Chapter 174 - Respect and Insult (2)
"You always have to be careful. The war's not over yet."
"Marie, honestly, you should be more worried about yourself than us."
"Yeah, you're such a little shrimp."
"Robert, I'm a Senior Captain. That's disrespecting a superior officer."
"We're about to head out—should we bring you back a snack or something?"
"…If you're going to get something, just grab whatever…"
After parting ways with Marie, who tried to hide her embarrassment by grumbling, Ernest and Robert rejoined their fellow 13th Regiment peers and finished teasing friends from the other units.
Afterwards, they strolled through the streets of Narvaing, the capital of Belliang—a city so beautiful, it could be considered a work of art itself.
"Just look at how densely they carved those building facades. How much money did they blow on that? I get wanting to show off, but this is really over the top."
"It's not like they didn't squeeze every last coin out of the commoners and serfs—so who cares how much they spent?"
"Looks like they're getting ready for the triumphal parade. They're throwing money around for this, too."
Narvaing was already stunning on its own, but now, in preparation for the Imperial Army's victory parade, the city was being decorated even more extravagantly.
Long swathes of deep blue cloth—the Empire's color—were draped between buildings, planters lined the streets, and the Central Avenue set for the parade was covered in a thick, matching blue carpet. Naturally, Central Avenue was under strict control, and no one was allowed to pass through.
"I'm not sure this is the right thing to do."
Ernest murmured as he watched the Belliangians preparing for the Empire's triumphal parade right in the capital of Belliang.
"I mean, even if we won the war and made Belliang into a colony, isn't this just… too cruel?"
It was shocking enough to hold a victory parade in the capital of an enemy nation, but here, Belliangians themselves had to handle the preparations, and on top of that, the king's Declaration of Surrender was to be signed during the festivities.
It was excessive, no matter how you looked at it.
"This is just how war works."
Robert also seemed uncomfortable, but he didn't dwell on it much.
In reality, Ernest was the odd one out for thinking this was brutal.
The Empire and the Alliance Army were fundamentally incompatible.
The war would have to be fought until one side was utterly destroyed.
So, the Empire, having conquered Belliang, felt no need to respect them or care about the eyes of the international community.
They had no intention of pursuing diplomacy in the first place.
Mihahil's goal was to bring every nation under the Empire's flag.
Every country needed to be completely crushed, their cultures utterly destroyed.
"Seriously?"
"Oh, come on."
So when Ernest voiced that cursed thought to Robert, it was honestly hard for Robert to stomach.
"Ernest, Belliang already surrendered, and the Empire has no intention of fighting Konchanya. It would take ages just to extend administrative power all the way to Belliang."
"To be honest, the war is basically over. It's not like Konchanya is going to go crazy and attack the Empire, right? You'd know better than anyone—you're the one who said so."
"Yeah."
"Exactly! So at least right now, after everything I've suffered through because of this war, let me enjoy this victory for once!"
"We did go through a lot, but we're not the ones who won. The Empire won, and just like the people of Belliang, all we've done is lose and suffer. What did we actually get from this war? Guilt? Insomnia?"
"..."
Robert couldn't refute Ernest's words, and he didn't want to suffer any longer dwelling on the subject. With a deep sigh, he waved his hand and continued walking in silence.
Wham!
As they walked, Robert suddenly punched Ernest hard in the chest. Ernest didn't avoid it and took the hit.
"At times like this, you're really the worst friend, you know that?"
"The fact that you're saying that means you know this isn't really something to be happy about either."
"Oh, sure, you're right about everything. Long live Captain Fox, who knows it all. Hooray."
"But what should we buy for Marie?"
After smoothing over what could've been an awkward moment without a second thought, the topic shifted to what snacks they should get for Marie.
"Sigh... She just said to bring whatever, so should we just buy everything that looks decent?"
"Unfortunately, we're not in the Empire here. We have to make do with what our salaries can cover."
"Seriously. Every time something like this happens, I realize just how much I benefited from having my father around growing up."
Robert Jimman, the only son of Oliver Jimman—a successful businessman in the imperial capital of Grimman—could no longer spend money as freely as he once did, and he felt that loss keenly.
