Chapter 117 - Through the Night (2)
With the increase in Balt Battery supplies, it seemed they had also increased the number of Baltrachers—at last, two Baltrachers were assigned to the company.
"This is Isaac."
"Isaac Fiders. Nice to meet you."
"And this is Paul."
"..."
But unlike the Balt Batteries, the Baltrachers showed a rather high rate of defects. Isaac was a slender young man with black hair and brown eyes.
He wasn't particularly sociable, but looked tidy enough.
Maybe not quite at Hertz's level, but he seemed capable of handling what was assigned to him.
Paul, on the other hand, was a small boy with sandy hair and brown eyes.
His pale face, covered in freckles, looked sickly at first glance, and he couldn't even meet people's eyes, let alone greet them.
Paul trembled violently, his shoulders hunched in terror.
Yurgen's face twisted with dismay.
Isaac, the newly appointed officer who hadn't even experienced his first battle yet, also wore a grim expression.
However, unlike Yurgen, Isaac's face was filled with contempt and disgust.
The reason for increasing the number of Baltrachers per company to two was to counter the attacks by Belliang Baltracher.
But if Paul couldn't fight properly, Isaac would have to face the enemy Baltracher alone.
"Hey, hey. Relax. Just take it easy. You're a Senior Captain, so you outrank them."
Sensing Isaac's mood, Yurgen quickly stepped in.
He pointed with his chin at the platoon leaders whose faces had grown stiff, chuckling quietly.
Isaac glanced around awkwardly, looking a bit flustered.
Isaac had only just become a Senior Captain a few days ago.
Having lived his whole life as a commoner before becoming a Fiders, the platoon leaders—who'd graduated from the Military Academy and been commissioned as Second Lieutenants—still seemed like lofty, unreachable figures to him.
That was probably why Hertz also felt uncomfortable around the platoon leaders and tried not to talk to them.
Even though Yurgen, who was a Captain and also from a commoner background, would curse, hand out potatoes, and generally act like a madman around them.
Ernest and Robert suddenly found themselves missing Hertz, even though they'd never really had a conversation with him.
They didn't know what kind of person Isaac was yet, but it didn't seem like he'd fight as well as the battle-hardened Hertz right from the start.
And as for Paul…
"..."
Paul was trembling like a frightened puppy, glancing nervously around with just his eyes.
He was shaking so much it looked like he might have a fit at any moment.
Clearly, they must have sent him to the front because he could at least pull his own weight, but seeing him like this, no one could believe Paul would actually be able to fight.
In fact, bringing him along might only get in the way.
Watching him, Ernest and Robert thought of Marie.
While Paul wasn't quite as small as Marie, the comparison was inevitable.
Of course, when they'd first met Marie, she had been fiercely defiant from the start, and they'd never seen her scared.
"I'm Ernest Krieger, leader of the 1st Platoon. Isaac, Senior Captain."
Ernest greeted Isaac first, extending his hand for a handshake.
Normally, it would be improper for a junior officer to offer a handshake to a superior first.
However, since it didn't seem like Isaac would initiate, Ernest had no choice but to take the lead.
"…It's nice to meet you."
Isaac hesitated, then cautiously took Ernest's hand.
He felt a bit relieved to see that this tall, handsome young man—who was rumored everywhere to be the son of a Hero—seemed more humble than he'd expected.
Robert and Jonas also greeted him without any airs, and then everyone's attention turned to Paul.
"Go unpack your things and get some rest for now. I'll call you all back in a bit."
Seeing that Paul was far from calming down, Yurgen finally ordered everyone to disperse for the time being.
"Robert."
"Yep."
As they stepped out of the tent, Ernest gave Robert a signal, and Robert immediately went over to Paul, said something to him, and led him away.
At times like this, there's no one more helpful than Robert, who's so good with people.
"Senior Captain Isaac, I'll show you to your tent."
"Oh, you don't have to go to the trouble."
"I just thought it'd be good to have a quick chat."
"…Yes."
Isaac tensed a little at Ernest's words.
He was now a Senior Captain, and, with just the Balt Battery, possessed enough power to wipe out an entire company by himself.
