Chapter 155 - Death and Honor Are Not the Same (18)
In the forest before the Bertebras Mountains, the 1st Battalion members who had survived—thinking salvation had finally arrived with their own forces—now felt a chill clutch at them, despite the sweltering weather, at the icy hostility of their supposed rescuers.
When the Lieutenant Colonel, glaring at the 1st Battalion, gripped his gun, Hans, who had been sprawled on the ground, staggered to his feet and shouted,
"What on earth is going on, sir!"
"Where is Lieutenant Colonel Hoffman?"
The Lieutenant Colonel's eyes blazed as he spoke.
Hans, using his gun like a cane to steady himself, swallowed hard and replied in a strained voice,
"The Battalion Commander took his own life with a pistol yesterday."
"...."
The Lieutenant Colonel fixed Hans with a fierce stare upon hearing this.
Hans looked as if he might collapse at any moment, but mustered what strength he had to stand straight and meet the officer's gaze head-on.
"He killed himself? Are you sure? Did you see it happen?"
The Lieutenant Colonel pressed him.
Hans had no idea how things had gotten to this point, but he began speaking as planned in advance.
"I didn't see it with my own eyes. But in the tent where only the Battalion Commander was present, I found him dead, pistol in hand, shot in the head with the only remaining Balt Battery loaded in the Balt Pistol."
"So you're saying you didn't witness the actual shot."
"This is…"
"No, why are you saying something so absurd?"
"Was Lieutenant Colonel Hoffman really alone in the tent?"
As the Lieutenant Colonel kept pressing him, the utterly exhausted Hans couldn't take it anymore.
"Yes! Damn it, he was alone! While the rest of us were fighting off dehydration and fevers with captured powder guns, he pointed his pistol at our heads, never even aiming at the enemy, sitting in his tent eating and drinking well, refusing to let anyone in!"
Hans shouted furiously, and, overcome by a surge of intense anger from his exhausted body, he lost his balance and collapsed to his knees.
"You little bastard…."
The Lieutenant Colonel bared his teeth at Hans, growling menacingly.
He pointed the pistol he was gripping tightly straight at Hans.
"Lieutenant Colonel Hoffman was your superior officer. How dare you talk about him like that? Do you even call yourself a soldier of the Empire?"
"Then at least explain what all this is about before you interrogate us or aim your gun! We risked our lives fighting for the Empire in this damned forest, barely escaping with our lives!"
"Where's Lieutenant Colonel Hoffman's body?"
"In this state, do you think we could've dragged a corpse back with us? Look at us!"
"..."
"Yes! It's right over there! Over there! Go see for yourself!"
"Lead the way."
"The way…!"
At the Lieutenant Colonel's command, Hans couldn't even finish his sentence.
With a look of desperation, he glanced back at the forest they had come through.
"Lieutenant Colonel Sir, I don't know who you are, but for God's sake, if you have eyes, just look over there. All we could do was tell directions by the sun—we didn't have any other way!"
"Exactly. That's why you thought you could cover things up."
"At least tell us why you're doing this before you interrogate us or pull a gun!"
Hans honestly felt like he was going insane.
He couldn't even think about covering up what had happened because he'd gone along with killing Bailey—before that, all he could think was, are all these damn bastard Lieutenant Colonels this much of a piece of shit?
"Count Lafayette sent a letter. He claims Captain Krieger murdered Lieutenant Colonel Hoffman."
"…Wait, you're taking the enemy's letter at face value…?"
"You had Star of Summer as your prisoner, didn't you?"
"..."
"They say Star of Summer heard everything."
"You mean to say that, based solely on the word of a prisoner who never took a single step out of the tent—and a letter sent by the enemy commander—you're doing all this right now?"
"He is royalty, and he risked his own seal and honor to report this. Before he is our enemy, he is a Noble One."
"..."
Hans was at a loss for words.
He knew now that honor and all the rest had become meaningless.
But before entering this damned forest, he too had believed without a doubt that honor shone as brilliantly as the sun.
If this were Hans from three days ago, he would have nodded in agreement with the lieutenant colonel.
Because that's just how nobles were supposed to act.
Calling oneself noble while ignoring the worth of a royal's honor was no different than destroying the central pillar of a towering, splendid building for the sake of aesthetics.
