Chapter 68 - Shared Responsibility (2)
As Ernest entered his second year, he studied a wide range of disciplines at the Military Academy, but that hardly meant the importance of military science had diminished.
Now, instead of frequent Mock Battle Training, he spent more time sitting at his desk, learning to handle war on a broader scale.
"Today, the Balt Gun rules the battlefield. But logistics—supplying the army—has always been the heart of war, from ancient times to the present. Without bullets and the Balt Battery, the Balt Gun is nothing but an expensive stick, and without food and water, soldiers would all be dead before a battle can even begin."
Most cadets wanted to learn exciting strategies and tactics, so even as Senior Instructor Captain Thomas Kohler stressed the importance of logistics with a slightly raised voice, their reaction was lukewarm at best.
They understood logistics were important, but studying supply line planning, calculating consumption rates for military supplies, and drawing up logistics charts was anything but thrilling.
However, there were cadets who studied logistics with surprising enthusiasm—those who understood its true value, like Ferdinand, whose family held high-ranking positions in the 2nd Corps, as well as Ernest and some other minor noble cadets who had experienced hunger, clutching their empty stomachs through the night.
House Krieger was extremely wealthy, but Ernest had known hunger many times after heading out to camp with his father and returning empty-handed from failed hunts.
During last winter's camping trip, they'd taken plenty of food considering Robert and Marie would be joining.
But when Haires took just his son out, he usually packed only the bare minimum.
Sometimes, he even pretended the hunt had failed on purpose, just to give his boy the experience of enduring hunger in the cold and rugged forests and mountains.
"Damn this math..."
"This is exactly why I told you to study harder."
Robert had to wrestle with wretched mathematics as he drew up a cursed supply plan.
But despite what he said, he was shockingly skilled at it.
There was no one who could draw up a supply plan as thoroughly and meticulously as Robert, the merchant's son. In fact, hardly anyone else would consider turning a profit along the supply lines by buying and selling local specialty goods at each stop.
"We could requisition supplies, but if we can finish things with a fair transaction, isn't that better?"
"Isn't that right?"
"There would be less backlash from the citizens, so it's not a bad idea. But it's a hassle—there are way more administrative steps to go through for that."
"That's why you need a capable merchant, isn't it? Rather than relying entirely on the Logistics Corps for supplies, shouldn't you use merchants appropriately as well?"
"So, what you're saying is… the Logistics Corps should actually hire merchants to help? Not just buy goods from them?"
"Exactly!"
"What if confidential supply plans start leaking everywhere?"
"That's not my job—someone else will have to figure that out."
"You're so irresponsible."
Robert made a very good point. In fact, hiring merchants to help plan supplies has been a strategy used for ages.
But the problem was, merchants weren't exactly trustworthy types.
Historically, this has led to all sorts of problems: some would gamble with soldiers' lives for profit, or even sell military secrets to the enemy.
"It seems like none of you really care about logistics. That's… truly disappointing," said Thomas, barely hiding his frustration, as only a few cadets recognized and focused on the importance of supply.
"During Field Training, I'll make sure you all understand, in the most painful way possible, just how vital logistics are. Those who have never been truly hungry can never understand the fear of hunger."
"Instructor Kohler?"
"Don't worry. You're not going to starve to death. The forest and the mountains are abundant places. Whether it's roots, insects, or whatever else—you'll find plenty to eat."
"..."
"All right, for that time, I'll teach you which roots and bugs are actually safe to eat. And how to eat them, too."
Most of the cadets grew pale at Thomas's wistful words, as he recalled the conquest wars of the Mihahil Empire.
"Ernest, we're friends, right? Aren't we?"
"I'm not so sure..."
"Oh, how could someone like me dare to be friends with the great Teacher Ernest? I'd be thrilled just to receive whatever scraps you leave behind—truly, I would."
Robert quickly started flattering Ernest.
After all, no matter the situation, if it was Ernest, he would succeed at hunting and get a nice chunk of juicy meat while the rest of them gnawed on roots and bugs.
