Chapter 31 - The Daffodil Blooming Beneath the Hooves
After Ernest sent a letter to Haires letting him know he was now allowed out, he went about his usual routine at the military academy.
Thomas, after giving the first-year rookies a good wake-up call in the pouring rain, firmly announced that there would be no more Mock Battle Training until the rain stopped. Everyone was thrilled, and many cadets started to remember things differently—convincing themselves that, in fact, Thomas was actually a very kind person.
"Wake up! Instructor Kohler is completely out of his mind!"
"No way! Instructor Kohler is a true teacher—so devoted he's willing to let people think badly of him for our sake!"
"Sure, Instructor Kohler is competent, but there's no doubt he's got a terrible personality!"
"Don't talk about Instructor Kohler like that!"
Ernest passionately protested, trying to save his brainwashed classmates by telling them how rotten an instructor Thomas really was, but the first-year cadets, completely won over by the promise of no more training in the rain, fiercely rejected everything Ernest said.
"Krieger's right. Instructor Kohler is scarily talented, but at the same time, he's got a personality that sends chills down your spine."
Fortunately, there was at least one person who agreed with Ernest. That was Ferdinand. During the mock battle in the thunderstorm, Ferdinand's crossbow had shattered, driving fragments into his hand, and he rolled across the ground with bruises on his arms and face. Still, he held no complaints about the training. As a result, he was able to look at Thomas with clear eyes. Thomas really was a capable bastard.
"See! Even Ferdinand says so!"
"Ernest."
"Robert, you said the same thing! Why are you keeping quiet now?"
"When did I ever say that? Ernest, stop making stuff up and just sit down."
"Robert, not you too…!"
"Ernest, please, I'm begging you—just shut up and sit down, will you?"
"No, let him be. I'm actually curious to see how far he'll go."
"..."
It finally dawned on Ernest that Thomas had slipped silently into the lecture hall and heard everything. Thomas was standing right behind Ferdinand, his large, rough hand pressing firmly down on Ferdinand's shoulder.
Ferdinand's face, so rarely shaken, had gone white as a sheet.
Even though Ernest and Ferdinand were the top of the first years, compared to Thomas, they were still just kids—both in terms of skill and temperament. Who would ever imagine that this middle-aged man would sneak into the lecture hall without a sound just to intimidate a group of fourteen-year-old boys gossiping about his personality?
"Take your seat, Krieger. Or do you have something else to say?"
"No, sir!"
Ernest quickly took his seat, barely able to breathe, his eyes darting nervously.
"I warned you, didn't I."
Robert whispered quietly. Ernest couldn't say a word.
"Today, we'll be conducting a mock battle."
At Thomas's gesture, the training instructors quickly joined several tables at the front of the lecture hall and spread out a parchment map on top. Then they arranged wooden models onto the map.
"Through two mock battles, you've learned about the difficulties commanders and soldiers face in the field. You've also learned the basics of tactics and strategy in lectures."
Thomas strode across the lecture hall as he spoke. The cadets tensed up even more.
"Actual war happens on a much greater scale than you can imagine. That even applies to the smallest skirmishes, the kind barely worth recording."
As Thomas passed by Ernest's side, he gripped Ernest's shoulder tightly with his large hand. Ernest felt as if his air was being cut off.
"I'd like to give you a taste of real war, but if war ever did break out, you wouldn't be sitting here in class—you'd be following orders, leading soldiers, weeping, screaming, and charging across a battlefield under a hail of bullets."
"..."
Thomas let go of Ernest's shoulder and continued walking. He gripped Ferdinand's shoulder just as firmly and continued speaking.
"There is no such thing as a safe war. If greenhorns like you were thrown onto an actual battlefield, you'd all be dead before the day was out. That's why real combat training simply isn't possible."
Cold sweat beaded on Ferdinand's face. This was honestly terrifying—he almost wished Thomas would just smack him around instead.
"So, we're left trying to cram something useful into your empty skulls with these toys at least."
Finishing his point, Thomas released Ferdinand and walked back toward the front of the lecture hall. By now, the training instructors had finished arranging the models and stepped back.
"Hartmann, Krieger, get up here."
"Yes, sir!"
At Thomas's command, Ernest and Ferdinand answered with energy and hurried to the front.
"From now on, you two will work together to command your troops."
The boys exchanged uncertain glances, surprised by Thomas's unexpected instruction. A mock battle always required an opponent. Each had assumed the other would be their enemy.
"I'll be your opponent."
"..."
"Do your best."
The forty-something man's smile flashed cold and predatory, as if intent on giving these two fourteen-year-old boys a lesson they'd never forget.
