Chapter 158 - Death and Honor Are Not the Same (21)
Ernest did nothing but wait.
Although he was still being watched, his guards no longer entered the room to monitor his every move as they once had.
Now, they simply stood outside the door.
After Heinz's visit, Ernest realized immediately that this new treatment was less about surveillance and more about protection.
He had no way of knowing what kind of magic Heinz had worked.
As the Corps Chief of Staff, Heinz certainly wielded considerable power, but in a situation as complicated as this, keeping Ernest safe couldn't have been an easy task.
Two days passed like that, and at last, Ernest's interrogation by the 2nd Corps Military Police began.
It happened right there in his room, with a warm cup of tea served alongside.
"You've gotten caught up in a real mess. I know this must be tough."
The Military Police Lieutenant serving as Ernest's investigator offered words of sympathy the moment he saw him.
"You know this is all just procedure, right? Please, just speak comfortably."
Military Police Investigators are infamous for being able to intimidate and threaten even field officers when necessary.
Once you're in their hands, even captains end up bowing and can't straighten their backs in front of a lieutenant.
But this lieutenant was so kind that it seemed, at this rate, he might become so deeply moved by Ernest's unfortunate situation that a hot tear would roll down his cheek, and he'd leap to his feet and passionately defend Ernest.
"I see, that must have been difficult. Now, about not charging into the forest immediately after Lieutenant Colonel Hoffman's order—since you struggled a lot in the woods, and quite some time has passed, maybe your memory about it is a bit fuzzy?"
"…Y-yes…"
"Right? Ah, you see—when it's like this, it really puts us in a bind. Testimonies this unclear just won't do," the investigator sighed.
It was obvious at a glance that the Military Police Investigator was on Ernest's side.
Despite what he'd said at first about things just being procedural, he scrutinized every detail with thorough care, and whenever anything potentially unfavorable for Ernest came up—be it testimony or evidence—he found some excuse or another to cover it up completely.
In the end, any trace of conflict between Ernest and Bailey disappeared entirely.
And so, to clean up the mess left by Lieutenant Colonel Bailey Hoffman—a man who, plagued by paranoia and suffering from symptoms of dissociative disorder as a result of envy and feelings of inadequacy toward his talented subordinate who had once been his junior—seventeen-year-old Captain Ernest Krieger, the young hero, had fought so hard it could have brought tears to the eyes.
The new version of events about Ernest and Bailey, as produced by the investigator, was so embarrassingly favorable to Ernest that he found it hard to even lift his head.
Still, if he truly wanted to escape this situation completely and be declared innocent, this much was necessary.
The Commander had died, cut off from the outside world deep in the forest, and a member of enemy royalty had staked his honor to make an accusation.
Even someone completely innocent could be condemned and executed here.
In such circumstances, receiving a verdict of innocence through normal procedures was virtually impossible.
Only with the Corps Chief of Staff backing him and the investigator going so far as to craft this story could Ernest even hope to get off.
Through the investigator's "questioning," Ernest was able to get a more accurate picture of what had actually happened.
He even heard what occurred after the 1st Battalion charged into the forest.
After the reckless assault by the 1st Battalion, the only troops left behind were the cavalry company—which had suffered heavy losses in the previous battle—the artillery company, who couldn't fight without protection from the allied forces, and the non-combat transport company.
As soon as Bailey entered the forest, the Belliang Army immediately burst out and attacked the remaining 1st Battalion troops.
They were armed with powder guns, and since they were exhausted from running through the forest, the remnants of the 1st Battalion were able to put up enough of a fight.
However, with the 1st Battalion Commander Bailey and the staff officers all gone, there was no one left to lead.
The cavalry company and the artillery company belonged to other units, and the remaining transport company was a non-combat branch.
If they had made a desperate stand, they might have held out long enough for Levin to realize what was happening and send reinforcements.
But with no one in command, they didn't even try to fight—they simply retreated.
