Chapter 72 - Shared Responsibility (6)
The results of the mock battle between the second and third years became a major topic at the Military Academy.
Considering that the participants made up half the cadets—two entire year groups—it was only natural for it to cause such a stir, but the outcome itself was certainly astonishing.
"The second years beat the third years without suffering a single casualty?"
"Yeah, it was a complete victory."
"How?"
"They used classic Alliance Army tactics."
"Even so, it still doesn't make sense. What about Baltracher?"
"That just means the second years executed their tactics flawlessly. There wasn't a single misstep from start to finish."
"The Supreme Commander was Hartmann, right?"
"That's right. But Hartmann didn't do it all alone. Something like this isn't possible by one person. It shows just how high the second years' understanding and execution of tactics are across the board."
News first spread to the fourth years through their training instructors.
The fourth years then conducted an in-depth study of the tactics used by the second years in both battles, and soon realized that, controversy aside, the second years had technically won not just the second mock battle, but even the first one, which was officially recorded as a third-year victory.
"The tactics themselves weren't anything special."
"And that's what makes it even scarier. It means they were able to completely overwhelm their opponents using textbook tactics that everyone knows."
Things only become standard because they're that effective.
Once a tactic becomes standard, naturally, so do the ways to counter it.
"Ranger… Rangers, huh…"
"That's insane."
The true reason they managed to pull off those standard tactics so well was the presence of Rangers whose overwhelming skill simply put them in a league of their own.
Ernest Krieger himself was not only an outstanding Hunter but also a Ranger.
What's more, he managed to train several of his peers who showed promise—even if they didn't quite reach his level, he made them strong enough to be a real force on the battlefield.
Of course, there wasn't much choice in the matter; otherwise, they'd have been utterly beaten down.
As a result, out of sixty second years, a remarkable eight became Rangers. Thanks to their efforts, the second years were able to dominate the forest and claim victory.
"…This is a serious problem."
The fourth years began to feel dizzy with concern.
"We probably wouldn't fare any better. We'd get thrown into chaos, lose coordination, and then be forced to surrender after our hands and feet were cut out from under us."
"That's bad enough, but what worries me more is what happens after we're commissioned."
Even as fourth years, they knew there was no guarantee they'd win a mock battle against the second years in the forest.
That's just how critical it is to have Rangers who can cut off the enemy's eyes and ears and control information.
What terrified them even more was the thought of becoming field commanders later on, facing actual combat—if they hadn't grasped firsthand the power and importance of Rangers, who knew what mistakes they might make.
This became a hot topic even among the first years, who were still busy just trying to adjust to life at the Military Academy.
And, naturally, the officers at the Academy were well aware of what the first years were gossiping about.
"For the past ten years, the Military Academy has done its best as the Empire's premier officer training institution. However, ever since the war ended and peace dragged on, we've grown complacent, neglecting practical training. The result of the latest mock battle proves this point. Our cadets, who must one day face and defeat the Alliance Army, were completely overwhelmed by classic Alliance tactics."
"...."
"Therefore, Chief of the Faculty Division, I formally propose that the training curriculum at the Imperial Military Academy be reformed."
"...Senior Instructor Kohler, why are you doing this to me?"
Chief of Faculty Division, Brigadier General Kramer Schaefer, abandoned his usual sharp, sword-like demeanor, pressing his aching temples with his fingertips as he questioned Thomas.
"As Senior Instructor, I am simply fulfilling the duties entrusted to me. That's all, sir," Thomas replied without so much as blinking.
In truth, Thomas hadn't the slightest intention of using this incident to undermine Kramer's political standing, nor to put pressure on him.
Frankly, Thomas didn't care about Kramer's position in the least.
If he didn't care about his own status, why should he bother about his superior's?
Captain Thomas Kohler, Senior Instructor, was genuinely making use of this golden opportunity purely to carry out the responsibilities assigned to him.
The second years had achieved a complete victory over the third years using Alliance Army tactics.
In other words, everything that had been taught at the Imperial Military Academy until now had been reduced to impractical, armchair theorizing.
This was a monumental incident—one that could see Chief of Faculty Division, Brigadier General Kramer Schaefer, demoted or, in the worst case, forced to resign altogether.
Kramer had trusted Thomas enough to appoint him as Senior Instructor.
He believed that, if it were Thomas, he would do an excellent job educating the cadets.
And now, our distinguished instructor, Captain Thomas Kohler, had perfectly lived up to Kramer's expectations—by metaphorically landing a hard punch right on his superior's face.
"…Yes, you have a point."