Of course, it's only disappointing by his old standards; if commoners knew how much Robert was still spending these days, they'd probably faint on the spot.
Whenever he saw something new in passing towns, Robert just couldn't resist buying it.
He hadn't kicked his old shopping habits.
He tried every new food, and even picked up all sorts of little trinkets as souvenirs—things that, in Ernest's eyes, were basically junk. As a result, Robert now had less than five hundred deck left on hand. It was still a lot for a commoner, but compared to the salary of a noble officer, it was such a small amount it wasn't even worth sighing over.
By contrast, since Ernest's only real expenses were on modest meals, he now had over ten thousand deck saved up.
Being Company Commander meant Ernest received extra pay, and recently winning the Silver Star Medal also helped.
He had so much money that it became impractical to carry it all, so he left most of it with the military and only kept about a hundred deck in cash for everyday use.
Of course, since they were spending some free time in Narvaing, he'd brought a more generous sum this time.
Ten thousand deck was more than enough—as Robert had said, it was so much that they could buy every snack in sight and still have plenty left over.
"Maybe we should just come back with Marie later and let her pick out what she wants herself?"
"Still, we should at least buy her something now."
"Hmmm… Well, if that's the case, there's no helping it. Let's taste everything and decide."
"Sounds good. I'm ready. Are you ready?"
"I feel like I could chew through leather right now. Let's go."
"You have to pay, though. I'm basically broke. …Wow, can you believe this? Robert, the son of Oliver, actually admitting he's out of money."
"Yeah, it's weird. You suddenly feel like a stranger."
The two hungry seventeen-year-old, who felt like they could eat even rawhide, roamed the streets of Narvaing, hunting for their next meal
"We've had all of this in other cities, too."
"Yeah. Nothing really stands out."
Ernest and Robert couldn't help feeling a bit let down—they'd seen all these foods in other cities, and nothing really set them apart. The funny thing was, by the time they made those comments, they had already eaten enough to satisfy a normal adult male's full meal.
The two hungry seventeen-year-olds would go into any place they spotted, sit down, and order a bit of everything on the menu, devouring it all in a spree that bordered on a crime.
That, in fact, was Robert's usual spending habit.
It was the very thing that had first shocked Ernest when he'd witnessed it.
"I feel like everyone's watching—I can't even eat comfortably."
Robert, having already demolished a hearty meal, crossed his legs and joked with a shameless grin.
Inside the upscale Narvaing dining hall, Belliang nobles sat eating nearby, and all of them were eyeing the young Imperial Army officers—Ernest and Robert—while whispering softly to each other, filling the restaurant with a gentle undertone of gossip.
"This is where I notice a real cultural difference."
"What do you mean?"
Robert looked puzzled at Ernest's sudden remark. Ernest diligently lined up his utensils as he answered.
"Even if the Empire were to collapse, the Empire's nobles would only look out for themselves. None of them would actually feel sad or angry about the Empire falling."
"Ah… That's true."
Understanding what Ernest meant, Robert glanced around at the Belliang nobles who were eyeing them with a slightly different feeling this time.
Their eyes were filled with anger, sorrow, and resentment—emotions that couldn't simply be explained by loss of power and rights due to the Empire's colonial rule policy.
Something more abstract and fundamental lay at the root.
"The Empire is, how should I put this... While they're always teaching that loyalty to the Empire is most important, in reality, the nobles themselves have no real loyalty.
Honestly, it's His Majesty the Emperor, wearing himself out despite his age, who's barely holding the Empire together. Rather than a real country, it's more like... Oh, um, what was I saying?"
Robert was speaking brazenly when he suddenly remembered that these Belliang nobles were studying the Imperial Language.
Flustered, he cut himself off with an awkward but smooth shift in tone.
"Let's get up. If we stay any longer, we might get shot. Jeez, that would be a disaster. Narvaing could end up becoming another Avril."
Robert grinned, making a chilling joke.
If, in this situation, Imperial Army officers like Ernest and Robert were to get shot or killed in Narvaing, the Empire would not hesitate to use force on Belliang, even after their surrender.
Narvaing could be engulfed in flames.
"Robert."
"…Ah, I… um… No, no. Sorry."
