Chapter Ninety-Eight: Notarizing the Finances

The question of whether one could confiscate the opponent’s equipment during military exercises was actually quite ambiguous. In previous drills, this issue never arose, because those exercises simply involved two small groups facing off on a limited field, with few participants and short durations. But this time, as the first large-scale, multi-corps, long-duration coordinated confrontation exercise, the problem became prominent.

When drafting the exercise rules, the possibility of such situations was anticipated. From a realistic combat perspective, the confiscation of enemy equipment undoubtedly occurs. Since that’s the case, a military exercise designed to simulate actual combat should include provisions to that effect. Yet these rules met strong opposition from many senior officers. Consider that these high-ranking officers wore nothing but the finest gear; having a low-ranking soldier casually seize their valuables during an exercise was hard to accept.

What if the soldier lost the precious item? Or damaged it? Of course, a receipt could be issued, even compensation measures established. But some soldiers were poor; even selling the item wouldn’t cover the loss. Especially with spatial rings—their value was incalculable. To write a receipt, one would have to catalog every single item stored inside the ring, have each officially notarized by a third party, and then list them individually in the receipt.

Otherwise, what if items were missing upon return? What if the other party accused you of loss? How would compensation be handled? Who would appraise the value? These all required weighty agreements, making the process extremely cumbersome.

Because of the difficulty in reaching consensus among the top brass, the rules concerning confiscation were deliberately left vague. The regulations explicitly allowed some investigation of “bodies,” but did not specify whether enemy equipment could be confiscated—or prohibited.

Where there is no clear rule, there is a loophole. Kevin seized upon this loophole and naturally intended to use it. However, unless absolutely necessary, he dared not have the third-party directorate make a ruling directly—what if they patched the loophole?

“Sir,” Kevin produced pen and paper, “Here’s writing materials, and there are many witnesses from both the Red and Blue armies, plus the directorate. Please take out every single item from your spatial ring, and we will register them all. I guarantee that after the exercise, everything will be returned in full. If there is any loss... well, we will discuss that then.”

“How can you say ‘discuss then’?” the Blue Army lieutenant colonel snapped. “Are you determined to cheat me out of my things?”

“The situation is complicated,” Kevin replied. “Since I’ve confiscated these items, I will use them. For example, if there’s a piece of meat bone in your ring and I toss it to distract a military dog, then yes, your ring will be missing that bone, but that counts as normal wear and tear—you wouldn’t expect me to compensate you for a single bone, would you?”

“Then, what if I had money in there and you spent it all, claiming it was to bribe someone—just normal wear and tear?” the lieutenant colonel countered.

“We’re all on the exercise grounds; where the money is spent can be traced. It just needs to be returned after the exercise,” Kevin answered.

“This is too troublesome,” the lieutenant colonel shook his head.

“No, it’s not,” Kevin nodded. Both sets of “bodies” nearby watched with interest, their own conversations breaking out.

“Could there really be something indecent in there?” Kevin tried again. “Contraband?”

“No!” the lieutenant colonel denied vehemently.

“Then what’s the point?” Kevin said. “Using money to bribe others during a military exercise is a dumb idea. The directorate watches 24/7—anyone caught will be held accountable.”

“I was just giving an example,” the lieutenant colonel argued. “My point is, if you use up my personal belongings, what about my losses? Honestly, the value of this spatial ring alone might be beyond your means to compensate.”

“If we break into the enemy’s heavy weapons unit, confiscating their heavy weapons is perfectly normal. By the same logic, spatial rings should be allowable. Military exercises should be strict and realistic. Arguing endlessly with ‘bodies’ now feels so artificial. Do you want it to be even more fake?” Kevin’s expression darkened. “To be frank, sir, since you know this is an exercise and want to avoid this situation, why not simply not bring your spatial ring?”

The man fell silent, clutching his fingers, standing still.

Kevin looked toward his own Red Army troops. “What’s going on with you all? No one supporting me? I’ve confiscated enemy property—it all counts as contributions to our army!”

“Ah? Yeah!” The Reds mumbled hesitantly, but soon morale lifted, and they began teasing the Blue Army lieutenant colonel: “Could it be all risqué novels inside?” “Maybe all animated pictures?” “Or a bunch of ladies’ lingerie? Ha ha...”

