Reincarnated as a Genius Mage

"Bring it here."

He walks toward me, and hands it to me.

I take the paper. And on the paper, I see a list of names.

I'm reading the list, my eyes focused on the names there. I've never even heard of some of these guys before.

I look up at Jeriq. As his eyes meet mine, he just shrugs, and walks toward my mat, sitting down beside me. By my left hand side.

"So, these guys.. they're in our troop right?" I ask. My voice low, my mind already trying to simulate various ways to get them to train.

Jeriq nods, pointing toward the paper with his right index finger. "This guy, his name is Rayan. They say he's a third core swordsman. No one really knows though, but the only reason he isn't a squire is because no sword knight wants him as their apprentice."

I adjust my posture on my mat because the ground keeps pressing on my waist. "Why? Did he commit some kind of crime?"

Jeriq shakes his head. "It's on the paper, just read it."

My brows curve, then hold the paper up, looking at it with intense focus.

"There are only about four names here?" I speak. "How are we going to participate in the troop battles with just four members?"

"Ah, he said I should explain to you: the four names there are the ones you should pay more.. special attention to, because… the reasons are written there. But, just know that they're the toughest in the troop, and if you succeed in whipping them into shape, then you'll be able to increase the morale of everyone else." Jeriq replies, his tone soft and his hands folded, right hand on his chin.

"I understand. But, why does.. I mean, I know Alberto's death caused a gap in his plan as he and Alberto have been planning this for a while.. but why does he choose me to fill that gap? I mean I'm not–"

"Maybe he feels that you're someone he could trust. Someone like Alberto."

I pause, then turn left, staring at Jeriq. Jeriq's looking forward, toward the entrance of my tent.

"That's exactly how my master treated me back then." He speaks with a somber tone. One filled with that sweet but hazy drunkenness of nostalgia.

I didn't ask for your backstory. Not now. I'm trying to–

"He wasn't even an S-rank mercenary back then. But, he saved me from that deep well of depression. That damn sinkhole." He speaks, his lips widening into his signature bright smile, contrasting heavily with the contents of his words.

My lips slightly quiver. I want to say something. To say, 'I understand.' But.. it feels wrong to interrupt him at this moment, because I've come to realize that.. I don't really know much about him. I mean other than the fact that he's a K otaku and a B-rank mercenary.

His story sounds oddly familiar to mine. Haha..

"Can you believe that he trusted me with his life because of his 'instinct'?" He turns to face me, his forehead wrinkled, eyes glistening and his lips never losing their smile.

I nod. Shaking my head side to side, "I actually can. That guy.. he'll say it was the will of Hubolt." My tone drips with sarcasm as I speak.

"Huh? How did you know?"

My eyes widen. "I didn't. I was just kidding."

He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he massages his knee. "Well, kidding or not, you're right. That's exactly what he said."

I let out a dry scoff. "Figures."

"And you know what?" He suddenly asks. His hands are still massaging his knees.

"What?"

"I believe him." As he says this, his voice sounds.. relaxed. "It takes only a crazy devotee like he has to put his life in the hands of a dumb kid from a.."

"Alright. That's enough. Let's focus on the task at hand." I cut him off, his eyes are starting to get wet. Anymore and be might actually begin to sob. I don't want that sight.

I'll learn more about that backstory of his next time. Not now.

He lets out a soft sigh, then looks at me with his teeth gritted. "Sure." He says in a low, annoyed tone.

"Why do you sound like that? You wanna beat me? Go ahead." I shrug,my lips widening into an amused grin.

He finally gives up, letting out a resigned exhale. "Just.. All I'm trying to say is that you should receive his trust, and try to groom it to grow. You never know what fruit the seed of trust might yield."

It still doesn't explain why he's giving this important task to a new soldier like me who hasn't even stayed up to a month on the battlefield, but sure. Jeriq's right.

But I won't tell him that.

"You could've just said that instead of giving me a five minute monologue on how your master saved you from a sinkhole." As I speak, I hold back the laughter tugging at my lips, threatening to spill.

He just blinks as he looks at me. Unable to say anything else.

I clear my throat. "That's enough messing around." I focus on the paper in my hand. But by the side of my left eye, I still sneak a little glance at Jeriq's annoyed face. "These names are weird."

I want to caress my jaw, but then I remember that I'm wearing a mask and that I have no goatee.

"Rayan. Shamon. Tch, that bastard Lanin." I speak with a clear voice that seems to echo in the thick silence between us.

"Rayan has an insane drinking problem. That's the reason he hasn't been able to advance to the fourth core from the third, and the reason no knight wants to take him." I speak as I read the contents of the paper.

I see. I know how to deal with guys like this.

I don't read the paper anymore, and I tuck it in the pocket of my robe as I stand up immediately.

"What are you doing?" Jeriq asks, looking at me with a confused expression.

"What else? I'm going to meet the drunkard to ask him some questions." I reply, adjusting my mask as it scratches on my cheeks.

"What about the other guys then?" He asks.

"It'll be one by one. Relax." I speak in a confident tone with a wild smile on my lips.

Jeriq stands up too, "Are you going to harm him? You're supposed to increase their morale, you know that right?"

I walk toward my boot, wearing it. "I said I'm going to ask him some questions. Who said anything about hurting him?" As I speak, I walk toward the entrance of my tent, and Jeriq does the same.

As I walk out, a wave of refreshing breeze blows against my skin. The golden rays of the evening casting an ephemeral sight on the rows of red tents.

"It's late." Jeriq says as he wears his boots.

"I know." I reply as I walk toward the direction where members of our army go to drink.