Yet, the fear of nobles still seemed carved deep into his bones and was hard to shake off.
Ernest, together with Jonas, accompanied Isaac to his tent—the one Hertz had used before.
"First of all, Senior Captain Isaac, I hope you won't feel too much pressure around us. You're our superior, but at the same time, you're also our comrade—we have to protect each other and fight side by side."
Once Isaac finished unpacking his modest belongings, Ernest spoke to him calmly.
"Whatever officers in other units might be like, at least here in the 2nd Company, you'll never be ostracized."
"As long as I do my job well, right?"
"Yes. After all, our lives are on the line."
Ernest answered Isaac's question honestly, without sugarcoating his words.
It wasn't the case in particular for a Baltracher—even if the officer was a hereditary noble, the same applied.
If anyone made a mistake, everyone would be put in danger.
Anyone who couldn't do their part deserved to be scorned.
"I'm sure you've already heard from the Company Commander, but as long as you follow the Company Commander's orders, that's all you need to do. Other than that, within this company, no one else can really say anything to you. The Company Commander also tends to leave you alone as long as you fight well in battle. The previous Senior Captain Hertz not only was always late, but he even insulted the Company Commander and made him eat potatoes."
"..."
Isaac looked a bit confused.
In truth, this is something unusual about the 2nd Company.
Despite his rough speech, Yurgen, the Company Commander, is actually a remarkably kind and cheerful person.
That's why, even when platoon leaders and Baltrachers act as they please, he just laughs it off.
"If there's anything you don't know, feel free to ask the Company Commander or any of us platoon leaders at any time."
As the 1st Platoon Leader, Ernest now skillfully carried out the duties that his senior, Benzen, used to handle.
The 1st Platoon Leader also serves as the deputy company commander and, whenever the company commander is unable to lead, steps in to take command of the company.
That means he has a lot to manage and needs considerable ability. Even though Yurgen always seems carefree, he's actually incredibly busy, so it falls to Ernest to look after the new officers in his place.
But even Ernest hadn't been here for even half a month yet.
"Understood. Thank you."
"All right, then."
Ernest and Jonas were about to leave the tent.
"Excuse me."
Just then, Isaac hesitantly called out to Ernest again.
When Ernest turned around, Isaac, after a moment's hesitation, asked quietly,
"What should I do about Paul Fiders? Can't I ask to have him switched out?"
He looked quite desperate.
If Paul couldn't do his part, Isaac would have to face the Belliang Baltracher alone—and then he'd end up just like the previous seniors, dead.
"If that were possible, the Company Commander would have sorted it out long ago."
Ernest replied with a wry smile.
Yurgen was an incredibly warmhearted person, especially when it came to kids.
And his definition of "kid" was pretty broad; even Benzen, who was eighteen, was still called "the little one" and doted on.
With Yurgen's personality, there's no way he'd just stand by after seeing poor Paul trembling like that.
He probably tried every means he could, and when nothing worked, he had no choice but to bring Paul along.
"It's better than having no one at all. With two Baltrachers, Belliang's side won't dare to attack so easily."
At Ernest's words, Jonas shot a quick glance at his friend's face.
Isaac nodded reluctantly.
Ernest and Jonas left Isaac's tent and walked through the rain.
"You've… changed a bit, Ernest."
At Jonas's remark, Ernest slowly turned his head to look at him.
"I suppose so."
Ernest replied with a faint smile.
If it had been the old days, Ernest would have said that Paul shouldn't even be included in the unit roster.
But now, Ernest could say that it was better to take even a terrified, trembling Paul onto the battlefield than to go without him.
Ernest was well aware of this change in himself. It was a truly sad transformation.
Even after the reinforcements arrived, the 13th Regiment still hadn't recovered enough combat strength to be redeployed.
Because not only soldiers, but also company and platoon leaders had died one after another, most units, from officers down to enlisted men, had fallen into utter disarray.
They had to run at least basic training so the men could fight at all.
"We're screwed."
Amid all this, Yurgen gathered the officers and started with those words.
