Chapter 136 - Farewells and New Encounters (5)
Eugen couldn't hide his bewilderment at the message delivered by Ravid's attendant.
"What? Why now? Are you serious?"
Unable to help himself, Eugen ended up stammering and acting uncharacteristically clumsy.
"Yes, Sir Wilfried is not in a condition to move at the moment."
The attendant spoke again in a calm voice. Though he kept his expression in check, a deep sadness nonetheless seeped through, so much so that Eugen could guess why Wilfried wasn't coming in.
"Good grief..."
Eugen let out a sigh and rubbed his eyebrow with his fingertips, masking the frustration on his face.
'Making such a blunder at such an important moment... This is what you get from clueless greenhorns!'
Even though Eugen realized that the reason Wilfried hadn't shown up was because of the shock of receiving notices of his friends' deaths, he still had not the slightest concern for Wilfried's grief. All he felt was anger and disbelief that, during this news of the 2nd Corps breaking through Bertagne Forest, Wilfried was unable to participate.
The stagnant war was finally showing signs of movement, like a dam breaking and the river starting to flow powerfully again. It was the perfect time to stir up public support for the war, and donations would surely come pouring in.
And yet, at this moment, Wilfried—the Duke's son, the most handsome man in the world, and the very face the military authorities put out front—had collapsed and fallen ill.
'So a few guys he only spent a couple years with at the Military Academy died—does that really matter so much?'
Eugen burned with frustration that Wilfried was tangled up in such trivial emotions, riding the highs and lows over something so minor. Though Eugen kept telling himself that Wilfried was still young and could be useful if handled properly, he couldn't help but feel irritated by Wilfried's immaturity.
"…Alright, I understand. Please let him know I'll take care of things, so he doesn't need to worry."
Despite what he was truly feeling, Eugen couldn't openly express any complaints about Wilfried Ravid—the Duke's son and the rising star of the Grimman Society—so he spoke in a gentle, concerned voice.
'Damn it. This is the best time to take action.'
Eugen felt like he'd lose his mind knowing Wilfried couldn't step forward and act just when conditions were perfect for him to make an impact. If the military authorities became disappointed with him, it'd be a huge problem. Worse still, if word spread that Wilfried, who had been shaping positive public opinion about the war, had fallen ill with grief over his friends' deaths, the airheaded young nobles idolizing him might snap out of their daydreams.
What pained Eugen even more was knowing that, as the Duke's irreplaceable son, Wilfried would come out of this unscathed—but Eugen himself, who had gained attention by acting as Wilfried's leash, could end up with his own neck on the line.
His clenched fist trembled. Eugen knew he had to find a way to get through this unscathed. He'd been on a winning streak ever since Wilfried became his subordinate, but if things fell apart now, people would pounce in a flash and tear him to pieces.
'Why am I the one who has to pay the price for Ravid acting like some spoiled child!'
Even though he'd reaped many benefits through Wilfried, Eugen felt not a shred of responsibility. To him, Wilfried was nothing more than a convenient tool that had fallen into his lap at just the right time. He took no responsibility for Wilfried, not as an adult or as a superior.
'This isn't the time for this. If nothing else, I should at least show my face and do something.'
Eugen decided that, with Grimman abuzz about the news of breaking through the Bertagne Forest, at the very least, he should be the one to get out there and make himself seen. He began checking his schedule for the day.
'For starters, let's say Ravid heard about the Bertagne Forest breakthrough and ended up drinking alone all night, eventually collapsing from drunkenness.'
While hiding Wilfried's fragile heart, Eugen also aimed to tarnish his reputation just enough to divert the military authorities' harsh gaze from himself. Making it clear that this was entirely Wilfried's fault was the only way Eugen could avoid taking the fall.
'Tonight there's a charity event for collecting donations. Damn it, Ravid absolutely needs to be there. I'd better contact the Baroness immediately. As long as Ravid joins her for at least a meal when he wakes up, that should suffice. As long as it's firmly established that this is his fault, the higher-ups won't be able to fault me.'
Turning these thoughts rapidly in his mind, Eugen planned how to shift all the blame onto Wilfried and slip out of responsibility himself.
Bang!
Deep in thought, Eugen was startled when the door suddenly burst open, causing him to leap to his feet. Only a very limited number of people could enter the office of Captain Eugen Schwarz, Commander of the 1st Company of the 1st Security Battalion, in such a manner.
"Battalion Commander, sir."
"Schwarz."
Eugen quickly saluted as Lieutenant Colonel David Boimler, the 1st Security Battalion Commander, barged right into his office, but David was too agitated to even return the greeting. He hurriedly shut the door behind him and rushed over, urgently calling Eugen's name. With a trembling voice, he whispered under his breath.
