Chapter 18 - The Fierce Squirrel Lying in the Grass (6)

Chapter 18 - The Fierce Squirrel Lying in the Grass (6)

It was supposed to be a break, but no one was foolish enough to just rest.

"Just the fact that Ernest is out there is intimidating enough,"

Wilfried gathered his platoon of Noble faction cadets along with Ferdinand's platoon of Military faction cadets and spoke with a serious expression.

Normally, these two factions belittled each other and kept their distance, but now they were sincerely joining forces to defeat the threat that was Ernest Krieger.

"I saw Ernest darting through the forest like a squirrel, scouting. That guy knew exactly what you were doing. He was hiding somewhere, watching all your movements without you even realizing it."

At Wilfried's words, the cadets from Ferdinand's Military faction—who had just finished playing the role of the Imperial Army—felt a chill run down their spines.

"If it's Ernest, he could infiltrate along a route we can't even begin to guess. Or, he might take the lead, read our movements, find our ambush positions, and hit us with a counterattack. The real problem is that Ernest has too many options at his disposal."

Wilfried was racking his brain so hard to overcome this crisis that it felt like his head was getting hot, drawing on everything he had seen, heard, felt, and learned up to now.

"He could lure us into a trap instead, or take the lead and make a breakthrough at one point. He could even slip past us along hidden paths that we can't even spot, snatch our flag without a fight, and vanish."

To be honest, if Ernest put his mind to infiltration, none of the current cadets would be able to find him. That meant the only way to protect the flag was to deploy enough soldiers all around it. With their numbers already stretched thin, having to do this was a huge loss on its own.

"The only one who could actually sneak up on the flag is Krieger himself. We only need to station three people."

"No, that won't work."

Ferdinand offered this advice to Wilfried in a cautious voice. But it wasn't Wilfried who objected—a different cadet from the Noble Faction shook his head, his face pale, speaking to those who had turned their anxious gazes on him.

"Even when Krieger was with the Alliance Army, he nearly wiped us all out by himself. If it hadn't been for Wilfried, Krieger would have taken out more than ten Imperial cadets on his own."

"That's right, Ernest is far too dangerous. He'd come charging at us armed with nothing but a bayonet, take everyone down, kill us all..."

Wilfried started to agree, then fell silent, shuddering at the horror, his voice trailing off like a frightened child talking about seeing a ghost.

"Of course, Ferdinand would probably be able to stop Ernest single-handedly. So... as long as Ernest doesn't hide somewhere, keep circling around and firing at us, or snipe Ferdinand first."

"...Calm down. Krieger can't fight directly in this battle."

As Wilfried and the other Noble Faction cadets carried on about how dangerous Ernest was, Ferdinand calmly reminded them that Ernest wouldn't be able to fight directly in this simulated battle. Still, everyone had seen enough of Ernest's unpredictability and threat to know their fear wasn't unfounded.

"Damn. That's right. Sorry."

Wilfried apologized, unconsciously cursing again thanks to how much Ernest had already gotten under his skin. He was silent for a moment, then nodded and spoke.

"Then we only need two people to guard the flag. Ferdinand, pick the two most reliable cadets. We'll position them around the flag."

"Understood."

"Next... Oh, for heaven's sake. We're so short on people. To defend the flag against the Imperial Army led by Ernest, we'd need at least a hundred men."

Wilfried recalled the troop deployments Ernest had shown in the last battle and felt a wave of despair.

"Wilfried, get a hold of yourself. As commander, you have to stay calm."

Ferdinand gave Wilfried this advice in a composed voice. But even Ferdinand didn't have any brilliant ideas.

Wilfried, sensing defeat and sinking into despair, nevertheless wracked his brains, desperately searching for a solution. Meanwhile, Ferdinand quietly accepted the looming loss and tried to make the best of the situation—that was a subtle, yet significant, difference between them.

"...Thank you. All right..."

Wilfried covered his nose and mouth with his pale, delicate hand, straining to think of any possible way forward. Though he looked like an angel, with dazzling golden hair and deep blue eyes that glimmered like a lake, the mouth hidden behind his hand was twisted in frustration.

"I'll deploy our forces evenly around the flag."

After a long deliberation, Wilfried finally made his decision.

"There's no point concentrating everyone in one spot. Ernest will just find the gap and strike there. So we'll cluster as many troops as possible around the flag, and when a fight breaks out, we'll react quickly and concentrate our strength. And…"

Wilfried hesitated, biting his lip behind his hand before continuing.

