Chapter 85 - The Moon Walking in the Wake of the Sun (11)
"Krieger! Hartmann! Come back to the campsite!"
Following Wilfried's orders, several cadets shouted at the top of their lungs, calling for their peers who had left the campsite.
There was no other choice—the cadets couldn't afford to send out even a handful of their group while they were still facing off against the Rangers.
On top of that, they had no way of knowing exactly where those missing were.
It was Ferdinand's Patrol Squad who returned to the temporary campsite first.
Since they had been scouting the area, it was only natural.
The reason they hadn't been able to join the main battle at the temporary campsite was because they'd been ambushed and subdued by the Rangers beforehand.
The recon squad, battered and in tatters, came back to find their peers holding a Ranger prisoner, and, flustered, they came to an abrupt halt, not even properly dressed.
"Let's get the situation under control first."
But Ferdinand quickly scanned the area and immediately took charge, issuing orders and moving into action.
First, he rescued the captured Ranger from his predicament, untying him from the tent ropes and freeing him from being overwhelmed by the twenty-plus cadets.
The Ranger, with his arms and legs finally untied and freedom restored, heaved a sigh and sat down more comfortably.
Next, while the recon squad kept their weapons—spear-blades—pointed at the prisoner and held their guard, Ferdinand re-equipped the cadets remaining at the campsite. "Re-equipped" sounded impressive, but in reality, it just meant putting their clothes back on.
Still, it turned out to be more important than expected, since everyone was shivering from the chill spring breeze as it dried their drenched bodies.
"Oh, looks like our Young Master of the Duke's House can't dress himself without help." Robert said this.
"Oh, come on. What can you do? Our Young Master can't do a thing without a servant to wait on him—he's no different from a helpless baby, really."
"..."
Wilfried had regained some strength while sitting down, but he was still in bad shape and couldn't stand up yet.
Robert, pretending to grumble, discreetly helped him with his cadet uniform, and Wilfried, determined not to forget this humiliation, struggled to pull the uniform over his bare skin.
After that, Ferdinand positioned the now-rearmed cadets to maintain a standoff.
Originally, he'd intended to scold Wilfried for causing this situation much sooner than planned—especially since neither he nor Ernest were around to manage any unexpected variables.
However, Ferdinand soon realized just how unwell Wilfried truly was and recognized that this wasn't the result of Wilfried acting alone.
In his own way, Wilfried had done his best in the moment.
If Wilfried had simply collapsed and accepted the Rangers' help, the operation would have ended before it even began.
Fortunately, it didn't take long for Ernest to return as well.
Everyone who'd gone with him looked like they'd been through the wringer—the result of another attack by the Rangers.
"..."
Ernest quietly scanned the scene as he walked over, silently joining his peers.
"Put up a tent and block their view."
Without delay, Ernest ordered the others to pitch a tent around the captured Ranger, along with the fire and food supplies, to block the Rangers' line of sight.
"Ferdinand."
"I understand."
Ernest left the detailed arrangements to Ferdinand.
Ferdinand directed his peers as they set up tents just the way Ernest wanted, blocking the surrounding view without making it too hard to move around.
Honestly, calling it a tent was a stretch—they just drove the tent poles, which they'd been using as spears, into the ground, spread the fabric out, tied it in place, and then secured it with cords.
It was more of a screen than a proper tent.
"..."
The Rangers looked around at Ernest, who stood quietly in front of them, as well as a few cadets gathered nearby, then let out a sigh.
Including Ernest, four cadets who could handle bows stood watch, arrows nocked and ready.
Among the second years, some had grown notably fast and were big and strong, glaring at them with spears poised.
With things as they were, the Rangers now found themselves completely stuck—caught in a standoff with the cadets.
Even if this were a real situation, they couldn't make any rash moves.
Every cadet had gathered in one place.
If the Rangers tried to take a prisoner now, they'd be met with fierce resistance.
On the other hand, launching an all-out attack would be too risky as several cadets, including Ernest, were armed with weapons that truly could kill.
