who had once considered him a thorn in their eyes... An all-out contest, a bout of hard drinking, an honest conversation, all seasoned with a little humility and courtesy, could strip away their prejudices and turn "enemies" into friends... After all, they would one day be fighting side by side in the same army. Why not get along? Over time, the "children of the elite" were gradually won over, and challenges to Valeriy grew less frequent. The results spoke for themselves. This unusual cadet had fostered an atmosphere that drove competition to new heights, helping his class produce a host of rising stars. And so, upon graduating from the Royal Military Academy, Valeriy found himself ushered straight into the Grenadier Guards First Regiment by a letter of recommendation from an unfamiliar source. He was assigned to the First Battalion's assault company and given command of the newly formed Third Platoon. The battalion's commander at the time, Okhlopkov, was a frequent visitor to the academy. He had observed Valeriy for some time and was thoroughly pleased with his choice. What he valued was Valeriy's manner, neither servile nor arrogant, knowing when to press forward and when to step back... Besides, a young commoner, still a blank slate, would naturally be easier to forge into a fearless warrior, a blade that struck true and without mercy, than an elite scion whose backers might be wealthy merchants or members of the Snezhnograd Veche.

A soldier's worth must be proven in blood. Not a drop of a comrade's blood should be shed needlessly. As for the enemy's, the more, the better. Valeriy did just that. After joining the First Battalion's assault company in the Grenadier Guards First Regiment, Valeriy received his first assignment: to march east with the company and wipe out the rebels entrenched outside Teplo Oasis, who sought to restore the rule of the lords of old... The rebel leader's family seemed to have fallen under some strange influence. For generations, they had revered Grand Duke Skoldyryt despite having no blood ties to him, biding their time in secret, intent on restoring the glory of a long-dead lord. An absurd, deranged ambition, yet a formidable threat all the same. Unfortunately, this intelligence was confirmed far too late. Before encountering the enemy, the company had assumed this would be a routine sweeping operation and had not been on full alert. In the early days of the Fatui, the Grenadier Guards First Regiment had shattered the Volkodlak forces here, earning the title "Hammer of Teplo." This time, however, the roles were reversed. The unprepared Fatui soldiers split into three detachments as planned. They were to march in formation until they came within two thousand paces of their objective, then deploy for battle. What they did not know was that the Skoldyryt rebels had already mustered a force far larger than their company and laid an ambush to encircle them. The leading Fatui troops walked straight into the ambush. Hulking Volkodlaks closed in from all sides, cutting the soldiers down like wheat. For a time, their ranks dissolved into a rout. Only Valeriy's Third Platoon escaped the trap. For the first time, the young "Fortress Bear" showed that he had the makings of a man who could turn the tide of battle... He kept the good habits of his academy days, ordering his men to stay alert and maintain constant, thorough reconnaissance. Before they could enter the death trap, he had already gained a clear picture of the enemy's disposition. His platoon rapidly deployed and held firm against the opening assault, becoming the linchpin of the entire battle. Seeing such resolve in a platoon commander fighting his very first battle, the soldiers quickly recovered their morale. They rallied around Valeriy's men, re-formed their lines, and pushed back against the rebels' furious onslaught. Gradually, their training as elite grenadiers began to reassert itself, and the balance of the battle slowly shifted. When Skoldyryt's loyalists saw that even such a ferocious ambush had failed to deliver a decisive victory, their morale plummeted. Those who began wavering, thinking of retreat, exposed weakness in their line. Valeriy seized that fleeting opportunity. Gravely wounded but seemingly oblivious to the pain, he led the Third Platoon in an unstoppable countercharge, tearing through the enemy ranks... After rescuing Stepanyan's squad from encirclement, he concentrated his forces and drove straight toward the enemy leader in a single, relentless push... pinning the swaggering, Fanged Zealot to a rock face. The outcome was far from glorious, but it was no disaster. The Fatui had paid a higher price than expected, but at least they had wiped out every last one of those deranged Volkodlaks. There was no question that, had Valeriy and his men not held the company together at that critical moment, any victory the Fatui might have achieved would have come at an appalling cost. The operation also exposed a grave error of judgment on Battalion Commander Okhlopkov's part. Arakcheyev, the assault company commander transferred from a sister battalion, had seemed a dependable subordinate, "strict with his men and conscientious in his duties." In reality, he was little more than a careerist, woefully lacking in command and decision-making ability. Leaving such an incompetent man in charge of the assault company would sooner or later invite disaster. Okhlopkov's attention turned once more to Valeriy. Perhaps this young man who had turned the tide of battle had more to offer than his prowess as a soldier...