The transport company escaped with the vehicles, so the Balt Battery for vehicles wasn't captured, but all the supplies that had been unloaded for more efficient resupply during the battle were completely taken by the Belliang Army.
Levin realized what was going on when he saw the remnants of the 1st Battalion fleeing, but since Lanosel kept pressing the attack recklessly, he had no choice but to redirect the 13th Regiment north of Lanosel to put distance between them and the forest and to form a defensive line.
Everything went exactly as Bertrand had planned.
If Ernest hadn't been there during that first fight in the forest, Bertrand would have crushed the 1st Battalion, advanced straight onto the plains that very day, destroyed the 13th Regiment, and swallowed up even the 16th Regiment that had come to help.
"If you change your statement, it could get a bit tricky, so you'll need to memorize everything here. I'll write up a copy for you—take a look when no one's around, then return it to me later."
"It's fine. I've memorized it all."
"…Oh… Yes, I understand."
The investigator looked a bit flustered at Ernest's calm reply, but soon gave a small smile and started organizing the documents.
"I'll have to come by a few more times, but you don't need to worry—just relax. Well then, I'll take my leave now."
"Yes, thank you. Take care."
After the investigator left, Ernest sipped his now-cold tea, sinking back into his thoughts.
There were simply too many things to consider, and there wasn't a single question that could be answered clearly. His body felt comfortable, but his mind was in turmoil.
Six more days passed, and finally the day arrived for a decision to be made about Ernest's situation.
In the meantime, the investigator had visited twice more—only to be startled after confirming that Ernest had memorized the revised statement, and never needed to check again.
After that, the visits became nothing more than casual chats about current events.
This time, Ernest headed to the Military Police Corps without being restrained. When he had first come to the 2nd Corps Headquarters, he'd been treated as a criminal, riding in a transport vehicle. Now, even though Military Police Corps Non-commissioned Officers armed with pistols sat on either side of him, he rode comfortably in the back of a fine compact car.
"Captain Krieger, you've been through a lot. Regarding this rather unfortunate matter, we have confirmed that there is nothing here that could be considered a crime on your part. There will be no trial. From this moment, please return to your duty and devote yourself as a proud soldier of the Empire. I assure you, your dedication will never be questioned over this matter again."
If a trial had been held, even a verdict of innocence would have left a record behind. And a judgment of insufficient evidence could have become a problem in the future as well. But right there on the spot, Ernest was declared completely innocent—with a firm statement that his actions would not even be considered a crime.
So, there was no trial at all. As a result, nothing would mar Ernest's career.
And, of course, there was not even a mention of the First-Class Baltracher's rumored memory reading or psychological analysis that had worried him so much.
"Please get in."
When Ernest first came to the Military Police, he'd been treated as a suspect and had armed guards posted at his sides.
But now, as he left, the driver politely opened the door and, with only Ernest in the car, drove him gently and respectfully all the way to the Main Headquarters Building.
Still, this was almost too much, and even Ernest couldn't figure out just what Heinz had done to make all this happen—it was confusing. He even started to suspect that there might be someone supporting Heinz from behind the scenes.
Or, perhaps it was Lieutenant General Olaf Cohen, the 2nd Corps Commander, who had stepped in somehow.
"Krieger, you've worked hard."
As soon as Ernest arrived at the Corps Headquarters Main Building, Mark greeted him with a beaming smile.
He patted Ernest—who was bigger and sturdier than him—warmly on the shoulder, and led him inside with genuine friendliness.
Given that his own son was none other than Ferdinand Hartmann, Mark must see Ernest, with his scruffy, unshaven beard, as almost a cute child.
"Worked hard? I've been so bored from doing nothing at all."
"Hahaha, sometimes you really do need a break where you do absolutely nothing."
"Thank you so much. Thanks to you, everything was resolved without incident."
"That's what we should be saying. We've received a lot of letters from Ferdie lately. He never used to write much, but because of all this, I've ended up with a whole stack from my son."
