Chapter 24 - Remember Death (6)
Armin's shocking revelation left Ernest completely frozen, and Robert, who had just learned a secret about his friend's father he'd always known as a war hero, was just as stunned.
"In today's terms, the unit that Haires Krieger was commanding at the time was a battalion. But his official position was only that of a platoon leader."
Armin gazed at the two boys, who sat in shock, and methodically retraced his memories with his dark eyes.
"The only reason Haires Krieger had command of the battalion was because, cut off deep in enemy territory, all of his superiors had been killed."
"That's…!" Ernest began, speaking urgently.
But Armin gently interrupted him. "Yes, in wartime, it's only natural for a junior officer to take command when all his superiors are dead. Especially when you're completely isolated behind enemy lines—who's going to wait around for a new commander to arrive?"
Ernest's words trailed off as Armin continued softly.
"The real issue was that, aside from Haires Krieger, there was not a single officer left—not even one of the same rank."
"..."
"There were quite a few questionable aspects to the situation."
Armin stroked his thick beard, a faint smile on his lips.
"The unit he belonged to had a habit of… no, to put it bluntly, they advanced with such reckless abandon that it bordered on stupidity. Before long, they ended up deep in enemy territory, and horrifyingly enough, they became completely stranded in a rain-soaked forest. It rained so much back then… so very much…"
In the old man's eyes flickered contempt, disgust, and a faint, almost imperceptible hatred.
It was directed at the Imperial high command, who, even in impossible circumstances, continued to order relentless attacks without considering the hardships faced by the field armies—and also at the commanders so blinded by the prospect of glory that they ordered the impossible.
Armin Mannheim was a formidable man, but just as wise. He was a strategist who knew how to pick battles he could win, and who, time and again, had been thrown into doomed fights by his superiors' orders and forced to taste not his own defeat, but theirs.
"We were all sure they must have been wiped out. No one thought they could have survived. But they did—right to the end, they survived in that rain-soaked forest swarming with enemies. Only about sixty men out of five hundred were left, but they lived."
A flicker of exhilaration appeared in Armin's eyes.
"Yes, Haires Krieger managed to keep his men alive, even in the jaws of the enemy. In a rain-soaked forest, for more than two whole weeks. Even now, I can hardly believe he was only twenty years old at the time."
That moment—Armin knew he would never forget it, not for the rest of his life.
When the rain finally let up and they resumed their advance into the forest, when they were suddenly thrown into chaos by an enemy ambush, it was then that sixty soldiers under Haires's command came charging, screaming like beasts, bayonets fixed to rifles worn down to sticks after expending all their Balt Batteries.
Honestly, at first Armin had thought they were some band of savages instead of allies. That's how horrifying they looked.
"Haires Krieger was a hero in every sense of the word. To his men, and to us as well. If not for him, I wouldn't be standing here alive today. But given the circumstances, no one could deny that it looked as though he had murdered every other commanding officer but himself to seize command."
Armin slowly turned his head and quietly looked down at Ernest, who had frozen stiff. He observed him intently, as if searching for traces of the man he once knew within Ernest.
"..."
Then Armin glanced toward the banquet hall. Given how many people wanted to approach Armin Mannheim, the Headmaster of the Imperial Military Academy, he put on his usual kind smile and raised his hand to politely signal that he needed a moment.
Perhaps Armin had intended to discuss something with Ernest about Haires. But Ernest knew almost nothing about Haires's past. That was probably why Armin was telling these old stories by himself.
Once the onlookers backed away, sensing their cue, Armin turned back to Ernest and continued.
"At that time, soldiers were no longer private troops of nobles; they'd become part of the Imperial Army, fighting for His Majesty the Emperor. So, if you murdered a commander appointed by His Majesty, it wasn't just simple insubordination—it was considered a direct challenge to the Emperor's authority, and therefore, treason."
There was really no room for argument. Armin hadn't faced the question of whether Haires Krieger would live or die—he'd faced the question of how he should be executed.
"The soldiers Haires Krieger saved ardently defended him. They insisted that the other officers had only died in the course of battle. But since there were still soldiers surviving while all the commanders were killed at once—well, there's simply no normal situation where that's possible, is there?"
Recalling that horrific situation, Armin smiled—a smile tinged with self-mockery and emptiness.
"In the end, a few soldiers stepped forward and confessed that it was they who killed the officers."
"..."
"I had those men executed, and then I formally rebuked Haires Krieger for failing to punish the traitors himself. That's how the matter was closed."
Armin slowly reached out his large hand and gripped Ernest's shoulder tightly.