During the operation against the Skoldyryt rebels, Company Commander Arakcheyev had remained passive, failing to take the initiative. Yet in his subsequent report written to shift the blame, he attributed the operation's setbacks primarily to "inadequate preliminary reconnaissance"... Anyone with eyes could see that reconnaissance fell squarely within the company commander's responsibilities. Unfortunately, the statistics alone painted a splendid picture. The company's performance could even be held up as a model for others to follow. In the end, the commander faced no punishment whatsoever. Instead, he received a commendation from regimental headquarters. As for Valeriy, whose actions had saved the day, his outstanding performance made his name in a single battle. At Okhlopkov's strong recommendation, he was promoted directly to adjutant to Company Commander Arakcheyev, with responsibility for coordinating training and logistics... Over the next fifteen months, they settled into a smooth working routine. Valeriy put his skills in meticulous scheduling and seeing plans through to full use, managing every aspect of his work perfectly. Perhaps his diligence only encouraged his superior's complacency. Seeing how dependable his adjutant was, Arakcheyev simply left more and more matters in Valeriy's hands, content to deliver glowing reports to his superiors. By the end, he was even having Valeriy plan his schedule for him... Okhlopkov didn't need to explain anything. Valeriy had already found ample confirmation of his own suspicions about the company commander. For a capable soldier, the damage wrought by an incompetent superior was a greater torment than facing a powerful enemy on the battlefield. Unfortunately, Arakcheyev's noble background came with ties to far too many people beyond the grenadiers' reach. To antagonize powerful figures over one incompetent company commander? Neither Valeriy nor Okhlopkov had the standing for that. Not yet. Surely there was a safer way, one that was entirely aboveboard... An incompetent man should be brought down by his own failings. The more serious the dereliction and the greater the damage, the louder the applause when his career finally went up in fireworks. But staging such a farce in an actual battle would expose innocent comrades to the consequences, perhaps even leaving some dead or wounded. That was out of the question... After long and careful consideration, Valeriy settled on a plan and put it into motion. Arakcheyev was fond of cultivating his superiors' favor. With the company held up as a model, it had been committed to a host of demonstration exercises and inter-unit seminars. Valeriy seized the opportunity, arranging for Arakcheyev to represent the company at one engagement after another... His schedule was packed, just as an outstanding company commander's should be. At first, Arakcheyev was delighted. It allowed him to bask in the glorious illusion that his career was soaring above the clouds... He even began to think that the more such opportunities came his way, the better. Yet the achievements Arakcheyev claimed credit for had almost nothing to do with his own abilities. As Valeriy arranged more and more engagements, responsibilities "best handled by you personally, sir" steadily found their way back onto Arakcheyev's shoulders. By the time he realized what was happening, he had been raised to such heights, along with everyone's expectations of what he should "naturally" be able to do. Finally, Valeriy took a week's leave for a "serious illness." Without the adjutant who planned his days with the precision of a stopwatch, Arakcheyev's entire career of sham achievements came crashing down. Suddenly, his command of training exercises was in shambles. At seminars, he stuttered through his speech. In mock battles between companies, even ordinary units routed his men. Disbelief and astonishment spread through the ranks, followed by demands for accountability and a thorough investigation. Their fellow soldiers soon stripped away Arakcheyev's facade. The scandal grew so large that even his noble backers could no longer contain it... The dejected commander was finally removed from a post far beyond his abilities. As for Valeriy, he had merely fulfilled his duties as an adjutant, helping the commander with his "heavy" workload, keeping his schedule in order, and providing plans that covered every last detail. Arakcheyev vacated the post he should never have clung to, and the soldiers who had been doing the real work behind the scenes stepped up to shoulder its responsibilities. With overwhelming support, Valeriy took command of the company... the very company he had fought so hard to save. There was no need to prove himself, no need to curry favor, no need for empty talk. All that remained was his proper duty: to train diligently and achieve victories on the battlefield... These were the things Valeriy did best. Or rather, the things every soldier of Snezhnaya ought to do best. One brutal battle followed another. But under a capable commander, the soldiers fought with all the courage and ferocity expected of Snezhnayan troops. They wiped out six monster swarms linked to Ley Line disturbances, crushed two vicious outlaw bands every bit as formidable as the Skoldyryt rebels, and even carried out a large-scale extermination of chimeric monsters west of Snezhnograd... No one had imagined that "the most celebrated company in the Grenadier Guards First Regiment would lose its honor, only to reclaim it within a year..." Even Okhlopkov was promoted on the strength of Valeriy's victories, becoming regimental commander in the next routine change of command. His bet on the young officer had paid off spectacularly. And Valeriy... These events had drawn the attention of a certain Harbinger. His entire assault company was reorganized and expanded into the First Grenadier Regiment's fourth elite battalion, dedicated to "special assignments of extraordinary difficulty." Harder missions, with far greater significance for the future, awaited the young major... Though a little exhausted, Valeriy soon delivered another near-perfect performance through his precise and ruthless command.

