Chapter 32 - The Daffodil Blooming Beneath the Hooves (2)
After their complete defeat in tactics and command at the hands of Thomas, the first-year cadets were spending their free time quite differently from usual.
"Here, I've recorded the tactics Instructor Kohler used."
Wilfried spoke in a serious tone—though he acted almost unnaturally composed—as he unfolded a hastily scribbled map he'd drawn on a piece of paper.
"When did you even make this?"
Ferdinand asked Wilfried, sounding surprised. At the moment, first-year cadets from all factions had gathered here, regardless of affiliation.
"I started from the second model battle. Unfortunately, I missed the first one."
"I remember the first one," Ernest said.
"Great, Ernest. Draw it for us."
Right there, Ernest picked up his quill and began sketching on the paper. From the top down, he quickly drew everything he could recall. From his perspective, the top of the map was Thomas's formation. He sketched the troops Thomas positioned on the open field, added the forest, and drew Thomas's expected troop placements within it as well.
"..."
"..."
The cadets silently watched Ernest draw the map, each of them feeling a vague sense of discomfort they couldn't quite explain. But none of them could figure out exactly what it was.
"Why are you drawing it like that?"
"…Huh?"
Ernest, who had been drawing with a focus and detail that Wilfried's scratchy map couldn't even compare to, blinked at Robert's question.
Ernest looked over his own drawing. It matched perfectly with the map in his memory. He couldn't see what was wrong with it.
"I mean, you drew it well, really well, but… ah, never mind."
"What? If you've got something to say, just spit it out."
"Anyway, that's not the point right now. Let's focus on studying the tactics of our esteemed and beloved Instructor Kohler—the one who thoroughly beat us all today, smiled as he left, and enjoyed every minute of it."
"So you think Instructor Kohler is nasty too, huh."
"Well, would you say that while Kohler's within earshot?"
"Why not? Seems like Instructor Kohler doesn't really like you, either."
"Oh, and you lectured Kohler to his face about how mean he is, didn't you?"
"All right, let's just stop…"
As Ernest and Robert exchanged their usual playful jabs, Wilfried smiled and stepped in to take control of the situation. However, the fatigue on Wilfried's face was clear, and his blue eyes avoided the two of them, as if wanting to escape.
"Ernest's map is the most accurate, so let's use this one."
Wilfried spread out the map that Ernest had drawn on the central table. Because most of the first-year students were gathered in a single room, space was tight. In the end, just like before, some students had to stand on chairs or even climb onto the table, stretching their necks to peer down at the map.
Everyone from the first year was present except for those who had prior commitments with other grades. Even though they were in different years, they all shared the same dormitory building. Interaction between grades was surprisingly lively. In fact, it was Ernest—despite being from a noble military family—whose social circle was uncharacteristically narrow.
"Let's start by looking at the first battle."
Wilfried, who had organized this gathering, took the lead in steering the discussion.
"Ernest, are you certain this was Instructor Kohler's tactic?"
Wilfried pointed to the route on the map where Thomas's troops had moved, as drawn by Ernest. Ernest, brimming with confidence, shook his head.
"No. I just inferred it based on the speed the pieces moved, when the battles occurred, and how the clashes unfolded. Out of all the tactics, this one is just the most likely."
"…Is that even possible?"
Someone whispered quietly at Ernest's words.
"Of course it's possible."
It was Ferdinand who answered.
"During a battle, you can't really tell what's happening. If everyone could quickly assess the situation and act accordingly, there'd be no need for places like the Military Academy. But analyzing your opponent's tactics by reviewing the battle afterward isn't that difficult. That's why Instructor Kohler started commanding directly from the second battle onward."
Ferdinand spoke calmly. However, everyone could tell that his words carried the unspoken assumption: "for someone like Ernest, at least." Ferdinand held Ernest in high regard, and, in fact, that was a pretty accurate assessment.
"To add to that, the 'most likely tactic' we're talking about here refers to the most stable tactic."
Ferdinand stared at the map as he spoke.
"Take a good look at the tactic Ernest deduced as Instructor Kohler's. The main force advanced quite slowly, which meant the Detached Force was able to secure the forest while staying in step and firmly protecting the flank. There wasn't a single gap. No matter how we responded or how well we commanded, the best we could hope for was a fifty-fifty chance. And as you all saw and experienced, our first mock battle wasn't even worth evaluating—it was a mess. We started without even organizing our units."