"The best insects to eat are definitely larvae. They don't have hard shells or those annoying legs, so as long as you remove the head and gut them, you can even eat them raw But if possible, it's best to roast them over a fire. They taste much better that way, are less revolting, and—most importantly—the risk of illness is much lower. If you dig into the ground, you'll find earthworms. Sure, they smell a bit like soil, but if you wash them thoroughly and roast them, they're absolutely safe to eat. Before eating, squeeze them tightly to get rid of whatever's inside. And if you're in a hurry, you can just toss them in boiling water, give them a quick stir to clean them off, and eat them boiled."
"Ugh…"
Because Thomas had started explaining how to eat bugs—something nobody wanted to hear—the well-bred young noble masters turned either pale or green.
Watching the faces of these weaklings, who looked as if they might vomit at any moment, Thomas smiled in utter satisfaction.
The thought of tossing these bastards into the forest or up some mountain, making them eat bugs, and watching them retch would be the most entertaining thing ever.
Isn't this the real reason to become an instructor?
"Tomorrow, you'll conduct Mock Battle Training against the third-years."
The cadets, who'd spent all their time at their desks since advancing to their second year, were taken aback by the announcement.
They almost started cheering, but then realized they'd have to fight their seniors, who were superior in both strength and skill, and their excitement quickly turned to anxiety and confusion.
"Both sides will operate under the same conditions. You may use the training crossbows freely, and each side will get one Baltracher. Physically, you're at a disadvantage, but you outnumber them. There are fifty-eight third-years, so two of you will be paired up to even the numbers."
Everyone fell silent, intently listening to Thomas's explanation. Both sides would be able to use the training crossbows freely, and each would have a Baltracher.
In other words, this was a battle scenario meant to simulate a fight between Imperial Army units.
Up until then, that's what the cadets believed.
"You might think that only the Empire uses the Balt Gun and operates Baltrachers. That's what you're taught to believe. But it's not true in reality. The Alliance Army isn't a bunch of idiots—they'll use anything they can get their hands on. In the last war, they even seized Balt Guns and used them against us, and somehow they managed to train Baltracher pilots too, putting them to good use on the battlefield."
Senior Instructor Captain Thomas Kohler spoke freely—the very trait that had landed him in his precarious position. He said, without hesitation, things that should never be spoken aloud for the sake of the Mihahil Empire and His Majesty the Emperor's dignity.
"When war breaks out, the day will come when you face enemy Baltrachers on the battlefield. When that happens, you can't just throw up your hands and die because you don't know how to fight them, can you? The Alliance Army has probably devoted themselves to researching how to counter Baltrachers."
"..."
The cadets glanced at each other warily.
They all understood enough not to openly agree to such a statement here. But because they knew that Thomas genuinely wanted to impart valuable knowledge and experience to them, not a single one called him a traitor or threatened to report him to the Central Intelligence Agency. Instead, they listened quietly.
Thomas was, by all accounts, a crazy man—foul-mouthed and unafraid to speak the unspeakable. Yet he was so exceptionally competent that Headmaster Armin used his authority to shield him, and numerous officers from High Noble Families who had graduated from the Imperial Military Academy continued to support him.
"By tomorrow, gather as much information as possible and plan your tactics."
Unlike his previous surprise mock battles, this time Thomas gave the cadets a chance to prepare in advance.
While everyone was deep in thought, Wilfried quietly raised his hand.
"Speak," Thomas said, granting him permission.
Wilfried steadied his voice as much as he could, but it still came out gruff.
"Who will be in command?"
At this, Thomas grinned broadly.
"You all know the answer to that better than I do."
Thomas entrusted not only command but the entire troop organization to the second-year cadets.
It wasn't because he was lazy or because he trusted them blindly.
Officers need to learn both how to assess their own side's abilities and assign them appropriately, and how to understand their own strengths and fulfill their given roles.
Otherwise, you'll end up putting someone incompetent in a critical position, leave the talented ones sidelined, or have fools who are all ambition and no ability get everyone killed.
"Start immediately. Battles are already underway before you ever pick up a gun and face the enemy."
"Gather up."
No sooner had Thomas finished speaking than Wilfried gave a firm order.
As the Duke's son and the one who led the Military Science Review during the Evening Free Time, he held natural authority.
At his word, all the cadets sprang to their feet and gathered in the center of the lecture hall.