"What is it this time?"
Robert asked with a disinterested look.
Yurgen made such a fuss over every little thing that by now, they were all used to it.
"The Belliang and Aeblonian troops have started a rebellion."
"..."
But this time, it was no ordinary situation.
"The 8th Division is fighting in the rear, trying to suppress the rebellion."
"…Since when?"
"Clever bastard."
Pressing his right temple hard, Ernest asked with some effort.
Yurgen let out a sigh as he complimented Ernest.
"Aeblon started to take action not long after the war broke out. They demanded better treatment, but their requests were denied. So, a few days ago, they declared independence and rose up in arms. I don't know if Belliang joined out of genuine solidarity or if they just got swept up in it, but they've joined as well."
"…We were trying to keep it quiet, but the situation got so out of hand that even grunts like us are getting the news, huh?"
"Exactly."
"I doubt the Aeblon Independence Army can actually do anything against the 8th Division."
"I haven't heard the details myself. But if they're making a move at all, it's more than just a scuffle—otherwise it would never have reached our ears."
"..."
Ernest ran his rough hand down his face.
Yurgen looked remarkably calm, but he had probably struggled with this by himself before finally sharing it with the company officers.
"Look at the state of this country. Everything's just falling apart," Robert remarked bitterly, full of sarcasm.
The others, at a loss for words, simply remained silent.
"For now, the rebellion will be crushed quickly."
Yurgen spoke in a somber tone.
"It won't be crushed—it'll be a massacre."
Ernest calmly pointed out how serious the situation was.
On land that had become part of the Empire, the Aeblonians and Belliangians had risen in rebellion.
The 8th Division was armed with Balt Guns, moved by car, and knew the terrain well.
It couldn't even be called a fight.
It was simply going to be a massacre.
Who on earth could have been foolish enough to start a rebellion under these circumstances?
Did they really think the Imperial Army, busy fighting Belliang, would recognize their independence?
The 2nd Corps was made up of four divisions, three of which were busy fighting Belliang.
The remaining one, the 8th Division, was guarding the corps' rear.
The Aeblonian and Belliangian independence forces weren't particularly threatening in terms of strength or numbers, but during wartime, leaving them behind in the rear was dangerous enough.
The 5th Division had suffered heavy losses, but the 6th and 7th Divisions had successfully taken control of the northern part of the Bertagne Forest. With just a bit more effort, they could push through completely and advance into Belliang's vast plains. In this situation, neither the 2nd Corps—nor the Empire as a whole—would want to waste time and resources on such insignificant minority groups.
Rather than negotiating and persuading, it was far simpler, faster, and more economical just to send in troops and wipe them out. Backlash wasn't really a concern. Winning the war was the most important thing, and there weren't many people who would be shaken up over killing some people from Belliang, the enemy nation, or the white monkeys—the Aeblonians.
"...Anyway, for now, we have to stand by until the rear is secure."
Yurgen kept his cool, speaking in a steady voice.
But the truth was, he felt a bit uncomfortable because of Ernest.
Not only did this overly sharp guy keep uncovering unnecessary information and tormenting himself with it, but he was now spreading his anxiety to everyone else.
"...What about Marie?"
In the silence, Robert whispered anxiously.
Hearing this, Jonas flinched, also remembering the little girl.
"Marie should be all right. For now. ...If she's survived this long, it means she's done her part as a member of the Imperial Army."
Ernest answered firmly, but then quietly added in a slightly trembling voice.
If she's survived.
For all he knew, Marie might have already died in battle.
Could that tiny girl really have made it out of hell alive?
"Who's Marie, anyway? Your girlfriend?"
Yurgen scratched his head and asked.
"No, she's more like a little sister."
"She's a Baltracher, and an Aeblonian."
"About this tall."
Ernest replied, and Robert added an explanation.
Yurgen imagined a small Aeblonian girl, about as tall as Robert's chest, and then covered his face with his hand.
"Damn it. This is just insane."
That was all Yurgen could say.
In any case, the 5th Division wouldn't be moving anytime soon.
