Chapter 120 - Through the Night (5)
The rain continued to drizzle, the forest remained silent, and the sun was sinking low.
In the suffocating silence, the 1st Battalion found itself painfully aware of every passing moment.
"Company Commander! Company Commander!"
Just then, the courier who had been sent to Battalion Headquarters came running back in a rush, calling out to Yurgen.
Yurgen, who had just finished a pressing task and sat down to rest for a moment, shot up to his feet.
"You're back! What's the word?"
"The 2nd Battalion is on its way!"
"That's it! Hey! The 2nd Battalion is coming!"
"Yeahhh!"
Upon hearing the good news, Yurgen shouted out at the top of his lungs, announcing that the 2nd Battalion was coming to join the fight, and the 2nd Company members erupted in cheers.
The soldiers had already been briefly updated on the situation by their platoon leaders.
Holding out any longer without support from the 2nd and 3rd Battalions would have been suicide.
"Let's see here..."
Yurgen took the document the courier had brought and stepped back under the roof to unfold and read it.
The sky was already dark, so it was nearly night beneath the shelter, but with his lighter he had no trouble lighting a flame to read the papers.
"Sigh…"
Having finished reading the document, Yurgen responded with a look of uncertainty. He scratched his head, let out a deep breath, and called the platoon leaders together.
"So, apparently the 2nd Battalion is coming and will cover our flank."
But Yurgen's tone, despite the good news, made it clear he wasn't exactly thrilled, so the platoon leaders couldn't bring themselves to celebrate.
"But since they're moving out in a rush, it sounds like the 2nd Battalion isn't in great shape."
"At least they're not shoving them straight into the forest, right?"
Robert exhaled deeply as he spoke, sounding neither hopeful nor confident in the slightest.
"Well, how'd you guess that? Impressive. I didn't even think of that possibility myself."
"I guess I've got a knack for reading between the lines."
"Yeah, apparently the new 2nd Battalion Commander isn't quite all there. The battalion was wiped out and just reassembled a few days ago, and now—ddak!—right back at it."
"Wow! As expected of a 'brilliant' Imperial Army officer, fighting under the grand command of His Majesty the Emperor! That's some spectacular tactical genius!"
Yurgen and Robert bantered sarcastically for a moment, trying to take refuge in gallows humor.
After the last battle, the 2nd Battalion had been uprooted down to its core in the process of merging the remaining troops of the 13th Regiment into the 1st Battalion.
The fact was that the 2nd Battalion managed to recover just a few days ago.
The 2nd Battalion's headquarters, along with every officer and soldier in the unit, only arrived at the front line here a few days back.
They've only looked at the surrounding terrain on a map, and they don't even know who is sitting in which position within their own battalion.
It's an army in name only—really, it's nothing more than a ragtag group of neighborhood thugs.
If the company commanders on the ground were seasoned and experienced soldiers, they might be able to fight well based on their own judgment.
But what if the company commanders are young noblemen who've never seen real combat, just waiting to climb the ranks straight up to major?
"Well... Still, for us, having them is better than not having anyone at all..."
Yurgen muttered weakly, lowering his head as he pressed his right hand firmly to his temple.
He couldn't understand what the 2nd Battalion Commander was thinking by making such a reckless move.
But regardless, from the perspective of the 1st Battalion, simply having the 2nd Battalion nearby was a real comfort. Worrying about whether the 2nd Battalion would fall or anything like that wasn't something for the already endangered 1st Battalion to lose sleep over.
"In addition, there's some talk about how to use the Baltrachers."
With his arms crossed, Yurgen continued.
Isaac and Bruno, who had just been listening quietly without much tactical insight, looked toward Yurgen.
"They'll be attaching the Balt Batteries on your bodies. And don't act on your own initiative. The details will be left to judgment on the ground, apparently."
"…Is it because of that Baltracher back then?"
Isaac asked in a slightly trembling voice
"Yeah. Fortunately, it seems our Battalion Commander isn't taking this issue lightly. Anyway, we're going to fight while conserving our strength as much as possible. We have no idea when the bastards might attack, so if we waste our strength now... that'd be a real problem."