"All of you, come up to the front and watch."
"Yes, sir!"
At Thomas's command, the other cadets surged forward and crowded around the large strategy table to watch the proceedings.
The strategy table was quite big, but with sixty first-year cadets, plus Thomas and four training instructors, there simply wasn't enough space for all sixty-five to gather around and see.
In the end, some cadets climbed onto chairs and desks to get a better view. It wasn't exactly dignified behavior, but at least here in the Military Science lecture hall, no one pointed it out or thought it strange. That was the result of Thomas's thorough "conditioning."
"I'll give you some time before the match begins."
Thomas personally flipped over the hourglass, giving Ernest and Ferdinand time to prepare.
"Come up with a tactic and deploy your troops."
With that, Thomas folded his arms and stepped back. Thanks to their accurate description of Thomas's personality, the two boys now suddenly found themselves facing him in battle. They wasted no time and immediately put their heads together, whispering rapidly.
"We'll confront him head-on. There's no way we can outmaneuver Instructor Kohler with tactics. If we turn this into a contest of brute strength, at least we can make it a fifty-fifty shot."
"No, if we fight him head-on, we'll both be wiped out at best, and at worst, we'll be completely destroyed. The risks are way too high, whichever way you look at it."
"I'd be satisfied if we can force a mutual defeat. And honestly, at our level, even if we rack our brains over tactics, we'll probably just inflict minor losses and then have to retreat anyway."
"So you're saying we should brace ourselves for annihilation and force a war of attrition?"
"That's right."
"That's a foolish move."
"But it's the mission we've been given."
"It doesn't have to be that way. If we adopt delaying tactics and hold them off until reinforcements arrive, we could turn things around. It's more reasonable than recklessly charging into a fight we can't win, getting wiped out, and losing all our forces."
"There's no guarantee delaying tactics will work. Besides, if two mediocre commanders like us can inflict heavy losses on Instructor Kohler's army, that wouldn't be a bad trade."
Thomas told Ernest and Ferdinand to plan their tactics and deploy their troops, but the two boys' opinions clashed so sharply that they couldn't even get started.
Sand ran endlessly through the hourglass. Yet Thomas said nothing, simply watching the two boys face off head-to-head.
Their standoff was so tense that all the other cadets listened in, holding their breath.
"..."
"..."
As they glared fiercely at each other, suddenly both boys stopped and quietly met each other's eyes.
"Take the center," Ernest said to Ferdinand.
"All right. I'll leave the rest to you."
Ferdinand also spoke to Ernest.
With that, the two boys managed to reach a dramatic compromise. While Ferdinand would lead the main force to face Thomas's troops head-on, Ernest would command the Detached Force to create unexpected variables.
Ernest had learned that you can't always fight battles in war the way you wish.
Even if it means marching into a fight you're certain to lose, you must follow orders.
Ferdinand, on the other hand, had learned that you can't win by simply following orders. Even if it means skirting the edge of insubordination, you have to use any means necessary to win.
"Hold on, report your troop deployments and tactics to me," the Training Instructor said.
As Ernest and Ferdinand moved to deploy their forces, the Training Instructor stopped them.
They whispered their strategy and troop movements to the instructor, who then quietly relayed that information to another instructor. The two instructors muttered among themselves for a moment, and only then did the deployment of troops begin.
"...Oh no."
Seeing this, Ernest, Ferdinand, and all the First-Year Cadets suddenly realized something they had forgotten until now.
Orders from a commander aren't relayed directly to the soldiers. It takes a lot of time for commands to pass through various levels of the chain of command, and intentions can be miscommunicated along the way.
The two Training Instructors quickly arranged the troops. Fortunately, everything matched exactly as Ferdinand had intended.
However, a portion of the pieces was set off the map. These represented the troops under Ernest's command, positioned out of Thomas's line of sight on purpose.
Just as the last grains of sand slipped through the hourglass, Thomas pointed to the map with his chin.
Tap. Tap.
Then, two Training Instructors on Thomas's side began placing the pieces on the board without hesitation. Strangely, Thomas himself hadn't said a word.
"From this moment on, I won't say another word."
"…What?"
Ernest blurted out stupidly at Thomas's sudden statement. Ferdinand also stared at him, eyes wide in surprise.
"I've already issued every order. You'll be facing troops that are moving purely according to the instructions I gave before the lesson began."
"..."
How could Thomas have known what tactics Ernest and Ferdinand would use and prepared for them in advance?