"We need to choose a commander first."
"Krieger."
Wilfried smoothly took charge of the meeting, and the moment he mentioned the commander, Ernest was immediately nominated.
Although Ernest was only a first-year cadet, he was the one who had rewritten the history of Military Science grades at the Imperial Military Academy.
"No, Ernest—"
But an objection came immediately. Everyone turned to look at the person who had spoken up. Ferdinand frowned slightly, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke in a low, resolute voice.
"Ernest is far too talented to be made commander for a small-scale battle like this. Just having him on the battlefield gives us a tremendous advantage."
Ferdinand felt quite uncomfortable with this situation.
After all, no one knew how outstanding Ernest was better than Ferdinand himself.
That's why he couldn't help but feel as if, as the cadet with the second-highest Military Science grades, he was pushing Ernest to the front lines just to claim the commander's position for himself.
"You have a point," Wilfried agreed with Ferdinand.
"What do you think, Ernest?"
"I completely agree. Ferdinand is the best choice for commander."
When Wilfried asked, Ernest recommended Ferdinand for commander without any hesitation.
And with unanimous agreement, Ferdinand was appointed to the role.
Normally, no one would have questioned making Wilfried, the Duke's son and a solid fifth-place student, the commander.
But with cadets as exceptional as Ernest and Ferdinand, Wilfried was not even considered as a candidate.
Even so, Wilfried wasn't disappointed. With a level-headedness almost unbelievable for someone his age, Wilfried understood his own abilities with precision.
His role was to bring together the group's opinions and steer everyone in a single direction. And right now, that wasn't a job that required him to be the top commander. Wilfried was already playing an important part as a kind of staff officer.
From the start, the second-year classmates shared a bond much deeper than those of other years, so there was hardly ever any real friction among them.
"Since we have so few people, we won't be using separate couriers. We'll divide our forces into three groups..."
Without hesitation, Ferdinand began organizing the troops and outlining their tactics. Throughout the process, he listened carefully to what the other cadets had to say, adopting ideas worth using and filtering out the rest. Ferdinand was a person of great integrity, but that didn't mean he was stubborn or self-important.
The second-year cadets continued gathering during evening free time, debating and discussing nonstop.
Normally, since they were up against senior students, most would just resign themselves to losing and fight with one foot already out the door.
But among these second-years, not a single one was prepared to accept defeat without a fight.
Part of this came from the strong bonds between them, but their confidence mostly stemmed from having such exceptional peers as Ernest and Ferdinand, who could be counted among the most talented across the entire military academy, not just their class.
Just having such capable comrades by their side made their hearts swell with reassurance.
"Let's scare those third-year seniors so bad they wet themselves."
"That's a bit much. Making them scream and crawl on the floor should be enough."
""Damn. Thinking about the old days makes me feel weird."
"Krieger, make sure the seniors go through exactly what we did."
"I'll try."
"Don't just try—show some results."
"That's why I said I'll do my best to deliver results."
The second-year cadets chuckled wickedly, flashing nasty grins as they remembered the confusion and terror they'd gone through in their first mock battle because of Ernest, now determined to give their seniors a taste of the same experience.
In the first battle, the second-years would be the attackers, advancing into the forest; in the second, they'd defend the forest.
The first match was fine, but for the second—they weren't about to just roll over.
They all knew perfectly well what happened when Ernest decided to go all out.
Above all, it was thanks to that damn bastard that all the second-years had learned to make even the most basic traps.
The Alliance Army typically fought by hiding in forests and mountains, digging traps, and sneaking up covertly for surprise attacks, so the cadets were simply carrying out their duties as usual.
The third-year seniors would gain invaluable experience before graduation, so really, everyone was better off for it.
Of course, that was just an excuse.
We'll show them hell.
Hard to believe, but these second-year cadets, just turned fifteen this year, were grinning with such vile, ruthless glee, plotting to drag their seniors right into the abyss of hell.
Maybe people are just born wicked beasts at heart.
"When it comes to fighting in the woods, Ernest really is the best."
No doubt, the leader of these wicked beasts would be a thoroughly sneaky, cowardly bastard with black hair and black eyes.