Isaac frowned as he recalled that moment—the Baltracher who had shattered Paul to pieces in a single blow.
"Is she really that dangerous?"
Bruno, watching the others for cues, asked cautiously.
"Yes. She's dangerous. With just that one Baltracher, the entire 1st Battalion could've been wiped out. She's seriously dangerous."
Yurgen spoke in an absolutely firm tone.
"So forget any nonsense about trying to rack up glory or whatever, and keep your head on straight. Bruno. Because once you're dead, it's over."
"…Yes, of course. I don't want to die, either."
Bruno seemed a little startled by Yurgen's stern tone, but quickly replied with a playful grin.
"You two need to stick together and watch each other's backs. If you try to take her on alone, you'll just end up dead."
"I'll do exactly as you say, but… don't you have any more concrete information?"
Bruno wanted specifics about the Baltracher that Yurgen and all of 2nd Company were on edge about.
"Krieger."
Yurgen pointed not to Isaac, but to Ernest.
Ernest, who had been quietly listening, began to speak in a low voice.
"She's on the shorter side, with a slender build. She looks to be about fifteen to seventeen years old. Judging by her pale, tidy skin and striking green eyes, she's probably from a noble family. She's extremely cold-blooded, quick to calculate, and acts strictly according to clear principles. Even though she could have killed Senior Captain Isaac, she went for an easier target and killed Senior Captain Paul instead, trying to seize the Balt Battery. She's absolutely decisive when it comes to figuring out priorities and carrying them out."
"...."
"When she failed to capture the Balt Battery, she gave up on the attack right away and pulled back. Unlike her aggressive tactics with the Balt, her personality is conservative—she values stability. She'll want to reduce unpredictability and seize victory only when she's sure she can win."
Ernest stopped there and fell silent.
It was up to Yurgen, the Company Commander, to devise and execute a response strategy.
"The way she uses the Balt is pretty unusual. She wields it like a sword, slicing through things, and it's unbelievably powerful. The barrel of the Balt Gun was severed in a single strike, and when I looked at the cross-section, it was incredibly rough. Rather than cutting, it'd be more accurate to say it was ground away. Also, regardless of the Balt's output or how she operates it, the efficiency seems poor. She didn't use the Balt for even thirty seconds during the battle. Maybe there was some issue with the supply of Balt Batteries, but I doubt someone of that caliber would bother to conserve batteries. There must be some inefficiency at play."
Ernest rambled on, having managed to analyze an incredible amount of information in that critical, life-or-death moment, and finally fell silent.
The others waited a moment, perhaps expecting him to start up again, but Ernest had nothing left to add.
"So that's what we're dealing with."
Yurgen looked Ernest up and down, as if a shiver had just run down his spine.
"Yeah, he really is like this."
Robert, ever perceptive, jumped in with an answer before anyone could ask the obvious question.
Yurgen could hardly help but feel unsettled at the thought that he'd been sitting face to face, having a conversation with someone like this.
Now that he thought about it, Ernest had struck him as almost disturbingly sharp from the very first time they'd met.
Thanks to Teacher Robert's years of effort, Ernest had learned to hide his true nature, and that was why Yurgen and the rest of those around him had been left completely unaware of who—or what—they were really dealing with.
"He can be a bit unsettling, but he's not actually a bad guy, so I hope you'll try to understand."
"..."
Jonas tried to reassure those around him, defending Ernest as if he were his own younger brother.
Ernest, well used to this kind of treatment, simply listened to his friends with an air of resignation, having given up on protesting long ago.
His peers had known from the beginning that Ernest was "not normal," so whatever he did, they could just shrug it off and think, "Well, it was bound to happen."
But most people found such extreme perceptiveness off-putting.
For nobles in particular, someone like Ernest was the sort of bastard they didn't even want to face.
"Well, it's not anything new now, is it."
Yurgen waved his hand dismissively and turned back to Isaac and Bruno.
"Just conserve your strength, keep a sharp eye out, hold your ground if they attack, stop them from running away, and kill them."