Only by exalting the honor of royalty could that of the nobility be upheld as well.
Hans was so worn out that he had no idea how or where to even start persuading them—and exhaustion certainly wasn't helping him think straight.
"Where were you and what were you doing when the incident happened?"
The lieutenant colonel pointed his gun at Ernest as he asked.
"I was on a round, encouraging the soldiers and overseeing security duties, and then I took a brief rest."
Ernest replied in a calm voice.
"I saw Captain Krieger resting. Right after the incident, I spoke with him as well."
Andersen cut in quietly, backing him up.
The lieutenant colonel narrowed his eyes and swept his gaze across the area.
Ernest could tell just how far the suspicion creeping into the man's eyes went.
He was probably convinced that every single member of the 1st Battalion present here had conspired together to kill Bailey.
In other words, no matter what anyone here said, he had no intention of listening.
Ernest understood what this lieutenant colonel of uncertain affiliation was thinking.
He had already made up his mind that Ernest was guilty, assumed that all the 1st Battalion members were involved, and was certain that Ernest would be sentenced to death anyway.
By this point, the question of truth or falsehood hardly mattered.
Dozens of Belliang soldiers had shouted at the top of their lungs in front of Lanosel, making sure that the thousands of troops stationed there could hear every word.
Now, thousands of soldiers were aware of this enormous scandal, regardless of whether it was true.
Murdering a superior is the crime officers despise most.
Frankly, they would rather see someone kill and loot civilians for fun or beat up a subordinate soldier.
The reason is simple: even appearing lenient toward the murder of a superior could mean a bullet through their own skull at any moment.
Proving Ernest's innocence was just as hard as proving his guilt.
If Ernest were found not guilty, this unclear officer death would set a bad precedent.
So even if Ernest hadn't killed Bailey, those in power would frame him just to have him executed.
They wanted to create a climate of fear, making it clear you could be put to death based solely on suspicion.
"Haa..."
Having grasped the situation, Ernest slumped to the ground and ran his filthy hands over his face.
Seeing this, the lieutenant colonel's face twisted in fury. He tightened his grip on his weapon.
From the Imperial Army's perspective, it would be far better to execute him right here and now instead of dragging things out and making them more complicated.
It would serve discipline, and more importantly, it would be cost-effective.
Everything could be wrapped up neatly, without wasting time or administrative resources.
"Were you the one who killed him?"
"Would you even listen if I answered?"
"Are you all in this together?"
"I haven't given you an answer, yet you speak as if you've already heard one. Do you not know what it means to have a conversation?"
Ernest, his face haggard with exhaustion, looked up at the lieutenant colonel and then, staggering, forced himself to his feet.
Since Ernest was unusually tall for his age, just the sight of him standing—despite his fatigue—looked surprisingly intimidating.
"..."
"..."
Ernest looked down at the lieutenant colonel with eyes that were deep and dark, far too emotionless for a situation like this.
If Ernest were executed here on the spot for allegedly murdering a superior, the crime would be considered proven and the 1st Battalion members would automatically become accomplices.
That would happen without so much as an investigation.
And the truth was, Ernest really had killed Bailey, and most of the 1st Battalion officers really were his accomplices.
"Ha."
At that moment, Ernest looked down at the lieutenant colonel and let out a short laugh.
It sounded like a scoff, and the lieutenant colonel clenched his teeth and tightened his grip as anger flashed across his face.
But Ernest's laugh wasn't one of mockery.
'Anyway, the others will probably all be cleared of suspicion.'
Robert, who had no background to shield him, and Baumann, whose family wasn't influential, could've easily been deemed accomplices and executed alongside Ernest if things went wrong.
However, at the time, both of them had been taken prisoner by the enemy.
No matter how foolish the authorities were, they couldn't drag those two into this and have them killed.
Ferdinand had been present at the scene.
But he had been following Ernest's instructions and witnessing Georg's final moments.
If it had been anyone else, maybe they would've found a way to kill him too, but the fact that it was Little Hartmann—Ferdinand—was probably enough to clear him of suspicion.
He had lost Georg—lost him to wounds suffered beyond his reach, in a place he couldn't touch. But he wouldn't lose his other friends. Not now, not when they were still within his grasp.
