Chapter 200 - The Calm Before The Storm (5)
Charlotte stayed at the front lines for several more days.
The soldiers from the 2nd Corps Headquarters who had accompanied her ended up conducting an unplanned inspection due to the unusually eager frontline officers—even though they didn't actually have the authority to carry out such an inspection in the first place.
Charlotte herself had said she wanted to see the frontline soldiers with her own eyes, so she joined in on this impromptu inspection as well.
"It's so cold, but everyone is holding their positions without moving at all."
"Maintaining a watch is the most basic and yet most crucial duty on the front line. Even a single person's small mistake could cause the whole front to collapse."
"It must be so difficult."
"There's no need to worry about that, ma'am. There isn't a single soldier here unworthy of their duties who would neglect a watch just because of cold or heat."
Charlotte, wearing trousers instead of a dress, strolled along the front lines and spoke from time to time; every time she did, the officers would answer her.
But their conversations kept missing each other's point.
After hearing from Ernest and Robert, Charlotte had come to understand the soldiers' hardships and looked at them with sympathy.
But the officers thought this small, delicate girl was intimidated by the harsh atmosphere of the battlefield, so they kept trying to reassure her.
"It's truly impressive. No one could find the slightest flaw in the discipline of the 5th and 6th Divisions."
"Hahaha! Of course! We're the vanguard that defeats the Empire's enemies, aren't we?"
As the soldiers from Headquarters, now conducting an inspection that wasn't really an inspection, exclaimed in awe—mostly to match the mood—the frontline officers, who had endured days of grueling scrutiny, burst into hearty laughter.
Through those conversations, Charlotte was able to fully understand what Ernest and Robert had said.
To the army, soldiers were nothing more than expendable supplies.
There was no need to consider their hardships or feelings at all.
Charlotte returned to her room and wrote down these realities of the battlefield in detail. To military eyes, what she wrote would hardly qualify as a report—it was practically a diary, lacking any formal structure.
She had no intention of submitting it as an official report. She hadn't forgotten how, after hearing Ernest and Robert speak, Ferdinand had asked her to pretend she hadn't heard anything.
Charlotte showed her report to Ferdinand, and he pointed out the sections that could be dangerously misinterpreted. The report was filled with her personal impressions—it was as good as a diary—so if she were to submit it as it was, Charlotte might find herself in a difficult situation.
Even while having affectionate moments with Ferdinand, Charlotte diligently fulfilled the tasks she'd been given. She compiled the results of the surveys conducted across the entire front line and wrote down everything she had seen and heard for herself.
At first, the soldiers had been irritated, thinking Charlotte's presence meant they would have to prepare for a crackdown.
But seeing how earnestly she was carrying out the work of the 2nd Corps Military Wives' Association, they began to look on her with a bit more kindness.
After all, here was a young lady raised in comfort, braving the dangerous frontlines and working hard, moving around with her own two feet for the sake of struggling soldiers. There was no reason to think badly of her.
"Lotte, I'd really prefer if you didn't look at these survey forms yourself," said Ferdinand.
"Huh? Why not?"
Still, Ferdinand couldn't help but worry about Charlotte—especially at the thought that she might see the survey forms herself. The reason was that, having grown tired of an environment filled only with men, most of the soldiers had asked for prostitutes to be sent so they could relieve their sexual frustration.
"I'm sorry, I can't tell you the details. Just… please do as I ask," said Ferdinand.
He couldn't bring himself to tell Charlotte the truth, so he glossed over it like that.
Unfortunately, it wasn't a very effective attempt—if anything, it just piqued Charlotte's curiosity, and she ended up sneaking a look at the survey forms.
Not long after, that mischievous lady boldly charged into her fiancé's room late at night, only to realize that he didn't have the room to himself.
Embarrassed, she fled, but was promptly caught by her lady maid and received a stern lecture all night.
Everyone else decided to pretend they hadn't noticed.
"Ahem! Ahem!" said Baumann.
"...."
"This was Baumann's fault. He should've cleared out the room," said Charlotte.
"Well, if someone had given me a heads-up, I could've left or not. How was I supposed to know…?" Baumann replied.
"...."
Ferdinand hung his head in silence, unable to face anyone—especially poor Baumann, who had unintentionally and obliviously interrupted his friend's tryst.