Soldiers spoke plainly; if not their own officers, they cared little. The Blue Army lieutenant colonel blushed but had no reply. Kevin noticed, however, that Sain quietly shrank back, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Sain was the regiment commander’s son. During recruit training, everyone trained without equipment, but now at their own unit, surely he had some stash?

Kevin waved the Red Army soldiers to quiet down, then casually patted the Blue Army lieutenant colonel on the shoulder. “How about we not spill everything in front of everyone? Let’s head over to that grove. What do you say?”

The lieutenant colonel was still hesitant.

“If you really don’t want to, then the directorate has to judge,” Kevin said, pulling out his last card helplessly. “Once the directorate calls it, you must hand it over immediately. Military urgency means there’s no time for you to inventory or write receipts.”

The lieutenant colonel suddenly smiled, as if struck by a good idea, and held out his hand. “See, I’ve worn this ring for over ten years, and it’s tight; I’ve never taken it off. I’ve put on weight recently and now can’t remove it.”

Kevin glanced at the finger. “But if this were real combat, I could just cut off the finger.”

“But it’s not real combat,” the lieutenant colonel looked resigned. “Come on, you can’t really chop off my hand, can you?”

Kevin examined the hand. What the man said wasn’t entirely untrue; the ring was indeed tight. Kevin didn’t want to offend anyone by trying to pry it off himself, then thought of someone. He shouted, “Someone from the relevant department? Come here and help us out!”

No sooner had he spoken than Little Spoon came running over, wearing the official badge of the relevant department, verifying her credentials. Everyone stared curiously at the young girl.

“Hello,” Kevin said formally, “Could you help me remove the ring from this ‘body’?

Without a word, Little Spoon smiled at everyone, then inspected the hand. After a moment, she produced a small bottle of oil from her pocket, dropped two drops on the finger, rubbed it, shook it gently, twisted the ring, then repeated—three cycles in total.

The ring slipped off easily. The Blue Army lieutenant colonel looked at his greasy finger, incredulous. “What did you put on me?”

Little Spoon showed him the label: “Bullhead Divine Oil, for lubrication.”

The surrounding crowd looked surprised. Someone asked, “Why does such a young girl carry this stuff?”

Little Spoon shrugged, “It’s normal. We’re... that kind of profession. We use it often.”

The others were more surprised, some embarrassed and unsure how to respond. Kevin understood: Little Spoon was an assassin, likely needing to disarm traps often, so lubricant was practical. The others’ minds had obviously gone elsewhere.

“Anyway,” Kevin cleared his throat, “Now that the ring is off, first I want to thank you for cooperating. Let’s move to the grove, shall we?”

The lieutenant colonel had no choice. With the ring off, to protect his property, he reluctantly agreed. The others, seeing the matter settled, prepared to disperse. Sain lowered his head, trying to fade into the background.

“Oh? Isn’t that Sain?” Kevin called out happily.

Sain’s face stiffened, forcing a smile. “Hmph.”

“Long time no see,” Kevin greeted warmly, patting him. “Why don’t you greet an old friend?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sain murmured, sensing trouble.

“Come on, we’re all old comrades. We trained together as recruits. This time we’re all Red Army. If you have anything useful, lend it out a bit,” Kevin shamelessly urged. “If I get credit, I’ll count you in.”

Sain licked his dry lips, unsure how to reply, glancing at his companions for backup.

Kevin pressed on, “If any of your friends have good stuff, step up—after all, we’re all in the same regiment. Saves me the trouble of searching everyone.”

His companions wisely kept silent. Sain was annoyed but couldn’t protest; if he opposed, the Blue Army wouldn’t agree either.

Seeing Sain hesitate, the lieutenant colonel grew impatient. “Hurry up, why dawdle?”

Sain feigned stomach pain. “Ah, I’m not feeling well. Help me back.”

“Okay,” Kevin stepped forward. “I’ll support you.”

“I think I need to use the bathroom,” Sain changed his story.

“That’s perfect. The grove is right over there. Come on, Blue Army officer, and friends from the relevant department—we’ll go together.” Kevin dragged Sain along without further argument.

“But there are ladies there,” Sain pointed at Little Spoon.

“No problem,” Kevin smiled, “She’s seen it all.”

Little Spoon was speechless.

