Chapter 16 - The Ferocious Squirrel Lying in the Grass (4)

Chapter 16 - The Ferocious Squirrel Lying in the Grass (4)

"What on earth happened in there?"

The cadets of the Military Faction under Ferdinand's command knew they needed to carefully refine their tactics before facing off against the Alliance Army led by Ernest.

"I don't know; nobody will talk about it."

But they could not get any information about Ernest's "hunt" and the carnage that had occurred in the forest.

During the battle preparations, Ferdinand had left Ernest and three minor noble cadets inside the forest, while leading everyone else to wait at the forest's edge.

In other words, the only ones who knew what happened inside the forest were some members of Wilfried's Noble Faction and the three minor noble cadets who had been with Ernest.

"That was my mistake. I didn't consider that our current allies would become our enemies next."

Ferdinand regretted having missed a precious opportunity to analyze the enemy's tactics. But simply regretting it wouldn't help anything.

"We'll just have to move forward carefully, watching out for traps and ambushes."

"Will you divide your forces? Or concentrate everything at one point?"

"…"

Ferdinand glanced over toward the other side of the dining area, where Ernest was having his meal with the other cadets.

Ernest had just proven himself in the recent mock battle. At this moment, he was clearly a much more formidable predator than either Ferdinand or Wilfried. Just look—Senior Instructor Thomas Kohler had gone so far as to change several rules just to stop Ernest's one-sided domination.

"..."

"..."

While Ernest was sharing a somewhat awkward conversation with the other cadets over their meal, his restless eyes darted around the room, eventually locking with Ferdinand's. The two boys stared at each other for a brief moment before turning back to their own business.

"First, I'll assign five men to guard the flag."

"Five? Isn't that a bit much?"

"...No, actually, scratch that."

Ferdinand was about to station five cadets to protect their flag, but after a moment's thought, he changed his strategy.

"One person will guard the flag."

"Only one? Isn't that too few?"

"No, one will be enough. If it's Krieger, he'll never come out of the forest anyway."

Ferdinand spoke with confidence.

But in truth, even he couldn't explain the basis for that certainty; it was just a gut feeling.

He now faced the challenge of deciding how to use his remaining eighteen men, including himself. If only he had just five more—eighteen sounded like a lot, but in reality, it was not enough for what lay ahead.

'...Right, this is the current state of the Empire.'

As the eldest grandson of Heinz Hartmann, the Chief of Staff of the 2nd Corps, Ferdinand was suddenly struck by an insight. Remembering stories his grandfather had told him, he realized that the difficulties they were facing now mirrored the real troubles the Imperial Army experienced on the battlefield.

Ferdinand paused in thought, then began to devise a tactic based on real battle stories he'd heard from his grandfather.

"We'll split our forces into two groups. One will go through the center, the other will cut across the right side of the forest."

He decided to divide his men into two groups of nine each.

"Krieger will probably be prepared for that," Koch said cautiously.

Brandt also looked like he wanted to speak up, but having ruined the tactic by charging recklessly in the previous battle, he remained silent.

"Exactly. That's why, at the very start, we'll all enter the forest through the center together. After we're inside, we'll split the group, and the right wing will make a wide detour outside the forest to attack the enemy's flank."

"...Are you sure that's a good idea? The longer we stay in the forest, the more it puts us at a disadvantage. More importantly, I doubt we'll even be able to find our way properly in there."

Brandt hesitated, but spoke up to Ferdinand. Ferdinand didn't dismiss Brandt's concerns, despite his previous mistakes, and looked at him seriously as he replied.

"Last time, our right wing will now be our left. Brandt, you remember the path, right?"

"Y-yeah, I remember..."

Brandt wasn't an idiot.

Above all, having trained to become a soldier since childhood, he had made a particular effort to memorize paths through the forest.

"Alright. Brandt, you take the right wing. You'll be the main force. I'll lead the center myself. While I draw their attention, you slip around to their flank and finish them off."