Baumann glanced at Ferdinand and cautiously asked, "…Should I give you the room tonight?"
"No!" Ferdinand yelped in shock, rejecting the offer emphatically.
Despite looking like a man who'd been through every battle imaginable, Ferdinand—burly as he was—would panic at a single tear from his fiancée.
He had sworn that, until they were married, he would never cross the line.
That night, Baumann went to sleep in Ernest and Robert's room, and rumors spread that Charlotte's lady's maid stood outside Ferdinand's now-empty room for hours with a scowl on her face.
Of course, these were clearly rumors spread by those wanting to slander Lady Charlotte.
"Are you sure this is okay?"
"I don't know. Don't ask."
"But, I mean, what if she gets pregnant…"
"I said don't ask."
"Well, I'm sure Ferdie handled it properly."
Robert and Baumann whispered to each other like that, although it probably wasn't related to those rumors.
Probably.
After spending five days at the front, Charlotte returned home.
"Ferdie, when will I get to see you again?"
"Lotte, don't cry. We'll see each other again soon."
"Should I talk to Father and come to a city nearby?"
"Don't do that. Things aren't stable here yet, so please go back to your family's estate and wait for me."
"…Promise me you won't get hurt."
"I promise. No matter what."
Who could say how long Charlotte and Ferdinand whispered sweet nothings to each other after she said her goodbyes but refused to let him go—the Logistics Corps, who were supposed to escort her, grew so impatient waiting that they asked three times, "Would it be all right if we went ahead without you?"
Even as the car pulled away, Charlotte leaned out the window, waving to Ferdinand again and again.
"Wow, what a spectacle."
Unable to contain his overflowing feelings, Ferdinand kept waving back and, without a word of command, abandoned the garrison and committed desertion just to chase after Charlotte's car.
The car stopped right in the middle of the road, Charlotte jumped out, and the two of them embraced again—they cried and carried on, making an absolute scene.
"Phew… That's not the Ferdie I know."
"It just means he really loves her."
"I think he's lost his mind."
"When you fall in love, you'll get it too. …Robert, well, never mind."
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean? If you bring it up, finish what you're saying."
"You're already not in your right mind, you pervert."
"Wow, that's really harsh."
While they were teasing Robert and waiting for Ferdinand to come back after his tearful farewell, they witnessed something truly shocking.
"...Did you cry?"
"...I didn't cry."
"Oh my god! Ferdie cried!"
"I said I didn't cry!"
They all thought only Charlotte had gotten emotional, but when Ferdinand returned with his eyes red and swollen, it was clear that he'd had a tearful goodbye of his own.
"Ferdinand Hartmann cried because his fiancée was leaving!"
"Shut up!"
Robert ran around announcing this astounding news to everyone.
At that moment, Robert looked absolutely delighted.
Even as Ferdinand caught him and started smacking him, Robert wouldn't stop blabbering—he was determined to enjoy every second of this opportunity.
"Ah... Little Hartmann turned eighteen this year, didn't he?"
"Wow! That's right. Now that I think about it, he really is just a kid."
Even after the rumor spread that Ferdinand had cried, no one teased him.
Instead, they were busy reminding each other of how young he really was and, on the contrary, marveling at him.
Despite his youth, he was already an impressive man commanding his unit with distinction, and he even shed tears at parting with his beloved lady.
If it had been someone like Robert who cried, everyone would have burst out laughing, but hearing that Ferdinand had cried made people want to applaud him—it seemed proof of his unwavering, innocent love.
Thanks to Charlotte's visit to the front line and the survey she conducted, results began to show much faster than expected.
"Wow! A woman! A woman!"
"Ugh, these vulgar bastards..."
Something many soldiers had desperately hoped for finally came true.
Prostitutes were to be hired from nearby cities and villages and sent regularly to the Garrison.
There was no coercion at all in this employment; only volunteers were hired, and they were treated well.
Because the military managed and supervised everything, there was no skimming money off the top or incidents of violence.
In effect, the military had become the brothel keeper.
There was a hidden agenda behind this: to recover the wages that needed to be paid to the soldiers.
The battle was effectively over.
