Chapter 29 - Despair Does Not Belong To Us (5)
"We're heading back!"
After checking the number and condition of the cadets who returned from the final battle, Thomas wasted no time.
Not wanting to stay a moment longer in this wretched place, he immediately loaded the cadets onto the transport vehicle and set out for the Military Academy.
"When you see her like this, she's just an ordinary girl…"
The cadets whispered among themselves as they looked at the unconscious Marie, her body limp.
As she slept, completely passed out, she really did look like any other normal girl.
"..."
But for Ernest, who had carried Marie on his back and now, somewhat unexpectedly, found himself responsible for her, the situation was rather awkward. There was no way to sit the unconscious Marie upright in the transport vehicle, nor was there enough space to have her lie down properly. So, quite naturally, Ernest ended up cradling Marie in his arms as they traveled.
"You went looking for a girl during city parade practice, and in the end, you really pulled it off, Krieger."
"That's Krieger for you. He always gets things done somehow, doesn't he?"
"You won't gain anything by provoking me like that."
"..."
The cadets who had been teasing Ernest for holding Marie quickly closed their mouths at his quiet warning. Ernest was someone you definitely didn't want to make an enemy of—no one knew what kind of weakness he might notice with that terrifyingly sharp insight of his.
But what really made the cadets cautious now was the fierce, unyielding side Ernest had shown during the final mock battle. No one had expected him to have that side to him, and it had truly been terrifying.
The transport vehicle rolled slowly through the rain, heading back to the Military Academy. Soaked from the downpour, the cadets sat inside shivering from the cold, but exhaustion made them nod off repeatedly, so none of them knew how much time had passed.
Thunk! Thunk!
"Everybody out!"
"Whoa!"
When Thomas and the training instructors banged on the side of the transport vehicle, urging them on, the cadets finally realized they had arrived back at the Military Academy. Quickly wiping the drool from their chins, they staggered off the vehicle.
"Ahh!"
"Careful! You didn't survive all that training just to get hurt here!"
A few cadets, drained of all their strength and still half asleep, nearly tumbled to the ground as they got off the vehicle. But this time, in an unusual gesture, Thomas and the training instructors caught them and helped them down safely, so thankfully there were no injuries.
"Congratulations! Not a single one of you dropped out today. Every last one of you completed the training!"
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Thomas stood before the battered cadets and applauded them all by himself. The rain was still pouring down, and everyone wanted to get inside as quickly as possible, but when Thomas started clapping for them, their backs and shoulders instinctively straightened.
"First, head back to the dormitory, wash up, and change into fresh clothes! The dining hall will have meals ready for you, even though it's late! After that, come straight to the lecture hall! Understood?"
"Yes!"
"Good! Dismissed!"
"Dismissed!"
Dragging their feet but desperate to escape the rain, the first-year cadets rushed toward the dormitory.
"…Instructor Kohler! What about me?"
But Ernest, still carrying Marie on his back, found himself left behind with nowhere to go. Thomas caught sight of him and flashed a toothy grin—a fierce-looking smile.
"Follow me!"
With that command, Thomas strode off without hesitation, leaving Ernest no choice but to hurry after him, Marie still on his back.
'Why me, when there are plenty of training instructors…!'
Ernest grumbled to himself as he followed behind. He couldn't help but feel bitter as he pictured his classmates—especially Robert—getting to wash up, change clothes, and even eat before him.
But soon, as Ernest realized that he was headed to the Imperial Military Academy's Special Training Division, he began to keenly observe his surroundings with those restless, dark eyes.
The Special Training Division was located in the annex. Ordinary officer cadets never had any reason to set foot here before graduation. That meant he needed to gather as much information as possible while he had the chance. The passage connecting the main building to the annex had a roof, so even though the wind cut through, at least he was spared from the rain. The pounding drum of the downpour faded abruptly, as if he'd suddenly gone deaf.
"Yes, observe closely and gather all the information you can."
Ernest jumped in surprise when Thomas, who had been striding ahead, turned his head to look at him and spoke.
"It's a good quality to have, and an excellent habit. Who trained you?"
Realizing Thomas's words were praise, not a warning, Ernest hurried to keep up with him.
"My father trained me."
"Did he now?"
At Ernest's reply, Thomas murmured quietly. Ernest almost expected Thomas to say, "He must be an exceptional father." That's what everyone else had always said—to the point even Headmaster Armin remarked as much. However, Thomas said nothing more. The look on his face, as Ernest glanced up at him, seemed somehow vague—uncharacteristically blurred.