As that thought crossed their minds, Ernest and Ferdinand realized that being the first to face Thomas in the mock battle wasn't just some petty act of malice. Thomas, despite how he appeared, was a highly competent Instructor. He knew very well what kind of people the academy's top First-Year Cadets—Ernest and Ferdinand—were.
In other words, he didn't even need to watch; he could see straight through them as if reading the palm of his hand.
"We begin now."
With that, Thomas really did just cross his arms and stand still, saying nothing more, simply watching as the Training Instructors maneuvered the pieces according to the orders they'd received in advance.
Seeing the Thomas forces smoothly taking position, Ernest and Ferdinand immediately began firing off rapid orders to the Training Instructors.
"I'm going to stop them from advancing through the center and seizing control of the battlefield."
"The center? What exactly counts as the center?"
"That…!"
But even this process was far from easy. Ferdinand instinctively assumed that "the center" referred to the troops facing the enemy on the open plain. However, in battle, the term "center" was used in an astonishingly broad sense.
"…Alright, let's assign the left side to the 1st Battalion and the right to the 2nd Battalion…"
"The left side?"
"From here to here will be the 1st Battalion, and the rest… Actually, let's make these troops the 2nd Battalion. The rest are Ernest's 3rd Battalion. And of each battalion currently placed on the map, the farthest left is the 1st Company, and the farthest right is the 5th Company."
"Fine. And then?"
Though flustered and stumbling at first, Ferdinand quickly pulled himself together and began organizing the forces step by step. Ernest also quietly split his 3rd Battalion and whispered orders to the other Training Instructors.
While the two boys hesitated and scrambled, Thomas's troops surged forward, nearly seizing the center of the plain—the heart of the battlefield.
"Krieger!"
Ferdinand, who hadn't even managed his first move yet, called out urgently to Ernest. Watching Thomas closely, Ferdinand whispered something quietly into Ernest's ear, and Ernest in turn relayed his own thoughts in a low voice.
In the end, Thomas's forces seized the center of the battlefield without a single fight. Meanwhile, the Training Instructor on Thomas's side and the instructor listening to Ernest exchanged hushed suggestions as well.
Tap!
At that moment, a model piece was placed in a section of the forest on the battlefield.
"A battle has broken out."
Ernest's 3rd Battalion and Thomas's troops had run into each other in the forest. The 3rd Battalion had barely managed to advance, while Thomas's troops had already spent plenty of time methodically securing the forest as they moved in.
Ernest and Ferdinand desperately tried to block the models following the orders Thomas had given before the exercise began.
"We've lost the forest completely. We have no choice but to fall back."
"Ernest, if you retreat now, the enemy will strike our flanks and rear. Do whatever it takes to hold them off."
"Damn it. We'll spread out to delay the enemy as much as possible…"
"We'll pull back slowly in formation…"
Meanwhile, Thomas wasn't giving any orders at all. The two boys shouted their commands loudly, whether Thomas was listening or not. But as time went on, the situation kept getting worse. The 1st and 2nd Battalions were forced to retreat nonstop, losing troops bit by bit, and in the forest already seized by Thomas, the 3rd Battalion was throwing themselves into the fight just to buy some time—there was nothing else they could do.
"...We're retreating. Sorry, Ernest, but please cover our rear."
"Alright..."
With their heads together, frantically coming up with tactics and issuing orders, Ferdinand didn't even realize he was calling Ernest by his name. Ernest didn't have the luxury to notice such things either.
In the end, despite Ferdinand's earlier insistence on fighting to the last and wearing down the enemy no matter what, he ordered a retreat to preserve at least the 1st and 2nd Battalions. Ernest, who had resolved to slow Thomas down with delaying tactics, made the tough call to send the 3rd Battalion on a valiant charge to buy time for their allies to withdraw.
There was no point in continuing the fight any longer. In just a little while, Thomas would crush Ernest's 3rd Battalion and break through the forest, then outflank and encircle the 1st and 2nd Battalions. No matter how fiercely Ferdinand fought, he couldn't inflict any meaningful damage on Thomas. They had to fall back.
The 1st and 2nd Battalions withdrew completely from the battlefield, having taken casualties.
The 3rd Battalion was wiped out.
After counting the losses, only about 800 out of the original 1,500 soldiers survived.
Most of the losses Thomas's troops suffered were due to the chaos Ernest created in the forest; in the battle on the plains, his forces were hardly touched. Thomas still had 1,300 troops remaining.
A 2:7 exchange ratio. On top of that, Thomas now controlled both the wide plains and the forest, winning a major strategic victory.
It was an overwhelming defeat—no excuses.
"Hartmann, Krieger."
