Published: February 1, 2026
A sudden side story. Chronologically, this takes place a little after Eleven joined up, up until just before departure for the Demon Ore Nation.
Skipping this one won’t affect the main story.
I have been graciously appointed to the position of chief military police officer.
For someone from a common family to reach this rank is only possible because I’m military police. There’s no way this would happen if I were a knight.
Unlike knights, who are bound by their birth, the military police can rise through the ranks by strength and effort. I’m proud of that, and I work hard every day not to neglect my efforts. Of course, I still have a long way to go.
This nature of the military police is largely influenced by the nature of the noble who oversees us. It’s rare for someone born and raised a noble to truly embrace meritocracy.
The one at the top of the military police is called Viscount Rei. His family has overseen the military police in this country (partedar) for generations.
Among us commoners, it’s said that he is an outstanding noble: despite fully understanding the importance of status as a noble, he nonetheless applies meritocratic thinking to himself as well.
Because of that nature, he sometimes earns the resentment of those above, but in the end, since he’s affable and knows how to handle things, it has never grown into a serious problem. It’s presumptuous to compare myself to him, but he’s my polar opposite, and I’m intensely jealous.
Because I have the honor of dealing with him directly from time to time, he remembers me as well.
At the top is Viscount Rei; then in each large city—such as the Commerce Nation (Malcaid) and the Demon Ore Nation (Kavana)—there is one chief military police commander. Each city is then divided into districts, with one chief military police officer in charge of each district, and below them many ordinary military police are assigned.
In settlements on the scale of a village, a chief military police officer acts as the person in charge, so in the grand scheme of things there are relatively few chief military police commanders.
Here in the Capital City, the head of the military police is a viscount, but in most other places, the chief is a chief military police commander. Think of it that way and you won’t be wrong.
In other words, “chief military police officer” sounds nice, but in practice it’s middle management sandwiched between the very top and the bottom. Rewarding, but with plenty of hardship. Let me introduce a day in my life.
Each district has one military police guard station. In the morning, I report there.
Of course, since there’s no guarantee nothing will happen overnight, there are always officers on night duty staying over. I offer words of thanks to them, exchange the necessary shift information, and see them off as they head home looking sleepy.
I want to tell them to straighten their backs, but since they’ve been up all night and are already off duty, I let it slide.
We hold morning assembly, then the first thing each officer does as they fan out is patrol. They walk their assigned area, making sure not to miss anything. Normally I’m one of those who stay at the station, but today I’ve been sent out to confirm last night’s incident that I heard about from the night shift.
I like the city in the bustle of morning.
Hearing the murmur as everyone begins their day really makes me feel the day has started.
“Oh my, Officer, listen to this a bit, will you?”
“Good morning.”
As always, I’m caught by the housewives who have started their well-side gossip session.
Their “just a bit” has never once actually been “just a bit,” but they sometimes casually talk about things not even the military police know, so it’s not a waste of time. I have no idea where they get their information.
“It’s been a bit dangerous around here lately, hasn’t it? You know, those strange adventurers who drifted in from elsewhere.”
“Bad manners, bad attitude, and sometimes even causing extortion incidents.”