Whether the 8th Division was committing a massacre in the rear, or the 6th and 7th Divisions were going through hell in the forest, they simply weren't in any condition to fight right now.
The rain had eased up a lot.
It was starting to feel like the end of the monsoon season was finally approaching.
"We'll be heading back into the forest starting tomorrow."
"Oh, come on. That's it. We're finished."
At Yurgen's words, Robert quickly let out a wailing groan.
He sounded half-serious, half-playful.
"Isn't it a bit too soon to say we're done for?"
"Then let me know when you think we really are."
"It's not like we've lost Bereter, so it's not over yet."
"Damn it! That traitor bastard! I'm here suffering while he's probably living the good life, lounging around in Grimman, doing whatever he pleases!"
Ernest played along, and when Robert threw another jab, this time Jonas smacked it back with all his might.
With that, the hit Robert let loose a barrage of curses at Bereter in frustration.
For a moment, memories of their days at the Military Academy surfaced.
"Why are you guys always talking about things only you understand? Makes me feel left out."
"Company Commander, please don't act like one of those sad old guys who try to force themselves into the kids' conversations with lame jokes."
"…Wow, hold on. That actually hurt my feelings."
Yurgen clutched his chest as if Robert's words had stabbed him in the heart.
He genuinely looked like he might get his feelings hurt this time.
"So, who exactly is Bereter?"
Isaac, who had quietly been watching the situation, asked seriously.
What kind of bastard could they be talking about so passionately?
"It's something Robert said."
"I said it, but it's really Ernest's line."
"Robert needs permission to ride it, but Ernest can just hop on whenever he wants."
"..."
After hearing the Imperial Military Academy graduates chatting, not only Isaac but even Yurgen found themselves even more baffled.
He had no idea what kind of nonsense these guys were spouting.
"In any case, we're heading into the forest."
When Yurgen spoke in a firm voice, even the platoon leaders who'd been trying to lighten the mood fell silent and listened attentively.
"Krieger and Jitman have only done it twice, but at least they have some experience."
"It's Jimman."
"Right, Jitman. But for Adler, this is his first time, and as for Isaac and Paul…"
Yurgen trailed off, staring into the distance for a moment.
Except for meals and bathroom breaks, Paul hardly left the tent, remaining holed up inside.
He cried so much throughout the day that his eyes seemed even puffier each time anyone saw him.
"…Since this is your first time, don't try to do anything on your own. Just follow my orders. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Jonas and Isaac replied with solemn expressions to Yurgen's command.
"..."
Yurgen crossed his arms and silently looked around at the company officers.
All the platoon leaders were seventeen, Isaac was eighteen, and Paul, who wasn't present, was just sixteen.
Except for Yurgen, the Company Commander, the average age of the company's officers was exactly seventeen.
Not a single one of them was over twenty—they were all just kids.
And when push came to shove, even the person Yurgen could entrust with this heavy responsibility was only seventeen years old himself.
"Krieger."
"Yes, sir."
"If something happens, you'll serve as acting Company Commander. Stay sharp."
"Yes, understood."
Yurgen finally put an end to something he'd been putting off for a long time.
After Benzen's death in battle, Ernest had naturally stepped into the role of 1st Platoon Leader and had been serving as acting Deputy Company Commander.
However, Yurgen could never bring himself to officially appoint Ernest as his deputy.
It wasn't because Ernest was lacking in ability.
In some respects, Ernest was even better than Yurgen.
The problem was simply that Ernest was too young—even younger than Benzen had been.
Would Ernest really be able to give the order to send his own friends into a deadly situation?
Just as Yurgen had assigned Benzen to cover the most dangerous rear position during the retreat, could Ernest do the same to Robert and Jonas?
Yurgen looked at Ernest for a long moment before slowly lowering his head and pulling out a cigarette, placing it between his lips.
"Go on. Take good care of the boys."
"Yes, sir."
After all the kids had left, Yurgen lit his cigarette.
Folding his arms, he leaned back against the table and stared absently at the glowing tip of his smoke.
"How about a drink? Gather everyone."
"Out of the blue?"
"Should I write a report and get approval first or something?"
