For the ogre race, horns are a vital part of one’s identity, though this varies depending on the tribe. They are, after all, a race specialized for war to the point of being called a combat race. While their massive physiques and developed canines certainly define an ogre, no one would dispute that their horns—which seem to govern their fighting spirit and offensive power—are their true symbol. Consequently, ogres cherish their horns deeply. Because horns are growing organs, they require constant maintenance. They are frequently modified: shaping the form, adjusting the length, or, in some tribes, carving symbolic patterns into them. However, no matter how close the bond, an ogre will almost never allow someone else to do this. Performing this task with one’s own hands is a matter of ogre pride. In many cases, other races don’t give much thought to such efforts, but there have actually been various trends in horn modification. There were eras where it was fashionable to notch the tips into a bifurcation, carve regular intervals of joints, or sharpen them so acutely they could easily pierce something. “Well, I thought it looked cool when I was younger,” is a common excuse heard from middle-aged ogres. From a structural standpoint, all these styles are disadvantageous, but to a hot-blooded youth, seeing a decorative horn remain unscathed even after surviving countless brutal skirmishes looked incredibly badass. Of course, most end up with a tragic punchline: snapping the horn halfway through their ambitions and living in deep regret.
Anyway, back to the point. Private Ernie Boyd (a pure-hearted ogre male who recently turned 19) is a man with no connection to such reckless horn modifications. After all, despite being an ogre, he lacks one of his signature dual horns. Due to certain circumstances, it was ripped out from the root and will never grow back. By ogre standards, he is already quite uncool. He had taken great care of the remaining horn, but he managed to snap that one, too, a few months ago. Well, since it was a trade-off for saving a life and landing a girlfriend, he was somewhat satisfied with the bargain—but since it has grown back quite a bit lately, he is currently agonizing over what to do with it.
“Hey, Boyd. What are you staring at in the mirror for?” “Oh, Mr. Luckman.” As Ernie sat staring into a hand mirror in contemplation, he was called out by his colleague, Private Greg Luckman (a dwarf). To put it plainly, a Private is an apprentice soldier, the lowest of the low ranks. Since Greg was in the same cohort and rank as Ernie, he wouldn’t get in trouble for not using honorifics, but being a dwarf, Greg possessed a bear-like beard that made it somewhat difficult for the youngster Ernie to address him casually. “A man making all these faces while staring into a hand mirror is a little creepy, you know.” “Ah, haha… No, it’s just… about my horn.” “Ah, the horn.” In the Celesta Northern Legion’s Crossbow Unit, where Ernie serves, nearly twenty percent are ogres, which is rare for a support unit. Naturally, they have their own fixations regarding horns, and some of them are well aware of just how special—or rather, miserable—Ernie’s situation is. Recalling this, Greg made a subtle, awkward face. He was not good at offering comfort. And seeing that awkward expression, Ernie panicked. It wasn’t that he was worried about the break itself. “N-no, well, I was just wondering if it’s about time I shaved it down into a cone shape…” “Ah, right. It looked like this when it broke.” Greg formed a gap of about five centimeters with his fingers. In Ernie’s memory, it felt a bit larger, but that was a minor detail. It wasn’t his fault if others couldn’t remember it perfectly. “Yeah, something like that. But since it’s grown quite a bit, I thought it might be time.” “In that case, want me to lend you a sharp knife?” “N-no, I have my own maintenance tools.” The problem was whether he should actually go through with it. In terms of appearance, there was no reason not to. The issue lay elsewhere.