Mark gave a bittersweet smile and lowered his voice.
"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even have had the chance to wait for Ferdie's letters."
"…Even if I hadn't been there, Ferdinand would've managed somehow."
"No, he wouldn't have. He's stubborn as a mule."
The moment Ernest glanced away and offered a polite, insincere reply, Mark answered seriously.
He knew all too well just how stubborn his son was.
Even if he were being sent to his death, Ferdinand was the type to follow orders without hesitation.
"You've got a lot of letters, too. I'll have them sent up to your room, so read those at least. I'm really busy, but I'll stop by to see you again tonight."
"Yes, sir. Understood."
As Section Chief of Operations for the 2nd Corps, Mark was extremely busy—after giving Ernest's back a good pat, he hurried off at a brisk pace. Ernest wanted to ask about his own situation, but for now, he decided to go to his room and read the letters—which were probably from his friends—first.
"…I should shave first."
But once he returned to his room and saw the razor lying on the table, he changed his mind.
The thought that he could finally get rid of this damn beard lifted his spirits, so he went ahead and shaved right away.
Afterward, he sat at the table and started sifting through the mountain of letters piled up, checking who each one was from.
"What is this…."
Ernest quickly realized something was off.
The senders were Ernest's friends, but the recipients were not Ernest—they were the 2nd Corps Headquarters or the Military Police Corps.
He couldn't figure out exactly how things had unfolded, but it seemed word had quickly spread that Ernest had been arrested for some reason.
So, these were petitions his friends had sent to headquarters and the Military Police to protect him.
Ernest felt deeply grateful to his friends.
From the moment he'd arrived in Lanosel until now, he hadn't managed to smile genuinely even once, but now, despite himself, a faint smile spread across his face.
"…Marie."
Then, Ernest spotted Marie's letter.
Sitting among the luxurious envelopes sent by young noblemen, the plain letter envelope from Marie actually stood out all the more—he couldn't possibly miss it.
Ernest decided to start with Marie's letter envelope and unfolded it right away.
"To Ernest.
Hello, how are you doing?
I'm doing well.
I've already heard about what's happening with you.
There's been so much news about you in the military.
I wanted to write you a letter, but I couldn't because I didn't know exactly where you were posted.
On top of that, you've become such a famous person that I heard if your relationship isn't clearly defined, people aren't even allowed to send you mail.
This time, your friends came to find me, and thanks to them, I finally managed to send you this letter.
The 6th Division I'm in is currently stationed in Shadello, in the southeast of Belliang.
I heard that the 5th Division will be coming here in a few days, but unfortunately, I think I'll be leaving Shadello before then.
They say that now that we've broken through the Bertagne Forest and the war is almost over, there shouldn't be any more dangerous missions.
So we'll be able to see each other again before too long.
The army told me you're healthy, so I know you're okay, but since they never tell you everything, honestly, I still worried a lot.
I was especially worried about Robert.
He's so hopeless he can't even skin a rabbit, after all. I heard he's all right for now, but you never know.
To be honest, I made plans to desert a few times. I thought you and Robert were just regular people and too weak to make it out alive.
But I had no way to reach the 5th Division even if I deserted, and even if I managed to find you, there wasn't really anything I could do.
The army started giving updates about you, so in the end, I gave up.
I honestly thought both of you would die in your first battle.
In my company, we were wiped out nine times in the Bertagne Forest.
If you count the smaller incidents, just in my company alone, there were over two thousand casualties.
More than thirty officers died, too.
There were several times when I nearly died after being left on the battlefield with my Balt battery depleted, but because I'm small, I was able to survive.
I hid under corpses and people passed right by without noticing me.
At times like that, being small actually helps.
Maybe there were some who saw me but pretended not to—maybe they just thought I was a child.
I survived partly because I was lucky, but the things I learned from you helped a lot.
