Chapter 43 - Compass of Bewilderment (3)
The morning lecture was on driving the Balt Automobile.
"Krieger, you don't look well today for some reason. On days like this, why not take a break from driving?"
"I'm fine."
"Wouldn't it be better for you to rest?"
"I can do it."
Norman desperately wanted to stop Ernest from getting behind the wheel today, since he looked even worse than usual.
But Ernest wasn't the kind to ignore his own weaknesses or leave them festering. Even as Norman pleaded with him to take a break, Ernest stubbornly gripped the steering wheel.
"What if Luther gets hurt because of him?"
"Aren't you worried Krieger will get hurt?"
"Well, that's his own karma."
"True enough."
The cadets watched with worried eyes as Ernest started the car.
This was their third Balt Automobile driving lesson. In the first lesson, Ernest had shown abysmal skills, but by the second, while still shaky, he hadn't looked all that bad.
Today, however, anyone could see he was in bad shape, and getting behind the wheel now looked less like a driving lesson and more like he was dragging Norman along on a suicide mission.
"Dear God…"
"…Instructor Luther, do you believe in God, too?"
"In a situation like this, how could I possibly deny the existence of God, Krieger."
"..."
"Sigh… I'm ready for whatever happens. Let's get started."
With Norman's solemn words hanging in the air, Ernest pressed his lips together tightly and began driving after shifting gears.
Inside the slowly moving car, only the sound of the Balt Engine's idle filled the tense silence, spinning anxiously in the air. But that fragile quiet couldn't last long.
"Krieger. Take it slow—easy does it."
"Yes."
"That's right, nice and slow. Turn the steering wheel just a little at a time. And whatever you do, don't shift into a higher gear. Understood?"
"Understood."
"There's no need to be so tense. If it comes to it, I'll hit the brakes for you."
It was because Norman, gripped by extreme anxiety, kept talking to Ernest nonstop.
"Instructor Luther."
"Yes, Krieger?"
"If you keep talking to me, I can't concentrate."
"..."
As it was, I'd finished off the last pill of the tonic I'd been tapering down to yesterday, so I woke up this morning with a splitting headache.
Even now, the car's roof is scorching under the summer sun, my head burning up, the pain throbbing, and my mind keeps drifting off to distractions.
With Norman agitated and terrified of dying, it was all but impossible for Ernest to focus—he felt like he was about to lose it.
Only when Norman, desperately clinging to life, finally quieted down was Ernest able to pull together what little concentration he had left and keep driving.
Vroooom...
Though the car wobbled a bit, it managed to round the corner at the end of the training ground safely, without crashing into the wall.
The tense relief in Norman's heavy breathing swept roughly through the car.
"Just like that—please keep it up."
"Yes."
Responding to Norman's heartfelt plea, Ernest resisted the urge to recklessly shift gears and kept moving slowly, crawling forward along the straightaway of the training ground.
Ernest tried his best to focus.
But with the car feeling like a boiling pot, his terrible headache, the grogginess from a bad night's sleep, and the lingering side effects of the tonic all piling up, at some point on the straightaway, he couldn't help it—his eyes wandered, and he ended up staring blankly out the window.
'…Who's that?'
Yet even in this distracted state, Ernest was a young hunter trained to relentlessly collect and analyze information.
He managed to spot something out of place: behind the cluster of first-year cadets at the starting point, two unfamiliar people were standing at the entrance to the training ground, looking this way.
'Cadet Corps.'
One of them was a face Ernest had seen in passing before.
An officer from the Cadet Corps.
But Ernest had no idea what his name was, which department he belonged to, or what his job was.
The same was true for the other first-year cadets.
Ernest always felt a strong sense of discomfort and displeasure from that officer, and, by coincidence, that officer probably felt the same about Ernest.
You could tell just by making eye contact.
In some way, they were similar.
And next to him stood someone Ernest was certain he had never seen before.
'Female Officer. Baltracher.'
The distance was too great to see her face clearly, but from the outline of her body and her long hair, Ernest realized she was a woman.
On top of that, she was wearing a dark blue officer's uniform.
The only women who could become officers in the military were Baltrachers.
'She's not a Baltracher from the Military Academy.'
Ernest judged that this female officer was not one of the Baltrachers from the academy.
He had observed and memorized the distinguishing features of all the Baltrachers stationed at the arena during the finals of the last Silver Horseshoe Tournament, so by her height, build, hair color, and posture, he could confirm that she was someone he had never seen before.
'…She's watching.'
Ernest realized that the female Baltracher officer was watching the first-year cadets.
She wasn't just glancing over them with her eyes.
Just as Ernest did, just as that officer of uncertain affiliation did, and just as his esteemed father Haires always did, she was obsessively observing and gathering information.
"..."