"Yes, sir…"
Easier said than done.
Isaac answered with a reluctant look.
Bruno, on the other hand, having never actually encountered their foe, didn't seem too worried.
Yurgen—and in truth, Ernest and Robert as well—found themselves missing Hertz deeply.
Hertz had been a truly capable Baltracher, and his presence would have been a great comfort right now.
He wasn't someone who should've died like that.
…Of course, neither was Benzen Johansson, or any of the others.
None of them deserved to die like that.
"All right, let's leave it here for now. I'll make sure the other companies hear about this enemy as well. Go back to your posts and get on with whatever needs to be done."
Yurgen wrapped up the conversation, exhaustion clear on his face.
"Oh, right."
Immediately after ordering everyone to break up, something seemed to occur to Yurgen, and he spoke up again.
"It'll be getting dark soon, so make sure you keep your throats safe."
Yurgen, who until now had been denying himself cigarettes to save them, finally gave in.
He pulled one from his pocket and placed it between his lips.
After lighting it, he took a long drag, then exhaled the smoke in a sigh.
"Don't let those Belliang Rangers sneak up and slit your throats without anyone noticing."
They would have to spend the night in the forest. And this forest belonged to Belliang, whose Rangers were the kind of bastards who could crawl silently through pitch-black darkness, cut the enemy's throat without a sound, and vanish without a trace.
It was going to be a night straight out of hell.
***
The 2nd Battalion made it safely into the forest by following the path the 1st Battalion had cleared.
After joining up with the 1st Battalion and exchanging opinions, they decided to set up defensive positions on the right flank.
"Thankfully, those Company Commanders were reasonable people."
Robert, with his usual lack of tact, smiled as he sized up the Company Commanders of the 2nd Battalion.
"No one's stupid enough to start acting on their own here."
Ernest, feeling the need to rein in Robert's restless gaze, answered softly with his eyes closed.
A chilly silence fell for a moment beneath the small awning where the three Second Year Platoon Leaders, all peers, had gathered to talk.
"This reminds me of the old days."
Jonas said, gazing out at the rain falling in the forest.
"When we were in our second year."
He lets out a small laugh. But he didn't look particularly happy.
"If this were just training, and the Rangers out to get us were Imperial Army Rangers instead of those Belliang Rangers, things would be a lot better."
Jonas muttered.
It was the same thought Ernest and Robert had had every day since they'd first arrived in the 2nd Company—and one they still had now.
"The Young Master of the Duke's House has gotten too big to use as bait like we did last time, though."
Robert snickered and gave Jonas a playful smack on the shoulder.
"You, on the other hand, could still work as bait. Well, maybe not right away, but after starving you for a couple of days."
"So then Ernest threatened the Rangers with 'honor' after taking them hostage?"
"Threatens? Now, that's a nasty way to put it, Jonas. That was a negotiation, plain and simple."
"Ernest is absolutely right. It was a negotiation. After all, they beat us to a pulp first, didn't they? Since they resorted to violence first, calling it a threat just because we took a couple of hostages sounds unfair."
"That's just sophistry."
"So what if it is? Khehehe."
"Jonas, I'm disappointed in you. We're on the same side, remember? And yet you're defending the Rangers. From now on, your nickname is Bereter."
"Don't say such awful things. Please."
Robert kept chatting nonstop to keep Jonas from sinking into despair, and Ernest joined in eagerly.
Thanks to their efforts, Jonas was able to forget, if only for a moment, the terror of war and death.
Or, to be more precise, he was able to at least try to forget. Even now, he was still gripped by fear.
"...I wonder what everyone else is doing right now."
But Jonas was never able to completely escape that dread.
"Since I was the last one, maybe by now..."
"Jonas."
As Jonas muttered in gloom, Ernest spoke to him firmly.
"Right now, just focus on the people who are here with us."
Even if their friends were dying elsewhere, there was no way for them to know that at this moment.
And even if they did know, there was nothing they could do about it.
Of course, Ernest was just as worried about his friends. He wanted to see everyone again, to go home.
But reality was far too harsh to allow himself to sink into that kind of sadness.
