Chapter 73 - Ominous Winds (1)
Spring was drawing to a close.
It had been about ten days since Senior Instructor, Captain Thomas Kohler, had started grinning quietly as he forcefully taught not only marching and running, but also things previously thought irrelevant to officer cadets—like crawling forward under fire, identifying enemies in the forest, and maintaining all-around vigilance.
"Why isn't Instructor Kohler ever relieved of his post?"
"Because he's competent…"
"But why is he so damn competent?"
"Well, if he wasn't, he never would've become Senior Instructor in the first place…"
The cadets found themselves hating Senior Instructor Captain Thomas Kohler even more than before, but at the same time, they couldn't help but acknowledge his outstanding skills.
The noble boys who had entered the Imperial Military Academy as cadets weren't fools.
They understood perfectly well that, as much as Thomas seemed to enjoy—no, to enthusiastically push—their training, it only helped them in the long run.
Most people suspected that the sudden change in the training program was because of that recent mock battle between the second and third years.
However, not many cadets realized what far-reaching effects this incident would have.
The Imperial Military Academy, which was the first to notice the issue, point it out, and even suggest solutions, had managed to avoid the political purges that followed.
"This is all my fault for letting myself become complacent."
"Heh heh, hearing the Chief of Faculty Division talk like that reminds me of last spring's incident."
"...."
"Chief of Faculty, you must spare no effort to correct this problem."
"Yes, Headmaster."
Armin did not hold Kramer responsible or scold him.
Since the issue had arisen within the Military Academy, and because Kramer took responsibility himself and tried to resolve everything, Armin had been able to protect him.
But if this problem had happened outside the Academy, Kramer would have been dismissed on the spot.
In truth, Armin had also been secretly worried about how His Majesty Walter, the Emperor, would react.
No matter how powerful Armin was, a single word from Walter as Emperor could mean not just Kramer's dismissal—it could cost Armin his position too.
Fortunately, Walter responded very positively to the whole affair.
He even offered praise instead of criticism.
Armin Mannheim knew very well that this wasn't because Walter Ulrich Mihahil was a generous monarch.
From what Armin could tell, Walter's mind seemed to revolve around nothing but war and conquest. Even politics appeared to be, in his view, just another tool for waging war. That must be why he was satisfied that the Academy responsible for training the Empire's officers had faced its flaws and evolved for the better.
In other words, any slip here would have caused His Majesty Emperor Walter Ulrich Mihahil to rain down fire and brimstone on the Imperial Military Academy—sweeping everything clean so they would have to start over from scratch.
So the current situation, where the officer cadets were suffering through excruciating training planned by the ruthless and elated Captain Thomas Kohler, was exactly what everyone wanted—except for the cadets themselves.
The officer cadets grew thinner by the day under the harsh regimen. Some even had such hollow cheeks that their faces looked gaunt after just ten days. However, given time, they would end up healthier than before. Even now, cadets like Ernest and Ferdinand, whose physical abilities already far exceeded others their age, were rapidly putting on muscle.
"Ernest, this is all your fault."
"What is it this time…?"
"Just accept it. If I say it's your fault, it is."
For cadets like Wilfried, who were slower to develop, it was sheer agony.
The much-anticipated break finally arrived for the exhausted cadets.
"You've all been through this once before, so I won't repeat myself. Founding Declaration Day is just around the corner. Make sure not to mess up."
"Yes, sir!"
Founding Declaration Day was fast approaching.
That meant it was time for drill training in preparation for the city parade.
"We're saved! We finally get a break from that damned Instructor Kohler!"
"Hooray for drill training!"
Up until last year, everyone used to dread the drill training for the Founding Declaration Day parade, but after being subjected to the hellish training devised by the newly revealed, monstrously ruthless Thomas, the cadets now welcomed drill training with open arms.
Unlike their first year, from second year onward, a flag bearer is chosen before training begins.
"Ernest Krieger."
"Yes, sir."
"You're the face of the second years."
This year, Ernest—last year's top student and a recent standout with his remarkable achievements—was selected as the second years' flag bearer.
Since they had reduced his tonic dosage, he no longer suffered from the dreadful lapses in concentration or headaches as before, so there was little worry he would make any mistakes. The entire group broke into smiles and applauded Ernest as their new flag bearer.