The female officer, who had been quietly watching the first-year cadets, slowly turned her head.
She locked eyes directly with Ernest as he was driving the car.
Even from a considerable distance, Ernest could clearly feel that she was looking right at him.
"…Why?"
He could also see her eyes widen in shock, her mouth open as if to say something, and her urgently pointing at him.
Soon, Ernest realized why she had been so startled.
"Hey!"
"Uh, ah, whoa!"
Screeeeech!
Just before the car crashed into the training ground's wall, Norman screamed and pushed the lever to disconnect the engine from the gears, while Ernest pulled the brake lever to bring the car to a halt.
"..."
"Get out."
"Yes."
At Norman's calm command, Ernest immediately got out of the car without a word.
"You little…!"
Norman, who had followed him out, was about to finally vent his anger once he saw Ernest was completely away from the heavy, dangerous vehicle.
"..."
"…Krieger? Can you hear me?"
However, the moment Norman saw Ernest's face after he got out of the car, all the rage that had been burning in his head and chest instantly went cold.
Ernest looked so pale he could've been mistaken for a corpse, staggering as if barely able to stand.
When Ernest only moved his lips, unable to make a sound, Norman stepped onto the car's hood, leapt over it in a single bound, and supported Ernest, carefully laying him down on the ground.
"If you can hear me, blink your eyes."
Norman spoke calmly as he checked Ernest's condition.
Ernest slowly blinked, but his gaze was unfocused and hazy.
Still, it was a relief he hadn't lost consciousness.
As the Training Instructors quickly ran over to assess the situation, Norman let out a sigh and said,
"Move him to the shade, give him some saline to drink, and let him rest for a while."
"Yes, sir."
Fortunately, there wasn't any serious problem with Ernest's health.
He had simply driven the overheated car and sweated so much that he was dehydrated.
Of course, the fact that Ernest hadn't been in good condition today certainly played a part as well.
"Damn it. Why won't he listen when I tell him to rest?"
Norman grumbled in frustration as he watched Ernest being carried away on the back of a Training Instructor.
Norman, along with the other Instructors who had trained the first-years, knew exactly what kind of person Ernest was. For someone with his level of stamina to collapse like that, he must have been in very bad shape today. Yet he'd stubbornly pushed himself and ended up like this. He couldn't help feeling both sorry for him and proud at the same time.
"That's why I keep saying we need to do something about this tin can."
Thunk!
Norman slammed his fist onto the roof of the car. Even though he only hit it quickly once, his hand instantly felt like it had been scorched by fire. The roof of the training car was just bare metal, with no padding or interior lining of any sort. So many accidents happened during training that they'd simply built it to be as sturdy as possible.
Riding in this car in the middle of summer was nothing short of torture.
As Ernest was carried out of the training ground on the Training Instructor's back, he realized his vision was gradually clearing up.
He could hear the murmurs of his classmates, making him feel embarrassed.
He couldn't believe he'd shown them such a weak side of himself.
"You don't look so well. Are you alright?"
Just then, a gentle female voice reached him.
It was unmistakably the Female Baltracher who had been standing at the entrance to the training ground.
"It's just a touch of heat. He'll be fine after a bit of rest," the Training Instructor answered on Ernest's behalf.
From the movement and tone of the Training Instructor carrying him, Ernest could sense a certain awkwardness in his demeanor.
It felt as if the Instructor was drifting along in a sweet dream but also resisting the urge to fall under its spell.
"That's good to hear. Hurry along now."
The Female Baltracher spoke in a very gentle voice as she sent Ernest and the Training Instructor on their way.
Since the Training Instructor was carrying Ernest on his back, he couldn't salute, so he simply lowered his head in greeting before quickly leaving the training ground.
As they passed through the fleeting summer scenery, Ernest saw the Female Baltracher standing there, looking as out of place as a poorly drawn figure in the landscape. Her wavy golden hair was left loose, flowing down to her waist, and her kind, hazel eyes sparkled above a bright, white smile—no matter how you looked at her, she hardly seemed like a soldier.
"······."
But the moment he met her gaze up close, Ernest realized there was not the slightest room for doubt that she was, indeed, a soldier. Because within those gentle, gleaming eyes, there was absolutely nothing—no emotion at all.
Ernest understood then that she was observing him as if he were a puppet, only watching to gather information from this doll that moved on its own.
"······."
After Ernest slowly blinked his dazed eyes and moved past, the beautiful woman—still smiling kindly as if painted from a dream—tilted her head slightly.
Her eyes followed the retreating Ernest, her gaze completely indifferent.
"Name."
The woman spoke in a bright, crisp voice.
"Ernest Krieger," he replied.
"Krieger… I've never heard of it. Your rank?"
"Second Class."
"They gave him a generous rating."
