Chapter 14 - The Fierce Squirrel Lying in the Grass (2)
Ernest's platoon was made up of those not chosen by either Ferdinand or Wilfried.
All of them were deeply discouraged by the fact they had not been selected, and to make matters worse, the group was a jumble of military faction, noble faction, and minor nobles, making them the very definition of a ragtag band—low morale, little cohesion.
"Follow me."
Thomas led the cadets to the training ground.
Unlike the platoons led by Ferdinand and Wilfried, who marched in neat, impressive ranks, Ernest's platoon looked for all the world like a Routed Unit.
This was an exceptional situation—almost unheard of, even at the Military Academy.
Normally, once the cadets finished their basic Military Science lectures, they would move into mock battles, and it was a given that a cadet who excelled during the lessons would naturally be recognized and accepted as platoon leader.
Things like this only happened when Thomas was the one teaching the first-years.
When they arrived at the training ground, it was obvious that the upperclassmen had already worked hard there—signs of their efforts were everywhere.
Ernest had visited this forest a few times before with Haires, but never near this part.
Haires must have carefully avoided it during their outings.
"That over there is the Imperial Army's camp."
Thomas gathered the cadets and pointed to a dark blue flag staked in the field.
Then, gesturing toward the opposite side, the forest, he continued.
"Somewhere inside the forest, there's a red flag marking the position of the Alliance Army's camp. After each battle, the red flag's location will be changed. For the exact position, ask the Training Instructor."
It seemed this was to prevent anyone from simply charging over to snatch the flag after learning its location. The Imperial Army flag was placed out in the open for all to see—undoubtedly because that reflected the blunt, unvarnished reality between the Empire and the Allied Nations.
"Ravid, you'll take command of the Imperial Army."
"Yes, Instructor."
Thomas assigned the Imperial Army role to Wilfried first.
Then he looked toward Ferdinand and Ernest.
"You two are the Alliance Army. But command will go to Hartmann."
"Yes, Instructor."
Ernest and Ferdinand replied in unison.
Thomas nodded and added,
"For the next battle, Hartmann will command the Imperial Army, and Krieger will lead the Alliance Army with Ravid under his command. For the last round, Krieger will command the Imperial Army, while Ravid will lead the Alliance Army with Hartmann under him."
Each cadet would rotate through the roles, meaning there would be three mock battles in total.
First, Ernest would fight Wilfried under Ferdinand's command; next, he would lead Wilfried and fight against Ferdinand; and finally, he'd face both Wilfried and Ferdinand alone.
From this order and lineup, Ernest could sense a certain malice in Thomas's design.
As he worked through possible tactics, he soon realized why Thomas had appointed him as a squad leader.
Ernest glanced quickly around—taking in the surrounding terrain, the faces of the cadets, even the Training Instructor and Thomas himself. When his eyes met Thomas's chilling gaze, he reflexively turned away and looked into the forest.
"Distribute the bayonets and bullets."
Pretending not to notice Ernest, Thomas gave a command to the Training Instructor.
The instructors handed out lightweight wooden bayonets and wooden bullets to the first-year cadets. The bayonets were as long as the cadets' forearms with dull blades, and they were given plenty of wooden bullets in cartridge pouches, so there didn't seem to be any risk of running out.
However, any idiots who hadn't brought their cartridge pouch when packing their military pack received no ammunition at all. Since other cadets had to share their bullets with them, everyone quickly realized they couldn't just fire recklessly.
"In real combat, whatever situation you imagine will be far worse. Be grateful that someone here even has water, and that you can share it. In war, you often can't find water at all—you might have to drink muddy water mixed with filth, or even resort to collecting your own urine to survive."
Thomas took the grumbling cadets who were frowning over the lack of supplies and gave them just a taste of war's true horrors. Just hearing about it, some cadets' faces went pale yellow as though they might throw up at any moment.
Thomas was about to tell everyone to move to their positions and prepare for combat. At that moment, Ernest quietly raised his hand.
"What is it, Krieger?"
With Thomas's permission, Ernest spoke in a calm voice.
"How will deaths from bullet hits be handled? Also, how will you prevent the Alliance Army side from directly pulling back and loading the bolt?"