"We need to use scouts too. Not too many—three. Ferdinand."

"Alright. I'll pick the three fastest ones."

Ferdinand followed Wilfried's orders without a single complaint, adhering to his belief that a soldier must obey commands.

Even if their opponent wasn't Ernest, or if Wilfried wasn't the commander, Ferdinand would've obeyed the commander's orders just the same.

Meanwhile, the cadets of Ernest's platoon were also chatting among themselves.

"So, what should we do?"

"We've got Krieger, so infiltration will be easy. Hmm… Honestly, it feels like we can't lose, no matter what we do."

"I saw the Imperial Army's organization includes Rangers. If you're as good as Krieger, couldn't you be a Ranger too?"

"And since you're an officer, you'd become a commander, right? If you're the commander of the Ranger unit, that's a really big deal. My brother told me once that the judgment of a single Ranger Platoon Leader can determine the entire battalion's movements."

"Wow, are Rangers really that important?"

"Only the best are selected. They act as the eyes and ears of the unit, scouting out danger and finding the way, so of course they are."

The cadets in Ernest's platoon were now chatting amicably together, having forgotten about their factional rivalries.

They all shared the same sense of having been cast aside by Ferdinand and Wilfried—but, as they worked with Ernest and achieved results they hadn't expected, they'd grown closer.

"So, Platoon Leader Ernest. What's the plan?"

Robert glanced at Ernest as he asked.

The other cadets also stared expectantly at Ernest.

"I'll let you know what the plan is after the mock battle begins."

Ernest answered calmly, meeting everyone's eyes.

"Can't you tell us beforehand? Wouldn't that help us execute the plan more smoothly?"

A cadet from the Military Faction asked Ernest, puzzled. Ernest shook his head firmly.

"No Hmm, just this once."

Ernest firmly refused, then quietly added a final word. The cadets took this to mean that Ernest had devised a truly surprising tactic and was worried that if he revealed it now, their reactions might give hints to the enemy. So, they all nodded in understanding and didn't press him further about the plan.

As a result, the cadets in Ernest's platoon spent their break sitting together, chatting, and reviewing the two mock battles they'd fought so far.

"What are they doing?"

"They're just chatting."

"Did Ernest really foresee things this far ahead?"

Even during the break, Wilfried had secretly sent scouts to spy on Ernest's preparations but, once again, felt frustrated.

Wilfried—who once would have thought such actions beneath him—had now gotten used to doing things he would have once considered dishonorable.

"It can't be helped. We'll stick to the plan."

With that, Wilfried once again briefed the cadets on their strategy. However, since the detailed deployment of forces required checking the terrain around the flag in person, all he could do for now was explain the basic outline.

"Time's going to be very tight."

"I thought the rule change was just to keep Krieger in check, but in the end, it doesn't really benefit us either."

During this process, the cadets realized that the rule Thomas had changed was actually working out more fairly than they had expected. Of course, having more time would benefit Ernest, but everyone was equally pressured by the time limit.

"Break's over. Send them in."

After being given plenty of time to rest and hearing Thomas's announcement, the cadets dashed toward the training ground with determined expressions. Since time was tight, there was no choice but to hurry.

"They recovered their composure quite quickly."

Thomas watched the first-year cadets with satisfaction, nodding approvingly.

Appointing Ernest—who had been trained in a clearly different direction from the sheltered new cadets of the Imperial Military Academy—as platoon leader had paid off.

Leisurely, Thomas made his way to a spot with a clear view of the training ground.

He was looking forward to seeing how the first-year cadets would perform in this battle.

Wilfried's Alliance cadets moved frantically as they positioned their forces. Just as planned, they placed two cadets directly in front of the flag, deployed three as scouts along the outer edge of the forest, and arranged the remaining thirty-three cadets thoroughly around the flag.

Their forces were crowded into an area far too small, but there really wasn't any better option.

Most importantly, their mission was to protect the flag—not to prevent the enemy from passing through the forest.

Bang!

The Alliance cadets managed to finish their preparations just in time, and as the gunshot signaling the start of the mock battle rang out, they tensed up and kept vigilant over their assigned zones. Remarkably, not a single cadet let their attention wander or slacked off. They had all already experienced how formidable Ernest could be.

"...Why is it so quiet?"

However, the longer the silence dragged on, the quicker the young boys began to lose patience. It wasn't just restlessness—there was a growing unease about facing such an unpredictable enemy.