"Where is Ravid?"
"..."
Hearing David suddenly ask for Wilfried, Eugen's heart lurched and he was momentarily at a loss for words.
"Didn't I just ask where Ravid is?"
David pressed Eugen, still speaking in a low voice, struggling to contain both anger and fear. Eugen hesitated, unable to grasp the situation, and awkwardly fidgeted as he stammered an answer, clearly at a loss for what to do.
"Well… Second Lieutenant Ravid hasn't shown up for work today."
"Damn it!"
David cursed, running his hands through his perfectly styled blond hair. Sensing that something very serious was going on, Eugen quickly decided to change his plan.
"Just a moment ago, Ravid's attendant came by with a message. I didn't hear any details."
Eugen spoke the truth plainly. In situations like this, trying to be evasive or lie could really risk his neck if he got caught later. Honesty was the safest route.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, no. It's nothing—just forget about it."
David struggled to brush off Eugen's question, but it was obvious he was doing a poor job of hiding the fact that something major had happened.
"Ravid's probably at the mansion now, right?"
David asked as he started to leave the room.
'I'm saved'
And from David's demeanor and that single question, Eugen realized his own neck was not about to be on the line, at least for now.
David was clearly looking to meet Wilfried. If this issue had stemmed from Wilfried or the House of Duke Ravid, David would have been trying to distance himself and deny any association.
At this moment, David seemed intent on finding Wilfried to leverage the influence of the Duke's House for self-protection—nothing else made sense.
In other words, even though Eugen didn't yet know the details, whatever problem had David so desperate and on the verge of collapse was entirely David's alone, and neither Eugen nor Wilfried was implicated.
"I'm not entirely sure myself. I can send someone to check at Ravid's mansion…"
"No, forget it. If anyone asks for me, just say you don't know…"
David, who had been in a rush to leave, stopped short and slowly turned to look at Eugen.
Then David noticed the ambiguous smile on Eugen's face and realized, too late, that in his haste, he'd completely exposed his own weakness to him.
"What on earth have you done to be so desperately clawing for the Ravid family's shadow, Lieutenant Colonel Boimler?"
Eugen narrowed his eyes and smiled slyly, like a snake. There was no hint of respect for his superior—just a cold, taunting sneer.
"You look as if you're a man moments away from being found out for treason."
"…"
"I was joking, but since you're reacting like that… ha ha…"
"No! I...!"
"Lieutenant Colonel Boimler, I can't just let you go to Ravid," Eugen said with a smile. "He's far too useful to let the filth splash everywhere."
If David managed to contact Wilfried right now, Wilfried would get dragged into the mess under suspicion as well.
And if that happened, Eugen would also get caught up and suffer for it.
Eugen didn't know exactly what was going on, but for now, he decided to stop David.
Eugen didn't need to know what this was really about.
That was for the Central Intelligence Agency—the people who would get Eugen's report—to figure out.
He acted purely out of self-preservation, not having the faintest clue what was at stake or how far the repercussions might reach.
And, as a bonus, if David was exposed for some crime as a result of Eugen's report, all the better.
But when the noon announcements came, Eugen was seized by absolute terror.
It was reported that traitors within the Empire had been caught for smuggling the Balt Batteries, and that everyone involved was being arrested as well.
Even Major Liselotte Kirchner, a First-Class Baltracher of the Central Intelligence Agency, known for her ability to read memories and thoughts, was personally taking action.
Anyone even remotely connected was arrested on the spot, and their entire house would be erased from existence.
What's more, this was happening simultaneously all across the Empire.
Turns out, the Empire had identified these traitors long ago and simply kept them under surveillance.
Eugen realized he was a small fry—far too insignificant to be entangled in something as colossal, dangerous, and unimaginably lucrative as Balt Battery smuggling.
Even better, since he'd reported Lieutenant Colonel David Boimler, the 1st Security Battalion Commander of the Capital Defense Force, Eugen was only subjected to a relatively minor investigation and was soon released without harm.
However, just the fact that he was investigated by the Central Intelligence Agency because of David left Eugen terrified, shaking uncontrollably all day, unable to do anything.
That was how frightening the Central Intelligence Agency was once it began its hunt for traitors.
David had been siphoning off some of the 1st Security Battalion's training supplies, and he did the same with the Balt Battery.
It was a clear-cut case of treason.
In truth, the Balt Battery itself wasn't all that valuable.
The real prize was the Balt energy stored inside.
And, as it turned out, it was easier to siphon off that Balt energy than most people thought, as long as one had the will.