"…You're really strong, Ernest. Still."
"…"
"Yeah, you're right. For now, I'll just focus on us. First… Oh. I'd really like to change my underwear, at the very least."
Jonas gave an exaggerated, elegant little slap to his still-damp pants and spoke playfully. Though he still felt anxiety and fear, he thought he could hold on as long as he was with these two friends.
If Ernest and Robert hadn't been there, Jonas would have panicked and either run or collapsed during his first battle.
Jonas knew well that his situation was about as good as it could get—even when everything seemed hopeless. When Ernest and Robert first joined the 2nd Company, their first battle had been ten times worse than this one.
In the following fight, the 1st Platoon had been wiped out—including their Platoon Leader, Benzen, and even Hertz, the Baltracher, was killed.
It had been a brutal and exhausting engagement.
In the most recent battle, all Jonas had done was tell the men to get into formation before hiding in a safe spot.
There were hardly any casualties.
In other words, it meant that Jonas Adler, as a young man, was gentle by nature—far too mild to be suited for battle or war, if even a fight like that could shake him so much.
"Platoon Leader. The meal is ready."
"Oh, uh. I'll be right there."
The Platoon Leaders, who had been quietly chatting in soft voices, stood up at the news that the meal was ready.
As for the "meal," it usually meant nothing more than boiling biscuits or jerky in a big pot of rainwater.
Still, served hot, it offered warmth to bodies soaked by the rain, so it was much better than just dissolving hard dry food in your mouth.
"…Huh? What's that smell…"
"Wow! It's butter! There's butter!"
"The bread is so soft…"
Contrary to their expectations, the meal included soft bread and butter.
Even the stew, which they had assumed was made from just biscuits and jerky, had vegetables mixed in.
"The great Battalion Commander sent it to reward us for our hard work. Aren't you just bursting with admiration for him?"
"Yes!"
As Yurgen spoke with a smile, everyone answered energetically and began devouring the food in a hurry. The admirable and highly respected Lieutenant Colonel Levin Ort had generously distributed supplies, originally set aside for the noble officers, to reward the hard-working soldiers at the front.
Although the portions weren't exactly generous—everyone had to share a little—it was enough to fill the camp with cheerful smiles.
In exchange, the officers stationed at Battalion Headquarters, Levin included, were probably making do with hard bread and jerky themselves.
They might manage a glass of wine, but Levin likely wouldn't allow even that.
"I can actually chew the bread… This is a miracle…"
"How long has it been since we've had real butter? The smell is just… heavenly…"
"Aren't you guys getting a little carried away?"
As Ernest and Robert reacted in awe, Jonas felt a little embarrassed by his friends and shot them a look.
"Carried away? Jonas, I expected more from you—what a disappointment."
"This is why you can't trust those new platoon leaders from noble families."
"Noble young masters are all the same."
"Oh, of course, Young Master Jonas of House Adler wouldn't even spare a glance at common bread and butter like this. Let us take care of it for you."
"An excellent suggestion."
The new platoon leader Ernest, who comes from a hereditary noble family, and Robert, a new platoon leader from a wealthy merchant background who could carelessly spend thousands of Deck as pocket money, both set their greedy sights on the bread and butter of Jonas, the young master and new platoon leader from a noble house.
"Can't you get your hands off that?"
"Oh, come on—after all that you've hoarded, you can't spare a measly piece of bread and butter for a friend?"
"It's always the ones who have the most who are the greediest."
"If you put it that way, Robert's the real winner here. His father's the head of Oliver Trading Company. And Ernest, you're a hereditary noble, too."
"I'm just a minor noble."
"Krieger isn't as wealthy or powerful as Adler."
"Damn it. I can't argue with the son from a noble family that has both wealth and power…"
"Whew. You idiots. What a conversation to be having."
Yurgen clicked his tongue, watching the three platoon leaders ramble on nonsense.
"Hey, Company Commander. Please stop butting into our banter like you're some clueless old man."
"What am I supposed to do about that idiot Jitman?"
"It's Jitman. No, wait—it's Jimman, sir."