There would be no more casualties, and now, the military had to pay all the wages owed to the surviving soldiers.
Even though the fighting was finished, no one knew when the war would end, so the amount of money that had to be paid just kept rising.
In this situation, the military started hiring prostitutes.
They deducted a commission from the prostitutes as payment for providing them with jobs, and that commission became the route for reclaiming soldiers' wages.
The soldiers had no idea how much of their own money was being swallowed up by the maw of the military.
Even though the cost of hiring a prostitute was extremely high, they figured it wasn't a bad price for being with a woman at the front line.
In reality, most of them were out of their minds from pent-up sexual frustration, so they blew their money like lunatics.
The prostitutes received exactly the amount they were promised.
It was more than enough.
And for every coin the prostitutes earned, the military recouped an equal amount from the soldiers' wages.
No one knew which evil bastard's head had come up with this scheme, but the fact was, the military was encouraging prostitution among its soldiers and pocketing as much as half the fee as a pimp's commission.
The soldiers, who had risked their lives and diligently saved their wages, were reduced to penniless beggars in no time.
Still, since the military provided for their immediate needs, they never really felt the loss of all the money they'd earned with their blood and sweat.
Of course, that meant there wasn't a single coin left to send back to their families at home.
"It's the kind of thing only a real bastard would do, but if you look at it purely from a financial standpoint, it's successful."
That was Robert's assessment of this massive prostitution enterprise.
He was disgusted by the whole business, but as a merchant's son, he had to admit that purely in terms of cash flow, it was a remarkably efficient way for the military to hold onto its funds.
In fact, given the Imperial Army's overwhelming leverage over both the soldiers and the prostitutes, they could easily have taken a ninety percent cut, so the fact that they limited themselves to fifty was, in a way, almost considerate.
"If they've got this much administrative power to throw around, they ought to use it for medical support or delivering the letters, at least…"
Ernest was critical of the new policy.
It might do some good for morale, but it could also spread venereal disease, and he believed the administrative power being poured into this should have been used for far more pressing issues.
Ferdinand and Baumann both looked clearly uncomfortable but didn't say much.
After all, it was needed in one way or another.
That didn't mean they personally took advantage of this business.
"How could I ever be with another woman when I already have someone I love?"
From the start, the officers were negative about sleeping with prostitutes.
They considered it filthy to lie with commoners.
Besides, being nobles, most of them had already gotten engaged or married early, so the pressure of what others might think kept them from resorting to prostitutes.
Of course, there were always a few who snuck around in secret, whether people realized it or not.
So time passed, and just as spring was quietly approaching, the most dramatic incident stemming from Charlotte's visit swept through the front line.
"Hartmann! Where is Captain Hartmann?"
A courier, barely clinging to life, staggered into the garrison and shouted Ferdinand's name at the top of his lungs. When Ferdinand, who had been patrolling the forest's front lines, rushed back to the garrison, everyone quickly realized what had happened.
"Captain Hartmann, congratulations. You're going to be a father."
"…W-What?"
"Your fiancée, Miss Spiegelmann's daughter, is pregnant. It's your child! You're going to be a father!"
"..."
It turned out that in the five days Charlotte stayed at the garrison, Ferdinand had accomplished the deed!
"Congratulations, you crazy bastard!"
"Congrats. Giving in to your urges and getting your fiancée pregnant before even getting married—truly, you're an animal."
"Congratulations, Ferdinand. I knew you could pull it off. But honestly, it would've been even better if you'd waited just a little longer."
Robert, Ernest, and Baumann clustered around the dazed Ferdinand, slapping him and offering their well-wishes.
Honestly, the idea that their friend was going to be a father still didn't feel real, but it was something to celebrate, at least for now.
"But what about the wedding now? And isn't this all a bit sudden?"
As he punched "Animal" Hartmann—Captain Ferdinand—on the side, Robert asked the question.
Ernest, also whacking the beast's shoulder, chimed in with an answer.
"This is the perfect chance for you to transfer to the rear. You're the Chief of Staff's eldest grandson and you've been fighting on the front for nearly a year, racking up plenty of military merit. Who could complain if you move to headquarters?"
At Ernest's words, Ferdinand—who hadn't even flinched after taking more than a hundred blows from his three friends—suddenly jumped in shock.