"...Really? I mean, that is..."

"Brandt."

Ferdinand called out to the downcast Brandt in a firm tone.

When Brandt looked at him, Ferdinand's eyes gleamed with determination as he spoke in a low voice.

"You have to do it. If you mess up again, those of us who are drawing the enemy's attention in the center will just end up dying for nothing. One mistake is enough for training, and even one mistake is too many in real battle."

Ferdinand, with hands far larger than any typical fourteen-year-old boy, gripped Brandt's shoulder tightly and reassured him in a rough voice that he tried to make as deep as possible despite his breaking voice.

"So the mistake you just made—that's your last mistake. You won't make another this time."

Everyone makes the same mistakes over and over; it's human nature. Ferdinand knew that, too.

But even though Brandt had made a serious blunder, Ferdinand offered him the kind of unwavering faith that you wouldn't expect from a boy his age—belief that Brandt wouldn't repeat the same mistake.

"Alright. Hartmann, I promise I won't mess up this time."

Brandt was deeply moved and made a solemn vow to Ferdinand. From now on, and in the future, he would never again recklessly endanger his comrades or let their sacrifices be in vain.

"Good. That takes care of one of the problems you raised, Brandt. The other was that fighting a prolonged battle in the forest would put us at a disadvantage."

As he lifted Brandt's spirits, which had taken a hit, Ferdinand made sure they didn't overlook the other problem they faced. He addressed it head-on. By now, he had gotten quite accustomed to leading others, both as the center of the group and as a superior.

"This actually won't be as big a problem as you think."

This time, Ferdinand spoke with great confidence.

"Krieger isn't allowed to take part in the fight directly, and they don't have much time to prepare. Don't let his shadow intimidate you. The rest of them are just like us. Actually, most of them are nowhere near our level. In the forest, all they'll really be able to do is hide in the spots Krieger tells them to. Honestly, most of them won't even manage that properly."

Ferdinand knew he was the top cadet by any ordinary standard. Even so, fighting in the woods didn't give him any particular advantage over the others. But could the Alliance Army cadets really follow Ernest's instructions perfectly and set up an ambush?

An ambush is much harder than people think. Predicting exactly where the enemy will pass—well, Ernest will take care of that part. But would all those cadets really be able to lie motionless on damp, bug-ridden ground and wait for the enemy to pass by?

"We'll just move forward carefully and then overwhelm them with firepower. Ernest is only one person—he can only command them, and I doubt he can skillfully control a bunch of ragtag soldiers to stop us attacking from both flanks."

Ferdinand finalized his tactics. Still, the whole plan was incomplete, uncertain, and even a bit cowardly—it all depended on the fact that Ernest couldn't participate directly in the fight. Ferdinand knew this himself, which made him feel an urgent need to come up with a real countermeasure for Ernest. He was certain the other cadets felt the same way.

Ernest's inability to participate in battle was limited to today's mock battle only. Which meant, on the day of the next mock battle, that lunatic would be unleashed again, spending the entire exercise hunting cadets through the woods like a wild stallion.

"What a productive experience," Ferdinand thought with a faint smile. Just picturing that moment, though, sent a cold sweat down his back.

***

"They're definitely holding a strategy meeting over there," said Robert in a suggestive tone, glancing at the Military Faction cadets murmuring together nearby. But it was so obvious they were discussing tactics that Robert's comment almost seemed playful.

"So, what kind of brilliant plan does our next commander, Teacher Ernest, have in mind for us?" he asked, turning to look at Ernest. The other cadets also turned their attention to him.

Recalling Robert's warning and feeling a bit awkward since he still didn't know the names of some of the cadets, Ernest spoke up.

"We'll do exactly what we did before. The only difference this time is that there are more of us and I can't fight directly, so we'll just make things a bit more solid."

"Do you really think you can pull it off?"

The moment Ernest finished speaking, Wilfried cut in, sounding unusually sharp for him.