"Now you've forgotten your own last name too… Poor bastard…"
"Isn't it because the Company Commander keeps calling him Jitman?"
"You're a minor noble, right? When you inherit your title, just change your name to Jitman. It rolls off the tongue better."
"No way."
Yurgen naturally joined in and started chatting.
Rather than officers conversing formally, it looked more like older and younger brothers joking around despite their age gaps.
...
Bruno glanced at them out of the corner of his eye, eating his meal with extreme care.
He was especially watching Jonas, because—even in this situation—Jonas moved with a distinctive grace in everything he did.
Bruno tried to imitate Jonas, delicately holding his bread and spreading the butter just as he did.
But Bruno's hands were too clumsy.
To hide the mess of butter smeared all over the bread, he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth at once.
"Just copying things like that doesn't make you a true noble," Isaac whispered.
Startled, Bruno nearly choked as he hurriedly swallowed his bread.
"Some people are just born different from us," Isaac continued.
"…Maybe that's true."
After swallowing his bread, Bruno answered Isaac.
"It might have been like that in the past. But not now. The Empire is at war, and it needs strong Baltrachers. And that's exactly who we are."
Isaac looked at Bruno, who spoke as if the war was a blessing from God, with a quietly somber gaze.
"If we achieve something on the battlefield, we might become real nobles. At the very least, if we earn a medal, we'll be treated better than other Fiders."
Bruno's eyes sparkled with hope as he spoke.
"I have absolutely no intention of letting my child become a farmer. Unlike me, they'll wear fine clothes, eat good food, live in a nice home, and receive the best education to lead a happy life."
"…That would be truly wonderful, if it's possible."
Isaac didn't say, 'Nothing like that is possible as long as you're from Belliang.'
He realized that Bruno wasn't fighting just for himself, but for his child—to prevent his poverty from being passed down.
"But… do you have a child?"
"Huh? No. How could I have already gotten married and had a child just because I'm a Fiders? I meant, when I do have a child someday, that's what I want for them."
"…Ah, I see."
He'd gone on so passionately, as if he already had a two-year-old son, a one-year-old daughter, and even a third on the way, but it turned out he wasn't even married...
"When I get the chance, I'm thinking of changing my name too. I noticed that one of the common names used in Mihahil is 'Brown.' I looked it up, and, well… apparently, it's kind of, uh, similar."
"You mean the etymology?"
"Yes! The etymology!"
As Ernest chimed in, Bruno's face lit up.
"There used to be an old root word, 'Brun,' and it meant 'brown' or 'shining.' It referred to bronze. 'Brown' and 'Bruno' likely both come from that root."
"Wow…"
When Ernest explained quietly, Bruno looked at him with wide-eyed amazement.
"How do you know things like that?"
"I read it in a book."
"A book… Books really are incredible. You're right. I should study harder, too."
"Do you like studying?"
"Oh, no…!"
As Bruno nodded and brought up studying, something wicked and ruthless inside Ernest stirred, like a snake eyeing its prey.
Robert tried to intervene, but it was a little too late.
"I've always wanted to learn a lot of different things, but the Military Academy didn't really teach us well. Even learning to read was really tough."
"I can teach you."
"Oh! Really? Oh my gosh! Thank you so much!"
"Stop! Please stop!"
Despite Robert's desperate pleas, one unfortunate victim was now caught in the clutches of the ruthless Ernest Krieger, infamous for his fondness for mentally tormenting and reshaping people's understanding.
"Well, it may not be much of an exchange… but could I learn some Belliang from you?"
Ernest went a step further and hatched an ambitious plan to learn Belliang from Bruno.
"Ah… Well, I'm not very good with reading or writing…"
But since Bruno was the son of a poor Belliang farmer, unfortunately, he could only speak and understand spoken Belliang—he couldn't read or write it.
Still, even just being able to speak and listen was more than enough.
Ernest made a deal with Bruno: he would give Bruno a higher education in return for lessons in spoken Belliang.
"Why is he so obsessed with teaching people all the time?"
