Chapter 285
Chapter 285
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 285
Chapter Title: There Is No Militarism in Our Empire (7)
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Manstein Count's mansion.
The head of the Manstein Count family and former lieutenant general, Matthias von Manstein, found the rare leisure time that had come after so long extremely uncomfortable.
For someone who had been grinding out nearly twelve hours of work every day at the General Staff Headquarters, time where he didn't have to worry about anything or do anything felt utterly awkward.
The other guys who had slipped out of the promotion race before him and retired seemed to be living comfortably in retirement, but was it because he had been hit with a sudden forced discharge without any preparation?
Even as he tried hard to think that he should just give up everything and live like those guys, resentment and grudges—along with a thirst for revenge—kept surging up in his chest from time to time, leaving him without a single moment of peace since the forced discharge.
He had been humiliated in front of everyone, having his rank insignia ripped off with a knife by General Peter Jaeger.
Right after that, he had been dragged out by his subordinates and forced to leave the General Staff Headquarters in utter disgrace.
He didn't want to recall that scene, but annoyingly, his mind kept dragging him back to that exact time, that place, that situation with vivid clarity.
Every time it happened, his fists clenched tight, and he trembled with burning rage.
"I devoted myself solely for the Empire, purely for the Empire, for the Empire and the Manstein Count family. So why the hell do I have to go through this shit?!"
With those words, he glanced at the place holding the medals, plaques, commendations, and land grant documents symbolizing the achievements he had piled up since enlisting thirty-five years ago.
In the past, no matter how tough things got or how anxious he felt about falling behind in the competition, looking at those had always given him the confidence that his choices were always right.
But just a week ago—no, to be precise, at the very end— that bastard Peter Jaeger had denied every single achievement he had built up until then.
His eldest son, second son, grandchildren, and even the subordinates who had always stuck by his side, showering him with flattery and fawning—where the hell had they all gone now? He had no idea.
'With my honor gone, there's nothing good to gain from sticking by my side anymore? Fine, I get that much. But how can everyone vanish so damn quickly like this?'
For Manstein, who had been relied upon, respected, and applauded for fifty-three years straight, this kind of isolation was incomprehensible.
"Why the hell do I have to go through this horrific crap?!"
Manstein screamed and wailed for over thirty minutes like that until, exhausted, he curled up in the corner of the room, thinking he'd take a nap.
Then, he heard someone knocking on his door.
"My lord, a visitor has come to see you and insists on meeting you. What shall I do?"
"Damn it, just tell them to get lost. Who the hell would come visit a worthless head with nothing left but the Manstein Count title? Probably some church priest nagging about donations or offerings again. Tell them I have no money, so buzz off."
It was ridiculous for a count of the Empire—with his estates and military pension providing about 1,300 gold a year for personal expenses—to claim he had no money.
But Manstein figured the only way to shake off his rage and gloom was good booze and pretty girls, so he had decided to cut back on all other spending.
"Fuck, downing some booze might make me feel better. Back when I got that promotion feast, kneading a girl's tits got my motivation back to work. This funk should lift too—or what else can I do?"
A moment later, the butler—oblivious to his master's mood—knocked again and spoke.
"The visitor is Baron Pietro. He says he absolutely must meet with Lieutenant General Manstein and speak with you. Shall I tell him to come back later?"
In the old days, he would have kicked out any random baron who showed up unannounced without a second thought. But now, with everyone who might want to see his fallen self having vanished entirely...
Suddenly curious about who would visit a lonely old man rotting in the corner and what nonsense they might spout, he thought.
'If it's bullshit, I can chase them off with salt. If it's worth hearing, I'll hear it out.'
"Just bring him in."
Soon after, a man in a sharp black suit entered cautiously.
He greeted the count properly according to etiquette the moment he saw him, and Manstein took a liking to this man who treated his fallen status with such politeness.
"I am Baron Anton von Pietro. I apologize for the rudeness of visiting without an appointment. It's nothing much, but please accept this. Leipzig Bourbon Whiskey, sixteen years aged."
The count took the gift with a sour expression.
"Huh, thanks. Leipzig sixteen-year—quite the rare stuff."
Rare or not, it was valuable.
But it was something even well-off merchants could buy if they splurged, available to anyone with the cash.
Manstein himself could easily get his hands on it now, which was why he reacted so lukewarmly.
