I did not punch him because I lost my temper. I was angry, there was no denying that. But with my new skill, [Operational Cognition (A)], I understood that I needed to establish my authority, and it also told me that his actions were not entirely his own.

  A newly conscripted criminal, no matter how angry or rebellious, should still be afraid of a new sergeant. More than that, they should fear the mana oath. Yet none of the new squad members showed any of those signs.

  Which meant they were being motivated by someone else.

  On closer observation, I noticed a small smile on Barry’s face.

  Which meant I needed to do something that would make the new members think twice before questioning my orders or undermining my authority, while also making them aware of Barry’s personality.

  The only decision I could come up with in that moment was to exert physical dominance. But now my concern was that I might have hit him too hard. The new members were not giants like Garran, Varric, or Kael, but most of them still looked physically tough and bulky compared to my size. It was easy to misjudge how much damage they could take.

  And my strength was not low for my level either. In fact, it was higher than average. It was close to Barry’s, even though he was well into Tier Two, more than twelve levels ahead of me and half a tier higher in mana cultivation.

  But this was not the time for empathy.

  Right now, I needed to address my squad and establish ground rules.

  “Let me make this clear once more to everyone,” I said, looking at Garran, Barry, Varric, and Kael. “I do not treat criminals in my squad any differently than regular soldiers. I will overlook small transgressions, but do not mistake that for weakness.”

  “I am not doing this for you, nor am I treating you kindly out of the goodness of my heart. I am allowing you to train and gain levels because I do not agree with the current approach. But if you want to become strong and turn this assignment into something useful instead of a path to your deaths, then you will maintain discipline. At the very least, during training periods and drills, even when I am not present.”

  “But it looks like you have already forgotten what your lives were like just one week ago. So let me remind you. And let this also serve as a reminder to the new members of what your lives would be like if you were not assigned to this squad.”

  “Today, we will not train.”

  “Today, you will take latrine duty. You will dig pits until sunset. And today will not be the end of it. If I find anyone slacking during drills or training time, they will either dig again or serve as a pack mule for the supply division.”

  Then I turned to Peter.

  “Private Peter, you will be joining them.”

  He looked up sharply.

  “I know you do not agree with my methods,” I continued. “But that does not mean you only follow my orders when I am present. I expect my instructions to be followed even when I am not watching.”

  “You could have been training with Kael and the others. Even if you hate them and did not want to interact with them, you could have started basic exercises with the new members. Anything would have been better than sitting around doing nothing.”

  Peter looked like he wanted to argue, but stopped himself.

  “Private Peter, go with Garran, Varric, Kael, and Barry. Gather your equipment and make a run to the quartermaster. Bring us shovels for today’s duty.”

  Latrine duty was always available and the best way to punish new soldiers. Even if no pits were needed, we could always dig more. That was a sergeant’s prerogative. And if there were too many holes, we could simply order them to fill them back in.

  “Two of you,” I said, pointing at the new members. “Move him to that table. The rest of you, gather around. I want to know more about all of you.”

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  I gestured toward the soldier I had struck. He was still sitting on the ground, holding his nose. Blood stained his sleeve. I suspected a broken nose and possibly a concussion. Before anything else, I needed to deal with that.

  Five new members stood in front of me. Most of them now looked scared, but one of them looked more angry than scared. The injured one sat on the bench, teeth clenched, still holding his nose.

  I pulled a bench closer, dropped my pack, and took out the files Lieutenant Cicero had given me. Then I reached inside and pulled out a bundle of herbs.

  I tilted his head slightly and examined him while keeping eye contact with the five standing in front of me. His nose was broken. He also had a mild concussion.

  I crushed the herbs into a paste, spread it on clean cloth, and wrapped it around his face. Then I activated [Vital Restoration].

  I wanted them to understand something.

  I could injure them.

  And I could heal them.

  As long as they were in my squad, their lives depended on me. Even without a mana oath.

  “You on the right,” I said. “Tell me who you were before this squad and what your class is. In my squad, I learn your background before I read your file. If there is something you think I should know, say it now.”

  The man took a deep breath. He was lean and wiry, about my height.

