Chapter 80 - The Moon Walking in the Wake of the Sun (6)
The cadets, having reached the border, panted as they gazed at the landscape before them.
Far in the distance, the forest stretched on endlessly.
After the armistice, Belliang had realized that they needed complex terrain like forests or mountains to block Mihahil effectively, so they created a new border by continuously transplanting trees around the original forest.
That's why, in some places, the trees were huge and dense, while in other spots, the line where the forest had been artificially expanded was quite obvious, with small, sparsely growing trees.
In front of all this, outposts had been built at a generous enough distance from each other that bullets would not reach across. Guard towers rose tall, and lightly armed cavalry patrolled the area. Soon enough, a platoon of cavalry rode out from the garrison to greet the Military Academy.
"That's the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment."
Originally, when the current organizational structure was first introduced in the military, each division was assigned several cavalry regiments. The 5th Division had once fielded three cavalry regiments. Cavalry had been considered the flower of the battlefield. But with the introduction of the Balt Gun, it became possible to overwhelm the enemy in open-field battles, and when the Balt Automobile was supplied as well, the need for cavalry greatly decreased. Now, each division operated just one cavalry regiment, and there were even rumors that the cavalry might be reduced further.
Training cavalry was extremely difficult, not to mention that horses ate an outrageous amount—so much, in fact, that the maintenance costs were beyond belief. If only the supply of Balt Batteries had been steady, they would have replaced all the horses with Balt Automobiles long ago and gotten rid of the cavalry entirely.
The cavalry platoon of twenty men galloped up quickly, and the man who appeared to be the platoon leader dismounted and saluted Thomas, who was leading the cadets. Thomas, exceptionally for once, didn't torment the cadets and instead greeted the salute with a broad grin and a crisp return.
"It's been a while, Instructor Kohler."
There was so much to observe that Ernest had only glanced at the cavalry platoon, turning his attention elsewhere. But the moment he heard that voice, he snapped his head around to look at the platoon leader.
"How long are you going to keep calling me Instructor, Second Lieutenant Neumann?"
"Hahaha!"
At Thomas's comment, the platoon leader of the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment, 2nd Corps—Second Lieutenant Sebastian Neumann—burst out laughing just as he always did.
"Just because I've become a Second Lieutenant doesn't erase all the things you taught me, Instructor!"
Sebastian took off his cavalry cap and replied cheerfully. With his hat off, his black curly hair—which he'd started growing after graduating from the Military Academy—fell slightly and fluttered in the spring breeze.
He was the platoon leader of the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment, the first sword of the 2nd Corps, fighting on the border of Belliang where the vast plains stretched out. For cadets who were still only second years, Sebastian Neumann—who had attained the highest position a new Second Lieutenant could possibly achieve as a cavalry platoon leader—seemed dazzlingly impressive.
Maybe it was also because of his confident laugh and striking good looks.
"So, did you volunteer for this yourself?"
"When you're new, you need to be willing to take on tough jobs, too."
"But I wouldn't call this a tough job."
"All the more reason it should be me."
Right now, the Imperial Military Academy was a rare guest who had come from afar for the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment. There was no way they'd leave the task of receiving them to just anyone. Maybe Sebastian had volunteered, and maybe the higher-ups were being considerate toward him since he'd only recently graduated from the academy—but it also meant that Sebastian had already earned their trust in such a short time.
No one would ever entrust responsibility to someone both clueless and incompetent, not even out of desperation.
Sebastian saluted the other instructors, too, still smiling, and the instructors—who hadn't forgotten this outstanding and likable young man—smiled as they returned the salute. After that, Sebastian put his cavalry cap back on, mounted his horse, and began escorting the cadets.
"It's been a while, Krieger."
"It hasn't been that long, Second Lieutenant Neumann."
Sebastian rode up beside Ernest, who was walking at the rear of the procession carrying another cadet's military pack, and greeted him with a smile. Ernest also smiled and greeted Sebastian.
"No, it really does feel like a long time. I think it took forever to get used to things here."
"For all that, you already look like a fine cavalry commander."
"I'm still learning. By the way, you've grown quite a bit taller since I last saw you."
"I think you've grown even more, Second Lieutenant Neumann."
"Hahaha! I suppose I have!"
At eighteen this year, Sebastian was still growing. Already tall and strikingly handsome at their graduation ceremony, he'd grown even taller and more solidly built since then.
