Chapter 167 - Bringer of Light (2)
The occupation of Avril Castle was complete.
The 13th Regiment entered the castle and took a short break.
Even in the midst of this, Regimental Commander Levin, the regimental staff, and the battalion commanders under his command had no time to rest.
Basing their plans on the maps acquired in Avril Castle, they discussed how to occupy the surrounding areas, established routes for their advance and supply lines, and deliberated on various measures to consolidate control over Avril Castle.
Those who fight directly on the field are busiest during battle, while those who sit back and command from behind the lines are busiest before and after the fighting.
Now that the fighting was finished, the combat units—the arms and legs of the 13th Regiment—relaxed and took it easy, while the staff—the brain of the regiment—were busier than ever.
In other words, the 13th Regiment was functioning exactly as it should.
"The village to the southwest will be occupied by the 2nd Battalion, and the village to the northeast by the 1st Battalion. As always, proceed with utmost caution and prioritize safety above all else. Should any issues arise, the unit commander may take immediate action at their own discretion and report afterwards. If the matter is serious, report first and await orders."
"Yes, sir."
"..."
"Is there something that concerns you?"
Levin, who normally would have wrapped up the meeting crisply with such instructions, fell silent, lost in thought.
Noticing this, the section chief in charge of operations—speaking as the representative of the staff who were all hoping to end the meeting quickly—cautiously asked the question.
Levin was a man known for his caution, always mindful of the weight of his words.
When faced with a difficult decision, he tended to close his mouth and keep silent, a habit that had often caused his staff a great deal of anxiety since he became regimental commander.
Fortunately, Levin was not the sort of superior who ignored his subordinates or lashed out at them for interrupting his thoughts, so lately it had become routine for the operations section chief, who was effectively serving as chief of staff, to ask cautiously in moments like this.
"…Lord of Avril is no fool."
Without the slightest movement, Levin stared intently at the map acquired from Avril Castle as he spoke.
"He must have known there was no chance of winning, yet he insisted on fighting and only surrendered after blood was shed. What do you make of that?"
"Perhaps he just pretended to fight because it would have looked bad to surrender right away. Maybe he thought that in order to keep his status as lord and to protect his house's honor, it was necessary to at least spill some blood first."
The 2nd Battalion Commander spoke in a calm voice.
The position of a lord wields immense, almost unimaginable power in noble society. If you control your own territory, you can collect taxes, mobilize troops, and wield influence in matters of strategy.
Even among counts, there's a world of difference between a Great Lord Count, who rules over a county composed of several baronies, and a Court Count, who stands by the king's side yet has no land of his own. Anyone can see how powerful a lord's status truly is.
It's possible he staged a token fight simply to preserve his title. Like a cornered mouse biting a cat despite knowing it can't win—making it clear that unless his position as lord was guaranteed, things wouldn't go smoothly. Or maybe he just wanted to avoid being branded as disgraceful by noble society for surrendering without even putting up a fight.
Either way, Levin considered the gesture meaningless and of little importance.
"..."
"Do you suspect he's plotting something?" asked the Section Chief, trying to move things along when Levin fell silent again after the 2nd Battalion Commander spoke.
"Ever since Lanosel, we've occupied enemy territory without a single battle. But here, a fight actually broke out, and the enemy put up some pitiful resistance before surrendering."
Levin, who had been sitting straight and absolutely still, now leaned forward and spoke calmly as he studied the map.
"There's been a change in the pattern, yet everything is proceeding without any trouble. When variables appear, it's impossible for there to be absolutely no problems."
"..."
Everyone grew tense at Levin's almost pathological caution.
Levin's suspicions weren't a matter of cold logic.
He was so overwhelmingly rational and excessively cautious that, irrationally, he'd become consumed by the Paranoia Demon—certain that, "things can't possibly continue to go this smoothly."
Levin had always been careful, even before the Battle of Lanosel, but he hadn't been quite this suspicious.
But after Bailey was lured by Bertrand, causing the annihilation of the 1st Battalion and nearly toppling the entire war against Belliang, Levin's suspicion had reached its peak.