"He thinks everyone in the world is just like him. For him, studying is fun—he just looks at something once and already has it memorized and understood."
"Ernest was the top student at the Imperial Military Academy for three years in a row. If the war hadn't broken out, he probably would've graduated as top student for the fourth year too."
"Jeez…"
Yurgen, glancing at Ernest, muttered to Robert and Jonas.
From start to finish, there wasn't a single ordinary thing about that strange guy.
'If it weren't for the war, he would've made something big of himself, no matter what he did or where he went…'
Yurgen stroked his beard, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth.
And in truth, it was the same for Benzen, Robert, Jonas, and everyone else.
"Company Commander."
Just then, a soldier approached Yurgen, looking a bit worked up.
Yurgen, wondering what it could be this time, stood up, brushing the mud off his raincoat.
"Hey! We're trying to eat here!"
"If you don't like it, you can become a Company Commander."
When Robert scowled and shielded his bowl with his body to protect his stew, Yurgen shoved a potato at him and moved toward the soldier.
"What is it?"
"The Rangers are here."
There was a brief silence at the soldier's words.
"You mean our Rangers, not theirs, right?"
"Huh? Of course."
"What do you mean, of course? Damn it. Can't you speak clearly? Do you have a death wish?"
Because of the Belliang Rangers, every soldier on watch was holding onto a long connected cord, tugging it at intervals to send signals up and down the line.
If they didn't, they really could all get assassinated without anyone knowing.
Since everyone was already on edge, hearing just the word "Ranger" was enough to make Yurgen break out in a cold sweat, his hands and feet going numb.
Honestly, he felt like beating the hell out of this damn bastard.
Yurgen seriously wondered whether the soldiers were getting careless because he lacked authority, but set that aside for now and went out to see the Rangers.
The platoon leaders followed behind him.
Outside, they found two Rangers waiting for them, blending into the rainy forest scene like water drops barely splattered in the landscape.
They weren't exactly hiding, but their presence was so faint it was as if they faded in and out of existence.
For Ernest, Robert, and Jonas, just seeing them again sent a chill down their spines—they were all too familiar with this look.
It was easy to laugh about past memories when joking among themselves, but seeing real Rangers in front of them brought a vivid rush of the hellish hardships they'd once faced.
Now that the Rangers were on their side, it was reassuring.
But the thought that the enemy Belliang Rangers knew this forest even better made Ernest's heart sink.
Ernest could feel the gaze of the two Rangers settle on him.
One of them looked at him with an odd, reluctant grimace, while the other gave a slight smile.
"That's the Fox from before, isn't it?" said the smiling Ranger, letting them all know they'd met before.
"I'm sorry, but I honestly can't recall you," Ernest replied.
He truly had no idea who the man was.
The Rangers all wore identical uniforms and moved the same way—and he hadn't seen all of them up close, only spoken to a few.
"It'd be a disaster if you did remember," the Ranger chuckled.
He dipped his head respectfully toward Yurgen, and Yurgen did the same in return.
"How many have arrived?"
"At the moment, one company is deployed around the area."
The two spoke without fussing over rank, showing mutual respect.
This Ranger was a platoon leader, and considering that Ranger ranks were typically one grade higher than regular infantry, he was probably a lieutenant or a captain.
He could have been below Yurgen in rank, or perhaps his equal Given the Ranger Unit's unique tendency for secrecy, it was customary to let things slide with mutual respect rather than press for details.
"For now…"
Yurgen couldn't tell whether that was meant to be good or bad news.
Did it mean there would be more reinforcements coming? Or that they'd scale back and leave only a platoon behind?
"One more will be arriving. We just got here quickly as the advance party."
Thankfully, it meant another Ranger company was scheduled to join them.
By now, Rangers were likely delivering the good news to other companies as well.
"Well, that's a lot of pressure on our shoulders," Yurgen said with a wry grin.
The 5th Division had suffered heavy losses in the previous battle and wasn't in any condition to launch a major operation right now.
That's why such high hopes—and resources—were being invested into the 13th Regiment, who had managed to infiltrate the forest and secure a position.