Ernest followed Thomas in silence as they walked into the annex. The moment he stepped inside, Ernest felt an inexplicable tension. His eyes darted around, observing everything with fierce intensity. But he couldn't spot anything unusual.
Then, Ernest noticed a group of Baltracher Cadets walking quietly down the hallway. They moved slowly, faces drained and pale as if they were corpses. Fear seemed to cling to their fingertips.
"..."
When they saw Thomas, Ernest, and Marie—who was unconscious and slung over Ernest's back—they flinched in surprise. Among the tense Baltracher Cadets, only the older ones managed to salute Thomas, while the younger cadets stood frozen in place.
It was clear they feared the instructor.
"Hmm."
Thomas acknowledged the salutes. He didn't warn or scold the younger cadets who failed to salute, simply walking past them.
Ernest could feel the stares following him, or rather, following the unconscious Marie he carried.
Thomas made his way toward the Special Training Division's Instructor's Office, and Ernest followed with Marie still on his back.
"Kohler. What brings you here? To come here yourself like this?"
Baltracher Instructor, Captain Max Grimm, looked at Thomas in surprise, but quickly rose from his seat to greet him warmly. While the two men shook hands, Ernest, still carrying Marie on his back, debated whether he should salute. In the end, he decided to just stand quietly.
"She passed out, you see."
Thomas gestured with his thumb over his shoulder as he spoke. When Max's gaze landed on him, Ernest flinched in surprise. Max seemed like an ordinary person when speaking with Thomas. However, the moment his bright brown eyes turned toward Marie, his face became stiff and expressionless, almost like a statue.
"Hmm…"
Max stroked his graying beard as he silently studied Marie. Watching this, Thomas chuckled quietly.
"It's not what you're thinking. Marie Fiders was truly impressive today."
"You think so too?" Max asked.
"Yes, I do," Thomas replied.
"…That's quite surprising."
Max genuinely seemed astonished that Thomas was standing up for Marie.
"This time's first-years are really talented. In the first two mock battles, they intentionally tried to wear Marie Fiders down. By the time of the final mock battle, she had already reached her limits."
"And yet she participated in the third battle…"
"And she won."
"…"
Max watched Marie's pale, blue-tinged face with great interest. He knew Thomas well—if Thomas said someone had reached their limits, it meant they truly had. Even so, Marie had fought in the third battle, and had even managed to win.
"Krieger."
"Yes, Instructor."
Suddenly, Thomas called out to Ernest. Ernest responded immediately.
"Explain what happened in the final battle."
"Yes, understood."
A bit tense, Ernest began to calmly recount what had occurred during the last battle.
The battle began with the Alliance Army having a clear advantage over the Imperial Army, who had a Baltracher Cadet among their ranks. In these unreasonable and unfavorable circumstances, Commander Ernest managed to turn the tables. He wasn't one to indulge in pointless boasting or brag about his capabilities.
Ernest, just as Haires had taught him, kept his emotions out of his explanation and methodically walked them through the situation as objectively as possible.
"Krieger, you said? That's your name?"
After listening to Ernest's account, Max tapped his chin thoughtfully with his finger before asking for Ernest's name.
"Yes, Instructor. I'm Ernest Krieger."
"Ernest Krieger. Excellent. Truly impressive work."
"Thank you."
Max grinned as he praised Ernest.
This mock battle was designed so that the first-year cadets would struggle and suffer amidst harsh conditions, forcing them to experience the overwhelming power of a Baltracher firsthand.
Yet, with Marie pushed to her limits and unable to fight properly—an outcome where defeat would have been understandable—Ernest found himself facing near-certain loss.
In that situation, he read Marie's limits, gauged the effective range of the crossbows, saw through the enemy's strategy, and responded perfectly, even turning the tables by leading the enemy into a trap and securing victory. It was an accomplishment no one would believe a first-year could achieve.
"I honestly didn't think you could pull it off…"
And Marie, who fought to the end and ensured their victory, surprised Max as well. He truly believed she'd either give up midway or collapse from exhaustion, unable to see the training through to the end. It wasn't because she was Marie—any Baltracher cadet in such a situation would have been justified in giving up.
"If only she hadn't been born Aeblon… she really isn't lacking in anything else…"
Max muttered as he looked at Marie's curly red hair and pale skin.
The Aeblon people. They originated on the northernmost seashores of the Mihahil Empire and, during the conquest wars, were defeated by the Empire without being able to offer any real resistance. Even after the Aeblon people came under the Empire's flag, the ridicule and contempt directed at them lingered like an indelible stain.
"Are people really still hung up on things like that?"