"What on earth is happening out there?"

The cadets grew even more tense as they imagined what kind of dreadful, evil, and brutal scheme that damned Krieger might be plotting in the still forest beyond.

Rustle.

"..."

At the sound of rustling leaves ahead, the cadets thought the moment had finally come.

They tensed up, aiming their crossbows, ready for anything.

"Wait, don't shoot. It's me."

"...Phew!"

But it wasn't the ruthless and savage Imperial Army led by Ernest approaching—it was the scout they had stationed at the edge of the forest before the battle began.

"Has the enemy started moving?"

Wilfried poked his head through the bushes and asked urgently.

The cadet acting as the scout hesitated for a long moment, unable to answer right away, then slowly shook his head.

"Then what?"

Wilfried pressed him. Only then did the scout finally speak up.

"They haven't moved at all."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean, they haven't moved a muscle. They haven't even taken the hill."

"...Why?"

"I don't know either..."

With the scout cadet's uncertain, mumbling reply, a chillingly heavy silence washed over the group.

Wilfried stared blankly into the distance, as if trying to see Ernest—who was somewhere out there, hidden behind the trees on the far side of the forest.

His pale lips parted as if to speak, then closed again. His delicate eyebrows twisted in frustration, and soon, heat rose sharply in his pale, flawless forehead, turning it red.

"..."

Wilfried glared fiercely in the direction of the unseen Ernest, his rage and burning suspicion so intense it seemed to overshadow his handsome features, leaving the other cadets utterly cowed.

After a long silence, despite the overwhelming emotion in his eyes, Wilfried gave his command in a remarkably calm—almost frighteningly cold—voice.

"We're not changing the plan. Hold your positions."

Then he immediately dropped down again among the bushes, hiding himself even after realizing that Ernest would never actually set foot in the forest.

Just as Wilfried had guessed, Ernest never once approached the forest. All he did was station all eighteen cadets—including himself—near their flag to keep watch over the area.

"...Time's up. Return."

In the end, not a single shot was fired until the training instructor finally came and announced the end of the mock battle.

"Let's go back."

Wilfried addressed the cadets following him in a voice so calm it sounded almost frozen with fear. Then, leading the way, he strode out of the forest.

No one could make sense of what had just happened. What on earth had occurred, why Ernest hadn't attacked—nobody could understand a thing.

"...As expected."

But one—no, two—people did. Wilfried and Ferdinand were able to grasp the situation clearly.

Ferdinand, his face stiff and expressionless, stood frozen, glaring fiercely at where the unseen Ernest must have been, then gave a heavy nod as if acknowledging what had happened.

After that, Ferdinand also began moving briskly to leave the forest, following Wilfried.

Since there had been no battle, the cadets had remained stationary, able to recover their stamina. With no casualties, all the cadets left the training ground nearly at the same time, gathering in front of Thomas.

Wilfried spotted Ernest, who had arrived first, and started toward him with a frosty expression.

But when he felt Thomas's weighty gaze on him, he stopped abruptly, clenched his fists, and silently walked to stand in his own place.

As all the cadets gathered, a quiet murmur began to ripple through the group like a wave. Most were in a state of confusion, and that included the cadets who had served under Ernest's command—they didn't understand why Ernest had given no order to attack either.

That unsettled mood continued even as the training instructors went around collecting the issued crossbows, bayonets, and wooden bolts from the cadets.

"Attention."

With a single word, Thomas stilled the noise. He stood before the cadets with his hands clasped behind his back, looking down at them all with eyes as hard and dark as stone.

"Your progress in this first mock battle training was nothing short of remarkable. Well done."

Thomas's face remained expressionless, but satisfaction was unmistakable in his voice. In truth, he felt extremely pleased with how things had turned out.

"Congratulations. Among all the first-year cadets I've taught so far, you are by far the best, and this will be well reflected in your grades. However, don't forget that the path you walked today is only the beginning. The road ahead is far longer than any of you can imagine right now."

Thomas offered the first-year rookies lavish praise. Never before, in all his years as an instructor, had he seen cadets grow this much after just their initial mock battle.

And everyone knew the credit for that went to the unusual cadet named Ernest.

Which was exactly why no one could understand it—why would Ernest, of all people, have chosen to do nothing but wait in the final mock battle?

"And to the platoon leader who performed the most outstandingly, I will award 2 Merit Points."

Thomas didn't stop at praise; he went so far as to announce that he would be giving out 2 Merit Points. At that, everyone glanced sidelong at Ernest.