A chilly silence briefly swept through the group at Ernest's question. The cadets wanted to shout at him, "Anyone who values their honor wouldn't stoop to something like that!"
"That's your problem to deal with."
But Thomas replied coolly.
"As long as the Training Instructor and I don't catch you, it doesn't matter. In most cases, you're free to do as you wish. If you want to disobey orders, mutiny, or betray each other, go ahead."
Thomas's words were so shocking that the cadets wondered if he'd lost his mind. Then, staring straight into Ernest's dark eyes, he made a single exception.
"But I won't tolerate anyone killing or seriously injuring someone else. You're not three-year-old children—I trust you know what I mean."
That was something everyone could clearly understand.
The cadets glanced at Ernest, who had once turned a senior student into a laughting stock with nothing but vines and branches, and then looked at the thick spring forest with pale faces.
During mock battles, many cadets get hurt, and, though it was rare, there had even been deaths.
These usually happened when someone was shot but lied about not being hit and kept fighting to the end—other cadets, angered by this, would sometimes go so far as to "make sure" he couldn't move anymore, resulting in disaster.
The cadets at the Imperial Military Academy weren't there just to hang out with their peers.
When necessary, they could beat someone senseless, and in the heat of action, it was nothing to "accidentally" break an arm or leg while pretending it was an accident.
Anyone who cheated like that would, one way or another, be punished by the other cadets. And that punishment would be far worse than anything the instructors could dish out.
"Head to your defenses and prepare for combat. Stand by until you receive the signal."
With Thomas's order, the cadets sprang into action.
Wilfried gathered his platoon beneath the dark blue flag for a strategy meeting, while Ferdinand led Ernest's platoon off into the forest.
"…"
Ferdinand carefully surveyed the terrain around them. He paid special attention to a small hill at the edge of the woods, which was probably near the center of the battlefield. Whoever takes this hill will end up controlling the battlefield.
The advantage of holding the high ground at the center of the field was beyond imagination. Even in hand-to-hand combat, occupying it would let you dominate the fight, but when ranged weapons were involved, this hill practically guaranteed victory.
"This is your position. If your flag is captured, that's an immediate loss, so be careful."
The training instructors led the first-year cadets deeper into the forest and showed them where to place the red flag.
"If you're injured or there's an unexpected emergency, don't hesitate to call for us. We'll be hiding nearby, keeping watch over you."
After that, the instructors dashed off into the depths of the forest and disappeared. Since they wore neither breastplates nor helmets, and carried no crossbows, they could run swiftly. All they brought were water canteens and simple first aid supplies—medicine, bandages, splints, and the like.
Ernest followed the training instructors and the senior students with his eyes until the very end. He tenaciously clung to every last bit of their movement—their footsteps fading into the thick greenery, their shifting bodies, even the faint rustling of grass.
"If we lose control of that hill, the fight is as good as over. The enemy is armed with better weapons than we are; just by firing down on us from the high ground, they could wipe us out, waltz into the woods, and take our flag with ease."
Ferdinand had no intention of wasting time.
Without delay, he issued his orders.
"As soon as the battle begins, we leave only a minimal force in the woods and advance on the hill. Brandt, Koch: from now on, you'll each lead a squad of nine soldiers as squad leaders Brandt, you'll attack from the left side of the hill; Koch, you'll attack straight up the center. I'll do the same, leading twelve soldiers to attack from the right flank of the hill too
Ferdinand quickly devised a tactic and gave out commands without hesitation.
"Koch, your job is to draw the enemy's attention from the center and do everything you can to keep them from taking the hill."
"Got it."
"Brandt, support Koch's squad so they can buy as much time as possible with an aggressive assault. But if the situation allows, and you see an opening, go for it."
"By 'opening,' do you mean the flag?"
"Yeah. But Ravid isn't a fool—he'll definitely have stationed troops at the rear. If any path looks too easy, assume it's a trap, so be careful."
"Understood, Hartmann."
"The squad I'm leading on the right will only move after Koch and Brandt's squads have drawn most of the enemy's attention. If things go according to plan, we'll be able to catch the enemy off guard by flanking their side and rear once they're focused on the center and left. But don't expect it to go smoothly. Even if Ravid just does the basics, we'll get halted near the hill and wiped out."
