Chapter 36
Chapter 36
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: War on Terror (7)
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A report arrived at General Staff Headquarters.
It detailed the results of the Ortz Kingdom spy purge operation.
"Read it."
"Yes, sir."
The spies from the Ortz Kingdom who had infiltrated this time were vicious criminals who had even plotted to assassinate members of the imperial family.
Whether they had successfully purged them or not would determine the fate of everyone's positions at General Staff Headquarters.
Everyone perked up their ears.
They prayed inwardly.
'May there be results that His Majesty the Emperor will be satisfied with.'
If it went well, it was a massive win. If it failed, utter ruin.
"Based on the intelligence provided by the Ortz Kingdom spy Rierson, the Imperial Army killed or captured a total of 257 spies. We also arrested 1,200 internal collaborators within the Empire."
"Five hundred people collaborating with the Ortz Kingdom? Fortuna preserve us."
The staff officer reading the report hurriedly added an explanation.
"Even among the 1,200, a thousand are day laborers doing menial tasks, small merchants drowning in debt, tenant farmers, and the like. Half of them were listed as collaborators but had no idea they were even aiding the Ortz Kingdom."
"They were just told they'd get paid for helping with simple tasks, so they did it without a second thought."
In any era, spies exploit civilians—especially the unemployed or nobodies—with fat stacks of cash.
Offering half a million or a million won for one easy gig, that sort of thing.
The Ortz Kingdom had tasked insignificant people with errands like "Deliver this letter to so-and-so, and we'll pay you 50,000 marks."
"The simple collaborators received 50,000 to 100,000 marks for transporting weapons or delivering secret letters containing encrypted classified information."
The Chief of the General Staff had been shocked at first, thinking over a thousand people were openly aiding the spies.
What if those 1,200 had been soldiers or civil servants...?
'The Empire's secrets would all be out. They could've stirred up riots anywhere.'
Since most were clueless, it was a blessing amid misfortune.
But the real issue was the remaining 200.
"Those 1,000 probably weren't much help anyway, so we can let that slide... but the 200?"
"They consisted of merchants running sizable trading firms, blacksmiths, Imperial Army soldiers and officers, and administrators. The highest-ranking one had served as deputy mayor."
"This is maddening."
At deputy mayor level, you could slot a few NCOs or civil servants into positions using your pull.
Making spies into Imperial NCOs right under their noses.
What if those spies poisoned rations in army camps?
What if officials emptied the safes?
With officers compromised too, military secrets must have been leaking like a sieve.
In a word, it had been a near-apocalypse.
"With this much groundwork, assassinating imperial family members would've been a cakewalk. Right?"
"The Imperial Guard handling palace security isn't that sloppy."
"Even the Guard are human. And we're the Empire's general staff—we prepare for every contingency."
The Field Marshal knocked back a shot of harsh whiskey.
He gave a wry chuckle.
"Still, what a relief. We nipped the disaster in the bud before it blew up. Thanks to the Empire's savior hero."
"Major Michael Schumacher. Without him..."
He didn't even want to imagine it.
Imperial family assassinated, riots erupting across the nation?
The Imperial Army's honor in the gutter, some forced into dishonorable discharge to take the blame.
For an Imperial noble, dishonorable discharge was a death sentence.
They wouldn't take your life, but they'd turn you into human garbage, forcing you to live without ever holding your head up—eternal mental torment, the worst punishment imaginable.
Just thinking about it was horrifying.
"Personnel Commander."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"Promote him."
The Personnel Commander tilted his head.
"Major Michael Schumacher has just over two years of service. Lieutenant Colonel already? That's absurd..."
But he trailed off midway.
Normally, it was utterly ridiculous. A second-year lieutenant colonel?
The army would look like a joke.
But given his achievements—and to soothe the Emperor's fury over the near-murder of his kin...
'We have to promote him.'
"Normally, it's absurd, sir."
"By the book, yeah."
"But Schumacher lacks service time, not talent. He even made huge contributions rooting out spies infesting the Imperial Army. In my view, an exception for promotion is justified."
"As expected of you. Everyone should learn from that flexibility of yours—not getting stuck on rigid rules."
An army too chained to principles rots from within.
In World War I, some idiot nation clung to line infantry tactics.
Result? They sent troops charging in rigid lines straight into hellish barrages of artillery and breech-loading rifles.
No need for long explanations—they all died pointless deaths.
Imperial Army staff officers would die before repeating such rotten habits.
"Let's write up a promotion recommendation for His Majesty."
"Yes, sir. Is this case classified?"
Intelligence and spy operations are almost always kept secret.
So intel officers and NCOs get fat bonuses and promotions for big feats, but that's it.
Medals during active service are exceedingly rare.
Usually, you get them after discharge based on your record.
But this incident couldn't stay under wraps.
"The Ortz spies who could escape already have. And don't we need to publicly condemn their attempt on the imperial family?"
"I'll lean on the press to splash it across the front page of the Imperial Newspaper."
"Do that. And Rierson, was it? Treat him as having died heroically in devoted service to the Imperial Army and award him posthumously."
"A spy made colonel."
"At least he dies with stars on his shoulders. Bet he'll like that."
The Chief of the General Staff immediately issued follow-up orders.
"For the unwitting simple participants, confiscate their earnings and sentence them to two years' forced labor in the mines—no exceptions for age. For direct participants, behead them regardless of rank."
"Yes, sir."
The clueless ones might truly feel wronged.
But regardless, they had aided spies.
Moreover, to prevent people from jumping at big-money jobs from enemy spies—unaware or not—and stumbling into crime...
They resolved on harsh punishment.
"And prepare revenge on those Ortz bastards. Time to make them taste real bitterness."
Lieutenant General Chaplin called his daughter.
His expression wasn't cheerful.
She hadn't done anything wrong, but he couldn't smile.
"Lina."
"Yes, Father."
"What do you think of that bastard... no, Schumacher you're serving under?"
Michael Schumacher—that trash who was slowly stealing his daughter's heart without a clue...
No, a man dumber than a three-year-old when it came to romance.
And now that guy was trying to take away the daughter he'd raised like pure gold.
As a father, how could he not worry?
"I sincerely respect Battalion Commander Schumacher. His loyalty to the Empire, decisiveness, cool judgment, care for his men— he's a flawless commander."
"That's why I pulled every string I had to put you under him."
Working under a competent officer naturally makes you competent.
Under an incompetent one, you turn incompetent before you know it.
The Empire's higher-ups knew this principle inside out.
That's why they'd squabbled among themselves to send fresh graduates or newly promoted lieutenants under Michael.
Bribes—no, modest gifts—to personnel officers had changed hands.
"Not that. What do you think of him as a man?"
Lina tilted her head.
Then answered honestly.
"Lots of men in the battalion approach me openly or slyly. Competent ones, good families, incompetents—all sorts. But being around them makes me deeply uncomfortable."
Lieutenant General Chaplin somewhat understood the men's feelings.
His daughter was objectively beautiful.
Beautiful and from a good family—who wouldn't be interested?
'My girl's pretty cute, after all.'
"Uncomfortable?"
"What about Schumacher?"
"He's never once looked at me with lecherous eyes. Even in the middle of his busy schedule, he'd make time to give me helpful advice or all sorts of aid. Before I knew it, being by his side felt comfortable."
Lieutenant General Chaplin's head throbbed.
'......'
"I see. Off you go."
The general sent his daughter away and came down with a sudden cold.
The next day, he couldn't make it to work.
His room reeked of strong cigars and alcohol.