"Wilfried Ravid."

"...Yes?"

"2 Merit Points. Everyone, give him a round of applause."

"..."

Clap, clap, clap.

Thomas didn't give the merit points to Ferdinand, who had come up with efficient tactics and carried out his operations calmly, nor to Ernest, who had completely dominated the mock battle. Instead, he awarded them to Wilfried.

The cadets applauded. They were a bit puzzled that Ernest hadn't received the merit points, but at the same time, they acknowledged Wilfried, so they clapped without question.

"Instructor. I don't understand why I'm receiving the merit points."

But even if everyone else accepted it, Wilfried could not.

Just like his father—whom he detested—he raised his chin proudly, as if to prove his noble lineage, and spoke to Captain Thomas Kohler.

"If anyone among us deserves this, it should certainly be Ernest Krieger."

Wilfried's confidence was so overwhelming it didn't just border on insubordination—it seemed like he might even cross the line into outright rebellion.

"Ravid. I couldn't care less about your honor. I gave them to you. Now be quiet and accept it."

Yet, before Thomas, young Wilfried was just a naïve child. With calm words, Thomas crushed Wilfried's objections, locking eyes with Wilfried's blue ones and staring him down coldly.

"When you're an officer and your subordinates' lives are on the line, are you going to turn down what you're given just because of some notion of honor?"

"..."

Wilfried had no reply for that. Still, deep inside the noble boy—a boy who, as the Duke's son, had once desperately longed for what he could not have, but since joining the military academy now felt only disgust toward the countless favors he received against his will—the fire of emotion continued to burn.

"Hartmann, explain to the group why Ravid was given the merit points."

Thomas looked at Wilfried for a moment before giving a quiet order to Ferdinand by moving only his lips.

"Yes, Instructor. In the first mock battle, when no one really understood the situation, Ravid personally took the flag and moved it, steering the situation to their advantage, boosting morale, and securing victory through excellent leadership. In the second mock battle, following Krieger's command, he faithfully completed the mission he was assigned; though he was defeated, he still achieved notable results with limited troops. In the final battle, although Ravid didn't use the best tactics, he did his utmost to defend the flag, used the scouts to gain an understanding of the situation, and, even in an exceptional situation where the enemy did not attack, displayed composure and fulfilled his duty without losing his head. Ravid faithfully performed his duties both when fighting for the Imperial Army and when fighting for the Alliance Army, and out of all the cadets, he showed the most growth throughout the mock battles. Therefore, if only one person were to receive merit points, it would have to be Ravid."

At Thomas's command, Ferdinand explained without hesitation why Wilfried should receive the merit points.

Wilfried stared at Ferdinand with burning eyes. He was aware of his own shortcomings, and he knew Ferdinand was superior to him. If they had fought mock battles on equal footing, Wilfried would not have won even once.

"All right. Well explained."

Thomas nodded at Ferdinand's explanation.

"The most important thing is that he never lost sight of the true purpose of battle."

Thomas addressed Wilfried, who still looked full of discontent, in a calm voice.

"Ravid, when you were with the Imperial Army, you pushed forward into the forest to attack, and when you were with the Alliance Army, you hunkered down and focused on defense in the forest. It means you clearly understood why you were fighting."

Thomas nodded, seeming satisfied.

"Hartmann, in the first battle, attacked outward from the forest. Taking control of the high ground to gain an advantage is good, but that's not the Alliance Army's way. You were overly aggressive, too focused on victory."

With those words, Wilfried finally understood why he had received the merit points.

"Lastly, Krieger."

Thomas rolled his eyes over to Ernest, who, with a look of complete innocence and without the slightest sign of dissatisfaction, was even sincerely applauding Wilfried.

"You, as a member of the Imperial Army, refused to attack the forest that the Alliance Army had occupied, despite your orders to do so. That's clear insubordination. Insubordination in the face of the enemy—when there's an enemy right before you and you refuse to fight—can result in the death penalty if tried in court. And despite knowing that, you still dared to disobey. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Instructor."

Ernest replied in an even voice to Thomas's stern question. He was genuinely aware that it was insubordination and that, in a real court, it could earn him the death penalty.

Insubordination during peacetime or in the usual course of war does not result in a death sentence, it would go to trial. But insubordination in the midst of battle, right in front of the enemy, could be punished with summary execution—no trial necessary.

"Why did you do it?"

At Thomas's probing, Ernest's jet-black eyes sparkled for a moment before he looked straight at Thomas and spoke.