Knowing how to hide, run away, find my way—all of that helped, and so did the military science knowledge you taught me during the battle.
I heard about Adler's death in action.
To be honest, I wasn't especially close with Adler, but I can't forget the times we spent together at House Krieger.
Even camping in the forest.
He meant a lot to you, Ernest, so it must be really hard.
I know I wouldn't be able to endure it if you or Robert died.
Sorry—honestly, even after hearing you're healthy, it's still really hard for me to cope.
If I could, I'd want to check on you in person. But since we're soldiers, I know that's impossible, so I'll hold back for now.
If you get this letter, please write back. I want to know that both of you are safe. Promise me.
—Marie."
As Ernest read Marie's long letter, he gave a bitter smile.
Marie was deeply worried about Ernest and Robert.
Ernest could sense what she truly felt: "As a Baltracher, I have to protect Ernest and Robert, who are just ordinary, fragile people."
Marie even said she'd considered deserting in order to protect them.
Having been taught by Ernest, she knew full well what could happen if she deserted during wartime.
That was how desperate she was.
The reason Marie was so concerned for the two of them was that, after severing ties with her family completely, there was no one left with whom she had such a close relationship besides Ernest and Robert.
To Marie, both Ernest and Robert were her new family.
It was also because the battle fought in the northern part of Bertagne Forest had been so gruesome.
During the Battle of Bertagne Forest, the mission of the 5th Division was to draw the enemy's attention and hold them in place while the 6th and 7th Divisions broke through the north of the forest.
On top of that, Marie had already been commissioned as an officer before the war began, so she experienced the most brutal fighting at the onset of the war.
She had probably gone through ten times more than Ernest had.
She must have thought there was no way Ernest and Robert could survive what she'd endured.
'I'll write her back today and send it right away.'
Ernest decided he had to write back to Marie and send his reply today.
After the 6th Division broke through Bertagne Forest and crossed into Belliang, it had taken quite a long time for Marie's letter to finally reach Ernest.
Judging by its contents, Marie had been waiting for nearly twenty days for a response.
A letter isn't sent straight to the recipient; it's collected by the Logistics Corps and brought to the 2nd Corps Headquarters, where Ernest was, sorted, and only then delivered.
The process is complicated and takes a lot of time.
If Ernest were still with the 1st Battalion, it would have taken at least another ten days for him to receive Marie's letter. If things went badly, it might have taken a full month before his reply reached Marie.
Fortunately, Ernest was at the 2nd Corps Headquarters, so if he wrote and sent his reply now, it would go directly to her.
This was a really important issue—because just from reading Marie's letter and seeing her handwriting, it was clear that her state of mind was dangerously unstable.
Marie was obsessively worried about the two men's safety.
If the Imperial Army still hadn't managed to cross Bertagne Forest, Marie really might have tried to desert.
First, Ernest started to read the remaining letters.
Just in case there was something urgent.
"..."
As he read the petitions his friends had sent, Ernest felt a truly complex and subtle mix of emotions.
He was grateful and embarrassed that his friends had gone to such lengths for him, but underneath it all, he couldn't help tasting a hint of bitterness at the underlying sentiment of, "Since it's Ernest, maybe he really did do it..."
Still, all of them defended Ernest, passionately insisting that he couldn't possibly have done such a thing. They went so far as to invoke the honor of not only their own Houses but also other Noble Families they were connected to.
Thanks to Heinz's help, he'd been found not guilty without even having to stand trial—though if he had been convicted, something truly dreadful might have happened.
He couldn't forget this: Most cadets from the Imperial Military Academy were born into very noble families.
If the sons of so many distinguished Houses put their family's honor on the line, and yet Ernest was found guilty, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say there could be political retaliation against the Military Police and the 2nd Corps.
Even though it was wartime, now that Bertagne Forest had been crossed and Belliang's conquest was all but certain, it would have been a real possibility.
Of course, even so, something like a petition alone would never have been enough to fully clear Ernest's name.