However, it wasn't that Wilfried was actually irritated or angry.

"I mean the leadership part."

Wilfried was painfully aware of how dangerous Ernest was as a warrior.

But that didn't necessarily mean Ernest would make a good commander.

When it came to strategy or tactics, maybe Ernest was already a competent leader.

But as for mercenary tactics—the core foundation of everything else—had he developed those skills just as well?

Within the entire Military Academy, Robert was Ernest's only friend, and unfortunately, he was Ernest's only friend, period. Mercenary tactics?

Someone like Ernest, who was blunt enough to say things flat-out to Wilfried's face, couldn't possibly be good at handling people!

But Ernest didn't seem to think much of the issue.

"If you have any complaints about my tactics, feel free to speak up. As long as you can offer a better alternative."

No one could argue with Ernest's confident words—he was the only irreplaceable first-year cadet. Having silenced the others as his father had taught him, Ernest—for once—noticed Robert's reaction and continued in a slightly less certain voice.

"…Still, I admit, maybe I'm clueless about leadership."

After saying that, Ernest looked back and forth between Wilfried and Robert.

Sensing something odd in his gaze, both felt a vague sense of unease, and Ernest gave them a sheepish smile Wilfried shuddered from head to toe as he recalled the smile Ernest had worn after committing carnage in the forest.

"Robert and Wilfried, you two will command the troops."

"Me?"

"..."

At Ernest's words, Robert was so surprised that he pointed at himself, and Wilfried, stunned, just stared at Ernest.

"Of course, I'm still the overall commander. So, well, it's a small unit, but I'll be Company Commander and you two will be Platoon Leaders."

"I guess I get why Wilfried… but why me? I'm a nobody, you know."

Unlike easygoing Wilfried, Robert, who considered himself a complete nobody, dared to protest against Company Commander Ernest.

"Then who else should I pick?"

"Uh, um…"

When Ernest threw the question back at him, Robert glanced around. He quickly realized that Ernest's decision actually made a lot of sense and was startled. Other than Wilfried—who, sure, was a safe choice—there wasn't a single other cadet fit to issue orders as a Platoon Leader. More precisely, there wasn't anyone who could lead without causing trouble.

Ernest's platoon was a mix of Military Faction, Noble Faction, and minor nobles. If someone from the Military Faction led, the Noble Faction would resist. If the Noble Faction handled command, the Military Faction would do the same. And if a minor noble—the kind usually bossed around—took charge, both sides would revolt.

But Robert was Ernest's only friend, and thanks to that, he'd managed to keep clear of factional infighting. He hadn't acted as anyone's errand boy, either. On top of that, with his outstanding social skills, despite his shaky standing, he'd already built up friendly relationships with a good number of the other cadets.

"I told you, if you have a complaint, speak up—but you need to offer a better alternative."

"This is… Unbelievable! This can't be happening! Up until a few days ago, the only tactics I knew were charge and retreat!"

"But now you at least know the basics, Student Robert."

"Damn it! Ernest, was this all part of your plan? Did you train me just to use me as a tool like this?"

"No, I just didn't want you to get expelled…"

"Oh, right. That was it."

An awkward silence passed, and thanks to Robert, Ernest felt the burden lift a bit and spoke to everyone in a somewhat more relaxed tone.

"Does anyone have any objections?"

Of course, no one spoke up. Nobody could suggest a better alternative.

'This is a bigger opportunity than I ever imagined.'

Wilfried, in particular, realized that he was gaining valuable experience right now and decided to follow Ernest's instructions.

Just being able to command once more was already an excellent opportunity. But this time, he would be leading an ambush in the forest, following none other than Ernest's orders. If he stayed focused and learned as much as possible, everything he gained would become a precious asset.

"They've already finished eating. We should hurry up and eat too."

Ernest commented as he watched the cadets from the Military Faction who had already finished their meals and gotten up. They couldn't head to the training ground before the meal break was officially over, but they still needed time to digest and warm up, so there was no point in eating too slowly.