During his time as an assault company commander, Valeriy had begun to show his mettle, proving his ability to lead elite troops through a string of glorious victories. In the Special Assignments Battalion's first year, his steady operations on both fronts had shown that he could be relied upon to restore discipline among regular units and counter unconventional threats. The requirements had been met, and the time has come... Within the Armory Palace in Glupov, a top-secret research project was approaching a critical stage. The Fatui needed utterly dependable soldiers to ensure that nothing could go wrong. They must be impervious to corruption, never leaking so much as a word of actionable intelligence about the research or the whereabouts of its key personnel. Under targeted attack... even besieged by rebel forces dozens of times their number, they must safeguard the project's key personnel and assets. They must promptly uncover and counter every unconventional attempt at interference or sabotage, then neutralize the masterminds behind it as quickly as possible... Finally, they must sustain all of this without faltering. Expected mission duration: indefinite. For all those reasons and more, Valeriy's Special Assignments Battalion became the only choice. Or rather, it had been expanded and shaped with this very purpose in mind. All soldiers assigned to the mission signed a series of deeply unsettling documents and steeled themselves for what lay ahead... But as the tense men followed Valeriy into the laboratory in immaculate formation to report for duty, worrying whether their charge would be weak and frail, or rigid and exacting... There stood Mitya, the brilliant energy expert, the very heart of this top-secret project... And he was playing rock-paper-scissors with his scarf... The scarf had also used a crayon to draw half a flockingweed on his face. The room froze... These soldiers, veterans of nearly a hundred deadly battles, who had weathered trial after trial, had finally met their match. They couldn't keep straight faces. Mitya didn't mind in the slightest. He greeted them with cheerful ease. As they shook hands, Mitya was still wondering why the officer looked so stern. He even reassured Valeriy that there was no need to be nervous. Then, as though struck by an ominous premonition, Mitya cast a wary glance at the objects scattered across his desk... no fewer than seven kinds of puzzle cube he had made to waste away the time. He seemed to glimpse a future in which they were all confiscated. ... Valeriy truly was a little dazed that day... He had no doubts about Mitya's abilities as a researcher. Long before he accepted the assignment, his parents, both miners, had heard of Mitya. Their letters had repeatedly mentioned "that wonderful man from the Energy Commission," praising the ingenious creations that he invented had made miners' lives much easier... And all the information in his briefing could be distilled into a single phrase: "A genius without equal in Snezhnaya." Perhaps Valeriy had spent too long weighed down by grueling work. Being assigned to someone so important, yet so utterly unpredictable, left him feeling both relieved and wary... Relieved, because... the company of a lively young man was certainly preferable to that of some stuffy old scholar straight out of a stereotype. Wary, because... might this expert's personality land him in far more trouble than anyone anticipated, making the task of protecting him a difficult one? Fortunately, after a brief period of adjustment, they found themselves almost paradoxically... in sync. Valeriy's strict approach to scheduling was not about filling every minute of every day. It was about "keeping plans on schedule wherever possible, with plenty of contingency plans in reserve." He did, admittedly, issue firm and repeated warnings as each key milestone drew near, timing them with unerring precision: the deadline was approaching. But if circumstances beyond their control made the original schedule impossible to keep, he could immediately produce a revised schedule. By splitting and rearranging blocks of work, he would get things back on track, with every bit as much detail as in the original plan. As a rule, there would be no more than two rounds of rescheduling. The first three deadlines meant, respectively, "Ideally, finish before this point," "Finishing now would still be quite good," and "Things are getting tight, but try to deliver by here." Only the final deadline was truly a matter of "Under no circumstances can we miss this one, or we're all done for." Mitya always managed to finish right on the third deadline. It was hard to say whether his genius extended to calculating exactly how much he could afford to slack off, or whether luck simply favored him every time. And so Valeriy had never actually needed to make his "reminders" as strict as they could be. He did want to establish the healthiest possible work schedule. But he also understood that neither inspiration nor a productive frame of mind could be forced. Even if he tied Mitya to his chair and made him work every waking moment, a stalled idea would remain stalled. Not a single word would come. Yet perhaps Valeriy himself had not noticed what was happening to him. Influenced by Mitya's peculiar ways, he occasionally stopped running with clockwork precision... And the fatigue that had quietly, inevitably been building within him was slowly beginning to fade. A curious state of high spirits and solemn discipline, deemed "a healthier state of mind" by a certain Harbinger, began to take hold of Valeriy and his men alike. And as the colossal apparatus within the Armory Palace gradually took shape, it continued to inspire Valeriy and every soldier in his battalion... This assignment truly was "special."

