Chapter 84 - The Moon Walking in the Wake of the Sun (10)

Chapter 84 - The Moon Walking in the Wake of the Sun (10)

The cadets started another day with renewed determination.

Ernest took a group out to check the traps and gather wild edibles, while Ferdinand organized patrols to survey the area.

Once again, Wilfried stayed behind at the temporary campsite.

"We've got the fire going."

"Great job. Well done."

Thanks to the miserable struggle they'd endured yesterday, starting a fire went much more smoothly today. They built a campfire, boiled water, emptied out the old water in their waterskins, and replaced it with clean, fresh water.

"We can't just sit around waiting for fish to get caught in the traps."

"Catching shrimp… That's tough, right?"

"At least try to catch some crayfish."

The cadets who stayed at the campsite did more than just tend the fire—they tried their best to gather whatever food they could from the brook.

Even the ones who had gagged at the idea of eating shrimp or crayfish, calling them bugs, were now desperate, after a day of hunger, to find anything remotely edible.

"Crayfish!"

"Get it! Quick!"

"I've got it! I—"

"Aaagh!"

They'd managed to catch a few crayfish, but one cadet nearly had his finger pinched by a crayfish he was holding, causing quite a commotion. Besides that, they used loosely-woven linen shirts as makeshift nets and managed to catch a few shrimp as well.

Wading into the brook with their shirts to catch shrimp made it impossible to stay properly dressed in their cadet uniforms.

Most of them took off their boots, socks, and cadet uniform jackets before entering the water, but some went even further, stripping down not just their shirts but also their uniform trousers, leaving just a thin pair of linen underpants.

"Wilfried, could you please just react normally for once? You acting like this makes it uncomfortable for the rest of us, too…"

"…"

Wilfried was completely unprepared to witness such a barbaric and indecent scene with his own eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut and looked away from everyone. For him, this was even harder to endure than the grueling morning marches. After all, he had been raised as the young master of a Duke's house.

"F-fish! There's a fish!"

Robert, clad in nothing but his underpants and flailing his shirt in the brook, suddenly screamed.

"Yes, we know they're there."

Everyone responded without much enthusiasm.

It was common knowledge that there were fish in the brook.

Dozens of small fish were plainly visible, and every now and then, you could spot one as thick as a forearm.

The real problem was catching them.

"Huh! Gasp!"

Despite everyone's indifference, Robert hurriedly bundled up his shirt and dashed frantically onto the bank.

His sudden movement finally drew the attention of the other cadets, who started to watch him in curiosity.

"What is it? Did you catch something?"

"What is it?"

Robert stepped further away from the water, just in case, and, panting, sank down to the ground and unfolded his shirt.

"I caught it! I really caught it!"

"What did you catch?"

"Is it just a minnow?"

As Robert cheered, everyone crowded around him to take a look.

Still, nobody really expected much—Robert was always prone to exaggerate.

"Whoa!"

"What is that!"

"It's a catfish! A catfish!"

But seeing a catfish as thick as a forearm flopping wildly on Robert's shirt, everyone couldn't help but shriek with delight.

It was the biggest and most satisfying catch the cadets had managed to get their hands on during training!

"Waaaah!"

"Robert! You did it! You really did it you crazy bastard!"

"I knew you could do it! Guess being a commoner gives you a knack for this kind of thing!"

"Hey, you bastard! That's discrimination!"

"Who cares! Robert pulled it off!"

The cadets cheered and ran wild.

With a single catfish flopping on the ground in front of them, dozens of cadets circled around, shouting for joy—it looked like they were taking part in some kind of wild religious ritual.

"How did you catch it?"

"I—I put my shirt in the water and swirled it around, you know, trying to catch shrimp! But I couldn't see any, so I lifted a rock, and all of a sudden, something big and black shot out! I was so startled, I just swung my shirt to block it…!"

Robert was so excited he couldn't stop trembling, his story a total jumble.

Still, everyone got the gist, and even the guys who were trying to keep their dignity to the end yanked off their shirts and dashed into the brook, sleeves in hand.

"W-what do we do with this?"

Wilfried, who had stubbornly kept his cadet uniform on and stayed on land to preserve the last shred of dignity of the Imperial Military Academy's second years, was now at a loss for words as he stared at the catfish, still flopping around after being brought ashore.

Perhaps he was trying with all his might not to shoot Robert a contemptuous glare for his half-naked, but rather heroic, feat of catching them some food.