To create this situation, Ernest had planned to begin the operation once everyone had gathered in one spot again.
The plan had nearly fallen apart when Wilfried unexpectedly collapsed.
Fortunately, Ernest and Ferdinand had quickly blended in without raising alarm, and after that, they established a strong guard posture, leaving the Rangers with no options left.
The screen to block the area went up fast, thanks to their extensive camping experience.
"Let's start negotiations."
Ernest, his deep eyes glinting, slipped back and spoke from where he was partly hidden behind the strategically positioned screens, moving as Ferdinand had directed.
The Rangers couldn't help but let out a wry laugh at the young cadet's words.
Up until now, they hadn't bothered to block the view because there'd been no need; if anything, it would have gotten in the way.
Setting up a screen now showed that the cadets thought they'd gained the upper hand by capturing a prisoner.
They're really unbelievably naïve.
"Negotiation only happens when both sides have something to offer."
"We are currently holding your comrade as a prisoner."
"Yes, I know. But Rangers are never taken prisoner."
A Ranger spoke in a calm voice.
He wasn't talking about the Rangers' skills.
Rangers are trained to take their own lives rather than risk being captured and give up information to the enemy.
It's almost impossible to actually capture a Ranger.
"And don't think we'll stop just because one of our comrades has been taken prisoner."
Even if a comrade is captured, Rangers never stop.
In fact, depending on the situation, they might even assassinate their captured comrade to prevent confidential information from leaking.
"But you already stopped once, and things have turned out this way."
"..."
Ernest replied quietly, his face expressionless. In the late spring afternoon, as the sun began to set and only a few clouds dotted the otherwise clear sky, this boy looked as dark as a shadow.
"Giving us real weapons was your mistake."
Ernest held up the bow and arrow still in his hand as he spoke.
"A Ranger should be able to deal with this somehow. Isn't that right?"
As Ernest spoke, he wore a faint, ambiguous smile.
The Rangers, armed only with arrows without arrowheads, realized this was a warning and frowned.
'If you move, I'll shoot. We're just second-year officer cadets, and you're the Empire's elite Rangers—so we'll say that you should be able to overcome at least this much difficulty.'
If anyone else had done this, the Rangers would have scoffed, charged in, and quickly subdued them. But because it was Ernest, even the Rangers hesitated. This was the same boy who had already aimed an arrow at a Ranger's head and had tried to cripple another by slashing his ankle with a sword. He'd done it all with the thought, 'A Ranger should be able to handle this somehow.'
"I trust you won't complain now about being shot at with arrows that don't have arrowheads."
Taking it a step further, Ernest began to block every route the Rangers could use to escape.
"This wasn't a typical combat or camping exercise. The real goal was to push us all to exhaustion and misery. That's why you used arrows without heads—to hurt us, to throw us into chaos, but not to inflict real injuries. So, I assume you won't claim you were incapacitated just because you were hit with one of those arrows?"
"..."
The Rangers listened in silence, unable to refute a single word. Ernest was entirely correct.
The Rangers had to ensure the cadets wouldn't get hurt. That was why they'd used arrows without arrowheads, and even when striking or knocking someone down, they'd done it as gently as possible. They'd even kindly explained which wild foods were safe to eat.
In other words, a Ranger's attack could be "ignored as long as you could endure the pain." No matter how many arrows the Rangers shot or how many times they struck us, if we just brushed ourselves off and got back up, that was the end of it.
On the other hand, the cadets had been given weapons that could actually kill; if the Rangers let down their guard, just one careless moment could have meant death at the tip of Ernest's arrow.
In other words, the Rangers—who were unable to wound the cadets—stood there in plain sight, completely exposed before cadets who were now seriously intent on attacking.
One of them was even taken prisoner. In this situation, which laid bare the true nature of the exercise, it would be perfectly reasonable for Ernest to proclaim victory; the conditions were overwhelmingly in the cadets' favor.
"Even if you kill us all, the exercise won't end. Don't think you'll be able to capture every Ranger in this forest the way you did us," said one of the Rangers to Ernest in a calm voice.