Ferdinand, last year's flag bearer, joined in as well.
Ferdinand muttered, "What if that bastard spaces out in the middle again after doing so well..."
However, Robert was somewhat skeptical about Ernest being chosen as flag bearer.
He couldn't forget how Ernest had completely zoned out and frozen during last year's city parade.
"Student Robert, even if I'm not by your side, don't collapse in tears—just keep walking steadily forward," said Ernest.
"Student Ernest, stop spouting nonsense and get a grip. If there's a problem, it'll be you, not me," Robert replied.
"You're the one who froze up right after we started."
"And who was it that stopped dead from being scared by Balt's cannon going off?"
"..."
"..."
Ernest and Robert were clearly so concerned for each other—if bickering and almost coming to blows counted as concern. But it was hardly anything unusual.
After being selected as flag bearer, Ernest never made a single mistake during the city parade drills.
He was clearly focused throughout practice. That didn't mean, however, that his ever-restless eyes had stilled for good.
'Marie really is tiny.'
While marching, Ernest caught sight of Marie among the Baltracher cadets and silently mused to himself.
Although she turned fourteen this year (though Ernest was convinced she had just turned twelve), Marie was so small that she looked to be about the same size as the other ten-year-old Baltracher cadets who had entered the academy this year.
It was probably because she hadn't had enough to eat while growing up.
Still, lately Marie had been growing little by little—probably thanks to feeling more settled and finally eating and sleeping well.
Ernest thought that if she kept developing like this, by the time she turned fifteen in three years, she might wind up a bit on the short side, but at least close to the average height for her age.
Even though, technically, Marie was already fourteen.
'Were we like that when we were first years, too?'
Then, watching the creaky, awkward steps of the first-year cadets on the training ground, Ernest found himself getting strangely sentimental.
Everyone wore their most solemn expressions as they marched, but to be honest, it looked like nothing more than kids playing soldier.
Ernest took advantage of this rare moment—when the entire academy was gathered in one place—to carefully scan and memorize every new face. After all, no matter how quickly you gather intelligence, it's never too soon.
Aside from the first years, the other cadets only made a few small mistakes at first, and then carried out the rest of the practice without a hitch.
The first-year cadets, however, kept messing up throughout the whole session—not just because they were clumsy, but because, thanks to that damned Thomas, their bodies were aching all over from the training. It was hardly reasonable to expect clean marching from fourteen-year-olds suffering sore muscles all over.
"Ah! This feels so easy!"
"Right? I wish we could just do drill training every day."
"And we wouldn't even have to do math homework."
Even during breaks, everyone went on about how delightful drill training was.
With nothing to do but empty your head and walk, what could possibly be easier?
A year ago, anyone talking such nonsense would've been mobbed and beaten until they shut up, but thanks to our outstanding Chief Instructor, Captain Thomas Kohler, all this became possible.
When city parade practice finally ended and free time came around, Ernest set everything else aside and went straight to the most important task.
"Oh, that papaboy."
"Shut up, Robert. Unless you want me to hang you upside down."
Ernest quickly and precisely wielded his quill pen to write a letter to his father, letting him know that he'd been chosen as the flag bearer for the city parade.
In fact, with Founding Declaration Day approaching, Ernest had already sent letter after letter to Haires, making every fuss imaginable about the possibility of becoming the flag bearer, so he felt a huge sense of relief at having actually secured the position.
This year, Ernest was determined to make his father proud as the second-year representative and to be his pride at the banquet hall.
"Sorry again, but it looks like I won't be able to attend the party this time either. Still, don't be too disappointed—I'll make sure to come watch you carry the flag during the city parade."
"Why…!"
Ernest felt so crushed by disappointment, he thought he might actually pass out.
He collapsed onto his bed in the most undignified way, flopping back without a care.
Even then, he clung tightly to his father's letter, careful not to crumple it.
Yet again, Haires had said he wouldn't attend the party.
Even though he had to know just how much Ernest was looking forward to it!
"Calm down, Ernest. It's not like this is the first time."
"Exactly—that's the problem. It's never just once or twice…"
Robert said it with a mix of sympathy and barely concealed satisfaction, while Ernest muttered miserably in response. Ernest realized, with a sinking feeling, that Haires had no intention whatsoever of ever attending a Military Academy party. Maybe he just doesn't like making official appearances.