Thomas let out a small laugh.
"You can't hide lowly blood."
At that, Max's expression turned serious as he spoke firmly.
"Just because you have noble blood doesn't mean bullets and swords will avoid you."
"...Well... that's true."
Max couldn't argue with Thomas's casual remark—after all, he was a soldier who had experienced war himself.
"If not for becoming soldiers, they'd be worthless, so I suppose they ought to be grateful for having the chance to serve the Empire and His Majesty the Emperor."
Still, that's how Max continued to view the Aeblon people. He had been taught that way, and lived his life accordingly.
"Well, she made it as a soldier, so it's not a problem. She was... no, she was truly impressive. I'm really looking forward to seeing how she'll grow in the future."
"To that extent?"
"There are plenty of strong people out there, but it's rare to find someone with that kind of mental strength."
"You're right. Yes, that's an invaluable quality."
Thomas subtly shifted the topic. Max, also unwilling to continue discussing the Aeblon people he so despised, went along and wrapped up the conversation.
"Anyway, got it. I'll remember."
Ernest set Marie down on the floor of the Special Training Division Instructor's Office, saluted Max, and then followed Thomas outside.
Despite the hatred and disgust Max had just shown when speaking of the Aeblon people—Marie's bloodline—he accepted Ernest's salute with an exaggerated gesture and a surprisingly cheerful smile. Thanks to this young but capable officer cadet, he seemed to be in an excellent mood.
"..."
Once outside the Instructor's Office, Ernest's mind grew clouded with a tangle of thoughts. Even so, his eyes habitually scanned his surroundings, constantly collecting and analyzing information.
"Krieger."
"…Yes, Instructor."
Because of this, Ernest responded a moment late when Thomas called his name. Thomas continued, not bothering to look back at him.
"I truly value your abilities, and that's no lie."
Ernest immediately realized Thomas wasn't talking about his leadership skills. Survival. Anyone who has truly danced with death and fought the enemy out in the field knows the value of surviving.
"But as an instructor, I can never acknowledge that."
"..."
At the Imperial Military Academy, what we cultivate are officers who will fight valiantly for the Empire and His Majesty the Emperor. The goal is to produce soldiers who, when ordered to fight, will fight; when ordered to kill, will kill; and when ordered to die, will die—soldiers who are readily usable. In such an Imperial Military Academy, Ernest, who would willingly abandon an easy victory in favor of avoiding danger, is clearly an outlier.
As a soldier who has survived the furnace of war, I can value that ability highly. But as an instructor, I must thoroughly deny and destroy the value of that skill.
"Do you understand what I mean, Krieger?"
Thomas asked Ernest. Though his comment was blunt and lacking context, Ernest understood his meaning sharply and clearly, as if a clear bell were ringing in his head. Perhaps it was because Thomas Kohler was so similar to his own father, Haires Krieger.
That's a precious quality that will save you and your subordinates. But its moment to shine only comes when you are truly confronted by mortal danger. So, when there is no such peril, hide those sharp claws.
Ernest felt as if he heard those words in Thomas's own voice.
"Yes, Instructor."
Ernest answered meekly—the same way he would respond when receiving teachings from his respected father. Thomas might be the sort who enjoys tormenting children, but there was absolutely no doubt that, as a soldier and as an instructor, he was an outstanding man.
"All right. Return to the dormitory."
"Yes."
"For the record, don't expect me to delay my lecture just for you. The afternoon class will begin on time, whether you're there or not."
Having just listened meekly to Thomas's lesson, Ernest now looked up at him in alarm.
"What are you doing, Krieger! Move it! Are you going to stand there all day? Time isn't something you have to spare!"
"Yes, Instructor!"
With a voice full of frustration, Ernest answered energetically, then dashed off toward the dormitory, his boots splashing through mud and water as he hurried away.
I must not forget. Thomas may be a soldier and instructor worthy of respect, but he's also a twisted man who delights in tormenting cadets. He didn't earn the crude nickname "Mad Dog" at the Imperial Military Academy, a place for noble young men, for nothing.
After a hasty wash and change of clothes, Ernest wolfed down his meal alone in the dining hall—everyone else had already finished eating. Still chewing, he rushed madly toward the lecture hall. Eating in a hurry and then running left his stomach cramping and made him feel like throwing up. As if he weren't exhausted enough already.
"Hmm, you're not late."
Fortunately, Ernest wasn't late. He ran right into Thomas in the hallway outside the lecture hall. With a sour grin, Thomas graciously stepped aside for him, and Ernest was able to enter the lecture hall ahead of Thomas and take his seat.