Looking down at the lieutenant colonel pointing a gun at him, Ernest finally allowed himself a smirk of real derision.
Now, at last, he could truly, deeply understand his father, and Thomas as well.
"How can you be so pathetic?"
These useless, idiotic fools strutted about calling themselves nobles and commanders.
The lieutenant colonel narrowed his eyes, tightening his finger on the trigger.
He was about to fire.
"Wait!"
A ragged shout rang out, shaking the suffocating air. Through the chaos, two men came running frantically and stepped between Ernest and the lieutenant colonel, blocking the way.
Ernest knew one of them very well.
"…Senior?"
One was Sebastian Neumann of the Cavalry Regiment, also from the 5th Division, though Ernest had never actually run into him before now.
There was no time for formalities; Sebastian shielded Ernest with his back and pushed him behind.
Then the other man, his shoulders thin and heaving, still cried out firmly,
"The Battalion Commander has no authority to punish him here!"
The moment Ernest heard that voice, shadows from a distant-feeling past suddenly came into sharp focus before his eyes.
"…Gross… Senior?"
The Adultery Letter.
Ingrid.
Gunter Wolfram.
The duel.
Jaf Gross, who had dropped out of the Imperial Military Academy.
"You bastard, how dare you…!"
The lieutenant colonel strode forward, glaring at Jaf for daring to utter such things about his authority.
But Jaf didn't back down; instead, he stepped forward, standing his ground against the lieutenant colonel.
"The orders were clear: rescue our allies isolated in the forest and arrest Krieger. What you're doing now goes against those orders."
"Are you trying to lecture me?"
"If you see this as a lecture, then it means you already know what you're doing is wrong."
Thwack!
At Jaf's bold words, the lieutenant colonel struck him in the face with the butt of his pistol.
Jaf staggered but didn't fall.
Though his face still looked delicate, his eyes blazed fiercely as he shouted for the man who had saved him.
"Shame on you! What you're doing right now—!"
"Gross!"
Sebastian grabbed Jaf's shoulder and pulled him back, stepping forward himself.
The lieutenant colonel, who had been about to pull the trigger, had no choice but to stop when Sebastian—an officer from the Cavalry Regiment—intervened.
No matter how angry he was, he couldn't simply shoot an officer from another unit.
"Does your superior know what you're doing right now?"
The lieutenant colonel asked Sebastian.
True to form, Sebastian flashed his characteristic bold grin.
"Yes, he knows. I came here with his permission."
His breezy voice swept through the stifling summer forest like the wind
"Aren't I, as a man, standing up against injustice?"
The clear, piercing words left the corrupt lieutenant colonel too stunned even to sigh; his face flushed a furious red.
"You snot-nosed brats, still wet behind the ears, do you even know who I am? You're soldiers, and I'm your superior officer!"
He hurled insults as their superior, while his own subordinate, Jaf, had already openly defied him. In the military, the chain of command was so rigid that it was almost terrifying—there was nobody here who could stop him.
"Step aside."
No, there was one.
A large hand grabbed Ernest's shoulder and yanked him to the ground, then shoved Jaf out of the way as well.
Even Sebastian, tall and powerfully built, was pushed aside like a child by this tremendous force.
The man stepped in front of the lieutenant colonel's pistol.
Ferdinand, who had been slumped over unconscious until now, snapped awake from Robert's spirited slaps.
Face swollen, he spat blood-tinged saliva onto the ground.
Robert had slapped him at least twenty times with full force in a matter of seconds, splitting the inside of his mouth.
If you'd ever once laid eyes on Heinz Hartmann, the 2nd Corps Chief of Staff, you could never mistake his eldest grandson, Ferdinand.
Naturally, the lieutenant colonel recognized him instantly.
Startled, he tried to raise his pistol.
Whump!
"Gah!"
In that instant, Ferdinand lunged forward, grabbing the pistol and the colonel's wrist with both hands in a brutal grip.
Click.
Wrenching the gun away with incredible strength, he pressed the muzzle right up against his own head.
Eyes bloodshot and blazing, Ferdinand spoke with unyielding resolve.
"Shoot."
"Y-you…!"
"Are you planning to add assaulting a superior officer and stealing a weapon to your list of offenses?"
"Shoot."