As Ernest frowned and glared at Robert, Robert, startled, quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. Realizing what he had just said, he stammered an apology, his face turning pale, and then hurriedly fled the dining hall.
Ernest settled the bill for them both and stepped out onto the street. Robert, still covering his mouth with his hand, slipped away into a dark alley beside the building.
"Ugh!"
Once inside the alley, Robert vomited up everything he had just eaten. Ernest silently shielded him from view, positioning himself so that people on the street wouldn't see.
Even after emptying the contents of his stomach, Robert heaved dryly for a long while, racked with anguish.
Tears streamed down his face so heavily he could barely see.
"Hah, hah, hah…"
"That's disgusting. What are you doing?"
As Robert slumped against the wall, gasping and weeping, Ernest handed him a handkerchief. Robert fumbled for it, took it, and wiped his soiled face.
"I feel sick…"
"I think it would've helped if you'd mentioned that before you threw up."
"I must look pathetic…"
"Robert, don't be shocked, but you've always been pathetic."
"You bastard…"
"And since it's disgusting, would you mind just throwing that handkerchief away? Please, I'm begging you, don't say anything horrifying like you're going to return it to me."
"Ptooey."
After spitting on the ground, Robert wiped his mouth one last time, then carefully laid Ernest's handkerchief over his vomit to cover it up.
"Are you really going to do that?"
"This is… it's a thing."
"What."
"Robert was here."
"So you're going to throw up and run off like an animal marking its territory?"
"Heh heh heh…"
"You're really out of your mind, aren't you."
"Would I be normal after all this? You can't go through a war and keep your sanity."
"Looks like your meal's over."
"What? Does it look like that isn't obvious?"
"Ugh, seriously, stop. It's revolting."
"I just emptied my stomach, that's all. I could eat more."
"I've completely lost my appetite."
"Actually, same here."
"Of course you have."
Ernest grabbed Robert by the shoulders, half-dragging and half-supporting him—since Robert could barely stand on his own—as they headed back onto the street.
"The sunlight's way too bright."
"That's because you were crying."
"I wasn't crying. And, honestly, don't I look a bit better now?"
"...Are you sure you're okay?"
"No, but come on. They say women find it attractive when a man cries sometimes."
"You must be thinking of Wilfried when he cried, but right now, you're the ugliest Robert Jimman I've ever seen in my life."
"Damn it. That's just not fair."
How could scruffy old Robert, who looked like the neighborhood mutt when he cried, dare compare himself to Wilfried, who glowed with angelic beauty and grace even with tears running down his face?
Just thinking about it, he would probably be dragged off by the Grimman Society's Ladies and subjected to cruel torture until he sobbed and apologized for such a grave offense.
"So what now? Because of you, we can't even check the taste of the food we wanted to buy for Marie."
"It's fine. As long as I put it in my mouth, it'll go down somehow. Though I might end up throwing it back up."
"Real smart. Seriously."
Just like they had for the past three and a half years, the two of them calmed down while exchanging senseless banter and began brainstorming what to buy for Marie.
They had grown used to these painful moments.
And that very fact—this bitter familiarity—brought with it yet another wave of disgust and guilt.
In any case, the two, who had completely lost their appetites, needed to find something for Marie.
Since eating anything themselves seemed impossible, the time had come for Ernest's hard-earned Belliang skills to finally shine.
"We're looking for a unique snack—something simple to eat, but special, something you can't taste anywhere else. Do you have a recommendation?"
Upon hearing Ernest's Belliang—which was now perfect except for his accent—the owner of the Gourmet Dessert Shop lifted his chin proudly and responded with utter confidence.
"Why, of course I do. Even His Majesty the Emperor of the Empire has never tasted this."
He seemed blissfully unaware just how reckless it was to mention the Emperor in front of Imperial Army officers.
But regardless, his pride was unmistakable.
"Eat it while it's cold."
The owner of the Gourmet Dessert Shop, who usually served Narvaing's royalty and nobles, now sold his dessert to the rough, rustic bumpkins from the Empire as though he were bestowing them a special favor.
His attitude was downright unpleasant, but the truth was that neither Ernest nor Robert—son of the wealthy Oliver—had ever tried this dessert before.
"Oh."
"Whoa, it's incredibly smooth!"