"All right. Send them in."

After the rest period ended, Thomas gave the order, and the cadets ran to their assigned positions. The Imperial Army cadets led by Ferdinand gathered in front of their flag and waited, while the Alliance Army cadets led by Ernest entered the forest.

"It feels pretty unsettling seeing them head into the woods like that."

One of the Imperial Army cadets said this as he watched their opponents disappear into the forest.

"It's not unsettling. It's scary."

Ferdinand corrected him in a firm voice.

"What? No, I'm not scared, it's just—"

"Really? Because I'm scared."

"...Hartmann?"

Ferdinand was the first to scan for Ernest's shadow, who had darted into the forest and vanished in an instant. Watching the enemy confidently follow him into the woods, Ferdinand spoke up.

"This isn't just child's play. If this were a real battle, we'd all be dead in our very first fight. And even among Ravid's soldiers from the Imperial Army, at most only a quarter would survive."

There was silence.

"This is exactly what happens on the real battlefield. We could be thrown into combat for the first time... and all die right there."

Ferdinand looked around at the other cadets with intense eyes. His gaze and his words carried a deep resolve.

"So stop acting like kids and get it together."

The cadets swallowed hard and nodded at Ferdinand's words. Excited at the thought of using their superior weapons to mow down the enemy, they had forgotten that this was training for actual combat—until now.

Time crawled by at a snail's pace. At least, that's how it felt to the Imperial Army cadets under Ferdinand's command. They were supposed to shorten the prep time, but why did it feel like everything was dragging on so long?

"How much time do we have left?"

"Well... It's about to start."

"Oh, great..."

On the other hand, the Alliance Army cadets were running out of time. Deploying troops in the tangled terrain of the forest required a lot of time. In real combat, if they had taken over that area, they would have already memorized the lay of the land, so it would have been enough to just give orders on where to go.

But in this chaotic forest, the only person who could accurately predict the enemy's route was Ernest, and since he had to rush around himself to assign positions, the Alliance Army cadets were left with a painfully unreasonable lack of time.

Ernest darted through the woods like a squirrel, constantly moving to deploy his troops. After finishing the deployment for each unit, he left their command to the platoon leaders, Robert and Wilfried.

"When does it start?"

Ernest, having only just managed to finish deploying the troops, was gasping for breath and feeling a headache from dashing non-stop through the woods. The training instructor and senior students knew exactly how hard he'd been working, so even though his face was all scrunched up with exhaustion when he asked, none of them commented on it.

"Well, let's see—"

Bang!

"Now."

The senior student, who had been trying to estimate the remaining time, heard a sharp gunshot and told Ernest, who grimaced and immediately sprinted to the forest's edge.

"He's not supposed to participate in the battle, is he?"

"He'll handle it."

Watching Ernest take off like a shot, the training instructors sounded a little worried, but they figured he wouldn't engage the enemy directly and headed back to their assigned posts.

"······" "······"

That was when they made eye contact with the Alliance Army cadets, who were crouched down in their hiding spots, and both sides froze in place.

"Training Instructor sir, this is the area where we're on standby under Ernest's command"

Wilfried spoke to the senior instructor in a calm voice.

"Sorry, but I'll have to ask you to move somewhere else."

While scanning the situation, he noticed that the training instructor's hideout was in an excellent spot for concealment. Naturally, Ernest wouldn't have overlooked such a good location. The hideout prepared for the instructors was so well camouflaged it would be nearly impossible to spot from outside, and there was plenty of space inside. There really was no better place than this.

"So, where should we go?"

"Ah, um..."

The training instructors, having lost their hideout, looked around in a daze, like beavers whose dam had been torn down.

"Sir, if you stay there, you'll give away our position."

Robert added awkwardly, smiling at the instructors. In the end, the training instructors trudged away toward the Alliance Army's red flag.

"....."

"Let's go around the back."