Ferdinand calmly spoke about the possibility of defeat.
All the other cadets knew it too. The difference in weapons was too great. While it took them twenty seconds to wind and reload their crossbows, Ravid's platoon would be done in five seconds, at most. Their effective range was at least three times longer as well. And with accuracy on top of that, they didn't stand a chance.
The surprising thing is, even this disadvantage is nothing compared to the gap between the Imperial Army and the Alliance Army on an actual battlefield. Powder Guns have an absurd number of limitations. If it rains, a powder gun just turns into an expensive, hard-to-maintain club.
"In case we're wiped out, Krieger, I'm assigning you three soldiers."
Only then did Ernest stop distractedly glancing around, digging at the ground with his toe, and squatting to fiddle with the dirt and grass. He looked up at Ferdinand.
"Protect the flag."
"Got it."
Ernest replied with surprising cheerfulness to Ferdinand's order to defend the stronghold with only four people—including Ernest himself—even though it was such a heavy responsibility.
After that, Ferdinand led his troops away to carry out the plan.
"...Are we really just supposed to do it like this?"
Robert, now the squad leader for their four-person unit, asked Ernest in a hollow voice. Not just Robert, but also the two minor noble cadets left behind with them, stood around aimlessly, just glancing back and forth between the flag and Ernest.
"We have to follow Ferdinand's orders."
Ernest replied calmly, then led the three cadets a bit farther forward.
"Wait here, and if the enemy comes, don't hesitate to shoot."
"...And after that?"
"Depending on the situation, either reload and shoot again, charge in for close combat, or, if that doesn't work, run."
"Run away?"
"Yeah."
Ernest answered the dazed cadet without batting an eye.
"Even if you're fast, reloading takes at least 20 seconds. Even if you're lucky enough to kill an enemy with your first shot, if just two are left, you'll be facing at least eight shots while you're reloading. Do you think you can win?"
"...No."
"Exactly. So just stay hidden here. ...What are you doing?"
Ernest was about to leave one of the cadets behind, but couldn't help glancing back at him, rolling his restless eyes. He looked back at the cadet and tilted his head in curiosity.
"I told you to hide."
"...I am hiding."
The cadet answered Ernest in a disgruntled voice, as if to say, "What's the problem?"
Ernest frowned slightly, then strode toward the cadet who was standing behind a tree.
He moved quickly and unhesitatingly, as if the uneven, slippery ground were the polished marble floor of the Military Academy. The cadets, who had nearly tripped several times on mossy tree roots and rocks, couldn't help but be startled by him.
"That's not hiding. Get down."
"What?"
"Get down on the ground. And your hands and face... Never mind. Just get down first."
Ernest started to say more but stopped, and simply placed his hand firmly on the standing cadet's shoulder.
"Whoa!"
Before the cadet who'd been grabbed could do anything, in the blink of an eye, Ernest had him on the ground, face down.
"What are you doing!"
"Are you going to stand tall like that and die even if the enemy has their gun pointed right at your head?"
"That…! That's not the same thing!"
"What's different about it?"
"..."
"Wait here, and if the enemy comes, shoot. At least get off one shot—honorably, just the way you want. After that, you're on your own."
With that, Ernest walked off as calmly as if he were strolling across level ground. Robert and another cadet watched his retreating figure with pale faces before following after him.
After assigning a hiding spot to the other cadet as well, Ernest brought Robert back to the area near the flag.
"You stay here."
"Right in front of the flag?"
"Exactly. That way, you can take an enemy by surprise if they let their guard down."
"And after that, I'm supposed to run?"
"Or you can make a heroic last stand if you want."
Robert rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingertips, looking troubled, then let out a deep sigh and spoke.
"Fine. I get it. Then what about you?"
As he spoke, Ernest strapped his crossbow securely to his back and replied,
"I'll have to keep moving from the edge of the forest."
"…Are you just going to keep harassing Wilfried from there?"
"Uh… is that what I'm doing?"
Ernest frowned in deep thought, then tilted his head.
"It's just training, so I guess it's fine, right?"