'The Chief of Staff must have done something…'
Ernest was convinced that what Heinz had done was the decisive factor.
But the fact that he had no idea what price Heinz might have paid for leading this effort left Ernest uneasy. It made his chest tighten to think that this incident might leave a blemish on Brigadier General Heinz's career.
Heinz, like Ferdinand, was someone who saw things through to the end once he made up his mind.
He might really have been willing to wreck his own career to save Ernest.
Letting out a worried sigh, Ernest kept flipping through the letters. That was when he came across a name he missed dearly: Gunter Wolfram.
One petition written as the Count's second son, and one personal letter sent directly to Ernest.
Ernest first read the petition in which Gunter earnestly pleaded his case, invoking his family's name and honor, as well as recalling their days at school, insisting there was no way Ernest could have committed such a heinous act as murdering a superior officer.
Then, he began to read Gunter's letter.
"To Ernest of Krieger,
First, let me say how sorry I am that you had to endure such injustice because of this absurd accusation.
I'd already heard about you through the Army's reports, but circumstances didn't allow me to write until now—so I'm using this as an excuse to finally send you a letter, even if it's late.
I learned about all this from a courier sent by the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment.
I honestly have no idea how that rascal Neumann managed to persuade the top brass of the Cavalry Regiment, but apparently he sent a courier all the way from the southern edge of Belliang to the northern part of Belliang where I am, asking me to write a petition for you.
It's crazy if you ask me, but since it might help you even a little, let's just consider it a good thing and leave it at that.
If everyone truly understands the laws of the Empire, the discipline of the Army, the honor of the Nobility, and the value of True Justice that we all know so well, then I'm sure there's no way you'd be punished over an accusation not even worth considering.
So there's no need to say too much in this letter. We can talk about the details in person when we meet again someday.
From Gunter of Wolfram.
P.S. Try not to get promoted too fast. I only just made Captain this year."
Gunter's letter contained some truly shocking information. No one knew exactly how the outstanding and impressive Captain Sebastian Neumann managed it, but after the 2nd Corps scattered throughout Belliang, the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment sent couriers to request petitions in Ernest's favor.
Now that he thought about it, the Commander of the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment had struck him as quite an interesting person when they'd last met.
Wanting to impress the Second Years with the Cavalry Regiment's splendor, he'd organized a large-scale maneuver exercise that hadn't even been on the schedule.
When the kids were blown away, he'd looked absolutely delighted and bobbed his head in satisfaction.
He'd even given out prizes to the subordinates who'd worked so hard.
According to Sebastian, the Commander of the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment was so enthusiastic about playing pranks on new officers that he would even swap uniforms with his staff.
Sebastian had even said he'd be willing to get down on his knees if that's what it took to get Ernest into the Cavalry Regiment.
Honestly, if Sebastian had asked a favor and the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment Commander had roared, "Well, if it's for something like this, I can't say no!" and then cheerfully sent couriers all over Belliang, Ernest wouldn't have been surprised at all.
Anyway, even if Ernest was just a seventeen-year-old greenhorn, it was obvious to anyone that he hadn't wasted his life. How many people would go all out for someone accused of murdering a superior officer? It was truly a moving moment.
...Though, the postscript at the end of Gunter's letter was genuinely chilling. Given everything he'd been through because of Levin and Bailey's relationship, if that line didn't send shivers down his spine, that would be a sign of serious cognitive issues. Ernest firmly resolved that no matter what, he would never accept a promotion to Major.
...But if he did that, then after the war, he'd probably get caught in Thomas's clutches and dragged off to the Imperial Military Academy, ending up working under that devilish Senior Instructor, wouldn't he?
"Right now, just getting through what's in front of me is more important."
For now, Ernest decided not to pursue promotion to Major and to simply focus on ending the war as a Captain.
If Thomas dragged him off, well, so be it.
Actually, on second thought, it might not be such a bad thing.
