Chapter 66
Chapter 66
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: Military Reform (2)
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Everyone opposes killing innocent people.
But no one opposes executing death row inmates.
Why is that?
Because death row inmates are obviously guilty as hell, having been tried through a perfectly legitimate process.
In fact, if you don't execute those who deserve to die, social order starts to crumble...
'Anyone can see they deserve death, so kill them.'
"Nice to meet you all. I am Major Michael Schumacher, newly appointed as the Battalion Commander of the 15th Disciplinary Battalion."
The faces of the officers, NCOs, and soldiers paled at the sight of me.
Well, sure. Finding out the guy they thought was a fresh recruit is actually the battalion commander would send chills down their spines.
And their behavior? Total chaos like nothing else.
If they had no skeletons in the closet, maybe they'd be fine.
But with so many guilty spots, how terrified they must be.
"This Battalion Commander has been appointed here by direct order of His Majesty the Emperor and General Staff Headquarters."
Saying 'appointed as battalion commander' twice might seem redundant.
But I emphasized 'His Majesty the Emperor and General Staff Headquarters' for a reason.
'It means I hold your lives in my hands.'
The officers and NCOs over there got it—their faces turned ghostly white.
If I end the inauguration like this, those officers will swarm my office, begging for their lives.
Well, if the corruption and abuse were at a humanly understandable level, I was going to just warn them and move on.
But leaving the Disciplinary Battalion—which should be the Imperial Army's shining example—in that state? That'd be dereliction of duty.
"Before taking office, I disguised myself as a recruit to inspect the battalion's condition... and it's a utter disaster beyond words, Deputy Battalion Commander."
The deputy in his early forties hurried over to me.
He bowed so low it looked like he might kowtow right there.
"I'm truly sorry, Battalion Commander."
"The soldiers' meal budget, the unit's muskets and powder, ammo procurement budget, even their pay— you've skimmed from everywhere."
"......Please forgive me. Maintaining an officer's dignity costs a fortune."
The faces of all the officers—except the new transfers Lina, Monica, and Sergeant Major Yurgen—turned ashen.
The Imperial Army is the strongest and most advanced on the continent.
By medieval fantasy standards, it's pretty decent.
But if we're talking pure army quality, honestly, it's worse than back in '08.
Even so, touching the food rations? Unforgivable.
"Dignity? Aren't you ashamed as an Imperial noble? Got the face to look your parents in the eye? Sure, scrimping to save money might look a bit shabby. But!"
The rye bread and 'meat stew' from the mess hall—where the meat had barely dipped a toe—were the height of absurdity.
Even if Imperial Army rations aren't lavish...
They should've been able to toss in salted meat generously.
Not a single chunk of meat in sight.
Man, just thinking about it makes my blood boil in reverse.
"Diverting meals from soldiers pulling late guard shifts, barely sleeping through training? And you still call yourself an officer?"
"I'm sorry, Battalion Commander. Please for—"
"Forget forgiveness. The unit management is a joke."
"......Ha..."
I looked at the deputy, pressed my forehead, and let out a heavy sigh.
"Not even worth getting mad over. What's the point of talking to a tumor on the Imperial Army? Reciting a soldier's duty to someone who's abandoned soldiering altogether? Laughable."
At those words, the deputy dropped to his knees before me.
Then slammed his forehead into the ground.
"Please, I beg you—spare me the dishonorable discharge. Anything but that. Our family would be utterly destroyed."
In the Korean Army, getting deemed unfit for active duty doesn't ruin your life.
You just don't get commissioned as an officer, or get auto-rejected from places like the NIS.
But in the Imperial Army, an unfit stamp means your life is over, plain and simple.
Officers get discharged into police brass or bureaucrats matching their rank; NCOs into guard units similarly.
Soldiers dishonorably discharged can't even land factory grunt work.
So yeah, he's begging to avoid dishonorable discharge.
"Effective immediately, all your duties and authority are suspended. The MPs will come fetch you soon. Make your case in military court."