The Emperor, Walter Ulrich Mihahil, would charge the enormous storage Balt Batteries with Balt energy, then distribute them to each unit.
The Baltrachers would then transfer the Balt energy into smaller, portable Balt Batteries for actual use.
Inevitably, there would be losses during this transfer process, and the rate of loss varied depending on the Baltracher involved.
This was what soldiers in the field referred to as "the difference in Balt efficiency."
In other words, only the Baltracher actually handling the energy transfer really knew how much Balt disappeared as 'loss'—no one else could be sure. If you could win over just one Baltracher in charge of the unit's transfer, it was easy enough to siphon off Balt and sell it elsewhere.
For storing the diverted Balt, they would procure defective Balt Batteries through backchannels with the battery factories. Smugglers didn't care about battery quality, so it didn't matter.
The skimmed-off Balt Batteries were sold to the Alliance Army through trading companies engaged in maritime trade. Astronomical sums of money changed hands; just being a middleman in the process could secure enough wealth for a family to live in leisure for generations.
The military authorities, nobles, Balt Battery factories, and trading companies— Countless people were involved, and the Central Intelligence Agency, which had been waiting for the right moment until now, was rounding them all up in a single sweep.
So many would be executed for treason that no one could count them, and countless noble houses and trading companies would be brought to ruin.
And their assets would be confiscated by the Empire, with their empty places swiftly filled by new, ambitious individuals.
Everyone would join voices to slander the traitors. They would loudly demand their resolute execution. Only by doing so could they ensure their own survival, and they would greedily lap up the blood that had been shed when those others died.
As the Empire had been lifted by news of the breakthrough at Bertagne Forest, now a bloodstorm of purges began to sweep through it. Everyone except for the traitors would welcome this with apparent joy. Even if they felt no joy at all, they would have to pretend.
The leaders from various nations who rose up, seizing the chaos of war to try for independence, along with the traitors who had gnawed at the Empire for so long—all of them would be swept away and killed, leaving the Empire's territory to those who, regardless of nation or class, were true imperial subjects in the truest sense. As imperial citizens, they would all kneel before the Emperor. If they did not, then death awaited.
It felt as if everything in this great Empire was being swept along by a wild gale, charging together in a single direction.
"Sir Wilfried."
"..."
Wilfried lay alone in his room, struggling to open his eyes, now so swollen from crying that they barely opened. His fever blazed so high that his head spun and his whole body ached. Not only had they brought a brazier to light a fire, but even the fireplace was burning, and a pouch of warm water had been tucked under his covers—yet he still trembled violently from the cold.
Shocked beyond words by the news of his friends' deaths, Wilfried's health had rapidly deteriorated, so much so that he wondered if he might die young at only seventeen.
Even when a careful voice called his name, Wilfried ignored it, gazing blankly up at the ceiling.
He guessed that the servants must have carried him to a different room while he was unconscious.
Even though he had shattered the window, the cold wind wasn't coming in.
"Sir Wilfried. A letter has arrived."
When Wilfried didn't reply, the attendant's cautious voice called out again from beyond the door. A letter. At those words, Wilfried squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
"…No…"
Wilfried mumbled quietly. He didn't want to see another letter.
"…Sir Wilfried. You must read this letter."
Wilfried's voice had been so faint it likely couldn't be heard, but the attendant spoke with unwavering certainty, convinced that Wilfried was listening.
He was so sensitive and delicate that even the faint sound of someone tiptoeing on the plush carpet outside his door late at night would wake him. The staff of the mansion would go the long way around rather than pass in front of his room at night for that very reason. If someone as sensitive as Wilfried couldn't even rouse himself at the sound of his own name being called, then perhaps it truly meant he was near death.
"It's a letter from your friends' Houses."
"..."
At the attendant's words, Wilfried, who had been about to cover his ears, jerked in surprise.
"They said they truly hope you, Sir Wilfried, will attend."
At those words, Wilfried began to cry again.
Wrapped in his blanket, curled up on the bed, he wept like a child.
Then, slowly, he forced his exhausted body up, wiping his face with his sleeve.
Still, as the tears kept flowing, he eventually gave up and began to change clothes while still crying.
Hearing Wilfried's sobs from inside the room, the attendant felt a deep sorrow but was nonetheless hugely relieved that Wilfried had at least gotten up. He had been so worried, afraid that Wilfried might truly die like this.
Crash.
Dressed in black mourning clothes, Wilfried opened the door weakly. He was still crying, staggering as he walked. When the attendant tried to support him, Wilfried pushed him away.
"Where is it…?"
"I'll escort you there."
"I asked where it is."