No, it might even be a good thing.
Ernest genuinely enjoyed teaching others, and he was good at it.
That gave him even more reason to avoid getting promoted to Major.
If he ended up going to the Military Academy anyway, he'd like to become an instructor who taught cadets directly.
And officers of Field Officer Rank cannot become instructors.
They're considered too valuable for that role.
'Captain is my limit. I can't go any higher.'
With a sense of real desperation, Ernest made a firm vow never to accept another promotion.
"Looks like you were writing letters."
"Yes, I have quite a few to write, so I need to stay on top of things."
Just as he had said earlier that day, Mark came to see Ernest in the evening.
Ernest, who had been busy with his letters, greeted Mark with a noticeably softer expression and tone than usual.
Mark smiled warmly—because Ernest was treating him not as a superior, but as his friend's father.
But Mark's gentle smile didn't last long.
Looking a bit tense, he moved closer and sat across from Ernest. Ernest could sense Mark's unease as well.
"It's all been taken care of. There's nothing for you to worry about."
Mark wanted to make it absolutely clear that Ernest had no reason to feel guilty or anxious about what had happened.
"Yes, thank you."
Ernest was worried about the price Heinz and Mark might have paid, but he also knew that pressing the issue now wouldn't be right, so he let it go with a word of thanks.
Mark gave a small smile.
He hesitated, rubbing the back of his hand, then spoke in a careful tone.
"Now you need to decide where you'll go next."
Mark spoke rather vaguely.
Looking Ernest in the eyes, he continued.
"Krieger, if you want, you can be transferred somewhere safer."
"..."
"They've concluded there are no charges against you, but rumors have already spread throughout the entire 13th Regiment. Even if you go back, you probably won't be treated very well. And even though the conquest of Belliang has all but succeeded, you never know when or where a battle might break out. If you have the opportunity to move to a safer position, maybe you should take it."
Ernest listened to Mark quietly, and then noticed something odd in his expression. Meeting Mark's gaze directly, Ernest spoke calmly.
"Is this something you and the Chief of Staff are suggesting, sir?"
At that sharp question, Mark gave a soft sigh, hesitated for a moment, then gave a wry smile.
"You really are perceptive—almost frighteningly so. No, this isn't coming from us."
Mark hesitated, then lowered his voice and spoke in a cautious whisper.
"It looks like someone pulled some strings behind the scenes to protect you in this matter. My father may have stepped in, but honestly, things progressed unusually smoothly. I think someone might have reached out to the Military Police Corps."
"Is there no way to know who made contact?"
"There's no way to know. So probably…"
Mark glanced meaningfully at Ernest.
The only organization that could pull off something like this without the knowledge of Heinz, the 2nd Corps Chief of Staff, would be the Central Intelligence Agency.
The only connection Ernest had to the Central Intelligence Agency was back in his first year at the Military Academy, when Major Liselotte Kirchner had subjected him to what was supposedly a mental defense drill, but was really an exercise in reinforcing the Emperor's authority.
'Father!'
So it had to be related to Ernest's father—Haires Krieger, the living Imperial hero who had been awarded the Noble Heart Medal.
Had Haires done something?
Or perhaps the Central Intelligence Agency had made its own decision, hoping to quietly extract the son of a hero like Ernest from the dangerous front lines and keep him safe in the rear.
"..."
Ernest thought about it for a long time.
Mark waited patiently for his answer.
After much deliberation, Ernest made his decision.
"I'll return to the 13th Regiment."
Ernest chose to go back to the 1st Battalion of the 13th Regiment.
"Are you sure about this?"
Mark asked him gently.
"Yes."
Ernest answered firmly.
Of course, Ernest was desperate for news about his father, Haires.
If he could at least find out why there had been no contact, maybe that thirst would ease a little.
Still, Ernest had no choice but to return to the 1st Battalion of the 13th Regiment.
"I can't leave my friends behind."