Then, because Ernest had hidden cadets in ambush around the flag as well, the instructors—now evicted from yet another hideout—ran into each other and could only head deeper into the forest together.

"Isn't the Imperial Army going to lose at this rate?"

"If that happens, it'll be the Alliance Army's historic first victory."

The training instructors carefully discussed the odds of an Alliance win. In all the years of the Imperial Military Academy, the Alliance Army had never once claimed victory.

In fact, this first mock battle was both the first and the last chance given to the Alliance Army. That's because, starting from the next mock battle, the Imperial Army—which would now be familiar with the terrain—would have a huge advantage.

More importantly, from the next mock battle onward, Baltrachers, who were currently enrolled in the Imperial Military Academy's Special Training Division, would also be joining the training.

On the battlefield, Baltracher's power was absolute.

Even if they used real bullets, Baltrachers could block them with telekinesis and relentlessly push forward, so what could they possibly hope to do with mere wooden bolts fired from crossbows?

In other words, Ernest was on the verge of accomplishing what had previously seemed impossible: leading the Alliance Army to victory in the very first mock battle held since enrolling at the Military Academy.

"That'll be very difficult."

"…In-Instructor."

The person who contradicted the training instructors was none other than Senior Instructor, Captain Thomas Kohler, who revealed himself from behind them.

Even though this large, robust soldier had sprinted through the forest right after announcing the start of the training, not a single person had spotted him. He had managed to sneak right up behind the training instructors without making even the slightest sound—utterly impossible to detect.

Thomas, who had once fought against the Alliance Army and had to learn their ways of fighting—who had barely survived to see the end of the war—led the training instructors deeper into the forest, moving as silently as a cat. He spoke as he did so.

"There's simply not enough time, and Krieger isn't even allowed to participate in the fighting. Not even I could win under these conditions."

Even Thomas himself found it nearly impossible to arrange this ragtag group of the Alliance Army in such a hurry and expect them to defeat Ferdinand's Imperial Army.

"Instructor, honestly, don't you think this is going too far?"

One of the training instructors spoke up cautiously. While the first mock battle certainly served an educational purpose, it was also a form of psychological training, designed to instill unwavering loyalty toward the overwhelming power of the Empire and to the Emperor, who created it all.

But even so, placing this many restrictions on the Alliance Army just to make sure the Imperial Army wins… It was just too much.

If it were any other instructor, they would have either exploded in anger at this comment or, on the contrary, issued a cold, icy warning. You're objecting to a mock battle designed to teach the greatness of the Empire?

But with Thomas, it was perfectly fine to ask questions. Unlike the other instructors, he was a real soldier who had survived and returned from the real battlefield.

"Too far, you say? Would you be able to say that in actual combat?"

"…That's…"

"In a real war, you'll experience far greater injustices. You might be stranded deep in enemy territory, your supply lines cut off, forced to chew bark and insects to survive, drinking your own urine to stay alive—only to be executed as a deserter by the very reinforcements you barely managed to reach."

"…"

"It didn't happen to me. If it had, I wouldn't be here now. Though I have eaten bugs and drunk my own urine."

Thomas gave a wry smile as he recalled the past. Even he wasn't sure if it really was a smile.

That moment—when he'd been ordered by his superiors to execute his own surviving comrades, and the familiar recoil of the Balt Gun in his hands had felt just the same as when he shot at the enemy—that strangeness still lingered, and to this day, he couldn't forget that sensation.

"More than anything, this is also for his sake."

"…You mean Krieger?"

"That's right."

Thomas sat down casually in a suitable spot, motioning for the training instructors to sit beside him. To the first-year cadets, these senior students were intimidating and fearsome, but in reality, they, too, were just boys of sixteen or seventeen. Thomas spoke to them in a calm voice.

"If we just leave Krieger as he is, he'll become even more of a beast than he is now. He won't develop—he'll just grow up unchanged."