"Hmm… Yeah, it should be fine. But, Ernest—"
As Ernest was about to run toward the edge of the forest, Robert called him back once more. When Ernest looked back, Robert spoke with a resigned expression.
"Shouldn't you at least remember the names of our fellow cadets? Besides me, Wilfried, and Hartmann, do you even know anyone else's name?"
"Uh…"
"And you've already forgotten Brandt and Koch—the ones Hartmann just mentioned when giving orders, haven't you?" No, you never remembered them in the first place. Am I right?"
"…"
Ernest hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
He truly was completely indifferent to the other cadets.
Even after living together for over two weeks, apart from his roommate Robert and the two cadets who were leaders of each faction, he hadn't memorized a single other cadet's name.
In fact, he hadn't even tried.
He simply wasn't interested at all.
The only things Ernest cared about were their abilities and characteristics.
Just like when he'd played "games" with Father Haires, he had never been interested in the cadets as individuals; he only paid attention to their traits and skills.
To Ernest, the cadets who fell into that category of indifference were no different from passing trees or pieces of furniture.
"Teacher Ernest, you really do have an exceptional talent for getting under people's skin. Of course, I'm an exception, so I'm not bothered, but for the sake of your future, how about trying to rein in that talent of yours little by little?"
"…I'll try."
To Robert's playful yet genuine advice, Ernest replied with the same sincerity. Then, like a darting squirrel, Ernest raced away and disappeared from Robert's view.
He was so fast and silent that the moment Ernest ducked behind a tree and changed direction, Robert completely lost sight of him.
"Look at that guy—having the time of his life, really. Good grief."
Grumbling to himself, Robert nonetheless lay prone in the spot Ernest had shown him, carefully aiming his loaded crossbow toward where he expected the enemy to appear. It was still spring, with the air carrying a lingering chill, and as Robert lay low in the shadowed dense forest, the cold crept up his body.
It was quite cold.
"I'm scared,"
Robert muttered quietly. Lying alone and still in the silent forest was far scarier than he'd expected. Yet Robert didn't move from his spot, nor did he get up.
He simply waited for the right moment, as quietly as a corpse. Even though it hadn't been long, Robert had already learned a lot from the time he'd spent with Ernest.
A skilled hunter knows how to stay silent and wait. Robert understood that now.
***
Thomas stood with his hands clasped behind his back atop a supply truck stationed outside the training ground, silently observing the cadets as they moved. From his elevated vantage point beyond the training ground, he could see the cadets' movements quite well.
For a moment, Thomas searched among Ferdinand and his cadets for a familiar face, but quickly gave up and shifted his gaze. When he saw Wilfried standing quietly on the field with his troops lined up in a horizontal formation, waiting for a signal, Thomas let out a small sigh.
'A textbook noble officer's tactics.'
He sighed as he thought this, but in truth, Thomas didn't think it was entirely a bad thing.
Depending on the circumstances, such a formation could wield truly astonishing power.
And as the son of Duke Ravid, Wilfried was more than capable of putting that to good use.
"Signal."
"Yes, Instructor."
At Thomas's firm command, the training instructor waiting below the supply truck responded energetically, lifted a pistol that fired by powder, and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
A sharper sound than the Balt Gun's shattered the forest's silence, and thick smoke billowed up. The training instructor grimaced at the haze of burning black powder and stepped back. The Balt Gun, at least, didn't produce this kind of smoke—what a relief.
The crack of the powder gun. There wasn't a single fool who didn't realize that was the signal.
"Charge!"
The cadets, who had been waiting for this moment, all moved at once. The first to surge forward was the Alliance Army center, led by Koch. The military faction cadets in the center raced ahead, gripping their crossbows in both hands, and swept down to the base of the hill in a flash.
As they began to climb the hill, Brandt's left wing, which had been watching warily, also burst out of the forest and charged forward. There wasn't a single enemy in sight where they'd been so wary. The area was completely deserted.
"Looks like that fop Ravid made a fool of himself."
Brandt scoffed at Wilfried. Did he really think Ferdinand Hartmann, the eldest son of 2nd Corps Chief of Staff Heinz Hartmann, wouldn't take advantage of the forest terrain and his force's two-to-one numerical advantage?