"Krieger, it would be great if you could come to the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment too. They even hold equestrian tournaments within the regiment. Although, knowing you, the seniors would probably glare at you and not let you compete."
"Huh? Why's that?"
"If you keep winning all the time because you're too good, what are the others supposed to do? You should look out for yourself just enough and then step back so others get a chance too!"
Sebastian said this cheerfully.
"Of course, even for you, it wouldn't be easy. There are some truly formidable riders here. Krieger, would you believe there are people in this era who've actually trained as real knights—riding at full gallop, wielding lances and swords?"
"That's… amazing."
"You'd be even more surprised if you saw them in person. They ride as if a fairy were playing tricks—so unbelievably skillful."
The Balt Gun had been standard issue for a while now, and yet here in the Empire, there were still people who trained as genuine knights, swinging swords and lances.
It was shockingly outdated.
"There are guys in my platoon who are incredible riders, too. See that one over there? The one sitting backwards on the saddle, shooting behind him."
Sebastian acted as if it were a done deal that Ernest would soon join the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment as his junior.
He looked genuinely happy, seemed almost too well-adapted to military life, and was clearly respected by his platoon members.
Well, unless someone was particularly twisted, it would be impossible to dislike this handsome, talented, and genuinely good-natured young man.
"I'll come see you again when it's time to head back, so let's talk more then."
"Yes, Second Lieutenant Neumann."
"Hahaha!"
Having had a thorough conversation with Ernest and, in truth, having so effectively preached the merits of the Cavalry Regiment that Ernest was now thoroughly persuaded to volunteer for the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment, Sebastian sped up to rejoin his platoon and continue his duties.
Ernest, meanwhile, watched Sebastian and his platoon members, trying to find any signs of fear about the war among them. Yet no one seemed to be worried about the war at all. Was it because information was being controlled? Or, conversely, was it that out here—far removed from politics—there was nothing to hint at war, so they could feel at ease?
The sun was starting to set, and the cadets, running on their last reserves of energy, trudged onward. Beyond the forest marking the border with Belliang, crimson sunset clouds began to streak across the clearing sky. It was already so late in the day; surely they wouldn't have the cadets pitch tents at the campsite tonight. Everyone was utterly exhausted. They'd most likely spend the night at the garrison and move on to the campsite in the morning…
"Instructor Kohler, you're not planning to go straight to the campsite, are you?"
"Of course I am. Why would we stop when the destination is right in front of us?"
"…You never change, do you."
What nonsense! Our esteemed instructor, Captain Thomas Kohler, was too much of a true mentor to ever allow the young cadets he taught to give up when the goal was so close.
So, with the cadets nearly collapsing from a grueling march that was far too harsh for anyone fifteen years old, he pushed them even harder, determined to make them press on, set up tents, and spend the night at the campsite—even at this late hour!
The cadets had to walk right past the cozy barracks and head to the campsite, forcing their exhausted bodies to pitch tents until night had fully fallen.
It was truly harsh treatment.
But the young cadets, already worn down by Thomas's relentless discipline, didn't utter a word of complaint.
They knew all too well that protesting would do no good.
Fortunately, the Cavalry Regiment had sent food, so they were able to enjoy a hearty dinner without it being too late.
"What kind of training are we getting tomorrow?"
"No idea…"
Any worries they had about the training ahead quickly vanished.
Utterly spent, the cadets crawled into their tents and fell sound asleep, dead to the world. Ernest, exhausted as well, lay down and drifted off almost instantly.
…
In the darkness of the tent, surrounded by the sounds of his peers breathing and snoring, Ernest opened his eyes. He had no idea how much time had passed, but it didn't seem as though the sun had risen yet. It was still night, or perhaps early dawn—far too early to be awake. Even so, sleep had completely deserted him. A strange heat crept from his chest to his head, leaving him with no trace of fatigue.
'Did I forget something?'
Ernest stared wide-eyed at the tent ceiling, a vague sense of unease gnawing at him.
But the only thing Ernest really had to watch out for was his tonic, and ever since promising his father again, he'd taken it every single day without fail.
He had definitely taken it before going to bed last night.
Ernest tried to figure out why he had suddenly woken up and was lying there wide awake, deep in thought.
Had he forgotten something?
Overlooked something?
Had he heard any strange sounds?
But he could find no answer, so Ernest, just as his father had taught him, began methodically working through his situation from the very beginning.