"What took you so long to get here?"
"D-Don't talk to me right now… I feel like I'm going to throw up…"
Wondering what Ernest had been up to that made him so late, Robert asked, but Ernest was in no condition to answer.
"Everyone's here. Good."
Thomas, who came in shortly after, took note that everyone was seated and strode to the front of the room.
With his hands clasped behind his back, Thomas spoke in a low voice.
"First of all, let me once again congratulate all of you for completing your training without anyone dropping out."
This time, he didn't applaud, but even so, his praise gave everyone a small boost of energy. Still, everyone was so exhausted that just sitting there made their eyes close on their own.
"Today's exercise should have shown you how much the environment can impact the success of a plan. I won't waste words. In the future, when you're giving orders in the field, I expect you to recall the memory of this very moment from inside those little heads of yours. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!"
The exhausted cadets mustered what strength they could to respond.
"Wilfried Ravid, Ferdinand Hartmann."
"Yes, Instructor."
Next, Thomas called out Wilfried and Ferdinand. When the two boys answered, Thomas spoke in a calm voice.
"Even though you failed, the plan you came up with was both effective and efficient. You each receive 1 Merit Point."
"Thank you."
Thomas held their plan to wear down Marie in high regard. They hadn't just made things hard for Marie blindly; they used her cleverly, pushing her to exhaust herself in a way that benefited them. By the time the final battle came around, Marie was too spent to be effective, which made the plan successful, and the process advantageous for themselves—efficient, as well.
"However, putting that aside, I can't overlook actions that could negatively affect another cadet's training experience. See that it never happens again."
"Yes, sir."
Still, it was unacceptable that, as a result, Ernest and his platoon could have lost their opportunity to participate in training.
"Ernest Krieger."
"Yes, Instructor."
Finally, Thomas singled out Ernest.
"Given the circumstances you faced, your leadership was the best it could have been. Excellent work. You receive 2 Merit Points."
He didn't say much more and simply left it at that.
"Thank you."
The color quickly returned to Ernest's previously pale face. It wasn't because of Thomas's praise—he'd already heard plenty of that as they were leaving the annex. 2 Merit Points. If he added the 3 points he'd earned earlier for demolishing the Cadet Corps, that made a total of 5 points.
That meant leave!
"The reason only Platoon Leaders are being awarded Merit Points is because you are not ordinary soldiers, but Officer Cadets training to become officers."
In a rare moment of consideration for the cadets' complaints, Thomas calmly explained why he'd only given points to the three of them.
"In the future, everyone will have a turn at being Platoon Leader. You'll all have equal opportunities, so there's no need to worry. And you'll come to understand just how heavy a commander's responsibilities are, and how many complex skills leadership truly requires."
Instead of celebrating, the cadets found themselves tense at Thomas's words.
Among first-years, Ernest, Ferdinand, and Wilfried were considered the best of the bunch. Yet even these three had experienced all sorts of mistakes and failures while leading. It was clear, without needing to see it, just how much chaos the others would face.
Seeing their reaction, Thomas nodded in satisfaction.
A first time in command is always awkward. Mistakes are inevitable. So Thomas picked the most outstanding cadets to be the first commanders and let everyone see them make mistakes. That way, these cocky and undisciplined youngsters would learn just how difficult leadership really was.
The worst enemy you could have was an allied commander who dreamed vainly of achieving a glorious victory like some hero from a story. There's only one good time to have an incompetent commander—when he's dead. It's best to put a bullet in his head right away. Just being alive is a form of treason.
Truly, that was exactly what Captain Thomas Kohler believed. Any soldier who had actually been through war would have no choice but to agree wholeheartedly.
"All right. Then, you're dismissed."
Thomas suddenly gave the order to break ranks. The cadets, who had hastily gathered after getting ready for their afternoon lecture, stared at him blankly for a moment, not comprehending his words.
"Head back to the dormitory and rest or sleep until dinner, do as you wish."
"Yes, sir!"
This time, their response boomed in unison. Smiles broke out on every face.
The first-year cadets thought Thomas was actually a very good instructor. That opinion might change again tomorrow, but at least for today, they felt that way.
"..."
However, Ernest's face showed a deep sense of betrayal. He had rushed here so quickly just to avoid being late for the lecture! And right after lunch, too!
Thomas watched Ernest, who couldn't bring himself to leave the lecture hall out of sheer frustration, and laughed as if he found it all highly amusing.
Once again, Ernest keenly felt that Senior Instructor Captain Thomas Kohler was undoubtedly a mean-spirited man.