Ernie’s girlfriend, Sylvia McRain (a pure-hearted human female approaching twenty), had been saved by Ernie’s suicidal rescue attempt when she was nearly killed by a runaway carriage. Currently, she wears the piece of his broken horn as a cherished necklace. He was incredibly happy when she rejoiced upon receiving it, but the problem is that since then, she has used that broken edge to launch all sorts of exasperatingly sweet displays—overlaying the scar with gratitude for their meeting, or for destiny, or saying things like, “You don’t need to worry about a single horn; it’s a small price to pay compared to your beautiful skin, oh Ernie-kun, you’re doing it again!” That scar is now a symbol of their bond. He is torn by the conflict of whether or not he should erase it. “I see. By the way, do you mind if I punch you? With everything I’ve got.” “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t…”
Compared to Ernie’s massive frame, Greg’s height was like that of an infant, but with the strength of a dwarf, he was capable of knocking Ernie unconscious with a single blow. Sensing a genuine murderous intent hidden behind that good-natured smile, Ernie took a slow step backward. “Well, seriously though, if that’s what makes you feel better, I think you should just leave it as it is.” “Ye-yeah, I mean, I get that… but there’s no denying it looks awkward.” However, even Ernie had his own sense of aesthetics as an ogre, and he cared about how others saw him. To be blunt, having a horn that stayed broken and extended like that looked uncool. Exposing himself like that while walking with Silvia felt like he was dragging her reputation down with him, and for that, he felt guilty. “Hmm… what should I do…?” “I doubt anyone except other ogres will care, though.” “But Basson, there are surprisingly many ogres around…” Caught between culture and culture, between love and appearance. Consulting Silvia was an option, but doing so would only lead to her giving him a lonely look and saying, “You could just trim it off,” which would make him feel even worse.
As Ernie agonized while stroking his radish-like, blunt-ended horn, the front entrance of the barracks grew somewhat noisy. “Someone’s back, looks like.” “Seems so.” The noise had become quite common over the last few days. Due to the business of the Centurion in charge of the unit, a sudden three-month leave had been granted. As the end of that leave approached in a few days, more and more people were returning to the unit. Even though it was a military unit where work was the priority, most of them were young, single soldiers, so their sense of camaraderie was strong. Some arrived with mountains of souvenirs, and each return to the unit since the first leave of the formation had become something of an event. However, the nature of the commotion was somewhat strange. “Hey, hey, Void, Rackman! Get over here! And slap my cheek! No, wait—if you guys do it for real, my head’s gonna pop off, so be gentle!” “What are you even saying, Private Jean-Jacques?” “Is a flick on the forehead okay?” “No, it’s not that slapping is the premise, it’s just… Ugh, just get over here!” The two looked at each other and followed Jean-Jacques. When they rounded the entrance, there stood a massive bull. Or rather, a man of an ogre sub-species who looked like a bull: Decurion Kelly Isaac. Beside him—or rather, pressed against his lower body—stood a woman with a straight back and a dignified aura. ”…A woman? From the look of it, she doesn’t seem like a civilian.” “That cloak is military issue. Same fabric as the ones the Anzelos squad has.” “Isn’t she, uh, kind of close? Isn’t she a bit too close to Decurion Isaac?” “No, isn’t it just that Decurion Isaac is too big?” “That person is blocking the entire entrance by himself.” “No, no, no! I saw them walking from over there, and that woman was riding on Decurion Isaac’s shoulder!?” “Whoa.” “There it is. The number one most enviable situation for an ogre.” ”…” Arnie, who did that quite often at Silvia’s request, averted his eyes. Jean-Jacques and Greg, quick to notice, sent him a look of pure disapproval. That aside. “It looks like she’s introducing herself. To everyone, in the entrance hall.”
“H-hey, wait up! We’re coming to listen too!” “Hold on a second!! Dammit, don’t leave the guy with the short legs behind!” The three of them came thundering after.