Baumann flashed Ernest a grin.
"We do need approval. Ferdinand has to give the okay, you know. He is the 1st Company Commander, after all."
"No need to worry about that. Lieutenant Hartmann is the one calling everyone together."
"…Ferdinand?"
Ernest was taken aback by Baumann's words.
Ferdinand, of all people, wanting to have drinks with friends the night before a battle?
"Well, it might be our last. Anyway, come over to Ferdinand's tent. Bring all the guys. Don't come alone."
"...."
Baumann forced a smile as he spoke, then tightened his raincoat and walked off into the dark, rainy night.
Ernest first reported this to Yurgen and got his permission.
"Just don't let everyone drink too much."
"Yes, sir."
"Whew..."
Yurgen must have been smoking all day—the inside of his tent was so thick with cigarette smoke that it was hard to breathe.
Anyway, with Yurgen's permission, that was settled.
Ernest was about to gather his peers but then headed to Gustav first.
"Sergeant Gustav, please hand out drinks to the platoon members. Just make sure no one gets too drunk."
"I think it'd be better if you joined us, Platoon Leader."
"I'll be drinking with my friends tonight. We'll share a drink together another time."
"Understood."
Most of the platoon members were new recruits.
The battle tomorrow wouldn't be too intense, since it wasn't meant to push back or break through the front line, but everyone was likely pretty tense.
And unlike the previous two battles since Ernest arrived, there had been more time between the recent reinforcements and the upcoming fight.
Living and training together, the soldiers must have formed some bonds with each other.
With Gustav there, it should be fine to allow them a drink or two.
"Oh my, oh my! Our adorable Ferdie must be too scared to spend the night alone—"
"...."
"...."
Robert, who had burst into the 1st Company Commander's tent with his friends and was teasing Ferdinand, quickly fell silent when he saw Ferdinand silently lifting a chair with both hands.
"I was really surprised—you're the one suggesting we drink first."
Jonas, pretending he hadn't just witnessed a near-homicide, laughed as he spoke.
"I don't plan to drink much. It's just that, even though we're in the same battalion now, everyone's been so busy that we haven't really had a chance to talk. I just wanted us to have an evening together."
Ferdinand hesitated, debating whether or not to throw the chair at Robert, but then let out a sigh and set it down.
As Robert tried to hide behind Ernest but then ended up pinned in place by him and became the target, he let out a sigh of relief.
"What's this? Is it from the supplies?"
Robert sidled up next to Ferdinand and cheerfully picked up the bottle of alcohol from the table to inspect it.
Ferdinand was still seriously considering whether to teach Robert a lesson right then and there.
"No way, you of all people—the Chief of Staff's eldest grandson—should know better than to drink up the supplies, right? Go and fetch us some top-shelf wine alrea—ow! Surrender! I surrender!"
Ferdinand grabbed Robert's arm and pinned him down in an instant, but as soon as Robert cried out in surrender, Ferdinand eased up and let him go.
"We don't have much time. We have to wake up early tomorrow, so let's get started."
Ernest, who couldn't care less about the state Robert was in, sat down and motioned for his friends to join him.
Ignoring Robert's complaints, everyone took a seat.
Ferdinand sat down as well, pulled the cork from the bottle, and poured the drink into their cups.
The low-quality beer filled the glasses.
"Ugh, what's that smell?"
Jonas recoiled at the odor, pinching his nose.
Georg and Baumann chuckled at the sight.
"Never had beer before?"
"He's such a weakling."
"Jonas really is a weakling."
"I'm not sure if we should make our precious Young Master drink stuff like this."
"Don't say it like that. I'm not Wilfried, you know."
With even Ernest and Robert ganging up to tease him, Jonas grumbled and forced himself to endure the smell.
He'd had beer before, of course, but that had been expensive, premium beer for young nobles—rich, flavorful, with a delightful fruity aroma.
It was just the first time he'd encountered such low-grade beer, which tasted like it had been vigorously shaken up from cow urine.
"Let's drink."
"Yeah."
"..."
"Ugh!"
In fact, neither Ernest nor Robert had ever tried anything like this before.