Ferdinand, his bandaged hand apparently unfazed by pain, pointed confidently at different spots on the map.
"Even for Instructor Kohler, there's no way he could perfectly predict what we would do. That's why he chose a highly stable tactic. After we lost precious time fumbling at the start, it guaranteed there was no way for us to turn things around, no matter how clever our strategies were. Taking everything into account, what Ernest deduced is the most likely scenario"
"······."
It wasn't just Ernest, who had analyzed Instructor Kohler's tactics by meticulously accounting for such complex factors, who stood out; Ferdinand, who could see through all of it and explain it in detail, was also no ordinary person.
To the first-year cadets, the gap between themselves and those two felt insurmountably vast. So vast, in fact, it seemed impossible to ever catch up.
"Alright. Then let's start from here."
But Wilfried didn't waste time worrying about such pointless things as "the gap." He was far too desperate to spend precious mental energy on something so meaningless.
"What do you think would have happened if we'd stuck to the tactics you originally came up with?"
Wilfried had no intention of just watching Ernest and Ferdinand from behind as they forged ahead. His goal was to learn as much as he could from them and surpass them.
Lessons at the Military Academy alone weren't enough. When there were already people who were operating beyond the level of the lectures, how could he possibly hope to overtake them by sticking to just the curriculum?
Under Wilfried's skilled leadership, the first-year cadets dove into a heated discussion about today's mock battle training.
Many cadets realized their own shortcomings during the process—simply following the discussion was a struggle.
"Free time is about to end. We should wrap things up."
As a good deal of time had passed, Wilfried brought the meeting to a close. Naturally, amid all the debating, he ended up collecting and keeping the tactic maps they had drawn together. Because it was Wilfried who hosted the meeting, everyone naturally assumed that he would keep the materials.
"······."
Wilfried, his arms full of papers, returned to his room and spent the remainder of his free time sorting and recording them.
For now, it was just about keeping records, but as the materials accumulated, he'd be able to understand how the other cadets thought and devised tactics.
They might be called classmates, but to Wilfried, every one of them was a rival he had to surpass. He needed to thoroughly analyze their strategies and identify their weaknesses.
***
"Hey, hey, she's here. She came again today."
"······."
"Hurry up and do something about it."
"······."
"Teacher Ernest, it's terrifying—I'm begging you, please say something to her. Please?"
Ernest, on his way back to his room after the meeting, was forced to stop at the corner of the hallway with Robert. Marie was standing in front of their door like a statue, glaring fiercely at it.
The first-year cadets who'd returned to the dormitory first were pressed against the far side of the hallway, trying to sneak past Marie. Cadets like Wilfried or Ferdinand walked by as if she didn't exist, but most could do nothing but fear or even despise her.
"Teacher Ernest, please, listen. Just whisper some magic words to get that blood-soaked, fiery wildcat out of here."
"...Marie Fiders isn't some blood-soaked, blazing wildcat, and what I say isn't magic," Ernest replied.
"I don't care—just do something! I'm too scared to even go into my room!" Robert urged him on, practically begging.
Robert was pressing Ernest to deal with it, but honestly, Ernest found Marie just as... well, maybe a little... actually, quite... truthfully, extremely... In any case, she made him feel just as burdened and uncomfortable as everyone else. Every day, she'd show up, silently fixing him with that intimidating glare, and she wouldn't leave until he told her to hang in there. And this happened every single day!
Ernest considered grabbing Robert and tossing him out past the corner in retaliation, but that wouldn't solve anything. So, though he hesitated, he stepped forward toward Marie.
"······."
"······."
Marie turned her head and looked straight at Ernest. She reacted so quickly that her tightly bound, rabbit tail-like red hair swung behind her.
Ernest looked down at Marie for a moment, then let out a long sigh.
"Marie."
She fixed him with a fierce glare, her murky blue eyes burning into him.
"I'm asking you—please, stop coming here like this."
"······."
Ernest had done what he could. And if he set his mind to something, he saw it through. Ernest's voice was low and calm. There wasn't the slightest hint of apology in his tone, nor did he sound uncomfortable with Marie.
The cadets, who had been pretending not to listen while secretly eavesdropping, flinched at Ernest's emotionless, flat words. There had been rumors among the first-year cadets—wasn't it possible that Marie Fiders was visiting Ernest Krieger because she had feelings for him? For him to speak to her so coldly like that...
Marie just stared up at Ernest, her eyes wide with surprise. Other than that, she showed no reaction. Her face, already pale, now looked almost bluish, as if she'd been scared half to death.
