Chapter 121 - Through the Night (6)
The Rangers first surveyed the surrounding terrain, then began setting traps and meticulously putting together alarm devices.
"These alone won't be able to stop enemy Rangers. At best, they'll just buy us some time."
"Then what are we supposed to do?"
"We keep our eyes wide open in the meantime and make sure we spot any enemy crawling toward us."
The Imperial Army Rangers built these traps to protect the 1st and 2nd Battalions, but they also warned against placing blind faith in them.
"I've written out instructions on how to pull the cords."
Taking it a step further, they created a chart explaining how to pull the cords connecting the makeshift front line and handed it out.
They would pull the cords in designated ways depending on the time, sending a signal. The officer on watch would then check and compare the signal.
If a signal arrived that didn't match the correct protocol, they would immediately alert the adjacent company and, at the same time, dispatch soldiers to investigate.
Even a single mistake could open a gap in the line, allowing the enemy to pour in.
Everyone had to stay sharp and alert.
Time passed.
As the sun set, darkness fell over the forest faster than elsewhere.
The soldiers huddled inside their low, crude outpost, peering out into the darkness with only their eyes exposed.
"How am I supposed to see anything out there?"
"Just watch anyway. That's our job."
Each watch team was made up of three people, and each company's sector would be guarded in rotation by platoon.
Ernest's 1st Platoon was up first: all of the 1st Squad and some from the 2nd Squad would stand guard, then the rest of the 2nd Squad and the 3rd Squad would rotate in afterward.
Ernest, as Platoon Leader, wasn't required to stand watch in the outpost himself, but he still had to be on duty and take responsibility.
Gustav, the assistant platoon leader, would take the next watch, so there was no need to stay up with open eyes for too long.
"Two short pulls, one long, then one short pull."
"Good. No issues."
They also had to check the signals sent by pulling the cords at intervals.
The 1st Company of the 1st Battalion and the 3rd Company of the 2nd Battalion, stationed at either end of the front line, would take turns sending signals.
If someone made a mistake in the middle, they wouldn't be able to just laugh it off with, "Oops, messed up. Sorry about that. Haha."
"Platoon Leader."
Having finished his report, Ralf glanced over nervously as he spoke.
"Go ahead."
When Ernest replied calmly, Ralf scratched the back of his neck and said,
"Well, actually, the guys are hoping to have a smoke after their shift—just one cigarette before bed. I already told them no way, absolutely not..."
"You did the right thing. We can't allow that at night since the light could give us away."
"Yes, I figured as much."
"Instead, I'll ask the Company Commander in the morning to give everyone time for a smoke. The Company Commander's been the only one using the company's lighter for himself, so he won't have much choice but to say yes."
"Yes, sir! Thank you!"
Ralf grinned widely as he answered, then headed back to the outpost.
To smoke, you need a fire—and in a rainy forest, making fire without a lighter or matches is nearly impossible.
Lighters are rare, and matches are so unstable they could ignite on their own just sitting in your pocket, making them too dangerous to issue in the field.
Naturally, only Yurgen—who owns the single lighter—gets to enjoy his cigarettes freely.
Non-smokers couldn't care less, but for smokers, it's enough to drive you up the wall.
If the platoon leaders, all officers, were to smoke themselves, they might commiserate.
But since all of them come from the Imperial Military Academy, where smoking is thought to be for the rabble, not one of them has ever touched a cigarette.
So when Ernest offers to speak to Yurgen on their behalf, Ralf and every smoker in the company can't help but be delighted.
Of course, the only reason Ernest did this was because Ralf handled things so well.
Ralf first firmly told the soldiers "no" and kept them under control.
Then, he quietly brought the matter just to Ernest's attention.
If Ralf had told the soldiers he'd "at least try asking" and told them to wait, Ernest would've had no choice but to scold him and refuse outright.
The 2nd Company enjoys a great atmosphere, thanks to Yurgen's excellent character.
This camaraderie forges strong bonds and cuts down on unnecessary conflicts, but it also means the chain of command can get a little shaky.