Ernest, caught in a state of melancholy, spent all his free time in a fog of despair.
"Marie, come on in. Your older brother is over there, so heartbroken he can't even move."
"..."
He kept that up until Marie arrived, so Robert ended up greeting her at the door.
Marie looked a little flustered at being called Ernest's "older brother," but she didn't exactly deny it either.
"What's wrong?"
Marie quietly slipped into the room and walked over to where Ernest lay sprawled on his bed.
"…Father said he won't be attending the party this time, either."
At Ernest's words, Marie gave Robert a sidelong glance.
"The bigger your hopes, the deeper your disappointment," Robert said with a shrug.
Marie was well aware that Ernest had been top student in his first year, and now, as a second-year cadet, had been chosen as flag bearer.
Realistically, that was the highest honor a cadet could hope to achieve.
And even then, Haires had refused to come.
Even if Ernest were to win the Silver Horseshoe Tournament this year, it didn't seem like Haires would change his mind.
He couldn't have done any better—Ernest had worked harder than anyone to reach the very top.
"Oh, dear…"
Marie hesitated for a moment, then muttered quietly, sneaking a glance around. Her tone was surprisingly similar to Ernest's dry attitude whenever Robert would throw a fit and rant.
It was as if to say, "I really couldn't care less, but I'll say something for form's sake."
"Ernest, it's your fault Marie's gotten so cold—she learned it from you."
"Marie's always been cold…"
"..."
Suddenly, Marie felt extremely embarrassed to be talked about like this by Ernest and Robert.
It made her feel awkward and tingly inside.
Having grown up in a family where people might share blood but not feelings, scenes like this were still very unfamiliar to her.
"Well, in any case, he did say he'd come watch the City Parade."
Ernest sat up on the bed as he spoke.
"You were just whining a minute ago—why act all cool now?"
"Robert, I'll stake your life on it—I never once whined."
"Why are you staking my life on that?"
"Do you want to know why?"
"No…"
Jerk.
He lets it go because he can't win.
Muttering under his breath, Robert quietly edged away from Ernest.
"Marie, good luck tomorrow."
"Yeah, good luck to you too, Ernest. And you too, Robert."
"Me too?"
"Don't say anything stupid and get yourself in trouble."
"…Marie, not you too… Actually, you've always been cold, haven't you?"
Marie let out a small laugh and quickly slipped out of the room. For some reason, her steps sounded a bit rushed, and Ernest narrowed his eyes and shouted after her.
"Marie! Your homework!"
Bang!
Marie slammed the door and dashed away at top speed.
She had cleverly hidden the book she brought behind her back so Ernest couldn't see it until the very end.
Ernest thought about going after her, but then realized it was already quite late and sighed as he gave up.
I'll just check all of her homework up through today when she comes back next time. Maybe I'll teach her that putting things off doesn't make them disappear.
Good times always pass quickly.
The sweet moments of parade rehearsal, which had felt like pure honey, flashed by in an instant, and at last, Founding Declaration Day arrived.
"This is the last one, huh."
"We really have to go back to being tormented all day long by Instructor Kohler?"
Complaints about Thomas were at an all-time high, but that didn't really matter right now—all of them were tense about the City Parade for Founding Declaration Day.
Ernest was nervous too.
Although this was his second City Parade, it was his first time as the Flag Bearer.
If he lost track of himself again this year, distracted by the Balt fireworks as he had last year, there'd be no way to cover it up—the Flag Bearer can't afford any mistakes.
As before, the Military Academy cadets followed Armin outside Grimman and waited in formation.
Because Ernest was the Flag Bearer, he had to wait apart from his classmates and couldn't let his guard down. The closest thing to a break he could manage was leaning the flag against his shoulder.
Something feels off...
Thanks to cutting back on his tonic dosage, Ernest no longer suffered from the headaches he used to, and his stamina—which surpassed most people his age—let him dart his dark eyes around, closely observing his surroundings even in this situation. He scanned the many High Nobles and senior officers from across the Empire who had gathered for the Founding Declaration Day parade, and quickly realized what was strange.