"1st Battalion Commander."
"…Yes, sir."
Lieutenant Colonel Soren Kaufmann, a firm believer in going with the flow, answered.
He had been keeping his mouth firmly shut, avoiding Levin's eyes and staring at the map instead, but now glanced up nervously in response to Levin, who was gripped by the Paranoia Demon.
Levin rested his elbows on the table and laced his fingers, his eyes shining as he looked at Soren over his hands.
"What's your take?"
At that moment, Soren desperately wanted to leap to his feet and run right out the door.
Just a few days ago, he'd gotten old without ever managing—or more accurately, ever bothering—to make major, stuck as an eternal major instead of being promoted to lieutenant colonel. Now here he was, being asked such a question by Levin, and the whole situation made him miserable.
"…Some aspects do seem suspicious. I think it's best to proceed cautiously and avoid taking unnecessary risks."
Soren just wanted to keep his head down, do whatever Levin told him to do, survive until the war ended, and then retreat to the rear to enjoy an easy life again. The last thing he wanted was to shoulder any unnecessary responsibility by saying something reckless. So, while Soren more or less agreed with Levin, he also left himself a subtle way out—just in case. Even Soren had to admit, it was a masterful answer.
"...I see."
Levin nodded with a strange expression at Soren's safe, cautious response, a testament to his survival tactics. Then Levin sank back into contemplation.
'Let nothing happen. Let nothing happen…'
Soren silently prayed, wishing with all his heart that Levin would just tell everyone to follow the original orders, nothing more.
"The 2nd and 3rd Battalions, along with the Artillery Battalion, will be stationed at Avril Castle. The 1st Battalion and Cavalry Battalion will work together to occupy and scout out the surrounding villages. Take as much time as needed. Be thorough and careful to ensure there are no surprises."
To strengthen control over Avril Castle, two infantry battalions and the artillery battalion would be stationed there.
A fortress is not only a defense against outside threats, but also an excellent position for trapping and attacking enemies who have infiltrated it.
By stationing three battalions within the stronghold, Levin was aiming for maximum security.
It was, clearly, an excessive concentration of troops.
As for the Cavalry Battalion, there was little for them to do inside the castle's walls.
So, making use of their mobility, they were assigned to reconnaissance and patrol duties in the surrounding areas.
However, due to the nature of the cavalry as a military branch, it's difficult for them to occupy villages with complex terrain.
That's why the 1st Battalion was assigned to work with them, so they would operate together.
Given that Lord Delano of Avril had already surrendered, this approach was unnecessarily cautious, and it would only slow down the already painstaking advance of the 13th Regiment even more.
Still, it never hurt to be careful.
"Yes!"
"…Yes."
The Cavalry Battalion Commander answered energetically, while Soren, feeling bitter and resentful inside, replied as if forcing down something unpleasant.
But Levin wasn't finished giving orders.
"Your top priority is to minimize allied casualties. Even if things are done that break regulations or go against orders from above, as long as there's a valid reason, I'll take responsibility."
Levin's words were weighty indeed.
He was effectively saying that, if circumstances demanded it, even killing civilians or burning villages would be permitted.
Soren felt it was horribly unfair to be the one tasked with this sort of thing.
He was about to lose his mind with frustration.
All he wanted was to escape this damned field duty, become a staff officer in the comfortable rear, and enjoy a cushy life living off the Empire's tax money.
But that dream had already been thoroughly crushed and left in pieces long ago.
Heinz Hartmann, the 2nd Corps Chief of Staff, had seen straight through Soren's exceptional abilities and thrown him into the field.
Naturally, Levin was also well aware of Soren's competence.
The military is always desperate for talented commanders.
At this point, Soren's only choices to escape this hardship were either to be promoted to general officer rank and retire from field duty, or get discharged as soon as possible.
However, Soren still hadn't fully realized this; he clung to his shattered dream, believing it was still alive.
It was truly a pitiful and miserable situation.
"Oh, why does it have to be us again…"
Soren returned and gave instructions to the Company Commanders, and the soldiers, who were ordered by the Company Commander to prepare for the operation right away, looked stricken and resentful.