They knew the cadets wouldn't actually kill them. However, if the ruthless and merciless Ernest pronounced them "dead" by attacking, they'd have to leave the exercise then and there.
And yet, precisely because of this, the exercise would not end.
Any Rangers who hadn't been captured would only harass the cadets more carefully than before—relentlessly, until training concluded the next day.
Unfortunately, the loss of a comrade's life was not a reason for a Ranger to surrender.
If Ernest wanted to negotiate, he needed leverage—something that would halt all the Rangers.
And realistically, there was no way a mere cadet would possess such a thing.
"No, it's true. I can't capture all of you," Ernest finally replied, this time with a genuine smile.
The Rangers grew uneasy.
This dangerous boy was so unpredictable, they broke out in a cold sweat, anxious to hear what he'd say next.
"So, I'll take your honor instead."
"...What?"
A voice filled with confusion followed Ernest's words. It came not only from the Rangers but from the cadets as well.
No one could make sense of what Ernest meant. Wasn't the original plan to take prisoners and negotiate for food?
"What a terrifying guy,"
Only one person—Wilfried, the Duke's son, who had barely recovered his strength and was now sitting by the fire—understood what Ernest meant, letting out a bitter laugh.
"If you don't surrender immediately, you'll have to watch as the honor of the 2nd Corps Rangers is dragged through the mud. Call off the exercise."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"Wait, don't tell me…"
One of the Rangers seemed to realize something and looked at Ernest with eyes trembling in disbelief.
Ernest flashed him a cool, confident smile.
"I'll head back to Grimman and make sure everyone hears that you, elite 2nd year officer cadets, were captured by us mere trainees."
"..."
"We have the Duke Ravid's son among us— and also the eldest grandson of Brigadier General Hartmann, the 2nd Corps Chief of Staff."
During his time at the Military Academy, Ernest had learned many things—not only the qualities required of an officer, but also how Noble Society really worked, and all about power and political dynamics that flowed from one's status.
If all the sons of Noble Families spoke with one voice, claiming they had captured the Rangers as prisoners, then no matter the truth, that story would become reality.
And in this case, they had actually succeeded, hadn't they?
Most importantly, Wilfried—Duke Ravid's son—and Ferdinand, the eldest grandson of Heinz Hartmann, the 2nd Corps Chief of Staff who was also the leader of the corps staff, were both present here.
This wasn't just about the honor of the 2nd Corps Rangers being dragged through the dirt; it could escalate into a crisis where those involved faced a string of disciplinary actions.
"Disgraceful, cowardly, and dishonorable—just the kind of craziness you'd expect from the guy who, right after enrolling, got two Disciplinary Officers dismissed and, earlier this year, overturned the entire staff of the Empire's military academies. Ernest."
As everyone else was left speechless by Ernest's negotiation—no, blackmail—Wilfried stretched his cold, numbed hands toward the lively campfire and made his biting remark.
Yet despite his words, Wilfried couldn't help letting out a small chuckle.
Ernest had just declared he would turn the cadets' status in the political world—a sphere unrelated to training itself—into a weapon against the Rangers.
After all, in war, the highest form of victory is achieving it without fighting, as crazy and inefficient as that may sound.
That's why winning through politics, diplomacy, administration, or trade is what every military expert calls "the ultimate victory."
In that light, what Ernest was doing might be petty, underhanded, and lacking in honor—but it was also a determined struggle for total victory, worthy of applause from both military strategists and politicians.
At least, that's how it could be spun if packaged with the right justification.
To put it bluntly, though: he was out of his mind.
"If you really don't care about your honor being tarnished, then by all means, go ahead and beat us up as much as you want. It's not like we could kill you even if we had real weapons."
"..."
There's a stark difference between what Ernest had done—using the fact that Rangers can't injure cadets as leverage—and Rangers beating up cadets while hiding behind the rule that cadets can't actually kill them.
If anyone out there claimed these two things were the same, the Rangers would probably desert just to hunt down that damn bastard and slit his throat.