Under normal circumstances, a commander should remain in the rear under close protection, directing the battle remotely. But against cunning, brutal rebels, deadly chimeric monsters, and certain powerful monsters that defy all reason, the very "front line" drawn on a map may cease to exist. Such formidable foes can punch through multiple defensive lines and go straight for the commander, even tearing the entire command post to shreds and plunging the whole unit into chaos. Throughout their history, Fatui units had indeed faced numerous "decapitation operations." The most recent incident occurred six months after Valeriy graduated and entered service, during an operation against the Chimeric Winged Lion: Azure No. 3 and its pawns. The allied Second Infantry Regiment had underestimated the monster's ability to penetrate its defenses. Two company commanders fell in succession, leaving nearly a hundred soldiers in disarray. It took two hours of desperate fighting to bring the creature down, crashing into the depths of a ravine... Valeriy was deeply shaken. For one of the fallen commanders had been an acquaintance from his academy days. He understood the advantages of such tactics, and naturally sought ways to counter them. He must ensure that he would never become an example of caution in a military textbook. And so, after taking command of the assault company, Valeriy worked with the Armory Palace's development team to test a range of prototype armor and protective equipment... Craftsmen who had long admired his reputation made him custom armor befitting the "Fortress Bear." Designed to blend unobtrusively into his uniform, it offered protection at all times. Valeriy also selected a shield that exceeded standard weight limits, with the thickness and shape of a heavy blast door. Its multilayered armor used Landcruiser-grade materials, with no concessions made to weight. It could withstand sustained, point-blank bombardment from its own weapons and was almost impossible for any monster to destroy. But... was passive defense enough? Valeriy had been adept with the Hailstorm Cannoneer loadout since his earliest days in service. Ever the pragmatist, he personally oversaw further modifications, having a mortar fitted inside the shield... An indirect-fire weapon normally found on a handful of prototype Landcruisers, now serving as his shotgun. Battlefield trials proved the development team wrong to dismiss the idea as "reckless." Combining his strength with precise control, Valeriy wielded this unconventional weapon to devastating effect, gradually establishing his own distinctive fighting style. From then on, even if an enemy truly had the skill to force their way past his elite soldiers' defenses and attempt to take Valeriy down directly... "You finally break through the command door, only to find another 'door' waiting inside. You finally smash through that one, only to find yourself staring down a pitch-black gun barrel." A terrifying "surprise," no doubt.