Yurgen wouldn't let real insubordination slide, but the relaxed attitude could easily lead to soldiers treating their officers a bit too casually.
Maintaining just the right distance requires careful handling.
Fortunately, both Ralf and Ernest were keenly aware of this.
No more than this is allowed.
'I'll have to pass this down properly.'
Ernest realized he'd need to pass along the details of tomorrow morning's company-wide smoking session.
The smokers who have just been assigned to sentry duty are probably longing for a smoke, too, so it's important to set a clear time for the session and stick to it.
Ernest listened to the sound of rain tapping on the tent's fabric roof as he kept watch over the pitch-black forest. With the monsoon drawing to a close, the clouds had thinned, and thanks to the faint moonlight streaming through, it was just barely possible to distinguish the outlines of things.
He strained his ears to catch any unusual sounds amid the rain, while his eyes watched for changes in the shapes around him.
All the while, his mind reviewed the Belliang language he'd learned from Bruno earlier in the day.
"Not sleeping?"
"…How did you know I was awake?"
As Ernest asked, a voice returned from the darkness.
"I heard footsteps."
"Sure, but how did you know it was me?"
Yurgen trudged over and plopped down next to Ernest.
"I just told you I heard footsteps, didn't I?"
"Right, right. You really are something."
With a slight grumble, Yurgen rested his elbows on his knees and propped his chin up, gazing out into the darkness just like Ernest.
The difference was that Ernest was actively on watch, while Yurgen was simply staring out absentmindedly.
"..."
"..."
The two of them sat in silence.
The quiet didn't feel awkward, even though it had only been a little over two weeks since they'd first met and gotten to know each other.
"So many have died."
Amid the long silence, Yurgen muttered.
"They were so young."
Ernest glanced sideways at Yurgen. In the forest at night, beneath a makeshift roof sheltering them from the rain, he couldn't even make out Yurgen's silhouette.
"Why did they have to die?"
"Are you really trying to find a reason for that?"
"..."
Was searching for a reason behind the deaths of those so young just a way to run away?
Or was it to prove that there really was no reason at all?
Yurgen fell silent, then closed his eyes. As he faced total darkness, he spoke again.
"War kills those who should live, and peace saves those who ought to die."
Yurgen's words were little more than a lament. He knew full well there was no comfort in saying such things to a seventeen-year-old New Platoon Leader.
"Isn't there a way to save the ones who deserve to live?"
But because Ernest didn't turn away or try to escape, Yurgen's words didn't end as just a hollow complaint.
Yurgen let out a brief laugh.
The fact that Ernest could ask whether there wasn't a way to save lives, instead of asking whether there wasn't a way to kill those who needed to die, struck him as strangely beautiful for no real reason.
Even though Ernest had already killed dozens with his own hands, the thought of saving lives always came before the thought of killing them.
Was it the innocence of youth?
Or an adult's sense of responsibility?
What was Ernest Krieger, a young man standing on that boundary, really seeing?
"Only a God who deserves to be cursed could know something like that."
Yurgen lifted his index finger and pointed up at the sky.
He wasn't sure himself if he meant it literally—that only God could know—or that unless even God intervened, it was impossible.
"Do you believe in God?"
"I do."
"Why?"
"Because if I didn't, I don't think I could go on."
In response to Ernest's question, Yurgen whispered back like a shadow.
"Did you really have to take that child away from me?"
Yurgen muttered, and his voice was heavy with undeniable hatred and resentment.
In a voice that sounded desperate, almost pleading, he said,
"War took the life of someone who should have lived."
Yurgen buried his face in his hands, his thoughts wandering to the child he and his wife lost to miscarriage—and to Paul, who'd been blown apart and killed just that afternoon.
"God is punishing us. That's why… that's why…"
Yurgen knew that saying any of this to Ernest wouldn't help; it would only make things harder for him.
But the pain was too much to bear, so overwhelming that he just needed to talk to someone, anyone.
He knew he was being cowardly for choosing Ernest as his confidant.
Yet, aside from Ernest—who had managed to figure things out from nothing but Yurgen's offhand comment—there was no one else he could have spoken to.