That's the Rangers' honor.
Ernest looked around at the silent Rangers and could already see in their eyes that the situation was over.
He spoke in a calm voice.
"If we end the training here, none of us will ever dare to speak of this matter again. Honorably."
"Heh heh heh..."
The fact that Ernest, who never seemed to care in the slightest about preserving honor—even to the point that Rangers, who considered charging straight at the enemy sheer stupidity, found it impressive—was now talking about honor, sent some of the cadets into stifled laughter.
The Rangers glanced at each other in bewilderment.
"Damn it."
They regretted not immediately launching an attack to prevent this disaster the moment their comrade was captured.
"We're screwed."
The Ranger who had been taken prisoner and tied up hung his head and muttered.
It was an apt, perfectly fitting summary of the situation.
"Well done. Idiots."
"..."
Unable to believe the unbelievable report he'd received, the Ranger Commander had come in person to see for himself, and after surveying the area, that was all he had to say.
Cadets, blocking the Rangers' view with tents, were roasting the hard-won food they'd managed to scrounge up today over the fire and sharing it with each other.
To put it kindly, they looked absolutely ragged.
And yet they all seemed surprisingly at ease.
On the other hand, the Rangers stood in such utter despair that they couldn't utter a single sound.
Chik! Chik!
After lowering his mask, the Commander clamped a cigarette between his lips and lit it with his lighter.
The young noble cadets, who believed smoking was for the lower classes, frowned at the sight.
Not that it mattered—they just looked ridiculous anyway, stuffing their faces with roasted or boiled fish, shrimp, and crayfish.
In contrast, Ernest studied the lighter in the Commander's hand closely.
He knew about lighters, of course.
But the ones he'd seen were larger, heavier, more dangerous, and prone to breaking easily.
This one, however, was so small and light it fit snuggly in a single hand, and seemed fairly sturdy as well.
To Ernest, a lighter so reliable that a Ranger would use it—one capable of making fire anytime, anywhere—was more than practical; it was practically a piece of military equipment.
As he glanced around, he realized, surprisingly, that quite a few of the cadets seemed familiar with the lighter as well.
"Hoo..."
The Ranger took a deep drag, exhaled a stream of smoke, then gave Ernest a crooked grin as he noticed him observing the lighter so intently.
"You crafty fox. Hurry up and pack your things, and get out of here."
Ernest nodded slowly, and, looking every bit the beggar or barbarian, he sincerely addressed his peers as their commander.
"Strictly speaking, we surrendered under the promise of best possible treatment, so it's not all that glorious. Still, we did it."
"..."
Ernest didn't dare call this a victory. Situations like this often arise even during real wars. And in those cases, it's not a glorious victory—it's nothing more than a surrender.
When attacking a fortress, if the defenders are putting up such fierce resistance that breaking through seems impossible, the attackers will sometimes promise the best possible treatment to persuade them to surrender.
What "best possible treatment" generally means is that they won't attack, and will allow the defenders to leave the fortress with their flag and honor intact.
But since they're abandoning a strategically vital stronghold that absolutely should be held, it's ultimately a defeat.
That's exactly the situation the cadets are in now.
They surrendered and lost.
All they managed to do was secure the best possible outcome in those circumstances.
"Let's hurry back, get a good meal, wash up, and get some real sleep. No matter how bad-tempered Instructor Kohler is, he'll at least give us a day off."
At Ernest's words, the cadets—still looking bedraggled as they ate—hesitated for a moment, but then slowly got to their feet and began packing their things.
"Oh, I thought I'd feel happier right now, but honestly, I don't."
"Yeah, same here."
The truth was, right up until a few moments ago, the cadets had felt pretty happy, even joyful.
But when Ernest pointed out that this was actually a defeat brought about by surrender, everyone hesitated, reluctant to move on so quickly.
"I'm happy, though."
Wilfried, having rested and managed to eat a little, was smiling genuinely, as if he truly felt happy.
"As long as we get out of here, I don't care about any of that—at least for now."
"That's fair, too."