Sain’s last excuse was seen through, and Kevin forcibly led him into the woods. The others, thinking this didn’t concern them, worried Kevin might return for their items and scattered, exhausted after a long night and eager to rest.

Inside the grove, Little Spoon, as the third-party notary, began removing and cataloging items from the lieutenant colonel’s ring. “Hmm, some trivial stuff isn’t worth notarizing. Three swords, all high quality, but no serial numbers. One fur, looks precious.”

“That’s black bear fur from the jungle,” the lieutenant colonel explained. “How about this, I take out what’s necessary and we notarize only that?”

“Fine.” Little Spoon seemed overwhelmed by the disorder of the items; a thorough notarization would take too long. Kevin didn’t mind; he casually dug a hole, hung his coat on a branch as a makeshift curtain, and gestured to Sain, “Come, relieve yourself here.”

Sain was speechless.

The lieutenant colonel emptied his ring’s contents: “Thirty thousand gold coins, two thousand silver, all in this chest. Two suits of armor, though honestly, you might not fit due to size differences. Some magical crystals, some personal items. Most importantly, this bucket of chimera acid.”

Kevin and Little Spoon nodded repeatedly, noting everything down.

“This acid is extremely dangerous, highly corrosive. Only glass or certain expensive materials can resist it,” the lieutenant colonel warned. “It’s from a twin-headed chimera in rage, very valuable. I happened to acquire it. Since this is just an exercise, you’d better not use it.”

Kevin nodded, “Understood.”

“Nothing else of importance,” the lieutenant colonel said. “Which unit are you? After the exercise, I’ll come get my things.”

“Don’t worry,” Kevin assured, “I am Kevin Insighton of the Thunder Knights, catapult commander. Though my rank is low, I’m an independent department commander overseeing all catapults in the regiment. I guarantee my integrity—I would never pocket your property.”

The lieutenant colonel nodded, no further objections. Little Spoon copied out three copies of the agreement; each kept a copy. The matter was settled. Kevin slipped the ring onto his own finger, testing it—it felt good. Then he looked at Sain.

At this point, Sain had no choice. He extended his hand, removed his own spatial ring, and handed it to Little Spoon.

Kevin lavishly praised him: “Now that’s a real brother! Look at that, so straightforward! Not a word of complaint. Blue Army officer, you could learn from this.”

Sain was speechless.

The lieutenant colonel scowled. “I’m done here. I’m leaving.”

He truly left. Little Spoon resumed cataloging items from Sain’s ring. “Wow, so many things! Here are three odd dolls.” She pulled out a life-sized doll dressed in women’s clothes, like a giant doll.

“Uh, not mine,” Sain replied. “Since I’m the only one with a spatial ring here, some comrades store their things with me.”

“Oh,” Little Spoon produced a pile of whips, shackles, ropes, and so forth.

“Not mine either,” Sain said.

“Then tell me, which items should be primarily registered?” Little Spoon asked.

“That’s not really appropriate,” Sain hesitated. “Some things aren’t mine, and I don’t know their value. It wouldn’t be right to register other people’s stuff either.”

Kevin sneered inwardly. Clearly, this kid was stalling because he resented losing his belongings and wanted to make everyone uncomfortable, even if it meant standing there himself. Fine, Kevin didn’t mind; they could waste time cataloging everything one by one.

Little Spoon had no choice. Cups, chamber pots, shoe insoles, rags—all were taken out and registered. Kevin frequently praised Sain’s spirit of generosity, offering his spatial ring for comrades’ use—a model to emulate.

Until Kevin noticed a label on a doll’s sleeve with Sain’s name: “Hey, this has your name on it? The others have names too, but those belong to others.”

Sain’s expression changed; he stammered, “Uh, well, that’s probably... uh...”

“I got it,” Kevin interrupted, “It must be a comrade with the same name.”

Little Spoon nodded, “What a coincidence.”

Sain was speechless.

“How much more stuff?” Kevin asked Little Spoon.

“More than half left,” she said helplessly.

Sain finally gave in. “Fine, fine, there’s nothing important here. You can take it.”

“What if your comrades lose something?” Kevin asked.

“I’ll explain to them. They’ll understand,” Sain replied, then turned and left. “That’s it, I’m gone.”

Kevin waved after him. “Thanks! You’re a good man!”

(To be continued.)