The only reason Ernest and Robert, who had lost their appetites, were able to eat that dessert was because it was ice-cold.
But despite being as cold as ice, it wasn't hard at all—it was unbelievably soft.
They'd both eaten shaved ice or sherbet every winter, but they'd never had anything this creamy, sweet, and rich before.
"Is this made with milk?"
"Oh, no, no, no. Just milk wouldn't do."
The shop owner, enjoying the reactions of these Mihahil country bumpkins and looking down on them ever so slightly, flicked his finger.
"So, what do you think?"
He twirled the ends of his thickly grown, stylishly twisted mustache, clearly showing off.
Ernest felt an urge to shave that mustache off his face, but he had to give credit where it was due.
"It's excellent. I've never even heard of anything like this, not even in Grimmman, the capital of Mihahil."
"Hehehe…."
At Ernest's praise, the shop owner let out a smug laugh.
"What's this called?"
"It's called Glace."
When Ernest asked for the name of the dessert, the shop owner spread his hands and explained as if to a child. Every move he made was infuriating.
"I'd like to give it as a gift—how long do you think it will last before it melts?"
"All the food sold in my shop must be eaten here, inside the shop."
Ernest, who had been smiling at the thought of gifting this "Glace" to Marie, frowned slightly at those words.
"There's a proper time for enjoying every dish. And most food tastes best right when it's freshly made. I can't allow anyone to take my food out of the shop, let it lose its flavor, and then eat it."
The shop owner spoke with a tone full of pride.
This time, though, he didn't sound arrogant—his words were genuine and came from a place of deep conviction.
"What's he saying?"
Robert, who didn't understand Belliang, was busy scooping up "Glace" even after having just thrown up, and now asked Ernest.
"He says we can't take it with us. We have to eat everything here in the shop."
"What kind of nonsense is that? Does he say that even to his own king or nobles? Ask him."
At Robert's words, delivered with an incredulous snort, the shop owner's face went rigid.
Seeing this, Robert put on a sly grin.
"Oh, so you just don't want to treat us imperial bumpkins like Belliang royalty or nobles. I get it, I really do."
Robert pointed straight at the shop owner as he said this. Even though Robert was speaking in the Imperial Language, it was clear the shop owner understood him.
After all, this shop catered to the Noble Ones in Narvaing. Of course he could speak the Imperial Language, which was considered a mark of refinement.
The only reason he insisted on using Belliang was simply out of stubbornness toward Ernest and Robert.
"You may know how to cook, but you clearly don't know how to run a business. Money doesn't care who you are," Robert continued, swaggering a bit now.
"Remember this well: this is a colony of the Empire now. To you, a Belliang commoner, people like us—imperials, nobles, and even officers in the army—are true 'noble people,' so far above you that you shouldn't even dream of approaching us. Don't take that as an insult or a put-down; I'm just giving you some advice in return for this… unique experience."
Robert banged his empty bowl with his spoon.
It was an exceptionally rude gesture, but it rang out as sharply as a gunshot, making it impossible not to notice that, in his own way, he sincerely cared about the consequences this man might face for his attitude.
"We're letting this slide because it's us, but if it had been anyone else, they would have beaten you up already. If you keep this up, you really could die. Do you think anyone would actually care if you did?"
"..."
Robert's words were a bit aggressive, but he was absolutely right. It was only because Ernest was polite and humble, and Robert had grown up loved and privileged, that they let this slide.
Any other Imperial Army officer would've already given this cheeky bastard a proper beating.
Belliang, defeated in the war, isn't even recognized as a country anymore.
If an Imperial Army officer were to shoot this man dead right here, who would raise their voice for him?
"So, how long will this thing take to melt? It's autumn now, the weather's cooled off, and if we run fast, maybe we'll make it in time."
After being so threatening, Robert instantly switched his tone and smiled.
Ernest just let out a quiet sigh.
In the end, the two bought the "Glace" to give to Marie as a present and left the shop.
With the box clutched tightly to their chests, they dashed through the streets, determined to get it to Marie before it melted.
"This is seriously stupid! If we'd just taken a horse or a carriage, this would've been so much easier!"
"Oh man! I'm dying! I feel like I'm going to throw up again!"