The same went for Ferdinand, Georg, and Baumann.
They had only gone along with teasing Jonas for fun.
The young masters, tasting the foul-smelling, thick beer for the first time, all pulled faces and gagged.
Only Ernest and Ferdinand managed to suppress their disgust and endure it with expressionless faces.
"This is terrible! It tastes awful!"
"How do people even drink this?"
"I mean, what's the point of worrying about the taste? You just drink it to get drunk."
"No, seriously, this is horrible. Absolutely disgusting. I've never tasted anything this awful in my life."
"Is this really safe? Maybe something's wrong with it, like it's spoiled?"
"What if someone swapped it out for horse urine as a prank on us?"
"Ugh! Don't say that, it's disgusting!"
After downing that unbelievably foul-tasting beer, everyone started laughing and chatting loudly, as if everything was hilarious.
Sitting around with friends and sharing drinks, even the awful beer became a sort of enjoyable experience.
The situation was about as bad as it could get.
The Empire was at war.
Not only was the 2nd Corps locked in fierce battles with Belliang, but they were also fighting rebels.
Soon, other forces from the Alliance Army began attacking the Empire too, leaving the Empire to face enemies from four different kingdoms along with dangers from within.
Even so, for a brief moment, they felt as if they'd returned to their days as officer cadets.
In the rain-soaked battlefield, not knowing if they'd survive another day, drinking disgusting beer, and recalling friends who had already died—friends they'd never see again.
Maybe they'd gotten used to the terrible beer after a while, or maybe their senses were dulled from the alcohol, but somehow it started to seem almost tolerable.
Still, each of them only managed to get through one glass, and nobody reached for a second.
After all, the truth was it still tasted awful, and they needed to restrain themselves for the battle that awaited them the next day.
Instead of drinking more alcohol, they chose to spend the time reminiscing.
No matter how much they talked and joked, those three short years were still so full of memories that it seemed impossible to run out of things to share.
In those memories, they touched on friends they would never see again, and teased the young master left alone at the Duke's House in Grimman, mixing half-concern and half-joking banter.
Then, all of a sudden, the conversation stopped, almost as if someone had flipped a switch.
Everyone realized it was time to go their separate ways.
Yet nobody could bring themselves to get up, afraid that once this moment ended, they might never be able to gather like this again.
"...Actually, I..."
"No, I'm really scared."
Jonas whispered in a voice as fragile as a broken tree branch.
Though there was a smile on his face, it wasn't truly a smile.
"Hey, we've only fought twice ourselves. We're just as scared."
"Even if we fight a hundred times, we'll still be scared the hundred and first time."
Robert bumped his shoulder against Jonas and spoke, and then Ferdinand added in a heavy voice.
"How does this ever get any easier?"
Jonas toyed with his empty glass and asked.
But there was no one here who could give the right answer.
"Being scared isn't necessarily a bad thing."
Ernest said this as he tilted his glass and watched the last drop of beer run along the edge.
"It just means we're alive, and that we're struggling to survive."
Sharing one of the many things he'd learned from his father, Ernest smiled a little.
"If you don't feel fear, you end up just getting complacent. It's because we're afraid that we look forward to a better tomorrow."
"…So?"
"I think it's enough that you feel fear and you recognize it. Beyond that… Isn't that right?"
"What do you mean, 'isn't that right'?"
"I mean it's useless. So what, are you just going to cry because you're scared and do nothing?"
Thinking of Paul Fiders, Ernest said this to Jonas.
Jonas seemed to recall Paul as well—he hesitated, then nodded.
"Yeah, you're right."
"I'm right most of the time. I was top of my class at the Imperial Military Academy for three consecutive years."
"What a cocky bastard."
"Boo! Cocky bastard! Boo!"
"Go ahead, say whatever you want. No matter what you call me, I'm still an outstanding officer who was top of the class all through the academy."
"I could've been top student in fourth year."
"Could've been, but you weren't, right? Even Robert could say something like that."
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean about me!" "Hm, you're right. Though I don't like being compared to Robert."
"Hey!"