Brandt's left wing rushed down to the foot of the hill without encountering any resistance at all from Ravid's Imperial Army. Brandt then started up the slope, glancing left and right to survey beyond the ridge—and was utterly shocked.
"What are those idiots doing?"
Wilfried's Imperial Army, lined up in a long column, was marching forward in perfect step. And Wilfried himself stood boldly at the very center—right at the front of the formation, just like any other cadet. But instead of a crossbow, he held the dark blue flag symbolizing the Imperial Army high above his head.
"Halt!"
"Halt!"
At Wilfried's command, the Imperial Army cadets responded energetically and stopped at once.
Wilfried forcefully planted the banner in the ground where he stood, then grabbed his crossbow, which had been slung across his back.
Meanwhile, Koch and Brandt had successfully secured the hilltop.
"Fire!"
Thud.
"Damn it!"
Spotting the enemy preparing to shoot, Koch and Brandt immediately issued the order to fire.
But the range of their hastily wound crossbows was pathetically short.
The lightweight wooden bolts fell harmlessly to the ground, never even coming close to Wilfried's Imperial Army.
"For the Empire—fire!"
Wilfried's voice, usually smooth as silk, now rang out with commanding force as he issued his order.
In unison, the cadets fired.
Thunk!
"Agh!"
The effective range of a wooden crossbow, when the string was drawn all the way back, was much farther than anyone had expected. In the volley from twenty cadets, five Alliance cadets were struck. Though they looked around in frustration, they had no choice but to retreat down the hill and leave the training ground.
Under Wilfried's command, the Imperial Army reloaded in a matter of seconds and unleashed another volley. This time, six more fell, and in the end, Koch and Brandt's squad had no choice but to take cover beyond the hill.
Strictly speaking, it wouldn't even be accurate to call Koch and Brandt's squad the force that had captured the hilltop anymore—both Koch and Brandt had been eliminated.
"Damn it! What the hell is this…!"
The nine surviving Alliance cadets left on the hill swore under their breath as they frantically cranked their crossbows and reloaded, cautiously raising just their heads and weapons to fire off desperate shots. But none of their wooden bolts managed to reach the Imperial Army cadets, who were well out of range as they fired back.
"Goddamn it!"
As he was ruled 'dead' and forced to leave the hill, Brandt stomped the ground in frustration. He burned with anger at being taken out so helplessly by enemy fire, unable to do anything. But Koch's anger came from a different place.
"Brandt, why did you charge in so recklessly? Did you forget Hartmann's orders? You were supposed to move when I created a distraction!"
"I know! But it looked fine at the time!"
Brandt snapped back even more harshly at Koch's accusation, but the situation was already irreparably out of control.
Now, only four Alliance cadets remained on the hilltop, and they couldn't even dare stick their heads up.
And now that Wilfried himself was carrying the flag, they couldn't even use the tactic of sneaking into the enemy's rear and capturing it.
It's not that no one wanted to call foul.
But since Thomas made it clear at the start that he didn't care what they did, and still hadn't said a word, it seemed he accepted it.
***
Ravid, you're more formidable than I thought.
Ferdinand, hiding among the trees and watching Wilfried fire up at the hill, was quietly impressed. He had always thought of him simply as the duke's fourth son. But Wilfried had personally taken the flag and moved to the very front, boosting morale and uniting the cadets, all while pushing the weapons' capabilities to their limits.
From a tactical perspective, Wilfried's actions were certainly foolish. Yet at least in this very moment, one could say his strategy was the right answer.
"We advance! If you see the enemy, don't wait for orders—shoot without hesitation!"
Wilfried raised the flag once again and began climbing the hill. The cadets followed him, tense and on edge, keeping their crossbows at the ready as they bravely ascended.
They were desperate to protect Wilfried—after all, in battle, letting the commander carrying the unit flag fall would be a disgrace they could never permit. And if the flag itself were to be captured? Unthinkable. They would rather die than let that happen.
Wilfried had given meaning to a flag that, until now, only needed to be guarded. In this moment, that meaningless flag had become their unit's standard, and the cadets of noble birth were ready to lay down even their lives to protect it.
"What should we do? At this rate, we'll lose the hill."