The deputy collapsed like a man whose soul had fled his body.
Yesterday, he wouldn't have traded places with a judge or doctor. Today? Human trash, criminal scum.
No wonder he's lost it from the shock.
I turned to the other officers, one by one.
"I'd love to dishonorably discharge you lot too... but I'll give you one chance. Commit even the slightest corruption next time..."
I drew my finger across my throat.
"...and you'll end up like the deputy lying there. I guarantee it on His Majesty the Emperor."
"Yes, sir. Understood."
"And let's see..."
I stepped down from the podium.
Weaving through the soldiers, I searched for him.
The one who beat them like it was breakfast.
I'd planned to let it slide if possible...
'That bastard bruised me head to toe.'
Truth is, every step sent pain shooting through my body.
"Where was it? 1st Company, 1st Platoon?"
One of the worst cultures rotting an army: beatings.
Strictly speaking, whipping as formal punishment after due process? Tolerable.
Caught boozing on guard duty? Whip the calves instead of the brig—who'd object?
But nitpicking a recruit's words and beating him? Grab every platoon member for a group thrashing?
That's just insanity to find excuses to beat.
'This kind of violence is absolutely intolerable.'
"Ah, there you are. Corporal Viktor, front and center."
I called his name, but he didn't budge.
"Corporal Viktor, front and center."
Called again, and he shuffled forward, tears and snot streaming.
Where's that bravado from pounding on recruits...?
"So, how's it feel?"
"I'm sorry, sir."
"......Sorry fixes everything? Sorry ends your service?"
"I'm sorry!"
"Why'd you beat this Battalion Commander? And with the whole platoon mobilized, no less."
Tears gushed from Viktor's eyes.
I hadn't even said anything about killing him...
I have zero intention of killing soldiers.
Officers and NCOs botched management so bad the troops rotted—killing them fixes nothing.
"When recruits arrive, we haze them to instill discipline and make 'em human. It's our platoon's tradition."
"So if I follow 'tradition' and kill your parents, that's fine by you?"
"No, sir."
"With the power I wield, I could utterly destroy your family. If that's how you 'tame' soldiers by tradition, you okay with that?"
"No, sir... I'm sorry... Please just spare my life... I won't do it again."
Ignorance is forgivable.
Someone who doesn't know killing is wrong can be reformed; one who knows and does it anyway? Incorrigible.
I'll reform every last soldier and officer.
"No matter how well I hid my identity, I'm a baron. Know what that means?"
"Les majeste?"
"Exactly. And you, Corporal Viktor—not even a platoon leader—ordered the entire platoon to beat this officer. Even setting lese majeste aside, strict application of military law means..."
I eyed the surrounding soldiers with a warning tone.
"...hanging or firing squad. Do this once, and you could face hanging or firing squad."
Military life's not always by the book.
In practice, you don't get executed for this.
But it's possible.
"Now that this Battalion Commander has taken over, no embezzlement, no baseless abuse will be tolerated. So for the assault you inflicted on me before inauguration, I'll show maximum leniency and..."
As battalion commander, unless I order execution, no one gripes about any punishment I hand a soldier.
And right now, to root out abuse, I need a harsh example.
Not personal revenge.
'An army runs on principles.'
"...sentence you to 100 lashes."
"One hundred, sir?"
"......Want me to send you to military court with the deputy? No lashes then, but you'll hang."
Can't ignore group beatings just because 'everyone does it.'
"No, sir."
"A hundred at once would kill you. So 50 for now."
I beckoned, and Sergeant Major Yurgen brought a wooden post and ropes.
Corporal Viktor was tied to it.
"Entire battalion, attention."
Maybe from my sword dance earlier?
They moved sharp and snappy.
"Effective immediately, no one—soldier or officer—beats without my permission. Caught, no mercy."
"Yes, sir!"
"Follow orders right, and rewards will be ample."
"Yes, sir!"
With that, I ended the final address, took the whip, and laid into his back.
Fifty times, without pause.