Unlike his usual self, Wilfried showed none of his customary composure, authority, or dignity. The attendant hesitated for a moment but finally told him the location of the funeral. The funeral for the officers from the Imperial Military Academy would be held as a joint service at the Imperial Military Academy.
Wilfried, sniffling as he listened, started to stumble out of the mansion. The attendant hesitated, then realized it would be impossible to get Wilfried into a car right now, so he picked up an umbrella and quietly followed behind. He didn't hold the umbrella over Wilfried. Instead, he walked some distance away, silently trailing behind and watching over him.
Wilfried walked through the gently falling rain, weeping as he went.
Rain fell, and the bloodstorm of the purge raged on. Only carriages moved through the streets of the Inner District, and among them, no one could possibly have imagined that the bedraggled, stumbling young man, soaked and without an umbrella, was Wilfried, the Duke Ravid's son and the Most Beautiful Man in the World.
Wilfried walked the streets toward the Imperial Military Academy. The main gate was wide open, and people in black mourning clothes were dismounting from horses and stepping down from carriages to enter.
...
Wilfried shuffled weakly inside, feeling the Imperial Military Academy—once a place he longed to return to—had grown unbearably distant. The security platoon stationed at the main gate did not stop him. Among the soldiers of the Imperial Military Academy, there was no one who would fail to recognize Wilfried.
He entered the auditorium where the funeral was being prepared. The inside was emptier than he had expected, since the officer cadets were away for training, and likewise, the instructors were also absent. Moreover, due to the turmoil of the purge, many chose to send letters rather than attend the funeral in person.
"Ravid."
Those who saw Wilfried gasped in surprise, whispering amongst themselves.
The hottest figure in Grimman Society, Wilfried, had come to the funeral hall in a pitiful state, not even bothering to go into work, shuffling through the doors—of course they were shocked.
Even those who had written to beg Wilfried to attend were taken aback. With so much unrest, none had truly expected he would actually come to the funeral.
"My goodness. How did you come here like this?"
A man hurried over to Wilfried, who was soaked and surveying the funeral hall, quickly taking off his own black cloak and draping it over Wilfried's shoulders.
"…Baron Adler."
Wilfried immediately recognized him as Joachim Adler, Jonas's father. Aside from the beard and wrinkles, they looked so alike it was as if they'd been stamped from the same mold.
"…It's good to see you, Ravid."
Joachim gazed at Wilfried with a tumult of emotions crossing his face. He gently patted Wilfried's shoulder with a trembling hand as he spoke.
"I've heard a lot about you from Jonas. I never imagined you would actually come, especially under these circumstances. Thank you, truly."
With his arm still around Wilfried's shoulders, Joachim guided him into the auditorium. Wilfried followed his lead and stood in the place reserved for the bereaved families.
Staring at all the coffins lined up, Wilfried felt like he might break down in tears again. In truth, he had never really stopped crying; it was just that, drenched by the rain, no one could tell his tears from the drops still running down his face.
He greeted the families of his friends and, even though he felt he could collapse at any moment, managed to offer them words of comfort.
And then he realized that out of all the coffins arranged by flag bearer cohort, six belonged to his friends.
Just among the families who had their main residence in Grimman, there were already six fallen sons.
How many more friends from other regions must have died?
The thought was overwhelming; he couldn't even begin to imagine.
Wilfried stared blankly at the coffins, crying throughout the entire funeral.
Usually, you would throw flowers into the coffin before closing it, but this time, that wasn't possible.
The bodies had started to decompose during the journey from Bertagne to Grimman, making it absolutely impossible to keep the coffins open during the service.
Because these were the bodies of fallen soldiers, not a single one was intact, and each had been decaying for at least ten days. Even with the lids closed, the stench of decay was so strong that it filtered all the way outside the auditorium.
The funeral was conducted under Armin's supervision. Rather than talking about "noble sacrifice for the great victory of the Empire," Armin mourned their deaths, expressed his condolences, and then solemnly completed the ceremony following proper protocol.
Some couldn't bear their grief and broke down in tears. Others forced themselves to stand firm, while yet others, thinking that their family member had died gloriously in battle and brought honor to their House, nodded in satisfaction.
While Armin spoke with the families of those who had once been Officer Cadets, Wilfried just stood there, lost, gazing endlessly at his friends' coffins.
After the ceremony, the coffins would be transported to each bereaved family's estate for burial.
Wilfried had no idea how to properly say goodbye to his friends on their final journey.
"Ravid."
Just then, a familiar voice called his name, and a hand gripped Wilfried's shoulder.
"Instructor Luther…"
Wilfried slowly turned to face Norman.