"The enemy had already taken position in the forest, and they knew we were going to attack. No matter how much the situation favored us, making that attack would not have been right."

"······."

At Ernest's answer, an odd silence fell over the group. Thomas stared at Ernest with tightly pressed lips, then very slowly, just barely, nodded his head.

"Yes, that was the right judgment."

Thomas affirmed Ernest's answer in a voice so faint that even the three cadets standing at the very front as platoon leaders could barely hear it.

Ernest had been fully capable of winning. In fact, he could have secured victory easily even without special tactics—just by charging forward with his men. Yet Ernest chose not to attack. Even in a battle he could surely have won, he refused victory. That was because, knowing well the unpredictable dangers of the forest, doing so would have been a profoundly foolish thing for Ernest.

It also went against the "rules for survival" he'd learned from his father, Haires Krieger, whom he deeply respected.

"However, as soldiers, we are required to obey orders and complete the missions entrusted to us. Krieger, I won't deduct points this time. But there won't be a next time. From now on, follow your orders."

"Yes, Instructor."

At Thomas's stern words, Ernest replied calmly.

Thomas turned once more to Wilfried. Now, even Wilfried could not object to the merit points awarded to him. After all, those points hadn't been given because he was the Duke's son—they were earned, because he had truly performed well.

For the first time, Wilfried was experiencing an indescribable feeling at the thought that he had accomplished something on his own.

"That concludes today's training. Good work, everyone. Get on the transport trucks—we're heading back."

"Yes, sir!"

The cadets responded with booming voices and, guiding their weary bodies, climbed onto the transport trucks. Ernest did the same, getting on with the other cadets. Yet, even though he had just been recognized and blended in with the others, Ernest once again seemed to feel somewhat out of place—like he was drifting apart.

"Ernest."

Seated directly across from him, Wilfried called out to Ernest amid the jostling of the slowly moving transport truck and the low, heavy rumble of the Balt Engine. When Ernest looked up at him, Wilfried's intense blue eyes gleamed as he spoke in a quiet but heated whisper.

"Did you look down on me? Did you think I wasn't even worth fighting?"

"What? No, of course not."

Ernest shook his head, flustered, denying Wilfried's accusation. Watching his earnest reaction, Wilfried pressed his lips together tightly and nodded. At first, when Wilfried realized that Ernest had decided not to attack, he really had thought that was the reason. But he soon realized it wasn't that at all. So this was Wilfried's little act of spite.

"…I learned a lot from you today."

Wilfried spoke quietly.

"But I still don't think I can help disliking you."

"…Why?"

"Why don't you try figuring that out yourself?"

"What on earth did I do wrong?"

"…"

Wilfried ignored Ernest, who was growing increasingly desperate. He knew full well this was just him being petty, but he just couldn't help himself. For all his maturity, Wilfried was still just a fourteen-year-old boy, and there was a childish pride within him. The sting of defeat he felt from Ernest was so intense he simply couldn't bring himself to reach out to him.

When he realized why Ernest hadn't attacked, Wilfried didn't just feel simple anger.

He saw his own shortcomings, his weakness, and his cowardice. And once again, this young boy made him feel ashamed before Ernest.

Thomas had been right. Ernest abstaining from the attack had truly been the right call. If you don't fight, no one gets hurt.

It was such an obvious truth, yet Wilfried had overlooked it. He had spoken about duty coming before privilege, and yet he had acted as if sacrificing his duty for someone's rights, and fighting meaningless battles, was only natural. If this had been a real battle, many would have died in a senseless fight. They might not have even won—they could have been wiped out. In fact, that was exactly why the Mihahil Empire's conquest had come to a halt.

Even if the driving force behind Ernest's actions was simply "to survive," and even if Wilfried had sensed that on some level, he still saw Ernest's decision not to fight as incredibly courageous.

Who could refuse to fight, even when victory seemed assured, fully accepting the criticism that would follow, just to avoid a trivial loss? All that over something so minor!

A commander must never forget that those so-called "trivial" losses aren't just numbers, but real, living human lives. And yet, it's all too easy to forget that fact—Wilfried was no exception.

"A hypocrite who only talks a pretty game."

Wilfried realized he was no different from the man he despised most—his father, His Excellency Duke Ravid. This realization hit fourteen-year-old Wilfried with staggering force.

As Ernest kept rambling on anxiously, Wilfried closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him. He was simply too exhausted to keep talking to someone who so relentlessly prodded at his most shameful weaknesses.