As the battle ended and silence filled the lecture hall, Thomas called out to Ernest and Ferdinand.
"Any thoughts?"
Ferdinand took a deep breath, pausing for a moment. Ernest gazed heavily at the map.
"I learned that handling small units and commanding large forces are completely different things."
Ferdinand spoke in a calm voice. Of course, everyone already knew that much. Who wouldn't? But until you actually experienced it for yourself, that knowledge was just theoretical. From this one mock battle, Ferdinand had truly learned it.
"Good. What about you, Krieger?"
Thomas looked at Ernest as he spoke. Ernest was still staring at the map.
"Krieger. Do you think it would have gone better if you had been in command yourself?"
Thomas posed the question to Ernest. In fact, even if Ernest was only a fourteen-year-old boy, he might have been a perfectly capable commander in the forest. For someone like Ernest, it might feel unfair that the 3rd Battalion he led was wiped out without being able to do anything in the woods.
"No. I came to the same conclusion as Ferdinand."
However, Ernest didn't feel wronged.
He wasn't a fool, and he had learned a lot through his life at the Military Academy. Ernest wasn't the kind of person who would whine about how unfair things were.
"······."
"······."
While Ernest remained silent, Thomas kept his steady gaze on him.
Ernest had certainly learned the same lesson Ferdinand mentioned, but that wasn't all. Thomas knew it, too.
Ernest hesitated over whether or not he should say it, but sensing that Thomas wanted him to, he finally spoke up again.
"And I also learned that, from this position, the lives of those fighting on the front lines can start to feel terribly insignificant."
"······."
At Ernest's quiet words, the first-year cadets who had been whispering among themselves immediately fell silent. All of them had been replaying the mock battle in their minds, thinking only about how they could have fought better. Not one of them had considered the 900 people who had supposedly lost their lives in that one battle.
The cadets recalled the moments during the mock battle training—their desperate struggles in the forest, the times they charged forward through pouring rain, shouting themselves hoarse.
All of those lives could be snuffed out in an instant by a simple order or a wave of the commander's hand. In the end, they would be listed as casualties in a cold report, then forgotten.
What mattered was victory—not mourning those who had died.
"With the previous mock battle, you learned about small-scale skirmishes fought on the front lines. Today, you learned what it means to be a commander leading large-scale battles."
Thomas spoke in a cold, dry voice.
"Don't forget this. After graduating from the Imperial Military Academy, you will all be commissioned as Second Lieutenants."
With his scarred hands, Thomas picked up a fallen model lying on the map. He slowly raised it for everyone to see.
"This is you."
In the chilling silence, Thomas set the small figure back on the map. When they blinked, it was impossible to tell which model he had lifted. It looked no different from all the other pieces scattered across the map.
Of course, Thomas knew that reality was different.
The boys admitted to the Imperial Military Academy were either direct descendants of field officer rank soldiers or sons of powerful hereditary noble families. Even if they were commissioned as platoon leaders, it was unlikely they would ever actually be thrown into such dangerous battles.
They'd build up a few achievements and soon be promoted. Some of them might never participate in a real battle at all—not even until the day they retired.
Still, precisely because of this, they absolutely needed to understand the weight and value of each of these little models. Thomas Kohler knew all too well what kinds of disasters could occur if people who did not grasp this were allowed to lead the military as they pleased.
"Hartmann, Krieger, well done. Even though you lost your first model battle, you managed to stage a timely retreat and preserve over half of your forces. That alone is enough."
Thomas praised the two boys who had been utterly defeated with no excuse. Usually, even when victory has already been decided in this first model battle, cadets continue fighting to the bitter end until they're completely wiped out. It's extremely rare for a first-year cadet to retreat in order to preserve their forces in a mock battle fought with mere models.
However, neither Ernest nor Ferdinand could take any pleasure in that praise.
"I'll give you time to review this battle before the next model exercise. From now on, I'll be commanding directly. I'm sure you don't expect to keep fighting after I've already revealed your tactics."
Thomas looked around at the first-year cadets as he spoke.
Even though the top first-years, Ernest and Ferdinand, had joined forces, they were utterly defeated by Thomas, who had already established his strategy and issued orders in advance. But what chance would any first-year cadet have against troops commanded by Thomas himself?
Today, the young boys faced defeat again and again in front of Thomas. At this rate, for at least the next few days, this would continue until every cadet had lost to him. This defeat would, without a doubt, become an invaluable experience.
······Or maybe Thomas just enjoyed crushing these young first-years and watching their despair. Either way, he really was an instructor with a downright terrible personality.