  “I am Silas,” he said. “My class is [Courier]. I worked in Stonegate as a runner, delivering messages.”

  “Your crimes?” I said. “Why were you sent here?”

  Silas clenched his jaw.

  “I passed merchant house information to a rival and was caught stealing. The merchant house had connections. They sent me here instead of throwing me in a cell.”

  There was anger in his voice.

  I nodded.

  “Next.”

  I pointed to the man beside him. He was nearly six feet tall, with a massive frame, thick bones, and a body built for heavy labor.

  “Brakk,” he said. “My class is [Labor]. I worked with Corvin and Oren running caravan routes from Briarmont.”

  He pointed at the two men standing beside him. Corvin was thin and tall, similar to Silas but a few inches taller. Oren was built like Brakk, broad and solid.

  “We are here for killing a passenger,” Brakk said.

  The moment the words left his mouth, I felt the anger coming off Corvin.

  “Corvin. Oren. Your classes,” I said.

  “[Pathfinder],” Corvin said.

  “[Labor],” Oren added.

  “Next.”

  The last man stood even larger than Brakk and Oren. His muscles were dense and defined. His posture radiated barely restrained violence. On closer look, he resembled the one I had punched. Likely related.

  I released my mana, coating it with intent. Lieutenant Cicero had taught me this trick. By releasing mana in a controlled way and focusing it on a target with intent to kill, it created a powerful intimidation effect. It even worked on beasts.

  I stared at Rokan. Slowly, I let my mana spread over his body, pressing down on him.

  Finally, he spoke.

  “I am Rokan,” he said. “My class is [Stonecutter]. I smashed the head of a worker who was with us.”

  “Us?” I asked.

  “Daren worked with me,” he said, pointing at the injured man.

  “Daren,” I said. “Your class.”

  He looked up at me. Surprisingly, he was less angry than Rokan.

  “[Stonecutter],” he said, pressing the bandage to his face.

  By the time he finished speaking, Peter and the others had returned, shovels resting on their shoulders.

  We made our way to the digging pits, and I did not go easy on them. I had them dig until their hands blistered. Even Daren joined after I allowed him to heal for the first hour. While they worked, I went through their files and planned my squad placements.

  I had already decided that Garran, Barry, and Varric would serve as point leaders, each focusing on a different specialty.

  Now I needed to divide the new members into their groups. After reading their files, the decision was easy. They were all Tier One, close to Tier Two, with levels ranging from fifteen to nineteen. They were between twenty and twenty-five years old, and had been sent to the fort just yesterday.

  Corvin, Oren, and Brakk had worked together. From their crimes, it was clear that Corvin was the mind behind their operations, while Oren and Brakk were simple muscle. They had not only killed a passenger, but Corvin had also extorted money from many travelers using Oren and Brakk as enforcers. When things began to spiral, he had used Oren and Brakk to murder one of the passengers, only for the two of them to boast about it in a tavern.

  Oren and Brakk needed to be separated from Corvin.

  They were best suited for Garran’s group. They could carry heavy shields, making them ideal for forming a defensive wall.

  Corvin, on the other hand, was a perfect fit for Barry’s.

  The next ideal candidate for Barry’s group was Silas. Technically, what he said to me was true. He had passed information from one merchant house to another. What he left out was that the merchant house he betrayed was his employer, and that his information had led to the deaths of more than five members of that house while they were traveling outside the city. He had survived only because the rival house arranged for him to be sent here.

  Barry, Corvin, and Silas were all con artists.

  They would keep each other on edge. They would plot against one another, not together. Each of them believed they were smarter than everyone else. The chances of them working together were minimal.

  Rokan and Daren were brothers. After reading their files, they were the ones I could sympathize with the most, and I regretted being so heavy-handed with them. But they needed to learn to control their anger.

  They had always protected each other. That was why Rokan had been far angrier at me than Daren. They had grown up together, side by side. And they had only killed after being bullied by other quarry workers for years.

  They were a perfect fit for Varric’s group.

  It looked like the lieutenant had assigned me people who fit perfectly with the way I intended to run my squad.