As the emperor’s host advanced along the highway, bound for the battlefield, the cheers of the people could still be heard far behind it, as if urging the procession on.
The last time I’d heard such cheers, it had been from within the confines of a carriage, and I had only been five years old. The last time I’d left the imperial capital, it had been for a tour of the Empire, and I had been nothing more than a puppet under the heavy guard of the nobility’s soldiers.
Now, at last, I had left the city of my own will, unfettered by the control of another. As the commander in chief of the emperor’s host, no less—though of course, we had an actual military commander with us to do most of the commanding. Still, it was hard not to feel moved.
I realized that I felt calm. The frustration I’d felt at not being able to leave the imperial demesne’s confines—a frustration I had not even noticed until now—was gone. My destination was a battlefield, and I knew that many of my plans would no doubt go awry amid the chaos there. But I would adapt with the current, rather than let it drag me under. Or at least, that was what I told myself.
I’d experienced battle before, but it had been coincidental, an ambush on my traveling column during one of my tours. Departing for the front at the head of an army was an altogether different experience. It had taken all thirteen of my years since being reborn in this world, but finally, here I was.
I suppose thirteen probably sounds quite young to you. Back in Japan, it would’ve put me around the age when I’d first be entering middle school. As for me, though, I’d felt every day of those thirteen years. Because you see, I was what you’d call a transmigrator: someone who’d been reborn with memories of their past life.