Chapter 77 - The Moon Walking in the Wake of the Sun (3)
The morning after the Second Year Cadets' first real camping experience, a near-mutiny broke out.
"Hartmann, how could you do this?"
"Yeah, did you lie to all of us just to make things easier for yourself?"
"You just wanted to keep us calm, didn't you? Isn't that right?"
"Hold on, that's not what happened…"
"You reassured us just so you could team up with Ernest, didn't you!"
Surprisingly, it wasn't Thomas's harsh training that almost triggered a riot, but rather, resentment over Ferdinand's 'betrayal.'
"Hartmann isn't your mother."
It was Thomas who calmed the uproar.
"There's no reason for Hartmann to babysit any of you. Hartmann is just another officer cadet, no different from the rest of you."
Thomas didn't say, "Hartmann isn't your commander." In fact, Ferdinand had done a good job of leading the Second Years as a commander in this kind of situation. Instead, Thomas used the rather harsh term "mother," and because of that, the other cadets had no choice but to fall silent.
"If you want to blame someone, blame your own uselessness. The reason you were left behind is because you're all completely incompetent. And, not everyone spent last night sleeping in tents that collapsed or were swept away by the rainwater. You were all too busy looking for someone to take care of your own incompetence, and you even tried to pick only the most capable people as that someone."
Thomas was right.
Not everyone set up their tents as quickly as Ernest's team, but there were teams that, despite taking a bit longer, managed to build shelters just as sturdy.
"How arrogant can you be? You couldn't even manage to put up a single tent pole, yet you wanted nothing more than to be protected by the most capable. Not once did you try to achieve something on your own, nor did you even think of learning from others, and you didn't even make the smallest effort to be of any help."
Standing in the still-pouring rain, Thomas spoke in a heavy tone.
There was hardly anyone who could argue against his words, and everyone stayed silent.
"Do you think I just sat around last night and watched you struggle for my own amusement?"
Wasn't that the case?
At Thomas's words, everyone looked up at him in surprise.
He gave a dry, wry smile, his lips curled by an old burn.
"Of course I enjoyed it. But I watched to make sure I caught every last bit of your stupid behavior and could point it out to you. Now, let me ask—did any team ask for help, or offer it to someone else?"
"..."
No one answered. Because there hadn't been anyone.
"All I did was give you a tent meant for four people. That's all there is to it. You could have joined forces to build a bigger shelter and spent the night together. Even if it took longer, if you'd simply helped one another, everyone could have had a comfortable night."
At that moment, Thomas seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.
"I got to watch all that precious friendship you've built up get washed away so refreshingly by the rain. Don't forget this moment, you Young Master Brats. I truly, sincerely hope you never find yourself lost in the delusion that, just because you abandoned your friends in a rainstorm, someone will show up heroically in a real life-or-death battle and sacrifice themselves for an incompetent fool like you."
It was a scolding aimed at those who'd done nothing but hope for help while being useless, but also at those who could have led the group yet chose to make selfish decisions.
"Most of you weren't even worth evaluating last night—you were garbage. Still, there were a few cadets who weren't so bad."
To everyone's surprise, Thomas made eye contact with several cadets and smiled. It was a genuinely satisfied smile. No one was more surprised by that look than Wilfried himself.
"Recognizing your own incompetence, swallowing your pride to survive, and gritting your teeth to do what you're told—that's far more impressive than you might think."
"That's why Young Masters like you nobles are hopeless. If you want to stay alive, you have to know how to lay flat on the ground." "Of course, that doesn't mean you should become a bastard like Jimman."
"..."
Even hearing Thomas call out a few more times, similar phrases like "bastards like Ernest's dog," Robert, who had played that role the night before, wasn't particularly embarrassed.
As a merchant's son and a commoner, Robert knew better than to let useless pride get in the way and make him lose out. But he decided it was best to just keep his mouth shut and read the room.
"Get real, kids. Do you really think that becoming officers is going to suddenly make you important? At most, you'll be Second Lieutenants. You're at the very bottom among officers. The only ones lower than you are commoners. Are you still going to walk around with your heads held high then?"
Thomas watched the cadets as they stood in the rain, looking downcast, and his lips twitched. From Ernest's perspective, it looked like a sneer.