And because Kramer Schaefer was the man Armin had trusted with this critical responsibility, he did not try to run away from his own accountability.
"Senior Instructor Kohler, I'm assigning you to develop a new training curriculum. You're in charge of this task."
Kramer entrusted Thomas with creating the Imperial Military Academy's revised training plan—and with it, all the responsibility that came with the task. On the surface, it might have seemed like Kramer was simply passing the buck. But seen another way, he was also granting Thomas extraordinary authority.
He was putting the development of the new curriculum for the Academy—protected by the authority of the Empire's Supreme One, His Majesty the Emperor—in the hands of an ordinary Captain.
Once Thomas's plan passed Kramer's approval, it would go straight to the Headquarters meeting for discussion; if Armin signed off, it would be delivered directly to His Majesty without any further review.
If anything went wrong, Kramer would have incurred the Emperor's displeasure—a serious offense.
Even though the responsibility for devising the new curriculum had shifted to Thomas, the blame for the current situation still rested squarely on Chief of Faculty Division Kramer's shoulders.
Kramer wasn't trying to sweep things under the rug; on the contrary, he was setting the stage for a major shakeup.
That was exactly why Armin had such confidence in him, and why he became Chief of Faculty Division.
"I won't let you down."
Thomas Kohler spoke with a face like stone and a voice like rusted steel.
"You'd better not. If, after coming this far, you can't even provide an alternative, it won't just be my head on the line."
Kramer Schaefer replied with the sharpness of a drawn sword.
Thomas saluted, and Kramer acknowledged it with a precise motion of his own. Without hesitation, Thomas strode out of the Chief of Faculty Division's Office, bracing himself to face the officers of the Faculty Division—who now hated him with a murderous passion thanks to this near-calamity—and to begin planning the new training curriculum.
"Hoo…"
Once Thomas had left, Kramer rubbed his fatigue-ridden forehead with his fingertips.
"At least we can still set things right."
That he could say this so sincerely, even with his own neck on the line, was proof that Kramer Schaefer was an exemplary soldier.
Privately, Kramer wondered whether he ought to replace the entire staff of the Faculty Division.
In the beginning, everyone had come together with a shared purpose: to foster officers who would one day lead the Imperial Army.
But as time passed, too many grew complacent with the status quo.
Military science is the fastest-evolving field in the world, and everyone ought to know that keeping up with the latest concepts is a race in which you can never be fast enough—yet they insisted on staying right where they were.
That was exactly why someone like Thomas was so desperately needed.
A beast destined to roam the misty battlefield, hunting the enemy with a savage howl until his dying breath.
A broken man, forever unable to enjoy true peace even in times of peace.
A soldier who could point his gun at his complacent comrades and warn them, no matter the cost. That madman was absolutely essential.
And Thomas had more than fulfilled Kramer's expectations.
Now, the Empire's premier officer-training institution—the Imperial Military Academy—was in crisis mode, and in response to the gravity of this incident, Imperial Army Headquarters would soon be inspecting military academies all across the Empire.
There was no telling how many heads would roll.
Thomas, for his part, would need to start taking the risk of assassination very seriously. The fact that he does it despite knowing all this—Thomas is a true monster, a true madman, a true soldier.
"Things are about to get busy."
Kramer let out a long sigh.
Last year, it was the Cadet Corps in turmoil; this year, it's the Faculty Division's turn.
No—strictly speaking, now every military academy across the entire Empire is in an uproar.
It's a complete mess.
***
"All right! Focus up! Everybody got your glasses?"
"Yes!"
"Good! Hartmann!"
Ferdinand, wine glass in hand, stepped forward and faced his fellow peers.
He tried to act serious, but it was obvious that he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from twitching upward.
"Today, we achieved a victory that will go down in the history of the Imperial Military Academy."
Ferdinand declared, his voice booming.
The second years had defeated their senior students without suffering a single casualty.
This was truly an unprecedented achievement—something that had never happened before.
"I'm not going to bother with weighing up the value of what we did. It was only possible because we all came together as one. If even a single person had made a mistake, we could never have achieved this."
Ferdinand genuinely believed this.
He could have taken a bit more credit for himself, being the Supreme Commander, and nobody would have complained, but in truth, he believed they won because everyone had done their part so well.
That's why, beyond simply being the leader of the Military Faction, he was sincerely respected by his peers.
"Everyone here is a Hero of Victory, and no one's contribution was small, so just for today, let's let ourselves get swept up in victory and celebrate."
Unable to hold back any longer, Ferdinand beamed and raised his glass high.
With that joyful smile, his face—though he was nearly thirty—suddenly looked like that of a fifteen-year-old boy.