And the moment he started that mental exercise, he abruptly stopped.
'This is the Border Region.'
The moment he thought that, a chill swept over Ernest's whole body.
With the enemy lurking in the forest right in front of them, how could he have been sleeping so soundly, even snoring, without a care in the world?
Slowly, Ernest raised his body.
He moved without a sound, hidden in the chorus of his peers' snoring.
He pushed aside the blanket and crawled through the pitch-black tent, inching along.
Reaching out in front of him, his hand felt along the ground, checking for his peers' limbs, careful not to wake them and risk making a sound, moving forward very slowly.
It felt like an eternity before Ernest finally reached the entrance of the cramped tent.
He was an excellent hunter, and an excellent hunter never makes mistakes, relying on unwavering patience.
"..."
He moved so slowly that his body was starting to go numb, sweat pouring off him until his clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin.
Catching his breath, Ernest pressed his ear very slowly toward the tent's entrance.
Rustle. Rustle. Rustle...
Mixed in with his peers' breathing and snoring, Ernest could hear footsteps.
Without panicking, he listened carefully, trying to gauge the pace and stride of those moving outside.
He also cautiously tried to count how many there were.
With his eyes half-open, glaring into the pitch-black darkness where he couldn't see a thing, Ernest ran the numbers in his head.
A slightly careless step, a long stride, moving quickly.
A deliberate step landing heel first, long stride but slower speed.
A quick, shuffling pace that seemed to brush the ground with the whole foot.
A gap.
Likely a step so silent it was a trained hunter's or assassin's walk, meant to make no sound at all.
And then, back to the beginning.
"..."
Tightly wound with tension, Ernest slowly exhaled, easing himself out of his anxious state.
Even as he relaxed, he didn't make a sound; in fact, with some of his nerves settling, he was able to act even more carefully.
For a moment, Ernest hesitated, uncertain how best to respond to this situation.
After all, just being in this situation was a crisis he'd never even imagined—let alone prepared for.
Weighing his options, Ernest carefully considered the two things he could possibly do, and though he wasn't sure, he chose the one that seemed to offer the highest chance of survival.
"I surrender."
"..."
Ernest calmly declared his surrender.
The footsteps that had been quietly and slowly circling the tent came to an abrupt halt.
After a brief silence, a low chuckle rang out.
"Heh, really now. So this isn't a warning?"
The voice asking sounded both baffled and thoroughly amused.
Ernest replied in a quiet voice.
"We didn't post a single sentry, so the enemy was able to completely take over the entire campsite while we all slept like rocks.
They could have killed us at any time. There's nothing we can do at this point, even if we try to be on guard now."
"Still, how could a soldier of the Empire surrender to the enemy without a fight?"
"There's a clear difference between a sacrifice made for ultimate victory and one that's pointless."
"So you'd call it a pointless death?"
"Yes. We don't even have weapons to fight with in the first place. We never should have set up camp in such a wide-open spot, right in full view of the enemy. Choosing this place as our campsite was…"
"Yes, that's right."
At Ernest's unwavering murmur, the other person replied, their voice tinged with laughter.
"You all thought you were safe, even without a single weapon to your name, so you followed orders and set up camp right in plain sight on a desolate plain, without posting a single sentry, and fell asleep, oblivious to the world. Now you have to face the consequences. That's what this training is for."
"..."
"How do you feel?"
He asked, clearly amused.
Ernest replied in a flat voice.
"I'm scared."
"Excellent."
Hearing 'scared,' he sounded thoroughly satisfied.
"Keen senses, sharp insight, quick and cool-headed judgment—and a coward, too."
A low, chuckling laugh.
"You must be Ernest Krieger, am I right?"
"…Yes."
"Good. Coward Krieger. I'm giving you a glorious opportunity."
Coward Krieger.
It was a deeply insulting label, but Ernest didn't take it as an insult.
The man had spoken the word 'coward' as if it were the highest praise.
Ernest knew the type.
Someone who saw no value in honor or glory, evaluating everything by reason alone and acting purely on logic.
That's just how Captain Thomas Kohler is—and also how Ernest's own father, Haires Krieger, whom he respects and loves, operates.
To survive is to have a future, and a coward is the most advantaged type of person when it comes to survival.
And when a coward can acknowledge, accept, and control their own fear, only then do they gain true freedom, allowing them to pierce through the fog of the battlefield and keep moving forward.