From the spot Thomas had chosen, they could see much of the training ground where the mock battle was taking place, if not all of it. He caught sight of Ferdinand's Imperial Army entering the forest.

"Instead of leading soldiers in battle as an officer, he'll end up a monster who roams the battlefield, drawn by the scent of blood. Because he has the ability to become just that."

Thomas pulled a small, tightly sealed packet from his pocket and began sharing its contents with the training instructors. Inside were pieces of dried fruit.

As he put the sweet dried fruit in his mouth, Thomas continued,

"We're here to train officers, not create monsters for the battlefield. We can't just let Krieger rampage on his own and wipe out the enemy. He needs to develop tactics to overcome unfair situations, learn to trust others, entrust his life to them, and experience meaningful defeat."

"…Instructor, I thought you'd say that all that matters is victory."

One of the training instructors spoke up reluctantly at Thomas's serious words. Thomas turned to him with an ambiguous smile.

"No one can win every time. One way or another, defeat is inevitable. When that moment comes, if you don't know how to lose properly, are you just going to give up and die?"

Having experienced as much defeat as victory, Thomas chewed and swallowed the dried fruit, then silently gazed at the forest that had become a battlefield.

'Now then, Ernest Krieger. The Duke's fourth son and the Chief of Staff's eldest grandson are both beneath you right now. At least at this very moment, you're the best among all those rookies. But can you accept this forced defeat that's been placed in your hands and learn a valuable lesson from it?'

As Thomas remembered Ernest's restless, dark eyes—the eyes of a hunter—he asked this question inwardly.

Thomas knew the truth.

Guys like Ernest rarely last long on the battlefield before they break.

Not because they're weak, but because they're too strong.

Because it's far too easy for them to give up their humanity and become monsters.

Having once turned himself into a monster amid the madness of war, Thomas despised such people.

Naturally, he hated himself for it, too.

Still, Ernest was just a kid for now, and as an instructor, it was Thomas's duty to set him straight while he still could.

"All right. We'll follow the plan. Brandt, I'm counting on you."

"Don't worry. Just make it back safely."

The Imperial Army cadets, having safely entered the inner part of the forest, began to split into two groups and carry out their operation as planned. Brandt began leading the cadets deeper to the right.

"Stay sharp. From here on out, the enemy could attack from anywhere at any time," Ferdinand warned the cadets. Everyone took his words seriously, crossing the forest with determined expressions.

"…"

Ernest watched it all from his hiding spot. He didn't have time to set any traps; he had only raced ahead to scout.

Thomas was lucky not to witness this scene. If he had seen Ernest's antics, he would've slapped his own forehead and dragged him out on the spot. Where else in the world would you find a company commander, told not to engage in combat, running through the woods unarmed—no crossbow, no breastplate, not even a helmet—just to gather information himself?

Snap.

Ernest gripped a tree branch, then pressed his thumb blade against it to cut and snap it. Hearing the faint sound, the last cadet in the Imperial Army's line glanced back, but couldn't spot Ernest crouching in the bushes.

Once they had moved on, Ernest rose without a sound and quickly darted through the forest. He needed to redeploy his forces to block Brandt, who was planning an attack by circling around.

Snap. Snap.

As he ran, Ernest grabbed branches, using his knife to slice them quickly to a set length, preparing materials for makeshift, light traps.

Ernest had already predicted Ferdinand's route of advance. Even if others couldn't see it, the invisible path through the forest was clear as day to Ernest, who was so familiar with the woods. Unless someone made a conscious effort to change their approach, people naturally tended to walk along these hidden trails that met certain conditions.

On the other hand, Ernest couldn't predict Brandt's movements. There was no way of knowing just how wide Brandt's detour would be, and Ernest simply didn't have enough time to properly grasp the terrain.

As Ernest sprinted through the forest, his restless eyes darted about, constantly gathering information and devising strategies for the hunt.

Anyone watching him would have seen in his gaze the unmistakable look of a predator who had caught the scent of blood.