"Hold your position."
Ferdinand spoke calmly to the anxious cadet urging him to act. The tension among the cadets, agitated by Ferdinand's commanding presence, was palpable; they swallowed hard and waited in silence. Ferdinand kept his eyes on the enemy climbing the hill. When the enemy crossed the midpoint, crouched on the slope and anxiously aimed their crossbows, Ferdinand issued a decisive order.
"Now. Charge."
"Charge! Charge!"
Thirteen cadets who had been hiding in the forest sprang forward. The situation was so urgent there was no time to form ranks, and naturally, the fastest and strongest—Ferdinand—rushed out ahead of the others.
"Hold the center! Left flank, fall back! Right flank, advance!"
Wilfried reacted instantly. He rotated the formation that had been standing in a single line.
Click.
"Oh."
At that moment, the Alliance Army cadets who had been lying low on the hill sprang up and pulled their triggers. The bowstrings were so weak that some of those hit didn't even realize at first that they'd been struck by wooden bolts.
Two Imperial Army cadets were taken out, and the Alliance Army cadets, exhilarated by their impressive feat, immediately ducked down to rewind their pulleys—but before they could put up any resistance, they were overwhelmed and shot by the Imperial cadets coming up the right side of the hill.
Wilfried's orders had been excellent. However, the cadets following them were young noblemen inexperienced in battle; mesmerized by Ferdinand's forces charging from the left, they completely forgot about the enemy at the top of the hill.
"Damn it! We could have caught Ravid!"
They stormed down the hill, frustrated that they had missed Wilfried who had been right in front of them.
Meanwhile, Ferdinand managed to reach the hilltop without giving the enemy a clear shot, staying hidden as he advanced. But the cadets following him arrived late, and, seeing Imperial cadets aiming crossbows at them, they pulled their triggers in a desperate last stand.
After that exchange of fire, only four Alliance Army cadets—including Ferdinand—remained, while fourteen Imperial Army cadets were still standing.
Ferdinand and the three remaining Alliance cadets lay flat and fired at the Imperial cadets coming down the hill, but in the chaos of projectiles raining down from above, only Ferdinand managed to hit his mark.
"Enough, enough."
Ferdinand, having been struck by more than ten wooden bolts, shook himself off with a hint of irritation and stood up.
There were still thirteen Imperial cadets left.
Wilfried, both commander and flagbearer, stood spotless, still holding the flag.
"…Where's Ernest?"
Wilfried rolled his blue eyes, then asked Ferdinand. Ferdinand, who had been grumbling like any other boy his age as he made his way down the hill, stopped and looked up at Wilfried standing above. A rare smile crept across Ferdinand's face.
"Looking for an answer from a corpse?"
That smile was partly to mock Wilfried for questioning someone killed in battle—and partly a small act of revenge, a way to warn Wilfried that from here on, he'd be heading into territory stalked by a seasoned hunter.
"So ruthless."
Realizing that Ernest was in the forest, Wilfried frowned, his fine eyebrows knitting together as he blamed Ferdinand.
The outcome had already been decided as soon as Wilfried took the hill. Not even Ernest could turn things around now.
Even so, Ferdinand had clearly left Ernest behind in the woods out of pure malice.
"Ruthless? I just made sure we have a bit of an insurance policy."
Let's see how you like that, Ravid. Time for you to struggle a little.
Ferdinand was irritated by his own bitter defeat, but the thought of Ernest giving Wilfried a hard time was enough to make him smile.
"Advance!"
Wilfried bellowed the order with commanding authority. Holding the flag high, he strode confidently down the hill toward the forest.
Wilfried gazed down at the silent woods with his ice-blue eyes. Truthfully, he had no desire to go in there at all. Still, some things are best experienced firsthand, aren't they?
'…Let's just hope I don't end up crippled by one of his traps…'
It was only natural that he couldn't quite shake that unease, even now. After all, Ernest already had a string of impressive exploits to his name.
Of course, as long as they didn't wind up expelled like those senior students who'd been maimed by Ernest's traps, the First-Class Baltracher attached to the Military Academy would patch up any wounds. But that didn't mean he wasn't afraid of getting his limbs broken.