"Go eat breakfast and then take down your tents. You'd better move fast. If you're slow, you're only making things harder for yourselves."
Having delivered a tremendous amount of valuable lessons to the cadets in just one night of camping, Thomas let out a small sigh.
Just thinking about these guys graduating, getting commissioned, relying on their House's backing, and climbing the ranks effortlessly made his blood boil.
How many lives had already been lost in vain because people with too much authority and responsibility—and no real understanding of war—made the decisions?
Still, by showing these kids as much of war's brutality and savagery as possible, and teaching them to face reality, Thomas hoped that at the very least, these ones wouldn't go so far as to order a reckless charge into a fortified enemy position without a clear solution, simply because their pride was wounded.
After Thomas's long speech, the cadets gained a great deal of insight. Though there was still a bit of awkwardness lingering between them, everyone helped out as they dismantled the tents. They took the opportunity to study the solid structure of the well-built shelter and shared information with one another
Thanks to that, during the next round of camping, even though it still took a lot of time to set up the tents, everyone was able to stretch out and sleep well, without any tents collapsing or being washed away.
The Imperial Military Academy's transport vehicles raced along, carrying the instructors and the Second Year cadets, which allowed them to arrive in Ruybern, where the 2nd Corps Headquarters was located, without being late for the schedule.
Of course, the fact that they barely made it in by late evening was not part of the original plan. They were supposed to arrive a little after noon, but heavy rain made it hard for the transport vehicles to pick up speed, and the cadets took a long time pitching and dismantling the tents, so they ended up running late.
"Hurry up! Anyone who's late will end up sleeping outside!"
After some discussion, the instructors decided to let the cadets spend the night at the 2nd Corps Headquarters. Originally, the plan was for them to arrive early, pitch their tents, and sleep outside. But making them set up tents at this hour just wasn't reasonable.
"They're going to have it even harder from here on out. Let's at least let them get some rest tonight."
Most of all, it was clear—even Thomas realized—that pushing the Second Years any harder here would be a mistake. If they didn't get at least a minimal amount of rest, there would be a flood of cadets unable to keep up with the training ahead.
Being fifteen is an awkward age. Some cadets, like Ferdinand, already had bodies tougher than most grown soldiers, while others, like Wilfried, would be completely exhausted just from a bit of shoveling.
The Second Year cadets hurriedly rushed into the headquarters' barracks. Fortunately, everything had been prepared to receive them.
"I thought a bunch of beggars had shown up, not officer cadets."
"Watch your mouth."
"That's a compliment. A compliment. They say he's the very same one who turned all the military academies across the Empire upside down. Looks like he's teaching those cadets quite well."
The officers who greeted and guided the cadets at the 2nd Corps Headquarters barracks were whispering among themselves.
After camping for several days in pouring rain, the cadets looked as rough as actual beggars.
But this disheveled appearance earned the contingent from the Imperial Military Academy a bit of goodwill from the 2nd Corps soldiers—not just for the abrupt change in plans, but also because they arrived much later than scheduled.
"Up until last year, you'd think they were coming to a banquet—their hair slicked back with oil, uniforms spotless. Some of them even treated the corps soldiers like their own servants. But this year's Second Year cadets, even if they still look a bit green, have a fierce glint in their eyes from all that hardship."
"Go wash up and change first. You'll get your meals afterward."
"Yes, sir." "Hmm."
Most importantly, they were obedient. None of them acted out just because they came from some prestigious family.
"That's the Chief of Staff's eldest grandson, isn't it…?"
"There."
"Yeah, anyone could tell that's the Chief of Staff's eldest grandson."
The 2nd Corps officers immediately spotted Ferdinand among the Second Years—he was simply too large to blend in with the rest. Ferdinand had never set foot in the headquarters before, citing he lacked the authority to do so, and Heinz hadn't brought his beloved grandson around either, so no one had ever seen his face.
Still, anyone who'd ever met Heinz Hartmann would recognize at a glance that Ferdinand was his flesh and blood—even if they were standing on their heads.
"They say the Duke Ravid's son is here too?"
"Where is he?"
The officers also tried to find Wilfried, who, like Ferdinand, was a person of interest.