Ernest flinched and tried to pull away, but he couldn't move at all.
"Later, a new, foolish commander ended up getting everyone who'd survived the forest with Haires Krieger killed as well. Now, Haires Krieger alone knows the truth, and whatever he says is the only truth that remains."
Ernest was completely overwhelmed by Armin's deep, dark eyes—eyes twisted and ruined by something unknowable.
After a brief silence, Armin resumed his gentle smile and gave Ernest's tense shoulder a few hearty pats.
"But at least to me, he was an excellent soldier and a hero. The next time I met Haires Krieger was after the current rank structure had been established. That young man who had become a hero at just twenty years old, serving as nothing more than a platoon leader, had by twenty-six become a lieutenant colonel, leading a battalion—though he looked quite worn out by then. He fought as if he were barely there, winning no glory, and was even insulted by some as the worst coward and a nobody. But he didn't lose, even if he didn't win."
There was admiration in Armin's voice.
"Yes, Haires Krieger never even glanced at battles he knew he'd lose. He'd pretend to fight, hide, and bide his time—protecting his men not by fighting, but by accurately anticipating and blocking the enemy's retaliation and ambushes. He was truly a remarkable commander. With Haires Krieger watching our rear, we never had to worry about being exposed."
The old general, recalling those grim but radiant days of the past, seemed genuinely excited.
"There weren't only fools in the upper staff, so eventually Haires Krieger's talents and achievements were recognized, and he became a Corps Staff Officer. For someone with no notable family and who'd served on the front lines since joining the ranks, it was an exceptionally unconventional appointment."
Becoming a Corps Staff Officer was as good as reaching the very core of military power. While it might seem like a commander with direct control over troops wields greater power, a Corps Staff Officer can, depending on the situation, even issue orders to unit commanders of higher ranks.
Ernest was utterly enthralled by these astonishing tales of his father's past. His eyes sparkled as he listened to Armin, and for once, even his mediocre powers of concentration were working at their very best.
Robert, on the other hand, was still fidgeting uncomfortably, clearly unsure how to act.
"Haires Krieger first became the 3rd Corps Operations Staff Officer. At that time, he was still a lieutenant colonel. Then, after the momentum of the war waned, he was promoted to colonel and became the Inspector Staff Officer. That's the kind of Inspector Staff Officer who could make even the mighty figures of the military authorities tremble with fear. He must have been about thirty then. After that, well, no one really knew where he went or what he did after leaving that post."
When Haires was promoted to colonel and became Inspector Staff Officer, Armin himself was promoted to brigadier general and joined the Imperial Army Headquarters. With the Imperial Army stalled—unable to break through the Alliance Army entrenched in the mountains and forests—they began sensing the war's end was near and started summoning skilled field commanders to headquarters, placing them in key positions.
After the war, when the Imperial Military Academy was founded, Armin was promoted to major general and became the headmaster of the academy.
Even then, Armin had been unable to learn a single thing about what the 3rd Corps Inspector Staff Officer Haires Krieger had done or where he went. And this was despite Armin's great interest in the young hero and his constant efforts to keep tabs on him.
"It was only right before the war ended that I finally heard any word about Haires Krieger. He had retired. And even in retirement, His Majesty the Emperor personally awarded him the Noble Heart Medal. I just couldn't make sense of it. He'd become a colonel at such a young age and received the Noble Heart Medal. If he had stayed in the military, he might have set the record for the youngest general, aside from the royal family, and gone down as a legendary hero in Imperial history."
At some point, Armin was no longer speaking to Ernest and Robert, but quietly murmuring to himself.
War hero.
To lift the flagging spirits of the Empire after a war that had ended in such a lackluster way, the Empire picked out a few people to parade as war heroes and heavily promoted them once the conflict was over. Yet in Armin's opinion, not a single one of them was truly a hero. They were just men who got those positions through political deals, or puppets who happened to be convenient to use.
Certainly, the Haires Armin had known was indeed a hero in his own right, but not to the extent that he should go down in Imperial history as a war hero. As a field officer, Haires had only ever commanded a battalion. That was not a position capable of influencing the course of the entire war.
Still, for a man of that caliber to retire alive and even receive the Noble Heart Medal—it could only mean that, as always, he must have performed extraordinary deeds as Inspector Staff Officer.
"…Why did you leave so suddenly, Krieger?"
Armin addressed the young hero who had flashed through his memories. Of course, the Haires in his recollections offered no reply.
"..."
"..."
With no answer coming back, Armin turned once more to look at Haires' son, Ernest Krieger. Ernest appeared somewhat confused, and yet it was clear he still respected and loved his father deeply.