"To all of us!"
"To all of us!"
With Ferdinand's lead chant, everyone shouted back with all their might and drained their wine glasses in one go.
"..."
Meanwhile, Marie—also one of the key players in the victory—had been dragged here by Ernest and Robert despite not intending to join the celebration.
Oddly enough, she found herself feeling no urge to resist, so she watched the mood and quietly raised her wine glass with the others.
When everyone emptied their glasses, the servants hurried over and handed out fresh glasses to each person.
A servant approached Marie as well, but she had barely drunk half her wine, sipping at it with her small mouth.
Having never had wine before, she didn't care much for the bitter, lingering taste and had no desire to keep drinking it.
Caught in an awkward moment with her glass still in hand, Marie looked uncertain, but the servant just ignored her and moved on.
"Oh, wait, hang on."
Before she knew it, Robert had come over, taken Marie's wine glass, and handed it to a passing servant.
Then he snatched up a sweet fruit drink from the tray the servant was carrying and handed it to Marie.
At the Imperial Military Academy, servants were anything but oblivious. Even so, the servant didn't offer Marie a fruit drink simply because of his prejudice against the Aeblonians whom he considered base and filthy.
With his lips tightly pressed together, the servant merely gave Robert a slight nod of acknowledgment. He then picked out the glass Marie had sipped from, carefully holding it as he hurried over to a corner and tossed it into the trash.
"Marie, you did great today! Wow, that was really something. Watching Baltrachers fight was intense—what a show of strength, right?"
As he spoke, Robert made sure to block Marie's view of the servant's actions with his body and kept up his cheerful tone. Of course, Marie was used to this kind of contempt and knew all too well that servants looked at her as if she were some kind of animal. She didn't let it get to her.
"You were amazing too, Robert."
"Really?"
"That part where you screamed while hanging upside down."
"...Hey..."
Robert's face fell, and Marie hid behind her clear glass, stifling a small laugh.
"Marie. Are you okay?"
Just then, Ernest quietly came over and asked in a gentle voice. Marie looked up at him, unsure what he meant.
"The wine. You've never had it before, have you?"
The House Krieger rarely drank alcohol.
That was because Haires disliked drinking. So, during her time in the House Krieger, Marie had never drunk alcohol, nor had she ever spoken about it.
Still, the reason Ernest caught on that Marie had never tried alcohol was because, with his ever-attentive eyes, he noticed her reaction when she drank wine with the other cadets earlier.
"I'm okay."
Marie answered softly.
But now, even Robert could tell something was off with her. Marie's skin, usually pale enough to seem almost blue, was turning increasingly red. It looked almost worrying.
"I think it's best if you avoid drinking as much as possible from now on."
Ernest said this in a gentle yet firm voice, the same tone his father used when disciplining him.
"Okay…"
Marie nodded and gave a small smile, as if this made her a little happy.
"And since I'll be checking your homework tomorrow, make sure you bring your book."
That part was definitely not welcome.
Marie's face went serious, and she took a step back.
"Krieger! There you are!"
"Robert, you too! Come on over!"
Just as Ernest was about to sternly call out to Marie, who was trying to escape, a crowd of other cadets rushed over and dragged both Ernest and Robert away.
Marie quickly slipped into a corner, evading the watchful eyes of the Ruthless Ernest Krieger.
"...."
Marie absentmindedly sipped her drink as she watched the lively, laughing Second Year cadets.
Even if she couldn't fully join in with them, she was at least allowed to be here. It was a big change from last year's Year-End Party, when she'd had to hastily make her escape.
Marie spent a while there, quietly observing the drunken Second Years goofing around and chattering like typical children.
Eventually, she carefully placed her empty glass in the trash can in the corner, then quietly opened the door to leave.
"...."
"...."
Just before stepping out, Marie glanced back inside—and her eyes met Ernest's.
With a faint, tipsy smile that was softer than usual, Ernest silently mouthed a message to Marie, just like he did the very first time.
Marie also mouthed a silent goodbye, then left the room and closed the door behind her.
"We're the best! We're the strongest at the Imperial Military Academy! This place belongs to us!"
"Yeah!"
Fueled by alcohol—or maybe just the mood—Robert went wild, and the others cheered for him in high spirits. Everyone was buzzing with excitement over today's great victory. Even Wilfried, who had acted reserved at first, was now shouting and cheering along with the rest of the guys.
For a group of bastards who had crushed their seniors with Alliance Army tactics—throwing the Faculty Division of the Imperial Military Academy, and even all the Empire's military academies, into a state of emergency—they looked unexpectedly innocent and joyful.