"Teacher Ernest. You know, I think I finally understand what you meant earlier. You really do need to work on your social skills, and luckily, I think I'm just the person who can teach you. Now, Ernest—repeat after me. 'I am a dull, socially inept fool who needs Teacher Robert's guidance.'"

"…You're on your own from now on, Jimman."

"…Hey, wait. I'm sorry. Just give me a second. You're not really going to leave me, are you? Don't abandon me! Ernest! Hey!"

With Wilfried already weighing on his mind, Ernest couldn't handle Robert getting on his nerves as well, so he finally declared he was abandoning Robert. However, even after they returned to the Military Academy, Robert howled like a child who'd lost his mother, and in the end, Ernest had no choice but to take back his declaration of abandonment.

"Oh dear, Teacher Ernest, please come in. Yes, yes."

Ernest glared at Robert as he walked through the door Robert held open for him. But any anger toward Robert for his cheeky attitude never lasted long, so by the next morning, they were back to treating each other as usual.

"…Aren't you actually the worst out of all of us?"

Starting his morning as he always did, Ernest came to this realization and said so. Robert would pull every prank and teasing remark imaginable, and yet he wasn't disliked. And even if someone did get annoyed, he'd be forgiven in an instant. This guy's the worst. No doubt about it.

"Oh dear, what a terrible thing to say. With Teacher Ernest here, how could I possibly dare to covet that position. Of course not."

"..."

"Ah! I'm starving! Let's hurry up and go eat breakfast!"

Dragged away by Robert, Ernest once again thought that Robert really was the worst guy of them all. After all, he couldn't bring himself to hate Robert.

Then, when they gathered for breakfast, Ernest—and all the first-year cadets—realized that a very important event for them was drawing near.

"Founding Declaration Day is almost here."

The Disciplinary Officer spoke to the assembled first-year cadets with a serious expression.

"This will be your first time, as cadets of the Imperial Military Academy, appearing in an official capacity. Even the smallest mistake will not be tolerated."

Founding Declaration Day was just around the corner. It was the day commemorating the historic moment when Walter Ulrich Mihahil, once merely the heir to a small barony, declared himself Emperor. It was the most important holiday in the Mihahil Empire, and, as the school where all the sons of powerful families gathered, the Imperial Military Academy couldn't skip such a significant event.

"Starting today, you'll begin drill training for the city parade. Prepare yourselves."

"Yes!"

The cadets answered energetically, but knowing all too well how grueling the drill training for the city parade would be—and feeling the immense pressure—they all looked pale with dread.

"In addition, after the city parade, you'll be allowed to invite your families to the party held within the Academy, so be sure to send them a letter in advance."

The Disciplinary Officer's tone softened a bit as he spoke. Founding Declaration Day was the first opportunity for first-year cadets to see their families since entering the Academy—a truly important occasion.

At those words, Ernest's eyes lit up, instantly lifting the gloomy mood he'd had thanks to that rascal, Robert Jimman.

Despite the trouble he'd caused, Ernest was, along with Robert, one of only two first-year cadets who had already earned three merit points, putting him at the very top of his class.

Ernest deeply respected his father, Haires, and wanted nothing more than to invite him to the Empire Declaration Day party to show how well he was doing—that his son was living up to the family's honor.

He couldn't wait for Founding Declaration Day to arrive.

Just imagining Haires proudly introducing his accomplished son to everyone at the party and praising him was enough to make Ernest feel like he could soar with happiness.

"Of course, only certain people will be allowed to attend a party at the Imperial Military Academy. I trust you all understand what that means."

"Of course."

"What was that?"

"Yes, sir! We understand perfectly!"

Robert, who had muttered under his breath about not being able to invite his minor noble family, responded energetically as soon as he caught the Disciplinary Officer's sharp gaze.

The Disciplinary Officer frowned, let out a small sigh, and dismissed the cadets to the dining hall.

"Don't you think this is just too harsh?"

"You're the one who's most out of line."

"Are you sulking?"

"What? You're saying you don't need my help?"

"Teacher Ernest, I have always deeply respected and followed you from the bottom of my heart."

"As you should."

Ernest and Robert walked side by side, whispering quietly to each other.

The thought of being able to invite Haires to the party had Ernest absolutely buzzing with excitement. He decided he'd write and send the letter today. Since the Krieger family's modest home was right here in Grimman, he might even receive a reply within two days if he was lucky.