"Let go of me!"
"If military discipline is so sacred, then why can't you shoot?"
"Enough! Fine! I get it!"
"Pull the trigger."
The lieutenant colonel tried to back away, but Ferdinand wouldn't let him retreat an inch.
Ferdinand growled in a low, rough voice.
"You have no proof of guilt, ignored orders from headquarters that only told you to bring us in, and without any authority, tried to execute an Imperial officer. Yet now, as I physically assault a superior and seize your weapon right in front of you, you find yourself unable to shoot?"
"Ugh!"
Ferdinand twisted the colonel's wrist with terrifying strength.
It felt as if his wrist would snap.
The grip was so powerful that the colonel's fingers reflexively contracted—the gun was about to fire against his own will.
In the end, the lieutenant colonel was forced to open his hand.
Only then did Ferdinand let go of his wrist.
He opened the revolver's chamber, dumped the bullets onto the ground, and then swiftly dismantled the Balt Battery and tossed it away.
"If you want to speak about discipline, start by following it yourself. You have no right to lecture anyone on the subject."
Ferdinand looked as if he was about to beat the lieutenant colonel to death.
But despite that intimidating demeanor, he did nothing more.
Or rather, he couldn't do anything more.
Ferdinand suddenly toppled backward like a log.
'Was I wrong again?'
As consciousness slipped away from him, Ferdinand thought that.
Was I wrong?
I truly believed that following discipline as a soldier was the right thing to do.
I tried my best—that was all I did.
I stood by and let Ernest kill Bailey, and even so, I ended up losing my friend.
Only after losing my friend did I, like a fool, abandon my beliefs...
'Perhaps it would have been better if I'd just broken completely.'
Having finally abandoned the convictions he'd struggled so hard to keep—for Ernest's sake, no less—Ferdinand found it brutally ironic that he was, in the end, a person who could never truly break.
If only he could collapse completely, snap, never rise again, and leave everything behind to run away—maybe that would have been better.
"Whoa!"
Sebastian tried to hoist him up, but Ferdinand was so heavy that Sebastian ended up falling and getting pinned underneath him.
"Gah!"
Crushed under Ferdinand's terrifying weight, Sebastian let out a sound that was more frog-squashed-underfoot than his previously impressive display.
It wasn't a joke—he felt like his insides might burst. If the scrawny Jaf had been the one caught underneath, he might have broken something or hovered between life and death.
"...Damn it!"
The lieutenant colonel trembled with humiliation, spat out a curse, and then strode away toward the edge of the forest as if fleeing.
"Krieger."
Jaf called out to Ernest as he helped him to his feet.
The same gentle smile that Ernest remembered was on Jaf's face—so different from the fierce flame he had just shown when standing up to his superior.
"...Why are you here?"
Ernest had no idea why Jaf was here. Everything was confusing.
"I enlisted as a volunteer after the war broke out. Oh, I'm in the 16th Regiment, 6th Division."
Jaf spoke softly, then gave a lighthearted grin.
"No need to worry about me. If I get discharged, I'll be glad to return to my hometown. Theresia's waiting for me, after all. Oh, and Theresia and I got married. Remember? It's thanks to you."
"Gunter is with the 7th Division—did you know that?"
"Save the chat for later, just help me first! I think I'm being crushed by a bear!"
While Jaf was rambling to Ernest, Sebastian—who was slowly being suffocated under Ferdinand—called out for help.
"Oh, our seniors, you were just unbelievably amazing. Good grief, what are we supposed to do when two suns that belong in the sky have come down to the earth like this? It's so dazzling I can't even open my eyes."
Muttering to himself, Robert dashed over and grabbed Ferdinand's arm, pulling him off.
Sebastian then shoved Ferdinand with all his strength and managed to wriggle free.
"So, what do we do now?"
Robert asked anxiously, supporting Sebastian as he got up. Sebastian looked back at Ernest, whom he hadn't seen in so long, glanced down at Ferdinand, and let out a deep sigh.
"What can we do? We'll have to hope Hartmann pulls it off for us."
With that, Sebastian grinned and extended his right hand to Ernest.
"It's been a while, Krieger. Now we're the same rank, and you're even taller than me."
"…How did you get here?"
In a daze, Ernest shook Sebastian's hand.