"Uh, um…"

"Is it okay to just leave it like this?"

"No, we need to clean it. Ernest said we have to…"

"Clean it? How do we do that?"

"..."

Their joy was short-lived.

Robert turned to Wilfried, his face suddenly pale.

Yet nothing about Wilfried, the young master of the Duke's house, suggested he was about to draw his sword, kill the catfish, and gut it himself while it was still alive and thrashing on the ground.

"Can't we just leave it as is?"

Trying his hardest not to look at the half-naked Robert, Wilfried focused intently on the catfish as he spoke.

Robert thought back carefully to what he'd learned from Ernest last winter, then answered cautiously.

"Ernest said the guts are the first thing to rot after a fish dies. So if it's dead, you have to gut it right away."

Just hearing that made Wilfried turn pale and his stomach churn a little.

"But he also said it doesn't matter while it's still alive. That's why, sometimes, people deliberately don't kill it right away so they can store it longer."

"It's a fish, right? If we just leave it like this, won't it die soon?"

"What if we put it back in the water and it escapes?"

"The pot! Let's put it in the pot!"

"Oh! The pot!"

Catfish don't die easily even when left out of water, but there was no way they could know that.

Wilfried hurriedly emptied the pot they'd been using to boil water, then filled it with cold water.

Robert grabbed the catfish by the shirt and tossed it into the pot.

"...Doesn't this feel kind of hot?"

"Uh…"

That's when they realized the problem.

The pot they had just used to boil water for drinking was still incredibly hot. Even though they'd dumped out the boiling water and refilled it, the new water quickly heated up.

The catfish flailed in agony in the hot water for a moment, then, after being lightly poached, ceased all vital movement and floated lifelessly to the surface.

"It—it's dead!"

"What do we do now! We have to take the guts out!"

"Ahhhhh!"

The two cadets panicked, flailing helplessly.

Meanwhile, the cadets swishing their shirts through the water trying to catch more fish had no idea that a crisis of a lifetime had just befallen their friends.

Not that it would've helped if they had known—the only one among them who'd actually gutted a fish before was Ernest.

"I—I have to do it! I don't have a choice!"

Robert shouted resolutely, though his hands were trembling so badly that it didn't inspire much confidence.

"Have—have you ever done it before? Do you think you can?"

"I've seen someone gut a rabbit before."

"..."

Shaking all over, Robert tried to pull the poached catfish out by upturning the pot.

Frankly, since they'd already started cooking it whole, there was really no need to gut it at this point, but none of them realized that.

"I—I'm doing it!"

"Ugh…! Sorry, I can't watch…!"

Wilfried ended up turning away, leaving Robert to face the lonely struggle on his own.

"People gut fish for storage or taste. Since it's already started boiling, there's no real need to take the guts out. It might be a bit unpleasant, but technically you can eat the whole thing."

Someone offered this advice kindly from behind Robert.

Robert slowly turned his head to look back.

At some point—he had no idea when—a Ranger was staring down at him silently.

Robert's response was astonishingly quick.

He instantly threw himself over the catfish carcass lying on the ground, clutching it to his chest to protect it.

"No! Please, anything but this! There are mouths we have to feed!"

The Ranger couldn't completely hide his awkwardness at Robert's desperate wailing.

He felt terribly uncomfortable, as if he were robbing a helpless civilian.

With a deep sigh, the Ranger strode over to the campfire.

"No, stop!"

Wilfried ran forward, gripping his spear to defend the fire.

However, Wilfried was smaller and weaker than most boys his age, and the only martial skill he had learned was a bit of bayonet technique.

The Ranger, feeling like an absolute villain, easily thwarted Wilfried's feeble resistance, snatched the spear from him and tossed it aside, then poured water on the campfire and stomped it out with a few hard kicks.

While Wilfried stood in shock, a few Rangers glanced around nervously, then went to the tent where the waterskins and military packs were stored, dismantled it, opened the waterskins, and dumped out all the water.

"Ugh, this really feels like we're doing something terrible."

"Be quiet."

In truth, the Rangers weren't feeling great about it, either.

At first, they were full of complaints, thinking they'd been dragged into some silly noble boys' picnic at the Imperial Military Academy.

But when the second-year cadets actually got to work, they were so well-organized and methodical—unlike any nobles their age—that the Rangers were genuinely impressed as they watched them steadily overcome hardship after hardship.