Robert, Ferdinand, and Baumann were in the 1st Battalion of the 13th Regiment.
He couldn't abandon them.
Whether Haires was personally involved or whether the Central Intelligence Agency acted on its own judgment—to Ernest, going to the rear wouldn't affect his father's safety either way.
But for Ernest's friends, they would need him.
Especially Robert, who was so useless he couldn't even skin a rabbit properly.
As for his father, Heinz said he would look into it, so it should be okay to wait a little longer.
Above all, Haires was the respected father and mentor who had personally taught Ernest so many ways to survive—skills that made Ernest who he was today.
If it was Haires, he would be all right.
Ernest trusted his father.
That's why, even as a creeping anxiety quietly rose from deep in his chest, he forced himself to ignore it, pushing it down and firmly sealing it away.
"…Alright, then. We'll arrange for your return to the 13th Regiment."
"Yes, thank you."
"It's already late at night. You should get some sleep now."
When Mark stood up, Ernest rose as well.
And the moment Mark smiled and casually raised his hand, the tense Ernest moved so fast that Mark was startled by his speed.
Snap!
Ernest saluted Mark with a speed that could rival a flash of lightning.
Mark had been about to salute the man who saved his son, but Ernest beat him to it, leaving Mark frozen in surprise.
His half-raised hand hesitated uncertainly, unsure where to go.
"…You said you received this from my father, too. So what am I supposed to do now?"
"I'll stay just like this all night if I have to."
"No, wait…"
Just as Heinz had done to him, Ernest now playfully threatened Mark.
Mark floundered for a moment, then finally let out a heavy sigh and accepted Ernest's salute.
Still, Ernest didn't lower his hand.
"…Are you really planning to stand like that all night?"
"I'll lower my hand after you leave."
"All right…"
Not wanting to give Mark a chance to salute him back once his own hand was down, Ernest decided to hold the pose until Mark left the room.
Truly cunning and clever.
It seemed Mark was rather disappointed that he hadn't gotten to see Ernest flustered and scrambling.
"Father will tease me about this."
"..."
Or perhaps just thinking about Heinz, who had overpowered Ernest with sheer force and forced him to salute, teasing him was enough to give him a headache.
In the end, Mark grumbled as he waved to Ernest and then left the room.
Only then did Ernest lower his hand, though he remained tense in case Mark might suddenly throw open the door and force him to salute again.
Fortunately, Mark didn't return, and Ernest was able to relax and return his focus to writing the letter.
'It's better not to mention this.'
Ernest decided not to tell his friends that he'd had a chance to be sent to the rear.
He didn't want them to feel guilty.
And honestly, even if they did, it wouldn't help anything.
What good would it do to bring up something that wouldn't change anything and would only weigh on their hearts?
Sometimes, keeping quiet is the best choice.
'Now that I think about it, this happened before.'
Ernest remembered being summoned to the 2nd Corps Headquarters right after the war broke out, when he'd met Mark.
Back then too, Ernest had volunteered to go to the field for the sake of his friends.
Somehow, the situation had ended up repeating itself.
Still, one thing was different: this time, Ernest had genuinely chosen his own path and decided his own fate.
At least that one thing wasn't so bad.
***
Late at night, in the back seat of a car parked in front of the 2nd Corps Headquarters, a man was anxiously bouncing his leg.
With a haggard face, he gnawed relentlessly at his thumbnail, never taking his eyes off the entrance to headquarters.
Soon, another man emerged from headquarters, opened the driver's side door, and slid into the seat.
The moment he closed the door, the man in the back blurted out, desperate:
"So—so what happened?"
He was so desperate his voice trembled like a newborn goat bleating.
The man in the driver's seat stared into the darkness, completely still and silent.
"..."
"I asked you what happened!"
When the man in the back pressed again, the man in the driver's seat slowly turned his head to look at him.
"He said he'd go back to the field..."
"NOOOOO!"