'Bringing such a mediocre gift? Probably just here to spout crap. Not even worth the courtesy.'
"Get to the point. I'm tired and want to nap."
The baron smiled meaningfully, as if he'd been waiting for that.
"I'll be direct. Are you satisfied with your current situation, my lord?"
Manstein was beyond dissatisfied—on the verge of exploding—but he had no desire to spill the truth to some stranger he'd never interacted with before.
"......I came up with a retarded plan, and that's why I'm in this fucking mess. You come to me now just to dredge up painful memories and torment me? For the whiskey's sake, I won't crack your skull, so get out."
Baron Pietro waved his hands frantically and spoke even more carefully.
"No need to hide it from me. You're overflowing with dissatisfaction, aren't you?"
"......"
"Same here. That damn Jaeger screwed me over too."
Those words shattered Manstein's mental defenses, and he lowered the hand that had been about to hurl the whiskey bottle.
"Keep talking."
"I got dishonorably discharged on the spot, fuck. Come on, shit happens—can't hit supply deadlines perfectly every time, right? Two days late ain't the end of the world. But that bastard said he'd court-martial me and I'd get at least a severe punishment. I begged him to cut me some slack, and he dragged me to the tent where His Highness the Crown Prince was."
Pietro seemed overwhelmed by resurfacing injustice, tears welling in his eyes as he recalled it.
"He dragged me there and said this: 'Your Highness, the military law states that even with excuses, failure to meet supply deadlines warrants execution. This guy's case wasn't malicious intent or negligence causing the delay. So lighten the punishment and let him retire from the army.' And the next day, honorable discharge recommendation right in my face. Isn't that just too much?"
To Manstein, Pietro had screwed up, sure, but not to the level of a dishonorable discharge.
And getting dragged before the Crown Prince—future Emperor—and put through that disgrace? He deeply empathized with the baron's fury.
Before he knew it, the count was nodding.
"And this time, seeing what that Jaeger general did to you convinced me. General Peter Jaeger is clearly aiming to be a sycophant manipulating the Empire from the shadows! That son of a bitch already made general, so even if we can win the war like you thought, he's trying to block the war to ensure no more rivals pop up, right?"
Any other general would retort, 'Why would Jaeger compete for rice bowls? If he cared that much, he'd have pushed his father-in-law Venner Marquis as Minister of War and eaten up the Chief of Staff himself.'
But Manstein, badly burned by Jaeger, was half out of rational thought. The baron's words resonated deeply, his head nodding on its own.
'My plan was to extend active-duty service by one year, raise the conscription rate from 60% to 80%, and maintain 650,000 troops.'
That would mean 150,000 more soldiers, plus more general positions: 1-3 for full generals, 8-12 for lieutenant generals, 25-40 for major generals... And the more we won, the more territory, lands for nobles, and national power for the Empire—making everyone happy. That was Manstein's perfect plan.
So he was genuinely furious.
"Goddamn it! He's kicking away the ladder for lower nobles and commoners to rise like us! That bastard! And because of him, our Empire loses its chance to grow stronger!"
Pietro edged closer to the agreeing count and spoke carefully.
"Right now, there are many in the Empire with the 'righteous will' to impeach the sycophant Peter Jaeger who's blinding His Majesty. There's a meeting tonight—would you join us?"
Strictly speaking, the plan was to impeach Jaeger first, then assassinate him depending on the mood.
But with the Manstein Count family's power added to killing Jaeger, it would be perfect—so the baron held back on spilling the full plan.
'From what I've seen, he'll definitely join our true plan: impeach first, assassinate later.'
And as the baron predicted, Manstein regained the vigor of his active-duty days, stood right up, prepared to go out, and followed him to the 'righteous will' meeting.
There, hearing the Peter Jaeger assassination plot for the first time gave him pause, but Baron Pietro whispered in his ear.
'That Peter Jaeger bastard made even your devoted maid—of lowly birth, but who'd been with you countless times—quit serving you and leave outright. Your position's fallen that far. Don't you want true revenge on the culprit behind it all?'
Those words ignited Manstein's rage at the thought that Peter Jaeger had even driven away his personal maid.
Finally, he resolved to join the assassination plot.
Meanwhile, at the same time, General Jaeger was voluntarily heading toward the imperial palace.