But with his small frame and his raincoat hood pulled low, Wilfried looked like just another beggar—there was no way to pick him out.
Still, the fact that Wilfried didn't burst out with, "I am the Duke's son! How dare you order me to undress and bathe in a place where such low-born people stay! Do you think I'm some kind of animal?" meant that the other young noblemen quietly followed his example. Even officers who had never seen Wilfried's face found their opinion of him growing more favorable by the minute.
After all, if even the Duke's son kept his mouth shut and obeyed orders, what lunatic would dare open his mouth and cause trouble?
However, when the cadets finished washing up and gathered in the dining hall, the 2nd Corps soldiers stationed there could instantly identify which of them was the Duke's son.
Unless they were blind, one glance at Wilfried's face would tell anyone he was by far the most distinguished person in the room.
"They'd recruit him into the Capital Defense Force for that face alone."
"He could even end up in the Royal Guard."
Wilfried was still a boy, but it was obvious to anyone that, once he grew up, he'd be a truly stunning man.
There was no way the Capital Defense Force, obsessed with putting its best face forward, would let such an outstanding recruit slip through their fingers.
"Quiet."
Those who had been whispering fell instantly silent, startled by the voice.
Major, the Corps Staff Officer, was suddenly standing right behind them, sweeping back his rain-soaked hair—they hadn't even noticed him come in.
With a quick, urgent whisper, he passed on a message and then, after letting his eyes sweep over the cadets enjoying their hot meals, he spotted Ferdinand and let out a breath that could have been either a sigh or a chuckle.
The cadets felt genuinely grateful—they could finally bathe in hot water, pull on clean, dry clothes, and have a solid meal.
Each of them was shoveling food into their mouths as quickly as possible, all while doing their best to maintain a shred of dignity.
"Ferdinand."
"What is it?"
Even in the midst of all this, Ernest kept his restless eyes moving, so he sensed something was off.
He quietly called Ferdinand's name.
Bothered by the food still in his mouth, Ernest waited until he finished chewing, swallowed everything, and then took a sip of water to rinse his mouth before speaking.
Ferdinand grew a little annoyed that Ernest called him but then didn't say anything for a moment.
"Looks like your grandfather is coming."
"What?"
"Chief of Staff!"
By the time Ernest—just as his father had taught him—politely made sure his mouth was empty before speaking, too much time had passed.
Because of this, when Brigadier General Heinz Hartmann, Chief of Staff of the 2nd Corps, strode grandly into the once-peaceful dining hall, shattering the calm and instantly taking command of everything, his beloved eldest grandson, Ferdinand, had no time at all to try and stop him.
"Hmm, you're working hard even at this late hour. Make yourselves comfortable."
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"
The officer who answered energetically to Heinz's words—telling them to relax in an utterly unrelaxing situation—froze like a statue and didn't move an inch.
Cutting through the frozen air, Heinz marched right in.
It was obvious to anyone that Heinz was Ferdinand's grandfather.
He had the build of a warrior who belonged on the battlefield, sword and spear in hand, rather than a staff officer—broad-shouldered and imposing.
As Heinz stroked his impressively groomed, graying beard with his fingertips, his eyes scanned the room until they found his eldest grandson, Ferdinand, who was awkwardly rising to his feet.
"Heh heh, stay seated."
"...Yes."
Just a moment ago, Heinz's eyes were so full of presence and intensity that the back of your knees would go numb even without making direct eye contact, but the instant he saw Ferdinand, he became the picture of a doting grandfather overly fond of his grandson.
Ferdinand felt incredibly burdened and embarrassed by the fact that his grandfather, a brigadier general, had made an appearance just because of him.
To make matters worse, there were staff officers in tow—colonels and lieutenant colonels—following behind Heinz.
"..."
"..."
In the midst of all this, Ferdinand met eyes with his father, Lieutenant Colonel Mark Hartmann, and tried to exchange a look, but Mark just gave a wry smile and glanced helplessly at his own father, against whom there was simply no competing.
"This must be your first time here for Field Training this time of year, isn't it? I was just proud and wanted to drop by and have a look, so please, everyone, make yourselves comfortable."
"Yes, sir!"
"...Yes, sir!"