"Well, you shouldn't have eaten so much!"
"But it was delicious!"
"Suck it up! My stomach's so full I'm having a harder time than you!"
"Hey! Wait up!"
"Get some exercise for once!"
"Hey, I'm the Company Commander, remember? Second Lieutenant Jitman! Starting tonight, you're doing Physical Training!"
"Look, the whole 2nd Corps is here except for the 8th Division! Do you really want the entire 2nd Corps to suffer through grueling Physical Training because of you? If someone barges into your room and beats you up in the middle of the night, you'd better just accept that it was bound to happen!"
"Damn it!"
Clutching the box with the "Glace" inside and babbling nonsense as they ran down the street, they suddenly burst out laughing for no reason.
"We're real idiots, aren't we!"
Ernest found himself thinking back to memories that now felt so distant—the time he dashed down Grimman's Street, afraid he'd be late for the Imperial Military Academy entrance ceremony, and ran into Robert, who nearly got himself killed by a horse's kick.
"Haah! Haah!"
Robert remembered that day too, but he was so exhausted from running that he couldn't manage to say a word.
"You've been slacking off just because there's been no battle. If you keep this up, you'll end up dead the moment a real fight breaks out. Start working out."
"I get it already! Haah.. Come on! Haah! Shut up! Huff! Run! Huff!"
In any case, the two of them ran back to the 6th Division. Ernest, though not terribly tired, had a stomachache from running right after a meal, while Robert's stomach wasn't upset from food, but he was just so exhausted he was about to collapse.
"Marie, eat this. Hurry up and eat."
"Huff! Huff…!"
"W-what's wrong with Robert?"
"He's just being an idiot. Ignore him. Anyway, it's melting, so you need to eat it quickly."
Marie, clearly flustered, took the box and opened it. Though it had been jostled while they ran and had melted a little, the "Glace" was still in decent shape.
Marie, catching Ernest's and the barely-alive Robert's intense gazes, hesitated, then scooped up a bit of the "Glace" and put it in her mouth.
"..."
Marie's eyes grew wide, round with surprise—she looked just like a rabbit.
Not like the terrifying rabbits they'd hunted before, the ones that looked like they might bite a person to death, but more like a small, adorable burrow rabbit.
"How is it?"
"…It's so smooth."
"Is… is it tasty?"
"Yeah."
"Ernest… We… We really…"
Thud.
Robert collapsed to the ground, sobbing.
"We actually did it…"
"What do you mean we? I asked for it in Belliang, I paid for it, and I was the one who sprinted back here carrying it."
"…Seriously, you really are a heartless bastard…"
"Marie can hear you, you know."
Despite their exchange, Ernest and Robert clasped hands in a firm handshake.
Marie was completely absorbed in the glace, eating it greedily. It was a resounding success.
"Thank you! It was really delicious!"
After scraping the bowl clean and leaving nothing behind, Marie blushed in embarrassment, then beamed as she spoke.
"Marie… Your Older Brother tried so hard…"
"It was just from lack of exercise." "..."
Whatever Robert said, exhausted as he was, didn't really matter.
"Next time, let's go together and try it."
"Okay!"
"We'll be heading off now. Free time's almost over."
"Thank you! Really! Bye! See you next time! You have to come! No, I'll come find you!"
Marie looked truly delighted.
She bounced on her feet and waved her arms enthusiastically.
"Both of you, hang in there! Be careful!"
"Yes, Marie, you too. Take care."
"Take care… Be safe…"
Ernest responded to Marie's farewell while dragging the out-of-shape Robert along.
Robert mustered the last of his strength to mumble something, but it wasn't clear what he said. Still, his feelings got through to Marie.
"..."
However, after Ernest and Robert left, the flush of excitement vanished from Marie's cheeks as if it had never been there, leaving her face pale.
Clutching the box and bowl tightly in her small hands, Marie silently made her way back to her room.
It wasn't that she was upset, nor was she disappointed.
Marie was genuinely happy.
"I have to protect them."
That was why she had no choice but to push herself even harder. To protect Ernest and Robert, Marie believed she had to become even stronger.
Only then could she protect Ernest and Robert, kill Bertrand Belliang Lafayette, and kill Star of Summer Estelle Pouarrié.