"Just a bit ago, when the 2nd and 3rd Battalions entered the fortress, we were left behind."
"Damn it! That's right! I wish we'd gone into the fortress instead!"
"If we had, you'd have complained back then about why it had to be us going in."
"True enough!"
Robert kept grumbling nonstop. Yet, unlike his complaining mouth, his body was hard at work preparing for the operation—he checked his gear and gave detailed instructions to the Squad Leaders.
Robert, too, was now a veteran Platoon Leader who'd survived his share of battles.
He knew exactly what needed to be done before a fight.
"Keep a close eye on the new recruits. This might become their first real combat, after all. If there's fighting in the village, we need to be extra careful. The terrain is complicated, and we could wind up with unnecessary casualties. Stick closely together in your squads, and always share what you can see. If someone pops out of a blind spot, you might mistake them for the enemy and accidentally shoot one of our own."
Robert gathered the Squad Leaders and stressed these points.
The 1st Battalion had suffered heavy losses, whether because of Bailey or Bertrand—or maybe both—but either way, those guys had cost them dearly.
Even though the 2nd Company had gotten off relatively lightly, they still lost a staggering 70 percent of their troops.
In other words, seventy percent of the current 2nd Company was made up of new recruits.
They needed to operate with extreme caution.
Even a small mistake could lead to major losses, or even trigger a massacre of civilians.
Both Billim and Simon, who had fought their brutal first battle not so long ago, were now firmly warning their platoon members as well.
However, Simon saw the situation a bit differently from Robert and Billim.
"If you notice anything suspicious, report it immediately without hesitation. If things seem urgent, don't wait—act right away. There's nothing dumber than hesitating to kill the enemy and then having our own side get hurt. Even if there are issues later about killing civilians, you won't be the ones held responsible."
Simon didn't have the slightest qualm about the idea of killing civilians.
In his mind, it was better to shoot first and think later than to end up dead because of hesitation.
Unfortunately, Ernest couldn't quite bring himself to argue with that.
"Remember this: our goal is to occupy Avril's village and scout the surrounding area while minimizing friendly casualties. Keep in mind that combat could break out at any time, and if you sense danger, report and respond right away."
Ernest made sure to drive this point home, determined to keep his soldiers from hesitating to attack and getting hurt because they were too preoccupied with the civilians.
"We'll basically use Baltracher's power to occupy the village safely, but don't let your guard down for a second."
"Yes, sir!"
Levin had said it was fine to invest plenty of time and resources in this operation.
That meant it made perfect sense to actively use Baltracher.
They would seize control of the village by pushing forward with Baltracher's strength, then gather everyone in a single location and conduct thorough searches to identify and eliminate any threats.
'Baltracher... There are plenty of things about it that make me uneasy, but there's no helping it.'
Ernest recalled what Brigadier General Heinz Hartmann, the 2nd Corps Chief of Staff, had told him about the secrets of the Balt Battery and his speculations about the origin of the power called Balt. The whole thing unsettled him deeply.
The strike-triggered Balt Battery might be made from animal bones, but both the Baltracher battery and the vehicle batteries were made from human bones.
He pictured the remains of Senior Captain Paul Fiders, whose body had been shattered by Estelle Pouarrié, the Star of Summer, being scraped together for use.
It was gruesome.
But at this point, just because it creeped him out didn't mean he could stop using Balt.
How else were they supposed to fight this war?
'Right. This is exactly why, no matter how monstrous the Emperor's actions are, no one can drag him off the throne.'
A bitter feeling washed over Ernest.
From the Imperial Army's perspective, unable to fight without Balt, they really had no choice but to support the Emperor, even if he was completely out of his mind.
"2nd Company, ready to go."
Everything was ready.
Ernest relayed the report, and the other Company Commanders also reported that their units were set. Unlike how deeply uncomfortable Soren was feeling, he gave a calm, serious nod.
"We're moving out."
The Cavalry Battalion was already prepared.