The moment he had joked, "If you want to survive, stick close like a baby in its mother's womb," Ernest had picked up on something no one else knew just by reading Yurgen's voice, expression, and eyes.
Yurgen's wife had suffered miscarriages.
Two already.
In the whole company, the only ones who knew were Yurgen himself and Ernest, who possessed an almost unsettling sharpness and insight.
So Yurgen could only come to Ernest, pouring out this helpless, painful confession that offered no help to either of them.
Otherwise, he felt as if he might collapse to his knees, break down, and never get back up.
"As you said, Company Commander, I was the model boy who's never even dated, so I don't really have anything I can say to you."
Instead of fumbling for useless platitudes or pretending to empathize, Ernest simply admitted he had nothing comforting to offer.
"…Damn. I guess so. Sorry. What am I even saying to a kid like you?"
So Yurgen, though it was out of a sense of emptiness, was able to laugh as he spoke.
"And also, the soldiers have a lot of complaints about you being the only one smoking. Stop abusing your power by hogging the lighter and smoking by yourself—think about the men a little, will you? It's selfish."
"...."
"For now, Sergeant Ralf firmly said no, and I told them I'd talk to you about it tomorrow morning. If they can't smoke tomorrow either, nobody's going to be very happy."
"Oh, this little brat, I swear..."
"Coming from you, Company Commander, who's actually shorter than me—when you call me a little brat, it just sounds…"
Annoyed, Yurgen gave Ernest a shove on the shoulder.
Ernest nearly toppled over, but let out a very grown-up sigh and sat up straight again.
"Good luck. I'm going to sleep."
"Would you quit being so childish? Seriously."
"What do you want me to do? If you don't like it, try being the Company Commander."
"I don't want to. I'm going to get promoted, become a Staff Officer, and never set foot on the front lines again."
"Damn. I'd like to do that, too. But you'll never make it as a Staff Officer, not in a million years."
"Why not?"
"Who in their right mind would want someone like you as a Staff Officer?"
Yurgen scoffed, then went off to bed.
"…You've got a point."
Ernest completely agreed with what Yurgen said at the end.
And honestly, anyone who knew Ernest would have to agree, too.
Ernest was the kind of guy who shined far too brightly on the front lines to ever be stuck in the Rear as a Staff Officer.
Ernest wasn't being cocky—it was just a simple, clear-headed assessment, as objective and practical as he could make it.
If only he were more like Wilfried—a guy perfectly suited to the Rear.
Of course, if he were like that, he probably would've died in his very first battle anyway.
"Two long, three short, two long."
"Ugh, seriously. This is such a pain. Why do we even have to do this in the middle of the night when we can't see a thing?"
The soldiers of the 2nd Battalion, 3rd Company grumbled as they pulled the cord to send their signal.
This time, it was their turn to send the first signal.
"I just want to go to sleep already."
"I'm so tired I could die."
"Hmph! Should we just take turns napping?"
Some of the 2nd Battalion soldiers, who had been dragged here without even proper training, didn't realize how dangerous their situation actually was.
After the 5th Division suffered heavy losses and retreated in the last battle, the Belliang Army began pouring troops into the northern forest.
Since then, the 5th Division hadn't fought any real battles, and the new recruits had no sense at all of just how terrifying the battlefield could be.
This was especially true for the 2nd Battalion, now stationed in the forest.
Right after they joined the unit, all they'd heard was that the 1st Battalion had gone into the forest, there was some brief gunfire, and then the fighting was over.
Plus, word was the 1st Battalion had won and established a front line in the woods, which made the Belliang Army seem unimpressive to them.
Not everyone looked down on the Belliang Army.
Still, among them were soldiers who were dangerously optimistic about the situation.
To them, sitting up at night and staring into the pitch-black forest after being roused from bed just felt pointless and exhausting.
Few commoners could afford to keep a fire burning at night.
For poor commoners, nighttime was simply meant for sleeping.
"I saw earlier—the Platoon Leader was making the rounds and checking up on everyone."