Last year, most families had sent representatives. Dukes, Counts, and other high-ranking nobles rarely left their territories to come all the way to Grimman in person—it was too risky, both in terms of personal safety and the political dangers that came with leaving their fief undefended. Most of those present last year had been heirs or young successors, so the gathering skewed younger overall.
But this year, the age of the crowd was visibly higher; there were even elderly people who seemed barely able to move.
Ernest didn't personally know the faces of all the High Nobles, but it looked like the principals themselves had come, not just their deputies.
Wilfried.
Having figured out what was going on, Ernest set out to find Wilfried, his peer who was well-versed in political affairs.
Fortunately, because Wilfried, the Duke's son, was extremely handsome, he stood right at the front of the procession, so it didn't take long for the two to lock eyes.
"...."
"...."
At first, Wilfried seemed not to understand what Ernest wanted to say when their eyes met.
Though Wilfried was quite sharp himself, he didn't possess the dogged investigative skills that Ernest did.
Besides, right now, Wilfried had no attention to spare for anything other than his own father, His Excellency Duke Ravid, who had personally come to attend.
However, once Ernest repeatedly gestured toward the significant number of gathered nobles, Wilfried quickly caught on to what was happening.
"...."
Wilfried's blue eyes widened in surprise, his face going a little pale.
He glanced around, then looked back at Ernest and slowly shook his head.
This wasn't the time or place to have a conversation.
Ernest was no longer so politically clueless either. Drawing on memories from his past, he started piecing together various bits of information and connecting them to the current situation.
The many officers from the 2nd Corps who had attended the graduation ceremony earlier that year. The graduates from the fourth year whom they took with them. The newly revised training curriculum at the Military Academy. And now, the presence of High Nobles personally attending the Founding Declaration Day city parade.
At a glance, these might seem unrelated—but they weren't.
The answer isn't given; it's reached.
Following his father's teaching, Ernest kept thinking relentlessly, and inevitably started to suspect that all this was preparations for a war with the Kingdom of Belliang, the nation bordering the 2nd Corps and allied with the Alliance Army.
In tumultuous times like these, war can be an excellent political tool for quelling internal divisions and strengthening national unity.
However, when things are peaceful, a war brings utter chaos.
To prepare for such turmoil in advance, perhaps they brought High Nobles—those with major territories, Dukes and Counts alike—to Grimm simply to assess their loyalty.
'It's likely, but I can't be certain. There are too few clues.'
Ernest treated this line of thought with extreme caution. There was just too little evidence. And even the clues he did have could all be explained by ordinary happenings. If he let himself become convinced in this kind of situation, he might fall into confirmation bias and end up thinking blindly.
He decided to set this matter aside for now and talk it over with Wilfried later. …Besides, some of the other perceptive cadets were also beginning to sense that something felt off and seemed uneasy. It should be helpful to discuss things from multiple perspectives.
Not long after, the city parade began. Having experienced it once before, Ernest crossed through the city gates this year without being overwhelmed by the noise as he had been last year.
'Father.'
While following the parade flawlessly, Ernest never stopped searching for Haires. Among the sea of smiling, cheering faces, he desperately wanted to spot that withered, old-tree-like face watching him—with a smile.
But finding one person among the enormous crowd gathered to see the Mihahil Empire's Founding Declaration Day parade—it was impossible, even for Ernest, with his keen eye for details.
It finally hit Ernest that he was feeling anxious.
Confused and fearful, he instinctively hoped to see his father's face, wanting to find reassurance and answers there.
"...."
Realizing this, Ernest pressed his lips tightly together and looked straight ahead.
The roar of the crowd echoed throughout all of Grimm, making it impossible to hear anything else.
Countless people waved their hands and shouted in excitement.
It was, as the saying goes, truly like a war.
Unlike last year, there was no massive Balt explosion during the city parade.
As it had been for many years, the parade ended without incident.
Ernest silently watched the backs of various powerful figures entering the Imperial Palace with flags in hand, then followed Arman back to the Military Academy.
"Rest and get ready until the Evening Party."
Armin, unchanged in expression and demeanor, gave this dismissal in his usual manner and left with composure.
"Wilfried."
Ernest quickly approached Wilfried and whispered in a low voice.
"Later."