After their stream of nonsense and laughter, they parted ways. The new officers returned to their respective tents. Despite knowing they'd have to fight tomorrow, they managed to fall asleep in surprisingly good spirits.
***
"Don't get greedy! Fighting hard won't get you any recognition! Just keep your head down and hang on! Got it?"
"Yes, sir!"
Early in the morning, the 2nd Company, now reinforced, had gathered for their first battle.
They responded to Yurgen's words with a spirited shout.
"Our company commander really is the best field commander, you know."
"No kidding. Even Instructor Kohler would have to admit that."
"Damn. Can't believe there's a day I'd actually miss Instructor Kohler."
"I don't really miss Kohler. But I do miss Instructor Luther a fair bit."
While Robert and Jonas joked around, trying to shake off their nerves, Ernest—1st Platoon Leader and deputy company commander—was on edge, his stress mounting as he scanned the faces of the company, busy assessing everyone under his command.
Damn it.
Paul.
Ernest noticed Paul shaking, his face deathly pale, and realized that Paul was in no state, not just to fight, but barely even to walk.
Yurgen seemed equally aware; he kept glancing at Paul, and Isaac—who was soon to become Belliang Baltracher's top assassination target—looked about ready to lose his mind because of Paul's state.
"Company Commander."
Just then, Ernest spotted someone approaching and called out to Yurgen.
Upon hearing Ernest's call, Yurgen looked over at him and then, following Ernest's eye gesture, turned his head.
"Battalion Commander."
"Mm."
Lieutenant Colonel Levin Ort, the battalion commander, returned Yurgen's salute and quietly inspected the assembled 2nd Company members.
The previous battalion commander hadn't paid any attention to his subordinates, but it seemed Levin was different.
"Name."
"Hhh… h…"
Naturally, Levin immediately singled out Paul, who was right next to Yurgen.
When Paul saw Levin, he shrank back in even greater fear, unable to utter a word.
Yurgen, uncharacteristically, looked extremely troubled, while Isaac's eyes sparkled, as if a faint hope had been rekindled.
Levin stared at the terrified Paul for a moment, then gestured for Yurgen to come closer and whispered something quietly to him.
Yurgen's face stiffened.
Ernest focused on Levin's lips, trying to read what he was saying.
However, Levin barely moved his lips as he spoke, making it impossible to read what he was saying.
What was unsettling was that Levin usually paid great attention to his pronunciation when he spoke, making his lip movements very clear.
Now, though, he was hardly moving his lips at all.
Maybe Levin was quite used to situations like this.
"Battalion Commander. But…"
"That's an order, Captain Vendermere."
"…Yes, understood."
For once, Yurgen actually spoke out against his superior, but faced with Levin's firm response, he had no choice but to back down.
When Levin took half a step back, Yurgen saluted him.
Levin returned the salute, then strode off into the rain.
He seemed to be heading toward the 3rd Company.
...
Ernest didn't ask Yurgen what Levin had said to him.
Neither did anyone else.
No one could bring themselves to speak to Yurgen, who just stared at the trembling Paul with a gloomy expression.
Piiik—! Piiik—! Piiik—!
Moments later, following the order to charge, the 1st Battalion began running toward the forest. Yurgen, seeing that Paul refused to move, simply hoisted him over his shoulder and dashed toward the trees.
Fortunately, whether it was because the Belliang Army was too occupied holding back the 6th and 7th Divisions or simply never expected the 5th Division to attack the forest again with so few troops, no barrage of attacks came raining down from outside the forest.
"Paul. Listen to me. You need to pull yourself together and use what you've learned so far. If you don't, you're going to die. I know you want to live too."
Running behind the Balt Shield that Isaac had raised, Ernest could hear Yurgen speaking.
Yurgen sounded desperate, but sadly, Paul still hadn't come to his senses.
Clutching Yurgen's arm tightly, Paul was sobbing.
"Please let me go home… home… please… Mother…"
No one could answer Paul's desperate pleas.
Following orders, the 2nd Company entered the forest
Against his own will, he had thrown himself back into this Hell, on his own two feet.