In her past life, Mia had accepted it as normal that she didn't know much about the military system and its operations. She had been ignored and underestimated as a child, unable to show her true abilities, and because of those bitter memories, she never tried to learn the things she didn't know.
Even in that situation, she had done her best to prove her worth, but since she viewed the world through a twisted lens, she often made mistakes and was misunderstood. Then, due to Rochfort's absence, she had even ended up taking the position of Commander-in-Chief, which made her feel like there was no need to know any more than she already did.
Her father, Duke Blanchard, had once said that to her—and his words came back to her now.
But this time, things had to be different. She couldn't just cling to ineffective strategies while blindly believing that her abilities would shine someday. To bring about real change, Mia had to understand the military's internal affairs clearly and use that knowledge in her plans.
That was the only way to protect Rochfort.
"The military ranks seem a little different from what I knew," Mia said casually.
"Is that so?" came the reply.
"Yes. So could you explain them to me?"
"…Honestly, this might be unnecessary information for you, Your Excellency."
"Why would it be unnecessary? Because I'm not a real soldier?"
Mia snapped back.
"…"
"The structure of the Holy Corps is special, and my position is unclear. As an honorary officer, my actual authority is far less than what it appears to be. No one has even told me the limits of my power."
"Well… that's certainly true."
"You know very well how important even honorary authority can be in wartime. To avoid confusion during an emergency, we need to make clear what my role is, what I'm allowed to do, and which ranks I can give orders to."
It was a completely reasonable and logical statement. No one had told her until now simply because no one had expected someone like Blanchard—who had supposedly never even held a sword—to take such an active role.
"Even though Your Excellency doesn't possess holy power, you were assigned to the Holy Corps in recognition of the goddess's will."
In other words, Mia was officially considered part of the Holy Corps—regardless of what her enemies thought of her.
"…But it seems like you still want to treat me like a civil official."
"It seemed like that's what you preferred, Your Excellency."
"Well, if you're fine with that, I'll go along. Then let's talk about what authority I actually have."
"About that… As you know, Your Excellency, your position is honorary. I didn't think you were really interested in planning strategy, so your actual authority is—"
"I told you to stop saying that. I know full well the army wouldn't give someone like me real power. I'm not asking if a lucky puppet like me has any real authority—I'm asking what level of authority the Chief Strategy Officer of the First Holy Corps normally has."
There was deep self-mockery in her voice. Etien felt a heavy weight behind her words, and without thinking, he reached out toward Mia.
"The Chief Strategy Officer is usually considered a direct aide to the corps commander. They're on the same level as a deputy commander, just with different responsibilities. So within the unit, you don't have to bow your head to anyone except me."
"That's not what it looked like to me."
Mia sharply slapped his hand away. Etien's face briefly darkened.
"…I'll do my best to ensure you're treated properly from now on."
This had clearly been the military's fault.
Etien already knew that Mia didn't have the best reputation. He had tried to protect her from the negative gossip, but things never went as planned.
Etien could still remember clearly how Mia had curled up, trembling. Thanks to his timely intervention, she avoided serious harm—but just because she had no scars on her body didn't mean her heart was okay.
Etien was furious. Maybe what he had done to Renard wasn't the best choice as a superior. There had been a violent situation brewing, so intervention was necessary—and maybe some force had to be used.
He knew he had acted too emotionally.
Still, he didn't want Mia to continue her military life being treated like that. Mia Blanchard was far more capable than the label of "fake hero" implied—and Etien knew it better than anyone.
He wanted to protect her from unfair treatment. War would never be a fond memory, but at the very least, he hoped that when Mia looked back on this time, she wouldn't feel hurt because of her own allies.
That feeling was his duty as her superior, and perhaps… something more.
Etien shook his head. Right now, he was the superior officer of Mia Blanchard, the Chief Strategy Officer. On a battlefield where lives were lost like toys, there was no room for other emotions.
"…"
Mia said nothing the whole time. To Etien, she looked unusually small and fragile today.
"…Your Excellency."
"Yes?"
"I need to further discuss Renard's punishment. Please return to your tent for now."
Mia gave a small nod.
"Alright."
Etien would make sure Renard received the proper punishment—no, something even harsher, if possible.
That was the best thing Etien could do for Mia right now.
Mia decided to return to her tent while she had the chance. Her injury had been treated, and she had no reason to stay near the Corps Commander, who was acting strangely, as if he'd eaten something bad.
The first thing she did upon arriving was carefully inspect the structure of her tent.
Thankfully, despite all the changes, her first tent remained just as she remembered it. The fact that at least one thing was the same as in her past life gave her some comfort.
Her room was simpler than Rochfort's, clearly indicating her lower rank. But she had never expected any luxury in the battlefield anyway, so she didn't mind.
It wasn't like a regular soldier's tent, either. Though it was larger than she expected, the way the furniture was arranged made it clear it was meant for one person.
Even in the Holy Corps, where group living was the norm, having a private space was quite a generous act of consideration.
There was even a desk in one corner, showing that the tent belonged—at least nominally—to the Chief Strategy Officer. Though it wasn't as fancy as the one in Rochfort's tent, it was still too luxurious for the battlefield, so it had to be a special benefit just for her. The bed was the same.