When Brigadier General Heinz Hartmann gave a hearty laugh as he said this, the officers responded energetically, and the cadets answered just a bit later.
Then, instead of heading straight to his eldest grandson, Heinz turned his piercing gaze to the officer who had been supervising the cadets in the dining hall.
As the officer hurried over, Heinz lowered his voice as much as possible and spoke in a whisper.
"Who is the person in charge from the Academy?"
Heinz did his best to keep his voice quiet, but his roar-like tone was impossible to hide in the utterly silent dining hall.
"That would be me, Chief of Staff. I'm Thomas Kohler, Senior Instructor at the Imperial Military Academy."
Thomas, as if he had been waiting for this moment, introduced himself to Heinz.
"Very good, you've been working hard. Could I have a word with you?"
"Yes, sir."
Heinz took Thomas with him and left the dining hall.
Though the suffocating atmosphere seemed to soften a bit, the 2nd Corps staff officers remained inside, and no one dared even breathe loudly.
"I think it would be best if we wait outside."
At that moment, Mark's gentle voice resonated through the quiet dining hall.
Now that he mentioned it, everyone had been too tense to even start their meal, worried about making any noise.
With a voice so soft and mild it made it hard to believe he was Heinz's eldest son, Mark persuaded the staff officers out of the dining hall.
"Little Hartmann, it'll get even more confusing if your son joins us at headquarters. How are we supposed to know who to call Middle Hartmann and who Little Hartmann?"
"Well, of course, I'd be Middle Hartmann."
"If it keeps going like this, your son will end up bigger than you, and then you'll have to become Little Hartmann!"
"Still, I'm his father—how can I be Little Hartmann when my own son is there?"
"Hahaha."
Even the colonels, whose rank was higher than Mark's, didn't mind his words as Heinz's eldest son, and instead joked along with laughter.
"...Let's try to finish our meal quickly."
As soon as the senior officers left, the tense atmosphere completely dissipated With a sigh-laden order, the only intention was to resolve this chaotic situation and give Ferdinand a chance to meet Heinz alone.
"You really take after your grandfather." "..."
Robert, glancing around nervously, whispered this quietly, but Ferdinand didn't respond.
He had always respected his grandfather, but right now, for some reason, he felt a little embarrassed.
Maybe it wasn't embarrassment but rather shyness.
'I told him not to do this!'
Ferdinand had told Heinz several times during Field Training not to come see him needlessly.
Heinz had just laughed and promised he understood, but in the end, he showed up just to see his grandson's face. And since he brought along the whole staff, he must have been in a meeting until right before coming.
It goes without saying—the Corps Chief of Staff is incredibly busy.
He's someone whose words can affect the entire corps, so if he wasn't busy, that would be more surprising.
The cadets didn't want to get swept up by Heinz on Ferdinand's account any longer.
All they wanted was to finish their meal and get some sleep.
While Thomas was either talking with or getting scolded by Heinz (no one could tell), everyone else hurriedly finished eating, eager to escape this wretched dining hall and reclaim their freedom.
"Hartmann, the Chief of Staff is asking for you."
"Yes, sir."
Naturally, Ferdinand didn't manage to escape.
He had expected this, so he accepted it without complaint.
The cadets who returned to the barracks began getting ready for bed
"I wonder what Hartmann is talking about right now?"
"Hey! How can you refer to the Chief of Staff like that!"
"I didn't mean the Chief of Staff!"
"Then Lieutenant Colonel Hartmann?"
"No!"
"Do you think our peer Hartmann is telling the Chief of Staff the training is too tough and he'd like them to go easy on us?"
"If it's Hartmann, he'll probably say they should make it even tougher..."
"You little punk! There you go again, talking about the Chief of Staff like that!"
"Cut it out! Someone might overhear and get the wrong idea!"
Even while getting ready for bed, everyone was full of curiosity about the conversation between Ferdinand and Heinz. What could Brigadier General Heinz Hartmann, the 2nd Corps Chief of Staff, possibly be discussing with his eldest grandson?
***
"My little Ferdie! How long has it been!"
"Grandfather..."
"Come here, let me give you a hug. Oh my, you've grown even more. By next year, you'll be taller than Mark. Ha ha ha."
"Everyone's joking about who we'll have to start calling Little Hartmann now."