Grand ambitions aren't always what set a "hero" on their path. Sometimes, giving one's all for the people close to them is enough to bring the right person onto the right stage. Everything that follows depends on whether they can seize that chance... Valeriy never considered himself worthy of the word "hero," yet the world seemed to have recognized him as one, in its own ambiguous way. Valeriy's decision to enlist wasn't driven by any grand ideals. Money was a little tight in a miner's household, and decades of grueling labor had taken a heavy toll on his parents' bodies. If he could find respectable work and earn a little more Mora each month, he could give them greater security in their old age and avoid the same fate himself. The army seemed a good choice. Get into military school, spend some time studying, then head to Glupov as a junior officer. It was for this simple, practical reason that he trained his body diligently, pored over his textbooks, earned his place at the Royal Military Academy, and quietly completed his studies... Once in service, he'd only need to follow his superiors' orders and meet his combat objectives... Patrols... Exercises... Marching to war... Returning victorious... Collect his pay. Send it home. Life would carry on in that steady, orderly way. What more could you ask for? But certain moments in the battle against the Skoldyryt rebels made Valeriy question whether he had been thinking too narrowly... When the rout began, he saw his comrades' broken bodies strewn across the ravaged battlefield. Only hours earlier, those same men had been laughing and talking with him in camp. When the rout began, he had also seen fear in some soldiers' eyes, the yearning to save themselves. Who would willingly fall to a dishonorable enemy's blade and be parted from their family forever? Yet once they saw that Valeriy's platoon could still hold the line, a shared conviction swept away their doubts. In an instant, they were fearless soldiers once more, rallying around him... And when Valeriy drove his sword through the Skoldyryt rebels' leader, pinning him to the wall, and rescued Stepanyan and the others, the cheers that rose set his blood racing. He could almost feel his heart beating in time with those of every comrade around him. Again and again thereafter, that same feeling filled Valeriy's chest. Deep in a ravine in Everfrozen Earth, leading barely half a platoon to tear through a cordon of thousands of monsters and gather the units cut off from one another... Wading through waist-deep icy water, smashing every floe in his path, fighting the lurking cutthroats blade to blade until the last bandit lay dead... Charging time and time again amid the aberrant monster's hideous shrieks and the ferocious blows raining down around him, shattering its twisted fangs... Through battle after bloody battle, standing shoulder to shoulder with comrades who had once been strangers, or even at odds with him, casting aside prejudice and fear as they struggled together to secure "the conditions for victory"... Little by little, Valeriy came to feel the bond between himself and his comrades, something real and profound that went beyond personal gain. Was it loyalty to his comrades? A commander's ambition? A sense of responsibility? He couldn't put a name to it. He simply knew that he ought to defend more than his own home. His comrades had homes as well. So did countless others... It was no more than that. To Valeriy, the Vision that had quietly appeared after his first battle was once merely a tool, a useful addition to his own abilities. Yet after every battle, its power became more natural to wield. Now, as the project within the Armory Palace continues to advance, it too has begun to blaze with a light far more dazzling than its original brilliance.

Valeriy, commanding officer of the Special Assignments Battalion, Armory Palace Royal Grenadier Guards, First Regiment, reporting for duty. I can fight on the front line, conduct reconnaissance-in-force deep in hostile territory, or protect key personnel and installations. Personally, I would prefer to form a team with your comrades that meets every challenge through tight coordination.

According to the schedule, it's time to check in on each unit's training progress.

Decided on the next destination? Make sure you draw up a contingency plan and scout ahead. If you need a hand, I can help.

In a prolonged battle, it is essential to master the art of minimum force for maximum effect. That is how you conserve your strength.

In Snezhnaya, we rarely get rain by itself. Most of the moisture turns to snow. I, and the soldiers in my battalion, prefer it that way. A dry cold is far more bracing than damp and mud.

Ah, the pleasant sound of thunder... It reminds me of blasting charges going off in the mines.

Fine weather and excellent visibility. But on the other hand, that also means any concealed lookouts can detect us, even from a great distance.

A strong wind makes flames flare up, carrying smoke far off. In weather like this, if you need a cooking fire, best to dig a hole and construct a smokeless "scout's fire" first.

Dry heat is humanity's ancient foe... One I cannot yet overcome...

Awake, and right on time. What a wonderful world it would be if everyone were like you... At least, that's as far as I'm concerned. The clockmakers, of course, would all be out of a job.

What's your assessment? Do we light a fire and cook a proper hot meal, or make do with rations?

It's easier to settle the mind and focus after dark. Good time for detail work. I need six minutes to check the shield and the cannon. Oh and if any of your gear or weapons need maintenance, leave them with me.