"That's why the ones who aren't sleeping need to stay extra sharp on watch. Keep an eye out for the Platoon Leader. If he catches us, he'll flip out."
"No kidding. What are you, a genius?"
The soldiers whispered back and forth, glancing around nervously, then decided on the order for who would sleep first.
"Don't wake me up too early."
"Yeah, yeah, just go to sleep. Time's ticking."
"Ugh, this is uncomfortable."
Two of the soldiers curled up and closed their eyes.
Meanwhile, the last soldier, instead of watching toward the west, leaned against the outpost wall facing east—mainly to stay alert and keep an eye out for the Platoon Leader.
The two who closed their eyes soon fell asleep. Being used to sleeping as soon as the sun went down, they drifted off in seconds the moment darkness settled in.
"Yawn…"
Even the soldier trying to stay awake was having a hard time fighting off sleep.
He let out a huge yawn, his mouth wide open.
"Phew…"
He had just finished a satisfying yawn and was letting out a long sigh, the breath almost gone from his chest, when—
Thud!
A dark hand reached down from above the outpost wall he was leaning against, clamped over his mouth, yanked his head back, and a dagger painted black plunged deep into the side of his neck, ripping through the flesh and tearing forward toward the front of his throat.
Gurgle…
His final breath slipped out from his chest, and a froth of blood bubbled up in his throat.
That was the end.
Three figures in black slipped silently into the outpost.
They approached the two soldiers sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the world around them.
Stab! Stab! Stab! Stab!
Like cats, they crept up quietly, covered their mouths, and in a single motion drove their knives deep into their throats.
The soldiers' eyes flew open in shock, but a moment later their throats were so torn and ragged they were nearly severed from their bodies.
Without making a sound—without even the slightest resistance—they died and collapsed.
...
The Belliang Rangers moved without a word or a gesture, as if they understood each other perfectly.
It would be best to wait until the Platoon Leader came to check on his men, kill him, and then infiltrate deeper inside, but with Imperial Army Rangers nearby, they couldn't afford to waste time.
They would be discovered soon—three minutes at most.
They needed to move like wildfire whipped by the dry autumn wind.
At the edge of the 2nd Battalion, 3rd Company, a single outpost had been breached.
Three Belliang Rangers had snuck in.
It might not seem like much, but this was enough to wipe out an entire Imperial Army battalion.
Everything happened in an instant, as suddenly as a lightning strike.
Bang!
Ernest, who had fallen asleep after his shift, shot up the moment he heard the gunshot.
And it wasn't just him—everyone who had survived the last battle jolted awake as if their very souls were being dragged from their bodies, immediately grabbing their guns.
But the gunfire had come and gone so quickly, so fleetingly, that it took a moment for them to register what was happening—even though they'd heard it with their own ears.
Beep! Beep! Beep—!
Somewhere up north from 1st Battalion's 2nd Company—where the 2nd Battalion was positioned—the faint sound of a whistle drifted over.
It was a signal to charge.
No, they were just blowing the whistle desperately, any way they could, to warn of danger.
Waaaaaaaaa—! Bang bang! Bang! Bang!
Right after, a thunderous roar shattered the night, and the forest was slashed apart by the pale, dazzling streaks of Balt Light.
"Get up! The enemy's here!"
Suddenly wide awake, Ernest hurriedly roused the other soldiers and began sending them to the outpost.
"My—my gun's gone!"
"Damn it! Haven't you been told to sleep with your gun in your arms?"
The squad leaders were up too, trying to rouse the soldiers.
But things were looking grim.
Since the new recruits had only just arrived and were barely trained, they were still half-asleep, groping around on the ground, unable to remember where they'd left their own rifles.
Without even putting on his raincoat, Ernest rushed outside and sprinted toward the outpost.
"Ahhh!"
"It's me. Watch where you're pointing."
The soldier, trembling as he aimed his gun, screamed in surprise when Ernest came out of nowhere and grabbed his shoulder from behind.
In a chillingly calm voice, Ernest spoke to him, then swept the area with a sharp, searching gaze.
"Did you see any Balt Light?"
"Sorry? What?"