"Looks like Mark will be the new Little Hartmann."
"As if! There's no way I could become Little Hartmann. That would confuse everyone."
Big Hartmann, Middle Hartmann, and Little Hartmann were all together, exchanging warm greetings.
"Grandfather, I told you not to come and visit like this, didn't I?"
"What? Who's going to stop me from coming to see my own grandchildren?"
"It's not that anyone's trying to stop you…"
"Oh, heavens. Ferdie, now that I see you, you look terrible. Are you eating properly?"
"G-Grandfather…"
"Ferdie just had dinner. Please, don't feed him any more."
"Still, look how skinny the boy is!"
"Father, Ferdie probably weighs more than I do right now."
"Isn't that just because you're too skinny yourself?"
It was hard to believe that this was a conversation between the 2nd Corps Chief of Staff, a 2nd Corps Staff Officer, and a cadet from the Imperial Military Academy—it just sounded like any ordinary family's conversation.
"How's life at the Academy?"
Mark asked his son, trying to calm the mood.
"Nothing much to report."
"Have you made many friends?"
"I suppose so."
"Why? Don't tell me the other kids are leaving you out?"
At Ferdinand's words, Heinz's eyebrows shot up.
Ferdinand realized he needed to be even more careful with how he spoke.
"No, I just meant that I'm getting along with everyone."
"Father, to be honest, it's not good for Ferdie if you worry about him too much. The kids are all getting along fine, but if you get involved, it'll only make things awkward for him."
Mark spoke frankly to his father for the sake of his son.
"Just let the kids be. Even as a cadet, we know just how high a rank Brigadier General is. It's only natural that having you around would make things a little tense."
"Hmmm…"
Brigadier General Heinz Hartmann seemed a bit disgruntled by his son's words, but he didn't get angry or insist on his way. Heinz seemed a bit disappointed but accepted it, saying,
"I just wanted to chat with my grandson's friends and all, but I suppose there's nothing I can do."
"In the winter, invite your friends over and hang out. Here, I may be a Brigadier General, but at home, I'm just your grandfather, aren't I?"
"They'll probably still find it intimidating, though…"
"So, what am I supposed to do, then? Am I not even allowed to meet my grandson's friends?"
"My friends feel the same way about you, Father. We're all soldiers…"
"Ah, these young men! They've got no spirit! No backbone at all!"
Heinz grumbled about his son's and his grandson's friends. All he wanted was to have a simple talk, treat them to a meal, have some tea, just act as a normal grandfather—but everyone was so intimidated up front that it was impossible.
Of course, it wouldn't be normal for someone not to feel nervous about meeting the Corps Chief of Staff.
He went on, "Just before, that instructor—Captain Kohler—that's what a real soldier, a real man looks like. He had guts."
In that sense, Thomas, whom Heinz had just spoken with, was certainly an unusual one.
"I have no intention of going easy on the Chief of Staff's cherished eldest grandson during training."
Called away by Heinz and then leaving the dining hall, Thomas had said this so confidently, it was almost insubordination.
This lowly Captain was so bold that Heinz, for once, couldn't feel even a trace of anger at him.
"Ha ha ha ha! Of course, that's exactly how it should be!"
Instead, Heinz burst out laughing heartily and gave Thomas a strong slap on the shoulder.
Heinz cared deeply for Ferdinand.
That's why he hoped Ferdinand would face as many trials as he could handle.
After all, a man is shaped by overcoming challenges.
Anyone who just blooms like a flower under the gardener's hand without any hardship isn't a real man.
At least, that's what Heinz believed.
"Ferdie, you should grow up to be that kind of man too."
Heinz said this with real seriousness. In response, Ferdinand gave him a smile he only ever showed to family.
"I want to take after my father and grandfather."
"Oh, come on! You can leave Mark out! That weakling!"
"Are you going to keep saying that? Look how old I am now—and I'm even a lieutenant colonel."
"I'll say it until the day I die, you rascal!"
"Well, since I'll probably live longer than you, one day there'll come a time when I don't have to hear it anymore."
"You frail little thing! I'll outlive you!"
"Oh, for heaven's sake."
"And even if I die before you, I'll make sure to mention your scrawniness right on my tombstone."