That's time. For tomorrow's sake, you'd best turn in now. Leave the night watch to me. Oh, one more thing. Don't be surprised if you wake to find the campfire out and my coat over you. Light often attracts unwanted trouble after dark. Best to stay concealed.

On a conventional battlefield, the rules of engagement are usually clear-cut. However, protecting key personnel and installations or gathering intelligence is another matter. On missions like those, soldiers often struggle to work out "reasonable boundaries," or what a "foolproof approach" would even be. Every one of our skills is constantly being tested. That's why we hand-picked varied soldiers with a range of talents from the Royal Grenadier Guards and formed the Special Assignments Battalion. Individually, my men are superb fighters, but what's more valuable is their ability to adapt and their experience solving problems of all sorts. We're more like a cross between soldiers, secret agents, and major-crimes detectives.

I've held the rank of major for a long time. Opportunities for promotion? They're there. But I have no desire to be shut away in an office or command post. I need to see conditions at the front for myself to deploy troops precisely and effectively. I also find it more fulfilling to lead exceptional soldiers into battle against powerful monsters. Besides, given the Special Assignments Battalion's standards, we can barely find enough qualified soldiers to fill our ranks as-is. In short, both my battalion's size and my rank will stay right where they are for a good long while.

Even my entire battalion could not overpower a warrior of your caliber by dint of strength alone. As for your achievements, they are legendary, and so numerous that your whole uniform would be bedecked in medals... For that, you have my respect.

When it comes to our long-term goals, I believe we are of one mind. Our intel reports that you help ordinary people in every nation you visit, and work hard to keep their settlements safe. I strive to do the same. A soldier defeats the enemy not for honor or glory, but to secure a peaceful life for his countrymen. If it would help, you are welcome to draw on my experience in managing your team. Who knows, it might become even more formidable one day...

To be recognized by the gods and granted the right to wield elemental power is an honor. Even without it, however, I would have honed my combat skills until I was every bit the fighter I am today. Basic physical conditioning, proficiency with different weapons... A soldier cannot afford to neglect any of them.

Bodyweight training is very popular with soldiers and miners in Snezhnaya. Plenty of them will put on full uniform and kit and see how many pull-ups or one-armed push-ups they can manage. Then there are dances done in a squat that work the core and the legs quite thoroughly... You wish to me to demonstrate for you? Sorry to disappoint, but I don't personally train in that manner.

The regular army and the Druzhna each have their own military band, with exacting standards in every respect. I've watched them rehearse. Now and then the conductor will tear into some soldier for playing out of tune, and I can't hear it at all... Does that mean I have no ear for music?

As a field officer, I'm far removed from matters of grand strategy. But I've long felt, from what my fellow officers and the people say, how much Her Majesty the Tsaritsa has given for Snezhnaya. She will surely lead this nation to the best possible future. So my foremost duty is to keep the Special Assignments Battalion at peak readiness at all times, prepared for any mission Her Majesty orders. Should she give the word, I'll lead the whole battalion onto the most perilous battlefield there is, and count it our greatest honor.

When the Palace's Head Maid, Danica, relays orders to regular units, it's usually a colonel who meets with her. I'd assumed she would be extremely strict and exacting, the type to verify every last detail. So before our last joint operation, I prepared thoroughly and set aside extra time for it. To my surprise, she handled everything with remarkable efficiency. We finished in a fifth of the time I'd projected, and she maintained her grace and poise throughout. She certainly deserves her place at Her Majesty's side...

The Captain was not in my chain of command, but the Special Assignments Battalion had the honor of operating alongside his forces several times. There's no overstating his influence on our soldiery. Back when I was in basic training, the manuals and regulations we used had already been improved by his hand, and many outstanding fighters learned their craft from him... When word came of what he did in Natlan, my comrades and I were all heartbroken... but proud of him, too. If Snezhnayan soldiers need a role model, who could it be but him?

Lady Sandrone may be the best there is at upgrading Landcruisers. Her Bosco Legion series delivers nearly seventy percent better overall performance than the standard production models. They're practically brand-new machines, just wearing the same armor. Some of my soldiers were seconded to her command and fought in the defense of the Experimental Design Bureau in Nod-Krai, and every one of them came back with the deepest respect for her. Clearly, she is an exceptional Harbinger, as gifted in command as she is in research.