The 1st Battalion was ready as well, so it was time to get going. The plan was for the 1st Battalion, together with the Cavalry Battalion, to leave Avril Castle and follow the river upstream, occupying the southwestern village situated further up.
In Avril's territory, both the fortress and the villages were built along the river that flowed down from the Bertebras Mountains, so it made strategic sense to secure the upper reaches first if possible.
"Oh, great—do we really have to see that damned forest again?"
When the 1st Battalion members caught sight of the Dense Forest stretching out under the Bertebras Mountains, they felt faint remembering the living hell Bailey and Betrerang had unleashed there together, a horrific duet.
"We'll keep an eye on the forest, but under no circumstances are we setting foot inside."
Fortunately, Soren was too much of a cautious pragmatist to even consider poking his head into dangerous terrain like a forest. Even if Bertrand was dancing naked waving the Royal Flag right in front of the trees, Soren wouldn't go anywhere near.
The Cavalry Battalion rode ahead, circling the riverside and the area around the village to scout, while each Infantry Company split off to begin their assigned objectives.
Soren and Battalion Headquarters, along with the 1st Company, advanced upstream and positioned themselves just outside the forest. They were on alert in case the enemy floated down the river from the woods to launch an attack.
Unlike Bailey, though, Soren ordered his men to stay well back from the forest.
He even told Ferdinand to be ready to make a quick getaway at any moment, so the 1st Company stayed waiting in their vehicles without even unloading their supplies.
They had kept a safe distance—a place even if the enemy brought up cannons from within the woods, the shots wouldn't reach them—and they remained in their vehicles, engines running.
If the enemy did attack, that would mean they were revealing their location, so the plan was immediate retreat to join up with the 2nd Company and 3rd Company, fall back and form a defensive front, and send a report up to the 13th Regiment to ensure they were fully prepared to fight.
Soren had no intention of letting the enemy choose the battlefield or the terms of engagement.
While the 1st Company stood guard in front of the forest, the 2nd and 3rd Companies split up and began securing their respective villages.
Ernest did not send the 2nd Company into the village right away. Instead, he kept them waiting a safe distance outside. The cavalry patrolled the surroundings, and the infantry company arrived in their vehicles, parking firmly in front of the village entrance. The little rural village was starting to buzz with tension.
After a short while, two people tentatively emerged from within the village, waving a white flag made from yellowed cloth as hard as they could. The 2nd Company formed up behind their transport vehicles, using them for cover.
Although Ernest had already ordered them not to point their muzzles at the village, over a hundred armed soldiers lined up in formation was enough to make anyone's knees go weak just at the sight.
"Bruno."
"Yes, sir. On my way."
Ernest stepped out to the front of the formation with Bruno following behind, watching for snipers with the Balt Shield raised.
The ones waving the white flag and approaching were an elderly man and, clearly his son, a middle-aged man who looked as if he'd been stamped from the same mold.
"We surrender! Surrender! We surrender!"
They approached, trembling, stopping a fair distance away and repeatedly shouting their surrender.
They waved the white flag so fervently that it almost made you worry for their shoulders.
"Come closer!"
Ernest called out in Belliang language. For a proper conversation, he needed them close enough to see their faces—nothing more. That was why he simply told them to approach. But the already terrified old man startled so badly at the shout that he collapsed onto the ground.
"Oh, dear!"
Bruno let out a regretful sigh. He felt uneasy, as if they were tormenting a poor old man from a country village.
However, Bruno neither said anything to Ernest nor stepped forward to help the pitiful old man.
After a moment, the old man, supported by his son, managed to get back on his feet.
Trembling with fear, they approached Ernest.
"Please spare us. We're just ordinary farmers and fishermen with no power at all. Please, let us live."
The son pleaded earnestly on behalf of his father, who was too frightened even to walk. Ernest showed no emotion, his face and voice impassive as he replied.
"If you follow our instructions, we won't use unnecessary violence."
"Yes, yes! Of course! We'll do whatever you say!"
"You stay here, and you—go back to the village and relay my instructions."
Ernest kept the middle-aged man with him and spoke to the old man, who appeared to be his father.