At the woman's words, the officer from the Cadet Corps replied in an even tone.
"Krieger's family has lived in Grimman since before the founding of the Empire. During the War of Conquest, nearly all of them fell in battle, except for the current head, Haires Krieger. The Krieger women also lost their lives for various reasons during the war, and now only Haires Krieger and his son, Ernest Krieger, remain."
"And what about Haires Krieger?"
"There are many suspicious aspects, but according to the records, he was an exemplary soldier. He retired as a colonel, and after that, His Majesty the Emperor personally awarded him the Noble Heart Medal."
"…The Noble Heart, awarded personally by His Majesty?"
At that startling statement, the woman dropped her picture-perfect, gentle smile and turned to look at the officer of the Cadet Corps.
"We haven't been able to learn any further details."
"…I see. Then I suppose Second Class is appropriate."
The woman now understood the reason behind assigning that young boy his classification.
He served in the War of Conquest, lost the entirety of his family, and for the sole survivor, His Majesty the Emperor himself awarded the Noble Heart Medal.
If Haires Krieger's own past hadn't been so murky, Ernest Krieger wouldn't have received a Second Class, but would have been assigned the highest, First Class.
More than anything else, the simple fact that they were unable to discover the records of a man who had personally received the Noble Heart Medal from His Majesty indicated that the secret was being guarded with the Emperor's own authority.
"But Ernest Krieger's eyes are… rather unpleasant."
"Yes, well… that's true."
At the woman's offhand remark, the officer from the Cadet Corps responded with a reluctant nod, wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.
The fact that this woman, even in passing, would describe something as 'unpleasant' sent a chill down his spine.
"You're a first-year cadet, right? Change the schedule to this afternoon."
"…But, changing the Military Academy's schedule on such short notice is…."
When the woman suddenly issued her order, the officer from the Cadet Corps was flustered and tried to protest, but she gave him an incredibly charming smile.
Seeing it, the officer froze, startled.
"That's your job, isn't it? Right?"
"My apologies. I'll report it immediately."
"Good. Thanks for your hard work."
Leaving the woman behind, the officer hurriedly ran off toward the main building.
Sweat poured off his head, sparkling in the sunlight as he rushed away.
"It's such a hot day—what a tough job."
The woman glanced over at the sweaty first-year cadets and Lieutenant Norman Luther, the instructor at the training ground, and muttered with a trace of pity before strolling away at her own leisurely pace.
***
"You weakling!"
"That's right, I'm weak and pathetic…"
"Hey, you're supposed to deny it at times like this. If you just agree, I end up looking like the bad guy."
"You were always a bad guy..."
After morning training, Robert returned to the dormitory and cracked a joke at Ernest, who was sprawled out on his bed—only to find himself painted as the villain. He felt deeply wronged by the situation. Robert was firmly convinced that there wasn't anyone kinder than himself at the entire Military Academy.
"Come on, get up. We have to eat lunch."
"I don't have any appetite…"
"Oh, still, you've got to show up for the meal roll call. Up you go."
"You terrible guy…"
"To think I'd ever see Teacher Ernest this limp and lifeless. Life really is full of surprises."
Ernest staggered to his feet, drained of all energy.
While Robert continued to tease him with a mischievous grin, he also subtly supported Ernest with a gentle nudge, hiding his concern.
Thanks to Robert's help, Ernest, who still felt dizzy after getting up, managed not to collapse and was able to walk on his own.
"Krieger, how are you feeling?"
"I'm better now."
"That's good to hear. Make sure to eat a hearty lunch."
Listening to his classmates' concerned words, Ernest sat down to eat lunch. He had never received this kind of worry and attention before, and at this moment, he felt incredibly embarrassed.
"The afternoon schedule has changed. The lecture is canceled."
The cadets, who'd gathered after lunch for afternoon training, couldn't help but be taken aback by the instructor's stiff-faced announcement. Until now, their schedule had never been changed so abruptly. To make things even more surprising, today's canceled session was Military Science, the course regarded as most important at the Academy.
"Wait here for a moment."
Without offering any further explanation, the instructor ordered them to wait and then left the lecture hall. Left behind in the now-empty room, the first-year cadets began to murmur in confusion.
"What's going on?"
"I have no idea…"
"Did something happen?"
"They wouldn't cancel a lecture for just anything. Especially not Military Science."
"…Do you think Instructor Kohler has finally been removed from his post?"
"That actually makes sense."
The cadets, flustered by the situation, started speculating that perhaps Senior Instructor, Captain Thomas Kohler, had been dismissed. Nothing short of that seemed like a reasonable cause for what had just happened.
"All right, quiet down."
At that moment, a gentle voice echoed through the lecture hall—a voice so soft and pleasant that no one would have imagined hearing it at the Imperial Military Academy. The cadets immediately snapped their mouths shut, startled.