"I asked if you saw Balt Light with your own eyes."
"Oh, yes!
" "How much?"
"Um..."
"Not much? Was it far away?"
"Yes, yes!"
Staring ahead at the forest, where roars were still echoing thunderously, Ernest shouted in a loud voice.
"Company Commander!"
"Krieger!"
Yurgen had already dashed out, fully armed.
The moment Ernest called for him, he immediately responded.
"They're coming from the north! The frontal attack is just a feint!"
"You! Go to the 1st Company immediately and tell them the enemy is attacking from the north, and that the 2nd Company will move north to support the 2nd Battalion!"
Just like Ernest, Yurgen glanced toward the western forest beyond the outpost.
In an instant, he grasped the situation and quickly sent a courier to the 1st Company.
"2nd Company! 2nd Company! Assemble!"
"2nd Company! Assemble!"
Yurgen, his voice grave from sleep, shouted at the top of his lungs.
Others echoed his call, and soon enough, the confused 2nd Company gathered around Yurgen.
"The enemy's main force is attacking the 2nd Battalion to the north!"
Even in the darkness, Yurgen's cracked voice rang out, loud and harsh, like rusty iron colliding.
"From this moment, we're going to rescue the 2nd Battalion and form a new front to the north!"
Yurgen's judgment and decisiveness were astonishingly quick and bold.
To an outsider, Yurgen almost appeared to be out of his mind.
"Don't fear what's behind us! The 3rd Company will protect our flank, and the 1st Company will cover our rear!"
The 2nd Company would charge straight north.
On the way, they'd pass the 3rd Company, gaining protection on the side, and the trailing 1st Company would secure their rear.
But if the 3rd Company fell into chaos and lost their way, or if 1st Company Commander Ferdinand panicked and focused solely on defense, then the enemy could slip into the position the 2nd Company had been guarding, leaving the 1st Battalion's rear wide open to disaster.
Yet staying put would only mean the 2nd Battalion would get overrun, and the enemy would end up infiltrating the rear anyway.
There was no time to debate or coordinate; they had to act immediately.
Trusting that the others would do their part, Yurgen took charge of the situation and aimed to lead them through the crisis.
That was the decision Yurgen, as the on-site commander, made to overcome this dire predicament.
"2nd Company!"
"Yes sir!"
"2nd Company!"
"Yes, sir!"
Striding forward with his rifle in hand, Yurgen bellowed, and the 2nd Company snapped out of their confusion and answered back with all their strength.
As Yurgen pushed through the ranks to take the lead, he caught Ernest's eye and gestured.
Ernest immediately darted out in front.
"The 2nd Battalion marched into this damn forest for us and they're dying out there!"
Standing at the front of their advance toward the north, Yurgen looked back at his soldiers and shouted.
"And if they all die, we're next! We have to fight!"
In the rain-soaked darkness of the night forest, Yurgen's voice rang out, raw and torn.
"I know you're scared! I know this is all shit! But we have to fight, and every one of you knows it's better to fight together than to fight alone!"
As Yurgen shouted, Ernest looked around, searching for Isaac and Bruno.
Fortunately, the two of them were huddled together for safety, listening intently to Yurgen's words.
"We won't die alone! We'll fight together! And we'll make it back alive, together!"
With all his strength, Yurgen shouted, thrusting a clenched fist into the air.
It was too dark to see clearly, but even so, everyone could sense that their company commander, Captain Yurgen Vendermere, was right there with them.
"2nd Company!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Let's go!"
"Waaaaah!"
The 2nd Company members—shouting what was half a war cry, half a scream—began running north after their company commander Yurgen as he charged ahead.
In truth, the soldiers had no idea what was really happening.
They didn't even know why they had to abandon the positions and lines they'd struggled to build and run north.
But with their revered and capable company commander Yurgen leading the way, they didn't need to know—they simply believed in him and ran with all their might.
There was no time to form proper lines behind platoons or squads.
The 2nd Company, huddled tightly together as one, dashed toward the North, where the pale shine of the Balt Light and a rain of gunfire poured down.