“It is an honor to serve with you.” The woman in the cloak struck a formal salute in the Celesta military style just as the three arrived within earshot. Watching as everyone around them returned the salute with slightly loose, smiling faces, the trio hurriedly pressed their fists to their left chests. “H-hey, what was that?” Jean-Jacques asked a nearby soldier, but before the soldier could even open his mouth, she repeated herself with a faint smile. “I look forward to working with the rest of you as well. I have been transferred from the 3rd Infantry Regiment of the Celesta Western Army Corps; Private Linne Mikagami. My branch remains infantry, and I will be serving in an escort capacity.” “Ah… well, you see, Private Mikagami also holds the title of Ace Knight. Also, she’s a wolf-beastkin, and the granddaughter of my… well, a compatriot, or rather, an old acquaintance of mine…” Kelly tried desperately to provide an inoffensive explanation. With a cool expression, Linne removed her hair ornament, letting her previously flattened ears spring upward. “I joined the service because I look up to Decurion Isaac. I look forward to your kind cooperation from here on out.” “H-hey, Li… Mikagmi—” “Just Linne, please. …I believe I just explained that our relationship is perfectly fine, Kelly-san.” “No, well… you see…” Between her gaze and gestures, which clearly showed she trusted Kelly implicitly, and Kelly’s utterly bewildered and suspicious behavior, the approximately forty soldiers gathered in the entrance hall understood almost simultaneously. “Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you, Private Mikagami.” Representing the group, Bitt Williams (a 28-year-old human burning with envy) stepped forward with a grin. He was a Decurion, just like Kelly. “And Isaac. I hate to do this right after such a long journey, but our motivation for training is at an all-time high.” “A-ah… listen, Williams…” “You’ll take the lead, of course, Isaac. As a soldier of Celesta.” “Calm down. Wait a minute. Let’s try to remain rational, as Celesta soldiers should.” “Yep, yep. No one has lost their rationality yet.” ”…” Like a cow being slowly backed into a corner by someone twice its height, Isaac retreated inch by inch. “Kh…” “Mm-hmm, so you’re that eager to train? That’s the spirit! As expected of a future Centurion!” “Hell yeah! The acting Assistant Centurion’s creed!” “He’s shining!” Chanting in unison, the soldiers scurried toward the armory. Several soldiers who had already returned began tightening their crossbow strings with nostalgic familiarity. “So,” Bitt (a 28-year-old human with a reputation for forced smiles) declared to Kelly with a beaming grin. “Which would you prefer: fleeing with an arrow-deflecting shield, or fleeing empty-handed?” “What kind of choice is that!?” “You’d better hurry! I was just doing target practice, so I’ve already got my weapon ready!” “Kh… ugh… WAAAAAAAH!!” Kelly fled toward the armory at full speed.
“Alright, everyone, pursue them! As soon as that bastard grabs the arrow-deflecting shield, fire!!” “YEAAAAAAH!!” The crossbow unit gave chase with pure joy. “Wait… hold on! Mr. Kelly, what are you—” “Don’t worry, don’t worry.” Corporal Hank Bronson of the Anzelos squad—the only unit left standing (the guard infantry)—firmly gripped her shoulder to stop her. “This is a ritual.” “A ritual…?” “Yeah. …Look, the Centurion and the Anzelos Decurion aren’t even here right now.” “What does that have to do with anything!?” While they were engaged in this nonsensical conversation, the curtain had already risen on the target practice session, with Kelly serving as the target. “Waaaaagh!! Y-you bastards, you’re not seriously aiming at me!!” “Sorry, Decurion Isaac! My heart aches, but this is training! Die!” “It’s not like we’re doing this for fun! Go to hell!” “Even if I concede that you could go back to your homeland and find a beautiful girlfriend, don’t think you’ll get away with bringing her here just to brag about her, you prick! I’m sorry!” “Don’t insult me with such confusing grammar!!” The so-called “arrow-deflecting shield” was, for some reason, an ultra-heavy shield rolling around the armory that even an ogre would struggle to wield. While it could deflect crossbow bolts at close range, Kelly’s massive frame couldn’t be fully covered by it. “Ouch! It grazed me! It grazed me, dammit!!” Despite it all, Kelly managed to escape. ”…What kind of unit is this place?” “Welcome to the tightest-knit unit in the Northern Legion.” It sounded like a joke, but it was likely the truth.