Step. Step.
A woman entered the lecture hall with an unhurried stride. As she walked, her beautiful blonde hair swayed gently, and a fragrant scent of flowers filled the air.
She stopped at the front of the lecture hall, her hands clasped behind her back, and met the eyes of the young boys gazing at her in astonishment, her expression warm and affectionate.
She wore an officer's uniform and military boots, yet nothing could completely hide her delicate frame.
She was an exceptionally beautiful woman.
"I am Major Liselotte Kirchner of the Empire's Central Intelligence Agency."
The woman, Major Liselotte Kirchner, introduced herself in a soft voice.
Only then did the cadets notice the major's insignia on her shoulder.
Recognizing that she was a female officer indicated she was a Baltracher, and seeing that she was a major—not a senior captain—meant she was a First-Class Baltracher.
Even if her formal rank was only major, a First-Class Baltracher possessed authority beyond her grade.
Depending on her abilities, a First-Class Baltracher could be classified as one of the Empire's top-priority assets, regardless of rank.
On top of that, she belonged to the Central Intelligence Agency, said to be powerful enough to silence even birds in flight.
The Central Intelligence Agency was an organization run directly under the royal family, with the director's position reserved exclusively for royalty.
And now, a First-Class Baltracher from the Central Intelligence Agency was standing before them.
It was only natural for the atmosphere to be tense.
Yet, Liselotte's beauty and gentle demeanor made it nearly impossible for the young boys to maintain their composure.
"The reason I've come to see you today as a First-Class Baltracher is to educate you about the dangers of mental attacks."
Though Liselotte spoke with the firmness befitting a soldier, there was no concealing the gentle warmth in her voice and manner.
Most of the first-year cadets felt a sense of disconnect seeing her in an officer's uniform instead of a glamorous dress.
Her beautiful blonde hair, fair face, gentle smile, soft voice, delicate figure, and floral scent—Liselotte seemed like an ideal woman who had quietly stepped out of someone's dream.
However, there were also cadets who tensed up at the chilling words Liselotte had just spoken: "mental attacks."
"The Power of Baltracher can't be used without a Balt Battery, and it's extremely difficult to hone that ability. Naturally, the only place capable of training Baltrachers is the Empire, where—thanks to His Majesty the Emperor's blessing—they can use Balt Batteries freely."
Liselotte spoke almost as if she were singing.
Her kind hazel eyes crinkled along with her warm smile.
"During the last war, the Alliance Army managed to steal a small number of Balt Batteries, and there were also traitors who dared to commit the heinous crime of selling the Emperor's blessing—the Balt Batteries—to them. Because of this, we cannot say for certain that the Alliance Army is completely without Baltrachers."
Liselotte's voice was so gentle that, even as she spoke of treachery, very few cadets actually felt any sense of real danger.
"That's why I've come today—to use this opportunity to teach you about the dangers of mental attacks and how to defend against them. Since there are no Baltrachers at the Academy who can handle powers that affect the mind."
As Liselotte finished speaking, she let out a small laugh.
Even that laugh sounded like the most ideal, feminine laughter one could imagine.
"Are you really listening to what I'm saying?"
"Yes."
"...Yes."
A few cadets answered quickly to that gentle question, but most of them were so entranced that their responses were a confused, jumbled mess.
Liselotte tucked a loose strand of her long blonde hair behind her ear.
Her fingers were pale and delicate, her nails neatly trimmed.
Tiny ears.
Everything about her was perfectly beautiful.
Even Wilfried, the Duke's son who had grown up surrounded by all things lovely, could not remain unaffected by Liselotte's beauty.
At that moment, there was only one person in the lecture hall who seemed completely indifferent to her charms.
"..."
Still suffering from a terrible headache and lack of concentration, Ernest had already extracted all the information he could from Liselotte and was now distracted by other thoughts.
Because he had reduced his medication over the past few days and then upped it again yesterday, focusing on anything was proving especially hard for Ernest.
'I didn't notice before, but she's exactly the type of pretty blonde that would drive Robert crazy.'
While everyone else had their eyes fixed on Liselotte, Ernest glanced sidelong at his friend with strong preferences, idly thinking such things.
When he first saw her during the driving lesson, his head was muddled and he hadn't given much thought.
When he was carried past by the training instructor, he'd missed her beauty, too busy trying to read the intentions behind Liselotte's gaze.
'I hope he doesn't get too attached—he gets annoying when he likes someone too much. And if possible, I'd prefer he just stayed quiet and didn't say anything.'
Knowing full well about Robert's obsession with blondes, Ernest hoped that his roommate wouldn't end up feeling even more uncomfortable.
And as for Ernest, Liselotte was watching him with eyes that, though masked by her friendly smile, were in fact rather indifferent.