As despair flooded his words, the man in the back seat clutched his head and howled.
He thrashed both legs wildly in the cramped back seat, making a racket until the whole vehicle shook.
It took quite a while for his wild frenzy to subside—long enough that, seeing the car shaking and hearing the screams, the Headquarters Guard Unit outside began to gossip among themselves with looks of disgust.
"Why!"
The man in the back seat screamed.
It wasn't a joke—he really looked like he might cry.
"He said he couldn't leave his friends behind..."
"That son of a bitch!"
"It's actually admirable..."
"That goddamn admirable son of a bitch!"
The agents from the Special Security Bureau, who had seized this golden opportunity to spirit Ernest Krieger safely to the rear and secure a new recruit, now felt like they were going insane because of this damn Ernest, that damn admirable Krieger, who insisted on crawling back to the battlefield.
It truly was a perfect chance.
Honestly, failure hadn't even crossed their minds.
But they'd failed.
"What do we do now? I really want to go home this time. No, before that—I'm scared. This is a failed mission. Are we going to be okay?"
"Ahh! Aaaaaah! I want to go home! Let me go home!"
"..."
"Shit! Why! Why the hell! We've done everything we could! We conquered Belliang! We even beat Count Lafayette! He was cleared of all charges! It's all over! So why the hell is he crawling back in there?"
"He said he's worried about his friends…"
"Why the hell isn't that bastard just being a bastard! When everything's finally over, what's there left to worry about!"
"Yeah, seriously…"
"Why do we even need that guy in the first place! What are we doing out here, putting ourselves through hell for more than three months!"
"If you, Senior, don't know, how would I know…"
"What do you mean you don't know! You should know! Are you just taking me for a joke because I'm your senior?"
"..."
Thud.
As he thinks, "Here we go again," the junior agent, who actually wants to throw a tantrum himself but restrains it because he's self-conscious, slams his head against the steering wheel, understanding exactly how the senior feels.
"..."
"…Hey, hey, you're not crying, are you?"
"I'm not crying."
"…Let's report in first and just wait a bit."
Seeing that his junior looked like he might burst into tears, the senior agent, having regained his composure, tried to suppress his own frustration as he spoke.
"It's not like we just messed around, right? We did everything we could, and in the end, that guy went and pulled some ridiculous stunt that ruined everything. If he's got any sense, he won't blame us for it."
They really had done their best.
The Empire's administration had ground to a halt because of the war and constant purges, and even the Special Security Bureau was too understaffed to properly support its own agents.
Without the Special Security Bureau's backing, it was difficult to move under the name of the Central Intelligence Agency.
If the Special Security Bureau didn't manipulate information for them, they could be exposed as non-official members of the Central Intelligence Agency.
Even so, through sheer grit and desperate maneuvering, they'd somehow managed to exert enough influence over the Military Police Corps to pull things off, and, thanks to Heinz Hartmann's intervention, they succeeded in keeping Ernest safe.
Who could have imagined that, after all that, Ernest would decide to head back out to the battlefield out of concern for his friends?
It was like some kind of natural disaster—completely unavoidable.
The higher-ups were sure to call them back now, instead of pushing them any further.
They'd finally get to go home.
For sure.
They had failed an assignment that had been given directly by someone high up in the Special Security Bureau.
The Special Security Bureau was already suffering from a severe manpower shortage and valued its agents highly, but after such a massive failure, it was uncertain whether the bureau would want to keep using agents who had this blot on their record.
Keeping someone in line through fear or wiping their memories to reuse them was only possible if that person still had some value; if the Special Security Bureau concluded someone was completely incompetent, they showed no hesitation in getting rid of them.
"Please…"
After this quiet prayer, fueled by a hope crushed under fear and despair, the car carrying the Special Security Bureau agents began to speed through the dark nighttime roads.
In the end, war itself is the height of irrationality, and there's not a single thing that works as it should.
Everything is a complete mess.