Looking haggard and worn, Norman—who now had to look up at the taller Wilfried—blinked his swollen, tear-stained eyes.
"The best-looking man in the world isn't looking so great today."
Norman managed to force a smile with all his strength.
Only after joking did Norman finally manage a smile that carried a hint of genuine warmth.
Wilfried had spent the entire day feverish and in tears, now soaked to the bone by rain.
Yet instead of being disheveled, he radiated a kind of sorrowful beauty, and Norman couldn't help but laugh at his own words.
"..."
Wilfried lowered his head, letting silent tears fall.
Hearing comforting words from Norman—who had always looked after everyone like an older brother during their days as Officer Cadets—made him weep all over again.
It was as if he could still hear Norman's cries from that day echoing in his ears.
Norman had truly loved the boys he'd taught.
For Norman, it must be like losing a son.
"…Wilfried."
Norman called Wilfried's name and pulled the now taller young man into an embrace, patting his back.
Wilfried, who had never cried in anyone's arms in his entire life, was so overwhelmed by the gentle gesture that he found himself speechless.
"Don't ever forget the sorrow of this moment."
With those words, Norman tucked Wilfried's head onto his own shoulder and whispered quietly in his ear.
"Don't forget that you loved them—and that's why you are sorrowful."
Wilfried nodded, shoulders trembling, unable to lift his head from Norman's shoulder.
"As long as you remember them as a friend, they'll continue to live in your heart. That's the duty of those of us left behind."
"…Yes."
Wilfried answered in a trembling voice, barely managing to get the words out.
Norman waited patiently until Wilfried calmed down, then gently let him go.
"…Don't go crying in public. Please. It's not good for people's mental health."
Norman gave this advice in all seriousness, alarmed because Wilfried looked so heartbreakingly beautiful even as he wept. He was genuinely afraid that something might happen.
Wilfried simply nodded, obediently. He had no intention of breaking down in front of others.
Wilfried remained at the funeral until everything was completely over. He even spoke with Armin. They didn't say much, but it provided a small measure of comfort.
"Thank you so much for coming."
"No, it's I who should thank you… for inviting me."
Wilfried offered his condolences to his friend's family, then left the auditorium.
As the sons of each house split up to carry the coffins home, Wilfried found himself stranded in front of the auditorium, able only to watch them go, with nowhere else to be.
Ssssshhh...
The sky, dragging out the last gasp of the spring monsoon, continued to rain down on Wilfried's young shoulders. However, perhaps thanks to the cloak Joachim, Jonas's father, had wrapped around him, Wilfried didn't feel as much pain as he had moments before.
"…Let's go back."
"Yes."
The attendant who had waited quietly outside the auditorium for the entire funeral only approached once Wilfried addressed him, opening an umbrella over them. The two walked silently together, making their way back to the mansion without saying a word. Wilfried washed himself with hot water, then returned to his room.
"..."
The window Wilfried had shattered had to be specially ordered to be replaced, so for now, it was boarded up. He slowly made his way over and gazed down at the letters from his friends, which had been neatly arranged again on his desk.
"…Yes. I have to remember."
He murmured as he traced the letters with his cold fingertips.
"That's my duty."
With those words, as if making a vow, Wilfried sat down and began to read each letter one by one. It took so long he felt dizzy. Lacking all his usual composure, Wilfried sat in front of his desk, hastily driving away his hunger with the meal brought to him by the servants, and spent the entire day immersed in those letters.
Afterward, he carefully wrote down the names of his beloved friends on a sheet of paper. He ran his hand over the names of friends he would never see again, aching with loss, then took out a fresh piece of paper and began to write.
As time passes, a person's memories and emotions inevitably dull. Wanting to remember his beloved friends and never let them fade, Wilfried began to carefully write down everything about them.
He wrote how they looked, what kind of voices they had and how they spoke, how they laughed, the events they shared, the jokes they exchanged, the things they said about Thomas during training, and how, with all the innocence of youth, they built their friendships. And then, when they were lost to him forever, he wrote about how much pain, loneliness, sorrow, and hardship it brought him. He poured everything onto the page, leaving nothing out.
Wilfried knew that he would only get busier from here on. He had letters to write to his friends, he had to work on his memoirs, and, thanks to that damn Krieger—Ernest—he was also responsible for delivering news of his friends to everyone else. He'd also heard that a Purge had begun since returning to the mansion, and with a Bloodstorm tearing through the political world, he expected to be busy with that as well.
Wilfried vowed to keep his friends alive in his heart for as long as he lived.
And, even after he was gone, to ensure they remained in the world.
Even if people die, their words remain. Perhaps they might even last forever.
If so, then maybe this meant that his friends would live forever in this world too.