Armin remembered the letter he had received several months earlier, addressed to him as headmaster of the Imperial Military Academy. It was a letter informing him of the admission approval for Ernest Krieger, the son of Haires Krieger—recipient of the Noble Heart Medal and retired as a colonel.
Yes, an official notice.
Armin had no intention of refusing Ernest's admission, nor did he have any reason to. On the contrary, he welcomed it wholeheartedly. How could Armin possibly object to the son of Haires?
But from the very beginning, Armin had never had a choice in the matter.
As the headmaster of the Imperial Military Academy—the Empire's foremost institution for training officers—and a Major General, Armin Mannheim wielded tremendous power and authority. High Nobles from every prominent family, as well as top officials in the military authorities, eagerly vied for his favor.
And yet, even Armin's wide-reaching authority could be overridden by only one person in this vast Empire, who could unilaterally notify him of a new cadet's admission.
The Emperor, Walter Ulrich Mihahil.
The letter Armin had received bore no seal at all, but it was undoubtedly a letter from the Emperor.
Haires Krieger. Just what have you done? What could you possibly have done for His Majesty the Emperor himself to personally order your son's admission?
Armin found himself unable to fully grasp the man known as Haires Krieger. Despite achieving deeds great enough for the Emperor to award him the Noble Heart Medal personally, why had he retired so quietly—and in such haste?
What exactly had he done?
…What on earth did he do?
Armin gazed at Ernest with eyes wavering ever so slightly.
Their dark eyes were both similar and not, at once alike and different.
"The reason you were not held accountable for what you did the other day is simple: you handled it well. Haires Krieger had no influence on that decision."
Armin spoke to Ernest in a calm yet resolute voice. Indeed, at the time, not even a shadow of Haires had influenced Armin's decision. The justification Ernest presented had been valid. He had simply gone a bit too far.
"But in the expectations I hold for you, Haires Krieger's influence will be undeniable."
Armin gripped Ernest's shoulder tightly. The first time he'd done so, Ernest had felt pain. But now, Ernest couldn't feel any pain at all. That was because something far heavier was pressing down on his shoulders.
"Ernest Krieger. You are the son of a hero. Whatever others may think, at least to me, that is exactly what you are."
What Ernest was feeling was a profound sense of responsibility.
"I will treat you as an ordinary cadet. You will not receive any special privileges. I believe that would be both unfair and unnecessary."
Armin's eyes flashed coldly, but his voice burned with intensity.
"Do not disappoint me. And do not tarnish the honor of your father, a man truly worthy of respect."
Because Ernest had been taught by Haires, he felt compelled to warn Ernest, who was excessively rational and brilliant.
"I won't tell you to become the best. That would be arrogant. Instead, do your very best within the limits you are given—just as your father did. And never try to reach beyond them. You can't be sure there will always be someone like me, someone who chose not to pull the trigger aimed at your father's head."
Armin Mannheim was a frightening man, but equally wise. He was the kind of person who could fully grasp what Haires might have done, deep in that rain-soaked forest behind enemy lines, in order to survive.
And yet, even with Haires kneeling before him, bound and at gunpoint, Armin had not pulled the trigger. He had waited, in silence, until there was a reason not to pull it—a reason that allowed him to hold back.
You cannot expect that there will always be such a person by your side.
"Do you understand, Ernest Krieger?"
"Yes, Headmaster."
Ernest answered Armin in a voice as solid as stone. His dark eyes seemed to shine like stars, and his face glinted like steel.
Seeing this, Armin finally let go of Ernest's shoulder, wearing his usual gentle smile.
Only then did Ernest realize a pain in his shoulder, as if it had been shattered.
Ernest knew better than anyone the times when his beloved father had shone the brightest, and he never wanted to disappoint Armin—the man who still called his father a hero.
And Armin, too, wanted to offer the son of the man who once saved his life the best opportunities possible.
Armin always kept a watchful eye on the cadets, but he paid especially close attention to Ernest. Despite Ernest being so outstanding that it was hard to believe he was only a first-year, his unusual character made Armin already fear that his assignment after commissioning was in jeopardy.
Truly, Armin did not want to see Haires's son thrown into some dusty pit and dishonorably discharged as a second lieutenant immediately upon graduation.
"Well then, as a thanks for meeting my expectations, enjoy the party a bit longer before you head back. Krieger, Jimman."
"…Ah, yes, Headmaster."
"Yes, Headmaster."