Sebastian Neumann, the cavalry company commander, answered with a broad smile, tilting his chin upward.
"It's the price for saving my life. Don't take it lightly, but accept it gladly."
Hearing those old words again, Ernest couldn't help but laugh even in this dreadful situation.
He'd never expected to actually receive it, yet here it was. Life truly is unpredictable.
Levin's request for reinforcements spread like wildfire racing across the parched autumn fields. The King's nephew carrying the Royal Flag—this was an opportunity too tempting to ignore, especially with the war essentially over.
But the 14th Regiment, which was stationed nearby, couldn't send support because they were busy fighting in the siege around the fortress. Regretful to miss out entirely, they at least sent a cavalry battalion—useless in siege warfare—just to get their name on the record.
That's how Sebastian was able to reach Lanosel.
Next, word reached the 15th Regiment. However, they couldn't move either, as they were tying down a strategic fortress to protect the northern flank of the advancing Allied Forces.
So, the courier pushed further north, racing to deliver the news to the 16th Regiment of the 6th Division.
The 16th Regiment, due to a miscommunication with the 15th, believed that the 15th had left the fortress behind and advanced. So, they headed south themselves to blockade the fortress. The moment they heard Bertrand's news, they charged at full speed and reached Lanosel.
Because the 16th Regiment received the order while still on the move, they could act with speed. Had they already set up a campsite, packing up alone would've taken all day—at best, they'd have reached Lanosel by evening.
Thanks to all this, Jaf of the 16th Regiment's 3rd Battalion was here now.
Sebastian and Jaf reunited in front of Lanosel this morning. While waiting, they heard Bertrand's scheme about Ernest's supposed murder of his superior officer, and Sebastian immediately rushed to the Battalion Commander for permission.
"The vanguard of the 2nd Corps, the glorious Cavalry Regiment of the 5th Division, only opens its doors to real men. Captain Neumann, act like a man."
This handsome, capable, and good-natured man had been beloved by his superiors ever since he first arrived as a Platoon Leader.
That hadn't changed—in fact, since he'd often bragged about Ernest to those around him, his superiors were happy to approve his request.
And so, Sebastian hurried after the 16th Regiment's 3rd Battalion and rushed into the forest.
There, he met Jaf and together searched for Ernest.
They managed to prevent the 3rd Battalion Commander from carrying out an unauthorized summary execution.
It was truly a miraculous coincidence upon miracle.
Of course, if the 16th Regiment's 3rd Battalion Commander hadn't decided to execute Ernest on his own in the first place, none of this would've even been necessary.
***
"..."
"..."
Levin scanned the exhausted faces of the 1st Battalion members who had made it back alive.
Among the rescued, not a single man from the 1st Battalion was unscathed.
Even Baumann, who'd been in the best condition, ended up completely battered from rolling along the ground several times as he rushed out of the forest for help.
Now, including even Ernest, who stood before him in bonds, there were fewer than ten men able to stand on their own.
"…You've all done well. For now, get treatment and some much-needed rest."
"What will happen to Captain Krieger?" Andersen quickly interjected as Levin spoke in a weary voice.
Unlike the 16th Regiment's 3rd Battalion Commander, Levin—being Ernest's superior—actually had the authority to punish him then and there.
With Ferdinand unconscious, no one could stop him, and in fact, most people just wanted Ernest executed quickly so they could finally put this matter behind them.
"Krieger needs rest, so he'll be held for a day and then sent off tomorrow morning."
"Se-sent off? Where to…?"
Baumann asked in a trembling voice. Levin met his gaze and replied calmly.
"For now, he'll be sent to Division Headquarters."
At Levin's words, Baumann was startled.
From the 5th Division Headquarters' perspective, dragging this out any longer would do no good.
They would likely try to end things by executing Ernest right there.
"But if you do that…!"
"Baumann."
As Baumann panicked and began to protest, Ernest called his name quietly.
Baumann turned around with a face on the verge of tears, and Ernest gave him a faint smile.
"If that bear-like Ferdinand wakes up, it'll probably be by tonight at the latest."
"..."
Baumann looked back at Levin.
Levin said nothing, simply gazing quietly at his surviving men.
Levin's decision not to send Ernest off immediately and to hold him for a day was actually to help him.
