Second Life as a Soldier

“Why the fuck would you bring me here?” I hissed at Peter as we stood in front of one of the finest-looking shops I had ever seen.

I had already purchased some basic clothes for regular use. Now Peter had brought me to a seamstress to buy something suitable for my meeting with the nobles.

The problem was that, even without stepping inside, I could already tell that the clothes sold here would cost far too much. Several golden statues decorated the entrance, and between them stood a pair of grand, elaborately carved doors. Yet the thing that caught my attention most was the banner hanging above them. Made from pristine white cloth, it bore the name The Golden Needle, beautifully embroidered across its center in golden thread.

“What? This might be one of the most important meetings of your life. You should look your best. After all, you are now Lieutenant Cicero’s disciple, and it is not like you cannot afford it. Didn’t you just receive a reward from the captain?” Peter said.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is that why you asked me to bring all my mana crystals?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Peter, I did not expect this from you. I thought you were the smart one. I am not opposed to wearing good clothes, but I will not dress like a noble. Sure, clothes help create a good first impression, but they also require you to know how to act accordingly, and I know none of that. If I dressed like a noble, I would only look like an impostor.”

“Oh, come on, Edward. At least try to...”

Peter’s words were cut short when I sensed someone approaching from my left.

“Forgive me for listening in on your conversation, Young Master Roscoe,” the old woman said to Peter as she approached us from behind. Then, turning to me, she continued, “Clothes may change how the world sees a man, but they cannot change what kind of man he is.”

I looked at Peter in surprise, not because of the woman’s words—which I agreed with—but because she had addressed him as Young Master.

Since we arrived in town, no one had treated Peter any differently from the other soldiers. Even his own father had called him Private Peter, so it had almost slipped my mind that Peter held a significant position here. He was the son of one of the most powerful men in Velkar Town.

Peter just shook his head and smiled. “Grandmother Greta, how many times have I told you not to call me Young Master? You can just call me Peter.”

Greta merely smiled, completely ignoring his request, and continued looking at me.

“And who is this young man?” she asked warmly, a grandmotherly smile on her face.

“Oh, sorry. I forgot to introduce you. Grandmother Greta, this is my sergeant, Sergeant Edward.”

The introduction brought a look of surprise to the old woman’s face.

“Edward, this is Grandmother Greta. She is a friend of my grandmother, my former nanny, and the owner of the Golden Needle.”

“It is nice to meet you, ma’am,” I said, dipping my head slightly.

“Good, good. You have brought a change to my Peter. It has been a long time since I saw him smile so freely, and I never expected to hear him address a sergeant by name. I was afraid he might turn into his father,” the old woman said, affectionately patting Peter on the back.

By then, his face had turned completely red.

“So, Grandmother, from what you said earlier, are you telling me that I should not have brought Edward here?” Peter asked, trying to change the subject.

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“Yes. This shop no longer keeps clothes suitable for soldiers. But now that I am here, you do not have to worry about anything. Come. I will get you boys what you need,” she said before walking toward the entrance, leaving us no chance to argue.

Peter and I looked at each other, shrugged, and followed her.

After taking a few steps, I smirked and whispered to Peter, “I am telling Barry and the rest of the squad about this, Young Master Peter.”

A look of horror crossed Peter’s face. “Oh, come on, Edward. I would rather you killed me here.”

While Peter continued protesting, we made our way inside the shop.

As soon as Madam Greta entered the shop, her entire demeanor changed. She no longer looked like a gentle old woman. Instead, she resembled a commander issuing orders to her platoon. She began directing the workers in rapid succession while two middle-aged women followed closely behind her.

The inside of the shop was just as beautiful as the outside, but its beauty did not come from elaborate decorations. It came from the garments displayed throughout the room. Everywhere I looked, I saw clothing made from materials resembling silk and velvet.

I was almost certain that if I had not arrived with Peter and Madam Greta, the workers would have thrown me out before I could utter a word.

Once Greta finished giving her orders, she turned to the two women following her.

“You two, take the measurements of Young Master Peter’s guest,” Greta said, pointing at me. “After a long time, we will make an outfit for a soldier.”

“Sergeant Edward, I would suggest a simple gray cotton tunic. Over it, you can wear a tabard bearing the insignia of Avalon’s Royal Army, along with a pair of dark wool trousers. I will use high-quality materials. The outfit will make you look like a warrior rather than a noble,” Madam Greta explained while her assistants took my measurements.

I was so overwhelmed by everything happening around me that I barely understood what she was saying. Trusting Peter’s former nanny to know what she was doing, I simply nodded.

A few moments later, once I had gathered my thoughts, I cleared my throat to get Madam Greta’s attention.

“Ma’am, I appreciate you accommodating me, but I would like to know how much all this will cost,” I said.

For Peter, spending his entire reward on clothing might not have been a big deal, but I was not like him. Moreover, I had already used half of my mana crystals in my experiments. I was afraid I might not even have enough left to pay for the outfit.

She waved her hand dismissively. “No. I am not taking your money. You are the Young Master’s superior.”

“No, I cannot possibly accept all this for free. I can tell from the clothes displayed here that the cost of your work would be astronomical, not to mention the materials required to make the outfit,” I replied, shaking my head.

“I would rather die than take money from Young Master Peter’s friend. This is the first time he has brought anyone to my shop. It is my duty to fulfill his wishes,” Madam Greta said adamantly.

Helplessly, I turned to Peter, who also looked shocked by the amount of affection he was receiving.

“Edward, please let her do it. I did not realize how much my decision to join the army had affected the people around me.”

“No, you did not. Your grandfather and father almost came to blows, and your mother did not speak to your father for more than a year. Both of them were angry with him for encouraging you to join the army. I suggest you visit your family as soon as possible. Otherwise, I am afraid your grandfather might storm the town hall and drag you home himself,” Madam Greta said.

“Yes, I will visit them today,” Peter said, a worried expression crossing his face. It looked like he had been completely unaware of everything that had happened in his family after he joined the army.

An awkward silence settled over us after that. I felt like a third wheel who had accidentally become caught up in a family dispute, with no way to escape. Still, I was not entirely disappointed. The situation might have been awkward, but I was gathering plenty of gossip to share with my squad and use to pull Peter’s leg later.

I was also a little curious about Peter’s family situation. What was his grandfather like? Was he his maternal or paternal grandfather?

From what Peter had shared with me, his paternal grandfather was very old and had difficulty walking, so I would be surprised if he could storm the town hall. Greta was probably talking about his mother’s father.

While I was lost in thought, the measurements and clothing selection were completed. After leaving the shop, Peter and I went to a tavern for a few drinks before parting ways. Peter headed home, while I returned to my assigned quarters and slept for more than twelve hours.

For the first time in a long while, I was enjoying some mental peace. Sure, there was some stress about meeting the grandson of a noble, but it was nothing compared to the pressure I had faced over the previous few weeks, when I had been running from Tier-4 enemies, enduring interrogations, and spending sleepless nights conducting research.

The next morning, after freshening up, I made my way to the barracks to check on my squad. One of the privates guided me to where they were staying.

As I approached, I sensed nine mana signatures. However, one of them felt different, denser than usual. Once I identified its source, I realized what had happened.

The denser mana signature belonged to Varric.

He had advanced to Tier-3.

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