Come to think of it, this whole conversation had begun with the two boys scheming up a way to escape the banquet hall. Seeing Ernest looking bewildered and Robert answering shrewdly with a sidelong glance, Armin let out a hearty laugh and strolled leisurely back to the center of the hall.
The headmaster of the Imperial Military Academy, Armin, was always the focus of many eyes, so the scene of him grasping Ernest's shoulder and speaking with him was noticed by quite a few people. It was hardly anything remarkable. Yet, considering Ernest's somewhat precarious standing, it might be seen as a subtle gesture of support.
"…Your father really was something else."
"Yeah."
Half admiring, half begrudging, Robert muttered under his breath. Ernest, recalling his proud father, answered with confidence.
"But the son of such a great man is always getting into trouble, never able to focus because he's busy with other things…"
"Robert, I've only caused one incident, and that was your doing."
"And it's thanks to me that nothing worse happened, even with you always spacing out."
"If it weren't for me, you would have been expelled. No, actually, you probably wouldn't have even gotten in to begin with."
"If it weren't for you, maybe I wouldn't have had to enroll in the Military Academy and go through all this in the first place."
"Then, on entrance day, you'd have probably been killed—kicked in the head by a horse, or had your neck broken, or a rib jabbed through your heart or lung. Either way, you'd have died out there on the road. If you were lucky, maybe you'd survive as a cripple."
"..."
Robert, who had narrowly escaped death several times after being kicked by a horse's hind legs—and each time only survived thanks to Ernest—had nothing to say.
"What did the Headmaster say to you, anyway?"
After Armin's meaningful gesture, a few cadets came up to Ernest to chat, and throughout the banquet, nobles and soldiers from across the Empire could be seen whispering about him to their sons or younger brothers, asking about Ernest.
But that was the extent of it. In the end, Ernest was just another cadet, and the Krieger family he came from wasn't much to speak of. No matter how excellent a soldier Haires had been, or even if he'd once received the Noble Heart Medal, at this point he was nothing more than a retired officer from a ruined family—nobody even knew what he was up to these days. People had heard he'd been awarded, but no one knew exactly how or for what—so the whole thing was just mysterious.
Because of this, the first-year cadets who drew most of the attention at tonight's party were naturally Wilfried Ravid, the Duke's son, and Ferdinand Hartmann, Brigadier General Hartmann's eldest grandson and the flag bearer at the City Parade.
Wilfried's older brother, Adalbert, was so busy that he left the banquet hall almost immediately, but his influence lingered, continuing to dominate the atmosphere of the event, and Wilfried used that influence to introduce himself to countless nobles and soldiers, making his mark.
Wilfried's beautiful face was ever adorned with a gentle smile. Yet Ernest could plainly see the shadows burning low and somber in his eyes.
"So that's the eldest grandson of Brigadier General Hartmann—he definitely stands out, even now."
"Who'd ever think that sturdy young man is only fourteen?"
To serve as the flag bearer at the City Parade was a tremendous honor At the Military Academy, serving as the flag bearer in the City Parade was as good as an official declaration that you were the top cadet of your year.
Even as Ferdinand heard people praising him, he remained composed and acted as he usually did, never showing off. Still, he couldn't help but feel excited. For a fourteen-year-old boy, this was an achievement far too extraordinary to simply play down.
In any case, Ernest and Robert heeded Armin's warning and spent enough time at the banquet before finally returning to the dormitory just before midnight.
"..."
"..."
Back in their room, Ernest and Robert looked at each other wearily and ended the conversation with sighs, too drained to speak.
The two boys washed up quickly, changed clothes, and went straight to bed. The party would continue until dawn, and thanks to the Emperor's graciousness, tomorrow was a holiday. At least for tonight and tomorrow morning, the senior cadets wouldn't be waking them up at a set time or harassing them about when to sleep or get up.
"Kuuh..."
Robert was fast asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. But Ernest couldn't fall asleep so easily. He was preoccupied with the story Armin had told him about his father.
Armin—the very person Ernest had always found so intimidating—had called Haires a hero. That simple admission sent shockwaves through Ernest's young heart.
After tossing and turning for quite some time, Ernest finally drifted off to sleep. That night, he dreamed he had earned five merit points and gone out to meet his father.
Yet somehow, within that scene, Ernest felt as if he were being watched by someone unknown, a stranger—yet with a gaze that felt oddly familiar.
Ernest peered into the deep, dark hole that had formed inside himself. It was so pitch-black within that Ernest couldn't see a thing.
So, perhaps the sensation of being watched was nothing but his imagination. After all, there was no one inside that deep, dark hole.