Agreeing with Wilfried, the cadets gathered their strength and began to break down the campsite.
Once they had packed up all their belongings, the cadets began walking back the way they had come.
There was no need for the Rangers to guide them; even though it was his first time in this unfamiliar forest, Ernest, leading the group, had already memorized the path completely.
"What a strange guy."
Even the Rangers clicked their tongues in amazement at Ernest.
The way he could navigate a forest he'd only seen for the first time yesterday wasn't just a matter of good memory—it was something beyond that.
***
"Gasp! Gasp!"
"Just a little further, hang in there."
"No…! Huff! Huff! I really…! Can't go on anymore…!"
Wilfried, determined to leave the forest on his own two feet, finally reached his limit as they walked and collapsed.
He wasn't just whining—he had genuinely reached the end of his strength.
Without enough energy to even lift his head, he simply sprawled out on the ground.
"Whew!"
"..."
Ferdinand, who had been taking up the rear, wordlessly lifted Wilfried and slung him over his shoulder. For Wilfried, the situation was deeply humiliating, but there was nothing he could do.
"I-I feel like I'm going to throw up…"
Wilfried's stomach was pressed against Ferdinand's shoulder, making him feel as if he might vomit everything he'd just eaten.
"You sure are picky."
Ferdinand was also exhausted and, in a rare display of irritation, grumbled as he shifted Wilfried from his shoulder to carry him on his back.
Aside from Wilfried, several other cadets also collapsed from exhaustion. Still, they refused any help from the Rangers. Those who still had strength either supported or carried their fallen comrades, determined to finish the walk together.
Eventually, they reached the clearing where they had first set up their campsite upon entering the forest.
From there, they finally emerged completely from the woods.
"We're out!"
"Yeah!"
The worn-out cadets, upon seeing the wide-open plains before them, collapsed to the ground.
Summoning the last of their energy, they cheered in relief.
"What's going on?"
"I don't know…"
The instructors resting inside the transport vehicle at the forest entrance watched in confusion.
According to the schedule, the cadets were supposed to come out of the forest tomorrow, but they had emerged a day early.
"What happened?"
Thomas quickly approached the group and asked Ernest, who had led them out of the woods.
Ernest didn't answer immediately.
Panting, he glanced back—to where the Rangers were silently watching him.
"We fought with everything we had and surrendered only after receiving a promise of the best possible treatment."
"..."
Just as he'd promised, Ernest spoke "honorably."
Senior Instructor and Captain Thomas Kohler of the Imperial Military Academy watched Ernest silently for a moment.
He looked at the other cadets one by one, then glanced over at the Rangers, before finally nodding his head.
"Get in the vehicles."
Thomas wasn't necessarily convinced by Ernest's words.
It was just that, since the Ranger Unit—who had been in charge of this entire exercise—had decided to release the cadets, there was no need for further argument.
They would not have let the cadets go without good reason. Something must have happened in there to make the Rangers decide it was acceptable to release them.
More than anything, Thomas was satisfied with the fact that the cadets had resisted to the end and only surrendered after being promised the best possible treatment.
Experiencing defeat—and especially surrendering based on their own judgment—was a lesson they needed.
There are battles you cannot win, escapes you cannot make, and sometimes, even fighting will not harm your opponent.
In such situations, when the enemy offers humane treatment, how many stubborn fools refuse to surrender out of wounded pride, clinging to the hollow concept of honor?
How many have lost their lives meaninglessly for that very reason?
Soldiers are called to fight with death in the balance.
That's exactly why their deaths should never be pointless. There must always be a reason worth staking one's life.
He would not allow them to die a senseless death.
Even if it went directly against what His Majesty, the great Emperor of the Mihahil Empire, had demanded of the Imperial Military Academy, Thomas Kohler wanted to make sure the cadets learned this crucial lesson.
"We're going back."
At Thomas's calm command, the transport vehicles began to rumble into motion.
Not long after the transport vehicles set off, all the cadets fell fast asleep.
It had only been two days, but those two days had been unbelievably harsh and exhausting.