Seeing her like this made Ernest feel uneasy too. He didn't know exactly what was happening in the Special Training Division, but one thing was certain—it was exceedingly harsh on Fiders. Harsh enough that even Ernest's simple "Hang in there" seemed like a lifeline to Marie.
Marie continued to look at Ernest for a moment, then slowly lowered her head. With her eyes cast down, she became unreadable to him. Her small figure was completely still, staring at the floor. Marie was crushed, but she didn't seem like she was about to give up and leave either.
"…Let's do it this way."
In the end, Ernest had no choice but to give in.
"Every day is out of the question. I have my own stuff to take care of too. And it probably isn't good for you to just keep waiting around here like you did today."
At Ernest's words, Marie snapped her head up to look at him.
"Come once every three days, before free time ends."
"…Every two days."
"Every three."
"…"
"Three days. Not any more often than that."
"…Three days."
"Good."
Ernest let out a small sigh of relief. But for Marie, even three days felt unbearably long—her head was spinning at the thought.
Without Ernest's encouragement, Marie would simply go back to being a young and weak Baltracher Cadet of the inferior and crude Aeblon people. If she made even the slightest mistake, Baltracher Instructor Captain Max Grimm would throw her into the torture room again for more mental reinforcement training.
"Once every three days will be enough, right? You can wait that long, can't you?"
By now, Ernest was completely convinced that Marie was eleven years old. That's why, to this tiny girl who was three years younger than him, he ended up speaking in a gentle voice without even realizing it. In truth, Marie was thirteen, but outwardly, she really did look that young.
Ernest was cold-hearted enough to tell Marie to stop coming to see him, but at the same time, he was kind enough that he couldn't just leave her when she was so frightened. If he weren't that way, he wouldn't have told her, "Hang in there," the very first time he'd met her.
"…Okay."
Marie looked up at Ernest and gave a small nod as she answered. Her face was still twisted with tension, but Ernest knew now that he needed to focus on her voice rather than her expression.
"All right. Hang in there, Marie."
As he listened to Marie's voice, slightly shy, Ernest smiled a little and spoke far more gently than usual.
"…Okay…"
Marie could tell that the gentle tone in Ernest's voice now was different from how he used to say "hang in there" before. She found this change both perplexing and unsettling. She'd only ever waited for his reluctant, half-hearted encouragement.
But if you asked whether this gentle encouragement gave her any less strength, the answer would definitely be no. Marie felt like she could endure not just three days, but even five if she had to. …Well, maybe not five. But she was sure she'd be able to hold on for four. Of course, she couldn't say anything like that out loud. What if she did, and Ernest replied, "Then once every four days it is." What would she do then!
"Take care, Marie. I'll see you in three days."
"Okay."
Ernest waved goodbye to Marie with a small wave of his hand. Marie answered softly, and with her small body matching her quiet voice, she walked down the hallway. Then, cautiously, she turned around to look at Ernest. Imitating what he'd just done, she awkwardly gave a tiny wave of her own, then suddenly dashed away as if running from the scene.
"Oh my! Oh my! Ernest, you're so sweet!"
"Robert, shut up."
The moment Marie left, Robert, who had been sneakily watching from nearby, pranced down the hallway and spouted nauseating words in a cheeky tone. Ernest warned Robert in a low, calm voice.
"Oh, big brother, please give me a warm goodbye and a sweet goodnight kiss!"
"Ugh…"
"Really, you're so manly. I have to applaud your courage."
Even after Ernest's warning, Robert continued to bounce around cheerfully and shout loudly, making the observing cadets chuckle under their breath. Some watched Ernest glare at Robert with a deadly look in his eyes and praised Robert's bravery.
"As long as I have my big brother cheering me on, I can do anything—aaahhh! Aaack! Ack! I surrender! Spare me! Somebody help!"
Robert, who had been circling Ernest and babbling, was caught and subdued in the blink of an eye as Ernest grabbed his arm. With his arm twisted behind his back, Robert screamed and quickly surrendered, but Ernest didn't let him off the hook for ignoring his warning.
Still holding Robert in a headlock, Ernest dragged him off to his room. Once the door closed, the cadets casually dispersed to wrap up their day. No one paid any attention to Robert's screams. After all, he'd brought it on himself.
"So, does Marie Fiders really have feelings for Krieger?"