I hear Councilor Tartaglia was born a commoner. I've yet to speak with him at any length... But from what I've seen, he is a forthright man who treats his subordinates well. Judging by the recent personnel transfers, The Captain's most trusted soldiers now serve under him. I would like to make his acquaintance. But the right opportunity has never arisen... Just challenge him to a fight? A-Are you serious?

Commander Vesna and I serve in different branches, so I doubt a mere major like me has made much of an impression on her. Compared to us regulars, the Druzhna's mobility and ability to break through are unmatched, though they would struggle to bring that to bear in a static, entrenched battle. Not that they need to worry about it. They're Her Majesty's personal guard, after all. Ordinary engagements aren't worth troubling them with. Yet I sometimes see Commander Vesna at... promotional events? I don't quite understand her purpose there.

The Special Assignments Battalion has many duties. One is to "keep important people working like clockwork." As you've seen, Mr. Mitya has little patience for an orderly routine. With most people, I could use methods that are rather less "polite." But even someone like me, with no head for scholarship, can tell what he does matters enormously. So, I shouldn't come down too hard on him.

After everything we've been through, Mr. Mitya now calls me his friend. I'm honored. Of all my friends, he is the one I hold in the highest esteem. Some officers and nobles might pay a fortune to "buy" that distinction. But friendship can't be measured, any more than the bond between comrades who've sheltered in the same shell crater. Mr. Mitya has given Snezhnaya something no one else could. I must take the greatest care to keep him safe and give him a place where he can work entirely undisturbed... Though... I need to find a way to make him understand just how badly it disrupts the overall schedule when he does whatever he pleases...

Contrary to what many people assume, I too grew up in a remote village... Why would I make an enemy of a fine young man who works tirelessly for the ordinary people and keeps taking on cases that sit in legal gray areas? Provided he crosses no lines, I have neither official grounds nor any personal desire to arrest him. That does not mean I consider the Rokot completely harmless. For now, however, they are still working for the good of Snezhnaya. They are not my enemies.

Some singers really do have a kind of "magic" in their voice — she is one such example. Even someone who knows as little about the arts as I do is moved by her songs. At times, I've even found myself somewhat understanding why Mr. Mitya behaves as he does... Understanding, mind you. Not approving. Deadlines are non-negotiable. I won't grant him even an extra half hour on that account.

While accompanying The Captain, the Special Assignments Battalion once encountered the Knights of Favonius expeditionary force. That day, I watched from a distance as their Grand Master fought. His strength was astonishing, and he wielded his two swords with complete abandon, as if the notion of conserving his strength never even crossed his mind... Or perhaps he's so powerful that he doesn't need to. If only he weren't so fond of hard liquor... my respect for him would easily double.

A few colleagues from wealthy families once described me as "far too serious, the sort who budgets his time even on leave and has no hobbies to speak of." They aren't wrong. My family background isn't as illustrious as most officers'. Frankly, we were rather hard up. But that's exactly what made a lot of the rank and file feel I was one of them. So after I graduated from the Royal Military Academy and joined the hardest-fighting assault company in the 1st Grenadier Regiment as a junior officer, I built a good rapport with the men in short order, and we put up a solid record in combat...

Most soldiers will trust an officer who commands competently and takes their duty seriously. One who also understands the soldiers' difficulties and helps where possible is everything they could ask for. Unfortunately, very few officers live up to that. Our company commander at the time was a nobleman. He was absurdly harsh with his soldiers, yet woefully incompetent himself. He caused one accident or defeat after another.

It was very reassuring that, when I took command of the company, every soldier threw their weight behind me. Before long, our assault company was achieving more than expected. That company went on to form the core of the Special Assignments Battalion. Over the following years, our responsibilities expanded considerably, and we received increasingly difficult assignments. That gave me ample practice managing time and coordinating different units and their schedules. Perhaps that's why we were also entrusted with guarding the Armory Palace. The usual unit rotation has been suspended for now, effectively making us the Armory's dedicated guard. Given its importance, there could be no greater vote of confidence.