Night. The daytime commotion had settled down. While eating dinner together in the mess hall, the group had begun teasing the new couple, Linne and Kelly, about how they met and what they liked about each other. “Think of it as a blessing from your comrades, in a way.” ”…I’m just glad the Centurion and the Anzelos Decurion were around when I started dating Silvia-san…” “Hahaha, well, you’d have to be at least as sturdy as Isaac to handle all that playing.” Watching Kelly and Linne from a short distance—looking slightly angry yet subtly happy—Arnie wiped a bead of cold sweat from his brow and breathed a sigh of relief. Yeah. Everyone here is terrifying. “But…” Now, Kelly had a girlfriend too. That meant there was no longer an excuse to brush him off when he sought advice on matters of romance. And since Kelly was also an ogre, albeit a subspecies, they shared a common understanding regarding the handling of horns. “Alright.” After wolfing down his serving of peppered meat (an ultra-manly dish meant for gluttonous ogres), Arnie stood up and followed Kelly, who had left the table first.
“The horn?” “Why not just trim it?” As expected, both Kelly and, by extension, Linne tilted their heads in confusion. “No, it’s just… well, I don’t want to, you know, sever the memories you two share.” “You’re such a romantic, Void.”
Kelly laughed boisterously, “HAHAHA!”, while Linne simply smiled and nodded. Kelly was relatively blunt but caring, whereas Linne was quiet and composed. Seeing them side-by-side like this, they almost looked like a perfect couple. “I don’t mind if it’s just romance or whatever… but, well… Silvia-san and I are different species, after all… I just don’t want to lose anything that could serve as a bond between us, even if it’s just a little bit.” “I see. …But hey, you’re clearly head-over-heels for her, so I think you could afford to have a bit more confidence.” “Physical objects are lovely, but if you value them above all else, it might make a woman feel insecure. She might wonder: ‘Can you trust a memento, but you can’t trust your own love?’” “I… I see…” “That’s why I think it’s a good idea to turn this into a stepping stone toward the next stage.” ”…The next stage?” “Yes. Why not make the cool process of trimming your precious horn into a new shared memory for the two of you?”
”…L-Like… this…” Scrape, scrape, scritch. Using a small knife (which, to a human, looked more like a machete) and a file—Arnie’s favorites—Silvia carefully shaped the horn. “P-Please don’t round the tip too much, okay? That’s how you trim a child’s horn.” “Okay… Hey, I was wondering… why did you want me to be the one to trim it?” “W-Well…”
“An ogre’s horn is precious. They entrust their pride to its shape. That’s why they don’t let others touch them.” “Entrusting it to someone else is… well, in our colony, at least. It’s actually a very serious form of courtship.” ”…Hey, Kelly-san. Could you… let me trim it, too?” “Eh… Ah, yeah. …Good grief, you’ve started making that pampered face.”
“My pride comes from the fact that Silvia-san loves me. …If the horn is the shape of one’s pride, then the horn shaped by Silvia-san’s own hands is the one I am most proud of right now.” ”…Honestly.” “Was that… too cheesy? It’s a smooth line I learned from Centurion Isaac.” “No. …I’m happy.”
“Then, I’ll do the right horn—” “Kate!?” “T-Then I’ll take the left one…” “Instead of a dick, I don’t mind getting horn-dicked by you and Big Sis, Kelly-niichan! ♪” ”…Horn-dicking… gulp” “Hey, wait!” “Hahaha, Isaac. What a coincidence.” “W-Williams!?” “And who is this lookalike of Mikagami Shohei making such scandalous remarks over there?” “No, calm down. Let’s talk this out. First of all, this child isn’t very fluent in standard Japanese.” “Mm-hmm. …Let’s head back to the barracks and find out which dialect ‘dick’ belongs to. Let’s talk while we get some exercise.” “Wait! Listen to me!”
This is heavily intertwined with the Isaac chapter in Side Story 2. I will be posting that one soon as well.