Wilfried clearly had no intention of discussing this matter out in the open. In fact, he didn't give even a hint that anything was amiss. In his customary dignified, elegant, and unhurried manner, Wilfried drifted away from Ernest and gave subtle signals to a few of their peers.
Some senior students hurried over to Wilfried, but as they passed through the crowd, he made small, barely visible gestures that sent them quietly retreating without coming any closer.
Right now, Wilfried seemed like the living embodiment of the noble bloodline he so thoroughly despised. Even as all eyes were drawn to him at his most splendid, unless he made eye contact and intentionally communicated his will, those entranced by his outward appearance had no idea what he was really doing.
Only Ernest, who had so rudely and forcibly peered into the depths Wilfried wanted to keep hidden, could tell that Wilfried was now deathly pale with anxiety and fear, his mind racing ceaselessly.
The cadets all swarmed into the dormitory to prepare for the Evening Party.
"Oh."
In the midst of that chaos, no one noticed the Duke's son, Wilfried—despite his dazzling appearance and small frame—being skillfully seized by a Hunter and dragged away.
"...."
"...."
Wilfried stared at Ernest in shock, as if he'd just been yanked into a closet by some kind of monster.
Ernest, meanwhile, had withdrawn to a comfortable distance and was quietly studying Wilfried.
"Is a war about to break out?"
Ernest asked calmly. Wilfried flinched, and for a brief moment, the Duke's son—usually so composed and radiant—couldn't help but show his delicate, vulnerable nature, his fear exposed for all to see.
But the moment quickly passed.
Realizing it, Wilfried's expression instantly iced over with anger as he fixed Ernest with a cold glare.
"I can't believe you'd do something so discourteous. Krieger," Wilfried whispered in a voice as sharp as a winter wind.
It was rare for Wilfried, who hated being called by his family name, to address a peer that way.
"I told you to wait."
His tone was a stern warning—the kind only a Noble among nobles, a true Duke's son, could deliver.
"...."
Ernest, deep and unreadable, silently watched Wilfried.
Just like his father.
In Ernest's eyes, Wilfried felt a chill that unsettled and displeased him.
"There's nothing certain yet. You know that, too."
The moment Wilfried spoke coldly to Ernest, his face twisted in frustration.
"Alright."
Ernest gave a short reply, then slowly walked past Wilfried and stepped into the hallway, which was now quiet with everyone gone. Wilfried glared after Ernest's retreating figure as if he could kill him with his eyes.
"Damn it."
Wilfried muttered a curse under his breath.
Even though he knew nothing was certain, his own anxiety and fear had made him lose his composure—Ernest hadn't made the mistake; Wilfried had.
All eyes were on Wilfried.
If he showed even the slightest hint of unease, many would notice.
That was why Ernest had made Wilfried feel anger instead of fear.
Wilfried did not rage like fire.
Like the bloodline he so despised, his anger was as cold as ice.
So Wilfried quickly regained his composure, and the fact that he'd received this kind of support from Ernest was nearly unbearable.
"...."
Wilfried swallowed dryly a few times, unclenched his tightly balled fists, and walked out of the room with his usual gentle smile.
Resolving his anger toward Ernest could always come later.
Just as he'd put a bounty on Robert, Wilfried could place a bounty on Ernest as well, and there were plenty of other ways to force a surrender.
So first, he needed to get a full grasp of the situation before the party.
If he went into the banquet hall without knowing anything, where ugly brawls were sure to break out, there was no telling what disaster might occur.
With a smile as warm as the sunshine on a spring day but a steely glint in his eyes like a winter blizzard, Wilfried moved forward, his words sharpened like a blade.
He couldn't approach Ferdinand.
In these circumstances, Wilfried meeting with Ferdinand alone could be dangerously misinterpreted.
Besides, Ferdinand seemed just as clueless about what was going on.
'There's no other way.'
Wilfried decided to make full use of his status as the Duke's son.
Of all the cadets at the Imperial Military Academy, the most noble boy could, if he wished, discreetly gather information from nearly anyone.
If he so much as hinted at his intentions, these naive and ignorant young cadets would trip over themselves to win his favor by volunteering information.
'Disgusting.'
Wilfried couldn't stand that even here, he had to behave as he did in Ravid.
The very thought was intolerably revolting, and he gave a bitter smile.