The Ranger Unit was much smaller than a regular infantry unit.
Yurgen didn't know the exact numbers, but even with two companies, it wouldn't be that many troops.
Still, the difference having Rangers made would be significant.
That was precisely why Rangers were needed elsewhere too—and why this decision had clearly been made after much deliberation.
If the 13th Regiment played their part well, they could drive a sword not just into the enemy's heel, but into their very side.
If only they could occupy this damned forest and break out onto the plain!
Maybe, just maybe, the reason the 2nd Battalion had pushed so recklessly into the forest wasn't just a matter of the Battalion Commander's ambition or mad rush for credit.
Perhaps he was making a bold, calculated move while seeing the bigger picture.
To Yurgen, the image of the 2nd Battalion Commander—madly obsessed with distinction, ruthlessly yelling and driving his men deeper into the forest—began to fade.
In its place, he started to picture the Battalion Commander reading the tide of war across a much broader front, giving orders with grim determination while pushing down his own sorrow and guilt.
Maybe he's a good man…
No, maybe he's actually a good leader.
"We'll return after we finish scouting the area."
"Yes, we're counting on you."
The Rangers disappeared again, vanishing into the rain-soaked forest.
"Wow, that's reassuring."
"Isn't it, though?"
Yurgen let out a pleased laugh, and Robert echoed him, grinning.
Jonas, too, seemed relieved and let out a deep sigh.
"Do you know them?"
Ernest hesitated for a moment, unsure how best to answer Yurgen's question, then added seriously,
"It's a relationship built on honor."
"Heh heh…"
Jonas let out a chuckle.
For those unfamiliar with the situation, it was a confusing reaction—ever since the first battle, Jonas had seemed downcast, even when he smiled.
That's how it should have been.
But right now, he actually looked genuinely happy.
"Ah, there's just no way to explain all this…"
"Hey now, Robert. You should act honorably."
When Robert muttered with a dissatisfied look, Jonas scolded him in a stern voice—but the hint of a smile was still there.
"But why did he call you the Fox?"
Yurgen turned to Ernest and asked.
"That's because I'm exceptionally honorable."
Ernest replied proudly, and Robert and Jonas both tried to stifle their laughter, thumping each other's shoulders.
Yurgen watched his young platoon leaders with a puzzled look, then shook his head.
"You're all laughing over some inside joke only you understand. Young people these days…"
"If you were just ten years younger, Company Commander, you'd get it."
"Getting older is always a hard pill to swallow, but I never thought it would sting this much…"
Unable to bear his own melancholy, Yurgen finally put a cigarette between his lips and lit it.
"Feeling bitter about aging is proof you're getting on, sir. When you're as young as we are, all you want is to get older faster."
Robert teased Yurgen with a giggle.
"Hoo…"
Yurgen exhaled a long stream of smoke and quietly eyed Robert.
"No, that's not it. Jimman."
For once, Yurgen called Robert by his proper last name, his eyes clouded as he spoke.
"That's actually the worst thing."
A pained smile appeared on his face.
"There's nothing in this world more terrifying than becoming an adult."
"Sounds like you were aiming for something deep there, sir, but it didn't come out that impressive."
"You little brat."
Robert darted behind Jonas to get away from Yurgen.
With Jonas caught off guard and not knowing what to do, Yurgen grumbled and strode off with big steps.
"..."
Ernest quietly watched Yurgen's back as he left.
He understood all too well what Yurgen meant.
Becoming an adult—when you can no longer shift responsibility onto others.
When you reach the point where you have to take care of others as well.
When the weight of it all feels like it will crush you.
Only then does a person truly realize just how frightening and awful it is to become an adult.
How foolish you were to once wish you could grow up faster.
Now, as officers who must shoulder responsibility for the deaths of others without even truly understanding what that means, perhaps, just as Yurgen said, they are nothing more than children.
And Yurgen, who wants to leave them as children a little longer, must surely be a truly admirable adult.
But to remain a child forever, this war was far too cold.
Even when Ernest was with his friends, he still felt loneliness and cold seep in.
What kind of nights must Yurgen be spending all alone?