"…N-No, I…"
"Ferdinand, I hope you don't say something ridiculous about wanting to stay here even in this situation."
Baumann kicked Ferdinand in the leg as he spoke.
"You've done your part, and the fighting's over. All that's left is to wait for the war to end. But are you really planning to be stubborn now? The lady you love is carrying your child, and you're going to stay holed up here, leaving her alone?"
"...."
"Go, Ferdinand. That's what a man's supposed to do right now. You need to take responsibility."
After getting whacked in the shin more than ten times with sturdy boots—to the point he wondered if he'd be able to walk from the pain—Ferdinand finally nodded heavily at his friend's earnest advice.
"…Yeah, I need to take responsibility."
Thud! Thud!
"It's out of order, but I'll propose to Lotte properly…"
Thud! Thud! Thud!
"…Stop hitting me. It hurts now."
"You bastard! You! You deserve more! You son of a bitch! You jerk!"
"Robert, get out if you're going to get in the way. You don't know how to hit a person. Do you really think just hitting him like that would hurt someone as muscular as Ferdinand? You've got to aim between the muscle fibers to hit the bones and the entrails if you want it to hurt."
"Go to the rear, get married, and live a sweet, lovely life together, you son of a bitch!"
"Yeah, congratulations. Give my regards to Lady Charlotte—congratulate her for me, too."
"..."
Ferdinand had no choice but to defend himself, afraid that with the way Ernest was beating him with such precision, he'd end up a cripple before the wedding.
He could just take the hits from the other guys, but with Ernest, that wasn't an option.
Right now, Ernest was using Ferdinand's out-of-wedlock pregnancy as an excuse to settle the score for all the trouble Ferdinand had caused him in the past.
In the end, Ferdinand received his transfer orders, covered in bruises.
Of course, his new posting was the 2nd Corps Headquarters.
"I never thought Ferdinand would leave like this."
"Wouldn't it be weirder if someone actually saw this coming?"
"Yeah, that's true…"
"Um… Well… I'm sorry about all this."
"There's nothing for you to be sorry for."
Ferdinand was feeling guilty about leaving his friends behind.
But with one of their own about to become a father, there wasn't a single guy here cruel enough to insist Ferdinand stay out on the front lines.
In fact, everyone was desperate to get this blockhead to the rear as soon as possible.
Ferdinand still looked apologetic toward his friends, but the battle was over, there was little chance of casualties, and remembering that his beloved fiancée Charlotte was pregnant and all alone gave him resolve.
With a heavy heart, he hurriedly left the garrison for the rear.
"This is definitely an incident for the history books—something no one will ever believe."
It was hard to keep such a story to themselves, and the rumor spread quickly.
A few people grumbled, but most laughed it off with good humor.
After all, the fact that Ferdinand—eldest grandson of the Chief of Staff and firstborn of the House of Hartmann—had participated in the brutal fighting at Bertagne Forest as a platoon leader had been unbelievable from the start.
Ferdinand had done his part.
He'd fought his hardest in the most dangerous places throughout the war.
Complaining now that he was heading to the rear because his fiancée was pregnant?
What kind of man would do that, instead of offering congratulations?
"…Could it be that this was all part of the plan?"
After Ferdinand was transferred to the 2nd Corps Headquarters, Ernest wondered if perhaps Charlotte had orchestrated the whole thing—to bring her fiancé safely to the rear and push for a quick marriage all at once.
"...N-no way, come on."
"..."
Robert, recalling Charlotte's innocent, pure demeanor, tried hard to dismiss the thought.
But Baumann said nothing, his expression sour.
Baumann understood Charlotte better than Ernest or Robert.
He also remembered how, for days on end, he'd been forced to vacate the room for the moment Ferdinand's child would be conceived.
Having grown up with an older sister, Baumann knew all too well just how formidable a girl in love could be—even if she seemed like just an ordinary noble's daughter.
The memories flashed through his mind: every time he'd had to fight down nausea witnessing his loud, ill-tempered, wild older sister act coy in front of her fiancé.
Maybe—just maybe—Ferdinand didn't need to be the one feeling guilty.
Wasn't everything unfolding right in the palm of that delicate, naive-looking girl's hand?
Only Charlotte herself would know the truth.