"I'm begging you, please don't do that."
Heinz laughed, teasing his son Mark, who, for a son of Hartmann, was quite small in stature.
Even if he acted like this, Heinz deeply cherished, loved, and worried about his frail son.
After all, Mark's slight build came from his late wife, who had also been sickly, and whose loss still pained him.
"Grandfather."
While Heinz and Mark were exchanging old stories, Ferdinand, who had been quietly listening, called out softly to Heinz.
Heinz, who was in the middle of teasing Mark, raised his eyebrows and turned to look at Ferdinand.
From just hearing his grandson's voice, he sensed that something weighty was about to be said.
"Is a war going to break out?"
Ferdinand, taking advantage of his privilege as Heinz's grandson, asked a question that a mere officer cadet like himself would never be permitted to ask.
Heinz met the eyes of his beloved eldest grandson head-on.
Gone was the warm, smiling grandfather from moments before; this was now the gaze of a true soldier.
"Ferdinand, that's not something you should even dare to ask."
Heinz's reply was cold and heavy.
Whether war was imminent or not, it was far too weighty a matter to reveal to a mere officer cadet in a time when everyone was straining to interpret the Emperor's intentions and confusion was rampant.
"I understand that. But I have to know."
"Why?"
As Ferdinand calmly acknowledged the point but still insisted on knowing, Mark—despite the tense atmosphere—asked his son in a gentle voice.
"So that I can at least be prepared."
Repeating exactly what he had heard from Ernest, Ferdinand reflected on his own words once more.
Yes, Ferdinand needed to be mentally prepared.
"..."
Heinz looked at Ferdinand without moving a muscle.
The silence was as heavy as gold, and even though Ferdinand felt as if he might collapse under the weight of his beloved grandfather's wordless gaze, he did not avert his eyes.
It was a truly courageous stance, and so, for the sake of his grandson, Heinz decided to answer him.
"I don't know."
"..."
"It's late. You should get some rest, too, so go on back now."
"Yes, Grandfather."
Heinz dismissed Ferdinand, and Ferdinand obediently followed his grandfather's words, stood up, bowed his head quietly to both his grandfather and father, and left the room.
"What in the world is His Majesty thinking, Father?"
After Ferdinand left, Mark pressed his fingers firmly to the bridge of his nose and asked his father.
But it wasn't a question expecting a real answer.
"I don't know."
The truth was, Heinz genuinely did not know what Walter had in mind.
No, no one knows.
Not even the commander of the 2nd Corps knows, and neither does the Imperial Army Headquarters.
An even greater turmoil than what's sweeping through the noble society is now overtaking the military authorities.
If Emperor Walter plans to start a war, he should at least say something in advance, but he hasn't uttered a single word.
They're not quite preparing for war, but at the same time, there's substantial military reinforcement going on, too much for this to be just a political show.
What on earth is going on in the mind of the Emperor, who started from a small Barony and, in less than thirty years, built this vast Empire?
"We simply follow orders and fight, Mark."
"That's true, but..."
"Do you feel like you need to prepare yourself too?"
Mark faced Heinz directly.
Mark may appear too slight and gentle-natured to be the Son of Hartmann, but anyone who looked into his eyes now would never call him weak.
"Yes, I do."
Mark spoke in a heavy voice.
"My son is a soldier—how could I not fear war?"
He spoke those seemingly weak words with such determination.
Heinz parted his lips as if to say something.
Yet, in the end, he said nothing at all.
Mark knew exactly what Heinz had wanted to say.
He knew well what kind of man his father was.
He's a man as fierce as a tiger, and a loyal soldier.
But when it comes to his family, he becomes endlessly gentle.
"Ferdie will come to the Corps Headquarters just like you, so there's no need to worry."
That's what Heinz would have wanted to say.
Because he loves his family, he'll bring Ferdinand to the Corps Headquarters to protect him; yet, as a soldier with such upright character, he feels ashamed of doing so.
No one would blame him for this.
It's the natural thing to do.
But Heinz felt he had every right to blame himself.
Father and son spent a long time in heavy silence.
There were no words.
But because they knew each other so well, it wasn't each other that made them uncomfortable.
They were only uneasy with themselves.