"Go alert them to the enemy attack. Wouldn't it be wise to claim at least that much credit for yourself?"
The man said this with a laugh.
Right now, with everyone still sleeping soundly and unaware of the world, if Ernest were to be the first to notice the enemy assault and give a warning, everyone would know his skill and quick thinking.
He was right.
Earning at least that much recognition would be worthwhile.
Ernest did his best to live up to the man's expectations.
"Surrender! Surrender! Please don't attack!"
"Hahaha!"
"What, what's going on!"
"Huh?"
Ernest shouted out a full-throated surrender.
The man's laughter echoed boldly across the night sky, while the other cadets, jolted awake, wiped drool from their cheeks and tried to make sense of the situation.
"Ugh!"
"Ah!"
Startled, the cadets scrambled up in the darkness of the tent, tripping over each other, stepping on and getting stepped on, bumping heads and falling to the ground—a scene of utter chaos. They hadn't established any procedures for dealing with an enemy attack, so everyone was just moving in whatever way they could.
In this situation, what difference could it make even if Ernest warned of the enemy assault?
That would only provoke pointless resistance and lead to needless casualties.
The most rational decision Ernest could make was to shout out a surrender as loudly as he could to suppress any resistance and minimize allied losses.
"Surrender! Surrender…!"
"That's enough. Stop. Good grief. Never thought I'd see a fifteen-year-old kid make such a bold declaration of surrender!"
Ernest, having tossed away even the last scrap of his pride and making all his decisions based solely on reason, kept yelling "surrender."
But when a hand suddenly slipped through the tent's entrance and gripped him firmly by the face, he fell silent.
"Don't try to resist—everyone come out quietly!"
As soon as Ernest fell silent, the soldiers who had taken over the campsite began demanding their surrender.
The cadets, floundering around inside the dark tent, started shuffling outside awkwardly, trembling with fear.
Ernest, too, was pulled out by the hand gripping his shoulder.
Looking up at the waning moon hanging in the eastern sky, Ernest realized that more time had passed than he'd thought.
It was dawn—still dark, but the day would soon break.
The moon's light was faint, making the starlight scattered across the night sky shine all the brighter.
Filling his lungs with the cold, damp air of early morning, Ernest, relying on starlight, looked up at the man who had dragged him out.
Not very tall, dressed in deep green, wearing a Balt Pistol and dagger at his waist, a pouch, and a small bow strapped across his back with a loosened string.
The scent of earth and grass.
A Ranger.
"Congratulations on getting wiped out without even posting a single sentry! You rookies!"
The man shouted in a booming voice.
Looking over the cadets, who were clearly flustered, he flashed a big grin.
"You all slept so soundly that I could've slit every one of your throats and still had time left over for dinner!"
Of course, that would've been impossible, with so many people sprawled out inside the dark tent. If he'd tried to kill each one without waking the others, it would've taken a very long time.
In other words, if he'd had enough time or there'd only been two people per tent, this man alone could easily have killed off about sixty passed-out cadets in the time it takes to eat a meal and vanished without a trace.
"The picnic ends here! Pack up your things and assemble right now! We're heading to the campsite!"
With that, the Ranger let go of Ernest.
The smile on his bearded face looked like an animal baring its teeth.
"Coward Krieger. Remember that name."
"..."
It sounded almost like a declaration of war aimed at his prey, and Ernest couldn't help but shudder.
The Ranger, wearing nothing but purely practical clothing with no insignia or rank to identify him, gestured with his chin at the tent, telling them to hurry up and pack, then strode off to talk with the soldiers of the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment who'd helped with this nasty trick.
"Second Lieutenant Neumann..."
Among those people, Ernest spotted Sebastian.
As luck would have it, Sebastian was also looking at Ernest.
Sebastian gave a playful salute, grinning as if both amused and a little apologetic, then led the soldiers off toward the garrison.
So, just to give the cadets a scare, the cavalry platoon had snuck up through the nighttime darkness—on foot, not even riding their horses!
Now, other than the cadets, the only ones left in what they'd called the campsite—the trap—were the instructors and six Rangers.
"Oh man... we're doomed..."
"Haah..."
Hearing Robert's mournful wail, Ernest let out a deep sigh as well.
Now they would have to march, following the Rangers, to the actual campsite.
A predawn march awaited them.