'I remember the supply officer bragging a lot about how rare these items were…'
Seeing the surprisingly soft bed brought back memories from her first battle. Back then, Mia hadn't understood how harsh the battlefield really was, so she hadn't thought much of the supply officer's words.
It wasn't until later, when the war was clearly turning against them, that she learned how precious those items really were.
'On the day we had to retreat without our supplies, just having a blanket on the dirt floor felt like a blessing…'
As Mia was lost in her memories, the entrance to the tent suddenly flapped open.
"Why are you here?!"
A flushed man stood in the doorway, looking like he had run over. His tense eyes quickly scanned the tent for danger. His worried face was so beautiful that Mia momentarily lost her train of thought.
He really didn't look like a Corps Commander at all. Mia felt it was a shame that Rochfort's handsome face was being wasted on something so unfitting.
Staring at Rochfort, trying to guess his thoughts, Mia finally spoke in a firm, somewhat disrespectful tone.
"Do I need your permission to enter my own tent?"
"You were supposed to be here already, but you weren't, so I searched everywhere. I checked all the likely places, and as you know, if anything had happened to you, we wouldn't have even known how to respond…"
Mia calmly watched as Rochfort stammered. The man who had calmly stood by when she had been seriously injured was now stumbling over his words. It was clear—he had been truly shaken.
Mia tilted her head slightly and asked.
"…Are you worried about me?"
"I just don't want things to go wrong again."
That was Rochefort's answer. His expression was still tense.
"Did something happen to make you worry so much?"
"…Yes."
He replied briefly, avoiding her eyes. Mia let out a small sigh and walked past him, heading toward the table where her papers were stacked.
"I'm fine. I know my limits. And unlike last time, I haven't collapsed."
"I'm not saying you're weak."
"Then stop acting like you're my guardian."
Mia replied coldly. Rochefort flinched a little. Mia sat down, reached for a quill, and opened a notebook. The situation didn't seem like it was going to get better unless she started focusing on what mattered.
"Each day we waste is a loss to our side. I don't want to be the reason for that."
"But your body…"
"It's recovered enough for me to write and read reports."
Mia firmly cut him off. Rochefort, who was about to say something more, quietly closed his mouth. Mia didn't speak again either and focused on the documents.
After a long silence, Rochefort finally turned around.
"I'll leave now."
"Good."
Mia didn't even look up. Rochefort stood still for a moment, as if he wanted to say something more, then quietly stepped out of the tent.
Left alone, Mia rubbed her temples.
"Why is everyone acting so concerned lately…"
It wasn't like she'd asked them to care. And yet, Etienne, Rochefort—they were all treating her like she'd break at any moment.
Mia didn't like it.
She didn't want people's sympathy. What she needed was recognition and proper treatment, not pity.
She'd already decided. She wasn't going to live like her past life again.
So now…
She had to keep moving forward.
Even if it was hard.
Even if she was scared.
Even if the past still haunted her dreams.
She was no longer the same Mia from before.
Mia took a deep breath and placed the quill back in its holder. Her hands were shaking slightly, but she ignored it. There was no time to waste. She had to stay focused, no matter how difficult it was.
She couldn't afford to let her guard down. Not now, not ever.
Mia quickly sorted through the reports in front of her, her eyes scanning the words with sharp focus. She needed to know every detail of the situation—every possible move that could be made.
The room was quiet except for the sound of the quill scratching on the paper. Mia worked in silence, her mind running through calculations, tactics, and possibilities. There was too much at stake.
Suddenly, a knock at the door broke her concentration. It was a quick, sharp knock, and Mia's hand froze mid-motion. She didn't look up, but her mind immediately began to analyze the situation. Who could it be?
"Come in," she said in a low, controlled voice.
The door opened slowly, and a figure stepped inside. It was Etienne, looking as calm and collected as ever. He didn't speak right away but simply waited for Mia to acknowledge him.
Mia's eyes flicked up to him, and she motioned for him to sit.
"What is it?" she asked, her tone cool.
"I wanted to check on you," Etienne said quietly, his expression serious. "You've been working nonstop."
"I'm fine," Mia replied curtly, though her voice betrayed a hint of exhaustion. "There's no time for breaks. We have to act quickly."
Etienne didn't argue. He simply nodded and sat down, his eyes studying her for a moment.
"You're pushing yourself too hard," he said softly.
Mia's lips twisted into a faint smile, though there was no humor in it.
"If I don't push myself, then who will?" she said. "The world doesn't stop for anyone."
Etienne was silent for a long moment, then finally spoke.
"I don't want to see you break, Mia."
Mia's eyes hardened, and she met his gaze directly.
"You don't have to worry about that. I won't break."
Etienne seemed to hesitate, but then he nodded. He didn't say anything more, simply standing and leaving the tent without another word.
Mia watched him go, her expression unreadable. She didn't know why he seemed so concerned about her. She didn't need anyone's concern. She only needed results.
With a deep breath, she turned back to the reports. She would not fail. Not this time.