If Ferdinand woke up and wrote a letter for Ernest to deliver to his father or grandfather, the 5th Division would hesitate to handle matters hastily.
Even though the Division Commander was a Major General, he wouldn't want to get on Brigadier General Hartmann's bad side, since Hartmann was Corps Chief of Staff.
And it would look bad to execute Ernest—someone they'd promoted as the Son of a Hero—so if they could use Ferdinand's letter as an excuse to pass this difficult problem up the chain, there would be no reason not to.
"Get treatment and some rest first."
"…Yes, sir, Regimental Commander."
As Levin spoke firmly, Baumann replied through tears.
The survivors saluted Levin.
As always, Levin returned their salutes with his usual crisp motion, then looked at Ernest, who couldn't salute because he was tied up.
"I know nothing about this incident, and therefore have nothing to say."
Levin spoke coldly, barely moving his lips.
Ernest realized that Levin was sure of himself.
Levin believed that Ernest really had killed Bailey.
After all, Levin himself had promoted the seventeen-year-old greenhorn, with only two months of service, to Captain and made him Company Commander—he knew exactly what kind of man Ernest was.
"So I'll only speak to what I know."
In other words, Levin was saying he would only speak about the Ernest he knew—Captain Ernest Krieger, the capable and trustworthy soldier who always completed any task perfectly.
In truth, this was Levin's way of helping Ernest.
"Yes, sir, Regimental Commander."
"..."
Ernest answered quietly.
Levin hesitated, then took a decisive step forward and whispered softly,
"I'm not going to say you did the right thing. I can't do that."
Barely above a whisper, so that no one else could hear.
"If I'd had proof, and the situation hadn't allowed otherwise, I would have had you executed on the spot instead of sending you back."
"..."
"But that aside, I want to thank you for your dedication, Captain Krieger."
With a composed voice, Levin spoke quietly, then grasped Ernest's bound hand in a firm handshake.
Bertrand had done everything in his power to have Ernest killed.
The key was that, as a member of the Belliang royal family, his letter would be seen as trustworthy by the Imperial Army officers.
That was why Bertrand didn't hide the outcome or details of the battle.
He wrote the truth about how Damn Ernest, Damn Krieger had tormented him, and how Ernest had completely dominated the battle.
Defeat is always humiliating.
Yet here was this noble and sincere member of the royal family who so readily admitted to his own disgraceful loss—and he claimed it was Ernest who had killed Bailey.
That made it difficult to deny.
Unable to refute the contents of that letter, they arrested Ernest.
In turn, it meant they couldn't deny that Ernest had also stopped Bertrand and prevented the Belliang Revival.
Because of the reckless actions of 13th Regiment 1st Battalion Commander, Lieutenant Colonel Bailey Hoffman, the entire 1st Battalion was nearly wiped out, and the whole 13th Regiment—and even the 5th Division—had been put in grave danger.
If things had gone a bit differently, Mihahil Empire's conquest of Belliang could have come to a standstill.
But Ernest had prevented that.
By any reasonable measure, he was a hero.
At least, that's what Levin believed.
"..."
Ernest lowered his head and said nothing.
He had no interest in being treated like a hero.
He had never wished for a promotion, nor had he ever wanted a medal.
All he wanted was to come back alive with his friends.
He had saved seventy members of the 1st Battalion—and among them were his three friends.
But he had failed to save the 240 men of the 1st Battalion who had entered the forest with him, and he had failed to save his friend, Georg Brandt.
And for the first time, by his own will—not by anyone else's order—he had taken another life, bearing that responsibility entirely on his own.
Ernest regretted it.
If only he had shot Bailey from the start and killed him, maybe things would have turned out better than this.
But if he had done that, Ernest would have been executed on the spot for murdering a superior officer.
Of course, Ernest hadn't wanted to die.
But if he had chosen that path, Georg might still be alive.
But, if he'd done that… but… but…
Ernest kept running these thoughts over and over in his mind.
But he had no way of knowing which decision would have been better.
It was something even others couldn't easily declare.
Above all, Ernest was still only seventeen.
He was far too young to find a clear answer to questions like these on his own.
Trying to do so was harder than finding a path to victory on a battlefield where defeat was all but certain.