Frankly, I'd be lying if I said I joined the army "purely to serve Snezhnaya, with no thought for myself." I spent my whole childhood at the mines and saw my share of hardship. Of course, I dreamed of rising through the ranks to the life of wealth and privilege, and freeing my family from financial worries... But later, my outlook changed. I fought through several bitter battles against monsters alongside my comrades, and found... a new source of motivation that gave my life more meaning than Mora. Perhaps my family has fewer jewels to wear because of that choice. But Snezhnaya has gained a shield that stands firm against the wind and snow. One that protects my home and those of others.

Before battle, every soldier wants to know the "victory conditions." Few prospects are more stirring than bringing down the enemy's commander and causing their forces to collapse. There was a time when I overestimated myself. I trained like a madman, hoping to emulate the heroes who led from the front. But a single defeat taught me the limits of mortal strength. Against foes beyond our understanding, the unit's strength is our surest shield. Ever since, I've devoted myself to coordinating every task precisely, keeping the unit at its best and helping it improve. Each soldier willingly takes their place as a cog in the machine. And when we advance, the balance of battle shifts with us.

Have you ever looked closely at Kresnik Kristall? It is an essential fuel, but also a beautiful work of nature. The luster and patterns are exquisite... And it's not just those crystals... Agate, jade, pearls... Each has its own design. Even I can appreciate their beauty, and I'm no artist, hehe. Collecting minerals, studying them, and sketching their patterns was one of my favorite childhood "games." I still enjoy it today, although I sold all of my valuable gems to send Mora and resources home. Now, I make do with ordinary stones.

Some people just can't keep to a schedule. Then, when something goes wrong, they keep it to themselves and try to deal with it alone. That creates no end of trouble for whoever manages the schedule... I've said it time and again. All work and operations must follow the timetable. If anything unexpected happens, notify everyone involved as soon as possible, so the rest of the team can adjust their schedules. Ah, I'm used to sorting these problems out for others. I just wish everyone were taught this simple rule as a basic life skill.

Cooks tend to load army rations with far too much fat and salt to pack in more energy. Eat too much of that, and it starts to spoil your appetite. So for everyday meals, I prefer lightly seasoned dishes with a little tang or natural sweetness. Fish soup, say, or pickled vegetables of any kind.

Snezhnayans enjoy their drink. Some of the more outrageous stories have even made it outside the country. But not all of us can drink like fish and still keep swimming, especially with spirits as strong as fire-water. A couple of glasses can be enough to get in the way of your duties. I've seen countless examples in the mines and in the army. So if you must drink, I recommend something low-proof and mild, like Snowy Nocturne from the original manufacturer. As for those who illicitly distill spirits to make them stronger, they deserve severe punishment.

When things get rough at the front, a meal like this is worth a whole crate of shells.

There's nothing wrong with "adequate." Maintain this standard, and you'd make a good army cook.

Ahem... Uh... It's edible... but regular consumption might pose health risks. Don't force yourself to eat it, either.

In the Snezhnayan army, when a soldier has a birthday, their comrades bring out their finest food and drink to prepare a feast together. In helping me, you have helped the entire Special Assignments Battalion. That makes every soldier in it your comrade. But a feast prepared by the whole battalion would be more than you could possibly eat, haha. So I asked each company to contribute a single dish to represent them. I hope this conveys their respect for you, and mine.

...And here I expected you'd be harder on me.

Still not enough. The bar needs to be set higher.

Using an average soldier's fighting strength as the yardstick, I'd put myself at "one-man company" level... but I can't settle for that.

Adventuring with you has tempered me in ways no ordinary training could. Now I'm confident I can fight beside you in the fiercest battles and help you bring down the enemy's commanders.

Smash their armor.

Punching through.

Suppressing fire.

Thunder run.

Closing in.

Ramming speed.

Heavy snow ahead.

Artillery, fire.

Secure the area.

Sort everything first, then stow it in your pack.

It's good practice to utilize all available resources.

Even odds and ends have their uses.

Need to turn this around...

My mistake.

Threat level critical.

Fall back. I'll hold them.

Pull back and regroup.

Got too careless...

The best laid plans...

Dishonored... my uniform...

It's minor.

Nothing serious.

Not bad.

Not good enough...

Right on schedule. Let's move out.

Sync watches. Begin the mission.

Ready for briefing.