By the time spring arrived, after Ferdinand's transfer, rumors began circulating that steps would be taken regarding the medical aid and letter delivery Charlotte had mentioned.
Still, both matters required a lot of resources and time, so nothing changed immediately.
Instead, the delayed promotions for the Second Lieutenants went through all at once.
Both Billim and Simon became Lieutenants, and Billim was promptly selected for a staff officer position and transferred to another unit.
"Company Commander, thank you so much for everything. If it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't even be alive right now."
"No, I should be the one thanking you. Thanks to your dedication as a Platoon Leader, we were able to get through many critical moments."
Billim, who was sociable and secretly soft-hearted, grew teary-eyed as he said goodbye to the 2nd Company members.
"Bergman, you really are no fun, and as a fellow academy mate you were the worst, but after spending about a year together, well, you seem at least a little decent now."
"…Are you trying to pick a fight?"
"I actually enjoyed it, thanks to you. I'll be in touch. See you around."
"...Yeah. I had fun because of you, too, Madsen."
Billim shook Simon's hand firmly.
Remembering all the trouble this gruff guy had caused him, he felt like punching him in the jaw, but honestly, he knew he wouldn't win in a fight—so he let it end on a warm note.
Afterward, Billim also said farewell to Isaac and Bruno, with whom he'd spent a long time, as well as to the 2nd Company members, the 1st Battalion staff officers including Robert, and other company officers.
Then Billim left the 1st Battalion.
A new Platoon Leader arrived to fill Billim's position, and not long after, Simon was also selected as a staff officer and transferred to another unit.
Unlike Billim, when Simon left, he didn't bother with the hassle of saying individual goodbyes to everyone.
"Thank you, Company Commander."
So for Simon to return and express his thanks to Ernest even though all the formalities were finished and he only needed to leave, meant that Ernest, his peer and superior, had made a significant impact on him.
"I'll do my best to become a soldier like you, Company Commander."
"Lieutenant Bergman, get a grip. If you turn out like me, it wouldn't do anyone any good, so I suggest you reconsider. Still, I appreciate the sentiment."
And with that, Simon was gone as well.
Now, among the officers who endured hard times together in the 2nd Company, the only ones left were the Baltracher, who wasn't getting promoted, Senior Captains Isaac and Bruno, whose assignments weren't changing.
"So this is how we part ways."
"Well, at my age, it's about time for an easier assignment. Thanks to that, I managed to survive."
"I survived thanks to you as well, Sergeant Gustav."
"Let's meet again someday, Captain Fox."
"That's insubordination."
"It's a compliment."
And so Sergeant Gustav, who had served as the Deputy Platoon Leader of the 2nd Platoon, was also reassigned and left.
After that, including the Squad Leaders Kol and Sven of the 2nd Platoon, there were barely more than ten soldiers who had served in the 2nd Company longer than Ernest.
Flick!
After Gustav left, Ernest took out a cigarette and lit it for the first time in a long while.
He didn't put it to his lips.
He simply sat there, quietly watching the cigarette glow red in the darkness as it burned itself away in silent self-destruction.
Many had died, and many more had gone.
Captain Ernest Krieger sat alone, in the seat once occupied by his eternal Company Commander, Yurgen Vendermere, quietly retracing memories of moments that had already slipped by.
Benzen Johansson.
Hertz Fiders.
Paul Fiders.
Yurgen Vendermere.
Jonas Adler.
Ralf.
Georg Brandt.
And Bailey Hoffman.
Countless others had lost their lives beside Ernest as well.
Even though Ernest had a good memory, he couldn't recall every name.
People died so easily, after all.
Call it cowardice if you like, but it was the only way for seventeen-year-old Ernest Krieger, thrown mercilessly onto the battlefield, to keep from losing his mind.
Facing, one by one, every person who would die by his own orders was more than Ernest could bear back then.
Spring had arrived.
Much time had passed with the fighting at a halt, and many people had left.
Now that there was no more fighting, no one talked about the Fox Company Commander of the 1st Battalion, 13th Regiment anymore.
Ernest gently brushed away the lonely ashes and faint smoke of his burnt-out cigarette, feeling a small sense of peace.
The Western Front Line was quiet as ever today.