Of course, it was all thanks to Ernest's teaching, based on his own knowledge and experience, but everyone else also did their best in their own way, and achieved real results.

If the Rangers hadn't interfered, these fledglings could have shared a decent meal tonight and fallen asleep, warmed by the sense of accomplishment.

The cadets standing guard had already been subdued; Robert was too busy trying to protect the catfish, and Wilfried was so weak that he could only stand there and watch helplessly as the precious fire was stamped out and their water was wasted right in front of his eyes.

"Aaagh!"

"Ow!"

The cadets who had been desperately trying to catch fish in the brook realized what was happening and tried to run over, but the Rangers hidden in the forest shot arrows without arrowheads, pinning them down completely. Instead of arrowheads, the arrows carried fluffy cotton pads. If they struck a cadet's uniform, it just stung a bit, but when they hit bare skin, the pain made the boys scream out loud.

After a merciless burst of violence, everyone could do nothing but flatten themselves on the ground as the Rangers withdrew, looking uncomfortable.

...

The cadets who had been so happy just moments before, catching fish, could now only stare blankly at their surroundings, not saying a word.

The tent had been torn down, all the water they'd painstakingly boiled and stored since morning was dumped out, and even the fire was gone.

"…What are you doing? We don't have time to just stand around like this."

Wilfried, his face pale, stared at the dead campfire and spoke in a ragged, cracking voice.

"Let's rebuild the fire and find more food. And… we'll give up on keeping watch. It's pointless anyway. Instead, we'll guard the fire—standing together in formation with spears."

Wilfried gave his orders in a calm voice.

The cadets, who had just been drowning in despair, slowly began to move, even if their faces still looked utterly drained, after hearing Wilfried's instructions.

"Robert."

"…Yeah."

"Well done."

Wilfried commended Robert. When Robert lifted his head weakly, he saw Wilfried managing a faint smile on his pale, ashen face.

"Just because we protected this one thing…"

"No."

When Robert muttered, Wilfried cut him off with a firm voice.

"It doesn't matter how small it is. The important thing is that we made some progress, no matter what it is. Even if we rebuild the fire or boil water again, that just means we've barely managed to get back to square one If we consider all the energy and time we've spent, in truth, everything counts as a loss. But not our food. That's the one thing that proves we accomplished something."

Wilfried usually hated how rough his voice had gotten because of puberty, but this time, he spoke loudly so everyone could hear. Then, lowering his voice so only Robert would catch it, he whispered like a snake.

"And it's also proof that our plan will work."

"Hoo… You're right."

Robert let out a long sigh at Wilfried's words, then grinned and nodded.

Wilfried glanced around for a moment, and then, as if steeling himself, started to take off his boots and socks. He grabbed the belt of his cadet uniform, took a deep breath, and then took off not only his uniform jacket but also his shirt.

"Wilfried, you…"

"Don't say anything. Please."

"…I salute your sacrifice, Wilfried."

With a solemn voice, Robert paid his respects to Wilfried. The other cadets, seeing Wilfried wading into the brook with his shirt off, mimed doffing their hats in salute as well.

This really is nothing. But for the Duke's son, to strip off his shirt and expose his bare skin outdoors—especially in front of everyone—was almost as humiliating as being strung up in the middle of the marketplace.

While some cadets struggled to light a fire with Wilfried's shirt, Wilfried himself received another shirt from a fellow cadet and tried his best to catch anything edible—fish, crawfish, shrimp, whatever he could find—in the brook.

"This isn't working. We need to work together better."

"How do you suggest we do that?"

"Come here, everyone."

Although Wilfried was extremely uncomfortable with showing his body to his peers, he gritted his teeth and gathered everyone to lay out the plan.

"All right! Let's start!"

"Got it!"

Half of the cadets entered the brook and stretched out shirts to block off one side, while the other half started splashing downstream from the upper side, driving the creatures toward the makeshift net. At first, it didn't seem to work, but after a few tries, they started catching fish and shrimp in their shirts, one by one.

They managed to get a fire going again, set up the tents anew, and boiled more water for drinking.

And now, although it wasn't a feast, they at least had enough food to share around.

Wilfried had been right.

They had achieved results and were undoubtedly making progress.

Once they started catching fish, the cadets were so absorbed in running around the brook that they forgot their fatigue.

No one noticed how much time had passed.

They hadn't even had breakfast, but somehow, they were overflowing with energy.