"Who knows? But she's from Aeblon and she's a Fiders. Maybe if she were a First-Class Baltracher, but as a Second-Class, he's just not on her level. At best, he's just a minor noble, and Senior Captain is probably his ceiling."
"Unless a war breaks out and he somehow becomes a hero, that is."
"Unless he risks his life to save a royal, he'll probably remain a Senior Captain until the day he dies."
The cadets, living more or less cut off from the outside world, eagerly jumped into this juicy gossip. When it came to Marie's background, their words were laced—sometimes subtly, sometimes openly—with scorn and contempt.
"I don't know… I don't think it's just something to laugh off."
Still, some of the Noble Faction cadets, those with a keen sense for social relationships, didn't treat this as merely an amusing story.
"If Marie Fiders were to bend the rules a bit for Krieger during Mock Battle Training… well, it wouldn't be all that strange, would it?"
"Hmmm… Yeah, at least within the Military Academy, even a Fiders can be a valuable connection."
There wasn't much need for them to debate the matter. Anyone who saw how Marie pushed herself to her limits in the last mock battle to secure victory for Ernest, and how fiercely she drove Ferdinand back when he went after Ernest—going so far that Ferdinand was injured—could already guess how things stood.
"In real command, you probably can't ignore these kinds of personal relationships either."
"I heard that on the battlefield, people sometimes let their comrades die just because they don't get along."
"They say it even goes as far as killing them yourself. In the chaos of combat, you can just say they were killed by the enemy and that's the end of it."
"Come on, there's no way you'd actually kill someone yourself."
"Well, who knows? In the heat of battle, you kind of lose track."
After all the cadets had gone into their rooms, silence filled the hallway.
"Aaaargh! You bastard! Stop it!"
"If you'd listened when I warned you, things wouldn't have ended up like this!"
"You petty jerk!"
"You're the worst out of all of us!"
The shouting match between Ernest and Robert spilled into the hall, but at any rate—
The rainy season that had persisted for some time finally came to an end. With the rain gone, the weather turned remarkably mild, and the sunshine felt warm and gentle. It seemed like these clear days would last at least until summer arrived. As the weather lifted, two changes came to the lives of the First-Year Cadets.
"Yeah, what you guys are thinking is correct. Get your gear and come out right now."
Mock Battle Training began again. The cadets were already alert and tense, so they moved quickly without any fumbling.
This time, instead of Marie, another Baltracher Cadet participated in Mock Battle Training. If all of a year's training was left to a single Baltracher Cadet, when would the others ever gain experience?
Marie was disappointed by this, but she managed well enough, especially with Ernest cheering her on every three days.
After the rain stopped, Mock Battle Training resumed with new platoon leaders selected for each session. Thomas wanted to make sure every cadet had a chance to experience command.
Cadets who led for the first time made constant mistakes, and some committed devastating tactical errors—ones that would have been impossible to recover from in a real battle.
Through this process, the first-year cadets came to deeply appreciate just how skillfully Ernest, Ferdinand, and Wilfried were able to lead, even from their very first time in command.
"Hey, give me a hand here."
"Me? Why?"
"Ugh! You stingy jerk! If I end up getting my head bashed in by Bereter, you'll regret it!"
"I think you'll regret it more than me..."
"Either way, you'll regret it too!"
"Sigh..."
"Anyway, you're the worst one here."
"Yes, yes. I'm the worst, so please hurry up and help. Teacher Ernest."
"Student Robert, mind your manners."
"Oh, of course. My respected Teacher Ernest."
Robert's riding lessons also resumed. During the rainy season, he had spent a lot of time with Bereter, and now he could get up on Bereter's back without the risk of having his head cracked by a hoof.
"Whoa… This is really high."
"Calm down. Unlike kind and gentle Drek, if you get nervous and pull the reins too tightly, Bereter will just throw you off."
Ernest was riding Drek, slowly walking beside Robert. Fortunately, Bereter walked quietly next to Drek. To be more precise, Bereter seemed to follow Ernest as if Ernest had smeared honey on his head or something.
"This one just does whatever it wants, doesn't it?"
"So you really thought you could handle Bereter perfectly? If you're trying to get yourself killed, could you please do it where I can't see?"
"Teacher Ernest, could you please try saying it a bit more nicely?"
"For now, just keep walking and get used to Bereter. Bereter needs time to get used to you, too."
If they increased the pace now, Robert would fall off—he just couldn't handle Bereter yet. So, just as before, the two boys simply circled around in front of the stables, and the other first-year cadets naturally joined them.