"Send the villagers out in groups of ten—every single one, young or old. Even if someone has difficulty walking, make sure others help them out, carry them if needed—there should not be a single person left in the village."
"Yes, yes?"
The old man looked up at Ernest with an anxious expression, surprised by Ernest's fluent command of the Belliang language, which he had studied so diligently.
"I'm telling you to bring out all the villagers. There must not be a single person left in the village. If anyone remains behind, we will consider it a hostile act and attack accordingly."
"M-my lord, that's…"
"..."
When the old man stammered, trying to speak in confusion, Ernest gazed down at him calmly, his face as dry and expressionless as a withered tree. His deep, dark eyes narrowed slightly. Ernest lowered himself onto one knee in front of the old man, meeting him at eye level.
Yet even then, Ernest still looked down at him. Unable to bear meeting Ernest's eyes so close, the old man dropped his head to the ground, pressing himself flat.
"..."
Ernest turned to look at Robert. Understanding his meaning with just a glance, Robert signaled to the soldiers of the 1st Platoon. They moved in and seized the son, one of the men who had approached waving a white flag, and knocked him to the ground.
"Aaagh!"
"No, don't!"
The soldiers who'd subdued the middle-aged man quickly searched him and pinned him down so he couldn't move. The old man looked up and screamed. Ernest grabbed the old man's narrow shoulders and pulled him up to face him.
"Are there any soldiers hiding in the village?"
"..."
At Ernest's question, the old man clamped his mouth shut, his face turning pale.
Ernest studied the old man intently, then, with a blank expression and a flat voice, asked again.
"Are they threatening the villagers to cooperate with them?"
The old man, staring into Ernest's eyes—eyes that seemed devoid of life, as if they belonged to a cold metal machine with only the lips moving—began to tremble violently.
In terror, he wet himself and, nearly fainting with fear, rolled his eyes in an attempt to look at his son, who'd been overpowered. But Ernest did not allow it.
He pulled the old man closer by the shoulders, forcing him to meet his gaze.
Looking into Ernest's eyes, the old man realized that this Imperial Army officer was, in fact, quite young. And yet, for someone so young, he was also terrifying.
"Y-yes…."
Words slipped from the old man's lips. They were not deliberated but spilled out instinctively, driven purely by fear. There wasn't a hint of falsehood in them.
"Please have mercy, sir… Please…"
The old man begged Ernest through his tears. Ernest did not so much as blink as he pressed on.
"Are they Avril's soldiers? "Or are they soldiers from somewhere else?"
"We don't know. We really don't. We just did as we were told…"
Ernest realized then just how dire the situation had become.
"What kind of idiot would try guerrilla tactics in a situation like this…?"
Ernest muttered in stunned disbelief. He had no idea which idiot bastard had come up with such an idea, but the enemy was now harassing the Imperial Army with guerrilla tactics—a tactical blunder that matched, or perhaps even surpassed, Bailey's infamous 'charge into the forest.'
Because the Empire, owing to its colonial policy, hadn't resorted to pillage and had been relatively civil, someone among the enemy thought to use civilians as human shields—and now, they were actually doing it.
Ernest now understood what kind of catastrophe might unfold here the moment the 1st Battalion slipped up.
He wasn't worried about the safety of the 13th Regiment.
The enemy was hiding and operating among the civilians.
But these civilians weren't their own people—they were from the enemy nation.
If you can't tell who the enemy is, then you could just kill everyone indiscriminately.
The responsibility wouldn't fall on the Empire, but on the guerrilla unit using civilians as shields.
Once the 13th Regiment moved on, this area would become a supply route.
If guerrilla forces remained, the entire 13th Regiment could be crippled by a lack of supplies.
So even if guerrilla units were hiding among civilians, hesitation wasn't an option.
If you want to live, report the guerrilla unit. If you don't, we'll consider you as having cooperated with enemies of the Empire, and we'll kill everyone. That's how they would justify killing every Belliangian they saw.
Ernest couldn't even begin to guess how many people would have to die before this situation ended.
A massacre was about to unfold.