"It's the enemy!"

Just as the cadets were rebuilding the campsite and gathering food, the Rangers launched their attack again.

They fired arrows at the cadets standing in the water, trying to hold them back, then charged at the ones guarding the fire and food, who raised their spears in defense.

"Aaagh!"

"Run! Run!"

"Protect the fire and the food!"

Even as the cadets in the brook screamed from being hit by arrows, they didn't stop; they just kept running.

Their faces were twisted with fierce determination.

The intensity in their eyes was so striking that even the Rangers secretly wondered if they really needed to keep doing this.

The Rangers, aiming not to injure but to subdue the cadets holding spears, acted with extreme caution, and a fight broke out over the fire and food.

All the cadets in the brook scrambled ashore to join the fight; they were so desperate, they didn't even have time to grab spears and instead rushed the Rangers barehanded, trying to grapple with them.

But one cadet was unable to get out of the brook.

"..."

Wilfried, his face completely drained of color, stared blankly at the chaos.

As he staggered forward, he lost his balance, nearly swept off his feet by even the weak current.

Wilfried's hands flailed at the air, trying to find something to steady himself on.

His pale face went slack, and his blue eyes fluttered dully.

"Wilfried!"

Robert, who had once again hung back on the sidelines instead of joining the fight, saw this and shouted Wilfried's name in a panic, almost like a scream.

"Stop! Stop!"

A Ranger shot out from the opposite side of the brook, yelling at the top of his lungs.

But before he could reach Wilfried, Wilfried collapsed limply.

Splash!

Wilfried tumbled into the water, the Ranger dived in after him, Robert rushed over, and the cadets who had been fighting dropped everything and sprinted to the spot, abandoning the fire and food. Even the Rangers halted their attack, murmuring amongst themselves as they stepped back.

As the son of Duke Ravid, Wilfried was the cadet who required the most careful attention during this training.

First, as the Duke's son, every precaution had to be taken to ensure he didn't get hurt or fall ill, and on top of that, he was the smallest and weakest among his peers and could easily collapse from exhaustion or give up altogether.

But Wilfried had kept up surprisingly well—so well, in fact, that even the Rangers were impressed.

No, this small, frail boy had become a pillar for the other cadets.

If Ernest was the leader who pointed everyone toward the way forward, Wilfried was the flag that kept everyone from falling—he was what helped them keep their heads up and keep walking.

If it hadn't been for Wilfried, even if Ernest and Ferdinand had joined forces, there would have been cadets who gave up.

And now, Wilfried had collapsed in the water.

It was a shallow brook, but if you lost consciousness, it was still deep enough that you could drown.

Worse, if he hit his head on a rock, it could be fatal.

The Ranger grabbed the unmoving Wilfried in the water and pulled him out in an instant.

Wilfried felt so light in his arms that, for a moment, the Ranger was gripped by fear—something had seriously gone wrong with this Duke's son.

If anything happened to Wilfried, no excuse would be enough, not even the fact that this was a training exercise organized by the Imperial Military Academy.

First, the Ranger sloshed across the brook and laid Wilfried down on dry ground, about to check his breathing and pulse.

The other cadets swarmed in, forming a tight circle around them.

"Now's our chance!"

At that moment, Robert shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Grab him! Hold him down!"

"Yeah!"

"What are you—!"

Immediately, the cadets who had rushed over lunged at the Ranger, grabbing his arms and legs, clinging to him with all their might.

No matter how strong and skilled the Ranger was in battle, there was no way he could withstand dozens of people grabbing hold of all his limbs.

Sure, if he wanted to, he could slash and stab with his dagger and easily shake off a bunch of rookies like these—but no sane Ranger would ever do something like that.

"Hold him tight! Don't let go! If you let go, we're done!"

"Stay back!"

"..."

In an instant, the cadets wrestled the Ranger to the ground, pinning him under their combined weight.

Two of them even climbed onto his back and pressed a sword to his neck.

The other Rangers, who had started to rush over in shock, froze when they saw what was happening.

"Hahaha! Wilfried! We did it!"

Robert burst out laughing as he shouted.

Then he ran over to the quietly collapsed Wilfried and tried to help him up.

"Wilfried! Wil... Wilfried?"

But Wilfried didn't move at all. Alarmed, Robert grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

"Hey, hey. This isn't funny, get up. The plan already worked."

Robert spoke urgently, his voice shaking.