"...Didn't they say you could use the training ground if you signed up for it? Why are you doing this here again?"
They showed this spectacle to the Disciplinary Officer again, prompting him to smack his forehead and sigh. Honestly, it was starting to look like some kind of religious ritual.
Life at the Military Academy, aside from the nasty training devised by the ill-tempered Senior Instructor Captain Thomas Kohler, was remarkably peaceful.
For Ernest, who had already caused such an intense incident right after enrolling, it felt especially so.
"Gustav Engel, the fourth-year upperclassman, said he's going to hold the Silver Horseshoe Tournament. Anyone interested in entering?"
And just as the spring wind began to carry a hint of summer, the schedule was set for the Silver Horseshoe Tournament, a riding competition that had become a tradition at the Imperial Military Academy since its founding.
The event was called the Silver Horseshoe Tournament because the winning cadet actually received a silver horseshoe as a prize.
Of course, it wasn't meant to be used in practice. If you made a horseshoe out of something as soft as silver and tried to put it on a hoof, it would get ruined in no time. Horseshoes are consumable items, after all. It was simply given as a commemorative award.
This was a competition run solely by the cadets themselves, without any involvement from the academy. Naturally, not just anyone can host the tournament. Gustav, a fourth-year cadet set to graduate next spring, is Count Engel's second son and the leader of the fourth-year Noble Faction.
Of course, the silver horseshoe awarded to the winner would also be prepared at Gustav's own expense as the host of the event. Recruiting participants for the tournament, submitting a report to the academy to get permission to use the training ground during free time—he is responsible for all of it.
This isn't just a hassle or a waste of money. For Gustav, hosting a tournament at the Military Academy—something that would take a huge amount of money and effort to organize after graduation—becomes much easier and more affordable while he's still here.
Hosting the tournament is also a big boost to one's social reputation. Every cadet, if given the chance, would love to sponsor the Silver Horseshoe Tournament.
"It's finally time for everyone to see our Teacher Ernest's skills!"
When Robert heard the news, he was visibly excited. He had already seen Ernest calmly rein in a worked-up horse with just a look, navigate his way easily through crowded streets, and mount Bereter—a horse that even tough soldiers couldn't manage to tame—with ease. If it was Ernest, Robert was confident he'd make a spectacular showing in the Silver Horseshoe Tournament.
"What? Why me?"
But Ernest had no interest in participating in the Silver Horseshoe Tournament. In fact, there was probably no one in the entire Imperial Military Academy who was as indifferent to the tournament as Ernest.
"You're good on horseback."
"I wouldn't say I'm bad at it."
"Then why not?"
"That's what I'm saying—why?"
Robert couldn't understand why Ernest, who was an exceptional rider, refused to participate in the tournament.
On the other hand, Ernest couldn't understand why Robert assumed he'd naturally sign up. After all, he had no desire to waste time on a cadet-hosted event that had nothing to do with their academic records at the Military Academy.
"Listen, Ernest. Hear me out."
Robert, determined to persuade him, wetted his lips and began talking.
"The Silver Horseshoe Tournament is so famous that even I know about it, right? You knew it too."
"But there's no real reason I have to participate."
"True, but there's also no reason not to, if you can. Above all, this could be a huge opportunity."
As soon as Robert said the word "opportunity," his eyes sparkled.
"By entering the tournament even once, you could make your mark with everyone at the Military Academy. And if you win, you could gain incredible honor!"
"Robert, sadly, there's no one in the academy who doesn't know who we are..."
"Oh…"
Robert, who had eagerly tried to convince him, fell silent as soon as Ernest replied in that bitter tone. Of course, there wasn't a single soul at the academy who didn't know the two boys who caused that major incident right after enrolling—maybe the Baltracher Cadets didn't know, but still.
Robert hesitated for a moment. He genuinely wanted Ernest to enter the tournament.
There wasn't any special reason for it. Honestly, he just wanted to brag about his friend—a rather childish motive, but that was all.
And having spent so much time with Ernest, Robert knew exactly what to say to get him moving in situations like this.
"If you win that Silver Horseshoe prize, you could bring it to your father next time you visit. Wouldn't that make the perfect gift?"
"I'll go sign up right now."
No one could stop Ernest Krieger.
Anyone who tried to block his path would be crushed as he charged ahead to win and claim the Silver Horseshoe.
Just like when he smashed through the Cadet Corps and earned three merit points!