The Rangers exchanged glances, and the cadets also realized something was wrong.

"...Did I scare you?"

Just as the Rangers started to approach, Wilfried slowly opened his eyes and whispered the question in a small voice.

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

"Haah! Haah! Damn!"

Robert's face had gone so pale that he looked almost blue, even more so than Wilfried.

He shivered uncontrollably and gasped for breath.

"You scrawny little bastard!"

Robert shouted angrily and suddenly plopped down on the ground.

Thinking Wilfried had really passed out, he broke out in a cold sweat and felt so dizzy he could barely see straight.

"Robert."

"What!"

"Could you help me up?"

"..."

Wilfried whispered to Robert in a voice barely above a whisper. Robert looked at Wilfried's face and realized just how bad his condition really was.

"Wilfried."

"Hurry."

Robert cast a sidelong glance at the Rangers, and the Rangers, noticing that Wilfried truly wasn't well, watched Robert and Wilfried with uncertain eyes, unsure how to respond.

"Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again, you hear me? When a tiny kid like you does that, it's really scary."

After hesitating for a moment, Robert clenched his teeth and, trying to sound nonchalant, scolded Wilfried as he grabbed his shoulder and helped him sit up naturally.

Even with that small movement, Wilfried's vision spun and he panted in shallow breaths.

Still, despite barely being able to see, he managed to roll his blue eyes around, pretending to scan his surroundings with remarkable composure.

The Duke's son smiled as beautifully as if he were painted by Green.

"So, you're finally ready to negotiate."

Wilfried spoke with his gaze fixed on the Rangers—who were probably hidden behind the group of peers clustered together, and though he couldn't see them, he stared intently in their direction.

"Would someone go fetch our brilliant commander—the one who dreamed up this underhanded, cowardly, and disgraceful plan?"

It was only when Ernest Krieger, the commander who had come up with the impossible strategy of using cadets as bait and counting on the fact that the Rangers couldn't harm them, allowing a group of fifteen-year-old rookies to capture the Empire's elite Rangers, returned that negotiations could proceed.

If Wilfried were in better shape, he would have simply handled the talks himself.

But right now, just keeping his eyes open and managing a few words was all he could do.

Originally, the plan was to carry out the mission at sunset, when Ernest and Ferdinand were scheduled to return.

Until then, they aimed to keep luring the Rangers into complacency by taking their beatings, gathering as much manpower as possible and minimizing variables for the plan.

However, a real emergency occurred when Wilfried actually lost consciousness for a moment and fell into the water.

After that, there was no need to worry about lulling the Rangers into a false sense of security.

The sharp-eyed Rangers had immediately realized how dire Wilfried's condition truly was.

Fortunately, right after falling into the water, Wilfried regained his senses and managed to hold his breath.

Some water went up his nose and he swallowed a bit, but it wasn't too serious.

The plan had gone off-script, yet, in the end, the operation was a success—they had managed to subdue and capture the Empire's elite Rangers as prisoners.

And the disaster they'd feared—an immediate and violent retaliation from the Rangers—didn't happen.

Even as Wilfried looked as if he was at death's door but still stubbornly managed to act and hold himself up, not one of the Rangers felt right about trampling on his efforts.

If Wilfried had just stood back with his hands behind his back and bossed his peers around with a nod of his chin, the Rangers would likely have said, "There's no way a 2nd Corps Ranger would let himself be taken prisoner," and attacked, ignoring whatever happened to their comrade.

But the Duke's son, Wilfried, despite his frail body, hadn't shied away from any hardship and gave his absolute best.

Out of respect for Wilfried, the Rangers decided to play along with the cadets' tune.

"What a disgrace to the Rangers."

"Pathetic bastard."

"Don't you dare call yourself a 2nd Corps Ranger anywhere."

"This is... ha... damn it."

A torrent of harsh criticism was hurled at the Ranger who had been captured as a prisoner.

He felt truly wronged.

If he hadn't pulled Wilfried out of the water back then, Wilfried could have lost consciousness again and ended up in serious danger.

But if he said here that Wilfried had really been in danger, the glow of this seemingly impossible success the cadets had achieved would be dimmed.

He decided to endure this unfair criticism.

In other words, Wilfried's effort had managed to win over even the Rangers, who were full of resentment towards the cadets.

Now, as soon as Ernest returned to negotiate with the Rangers and accomplish their goal, everything would be complete