Chapter 187: The Meaning of a Disposition (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 187: The Meaning of a Disposition (2)
The Eastern Borderlands. A mountainous region where the wind blew, thick with the scent of mud and gunpowder.
"..."
Lieutenant Adel stared blankly at the cold, stiff corpse hanging from a thick branch on the mountain behind the encampment.
Whoosh—
A bloodless face swayed in the wind. Adel met its lifeless gaze in silence, the dead man's eyes wide open and staring into the empty air.
"Hey. What are you doing? Get him down, quickly."
Beside him, Lieutenant Bern gestured with annoyance, prompting the soldiers to rush forward and cut the rope.
The dead man’s name was Manuel. Rank: Sergeant. He had been a non-commissioned officer in Adel’s 4th Platoon. Adel just stared at him, dazed.
‘Sir.’
It was as if the man, now nothing more than a corpse, was still calling out to him.
It had happened only four days ago.
‘Sir. Are you really going to let this be?’
That day, Lieutenant Adel and Sergeant Manuel had deciphered a suspicious mana wave they had intercepted.
‘Look at this!’
The message contained specific coordinates, a time, a quantity, and a code word for an unknown payload.
They quickly surmised it was a smuggling ledger, detailing the siphoning of the unit’s military supplies and mana stones to an enemy nation.
‘They’re selling our supplies to the enemy!’
Once across the border, the goods would completely evade the Empire’s surveillance network and financial audits, leaving no trace or tag behind. On paper, they would simply be reported as damaged, lost, or consumed.
‘We have to report this to high command right now!’
‘…No.’
Adel had shaken his head, his face grim.
‘Not yet. We need to gather more evidence. We can’t make a rash move until we know for sure who in high command is involved.’
‘Sir, this communication log with an enemy nation is evidence in itself.’
Manuel had been furious. Probably because he was a true soldier.
‘…’
A part of Adel felt sorry for him. This was his subordinate, a man assigned to serve under a commoner-born officer, forced to grasp a rotten lifeline whether he liked it or not.
Perhaps Manuel had hoped to expose this corruption to find a better patron and climb the ranks.
‘…Not yet.’
Adel couldn't offer him any better advice.
‘We need more definitive proof.’
Physical evidence—something more concrete than a mere log. Perhaps, spurred by Adel’s words, Sergeant Manuel had moved to acquire it himself.
And as a result...
He was discovered today as a corpse.
"Lieutenant Adel!"
A shout from the waking world pulled him back to his senses. Adel snapped his head up.
"What do you think you’re doing?"
A major’s uniform came into view. The name tag read Joachim.
Adel gave a crisp salute. "Sir."
"A platoon leader who can’t even manage his own men, leading to this kind of disgraceful incident? This unit is a mess," Major Joachim spat coldly.
Adel bit his lip and lowered his head. "...My apologies, sir."
"No need to apologize. It’s already been decided that you’ll be referred to the disciplinary committee. More importantly..."
Major Joachim leaned in close to Adel’s face and whispered secretively.
"Did that man say anything... else to you before he died?"
It was a cold, cloying probe, as if he was trying to dig something out.
"...What do you mean, sir?"
"Well, you’re his platoon leader. Before he killed himself... I thought he might have said something to you."
"—Major Joachim."
Suddenly, someone placed a hand on Joachim’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
It was Lieutenant Colonel Eaton.
"Major. What was the meaning of that?"
"Ah... just procedure, sir. Procedure."
Meeting Eaton’s stern gaze, Major Joachim quietly shook his head. He placed a hand on the back of his neck and added, sounding defensive, "I was just asking about Sergeant Manuel’s state of mind before his suicide. Circumstantially, the lieutenant was the last person the sergeant met."
"I don’t see a need to investigate that right now."
"That’s true, but..."
"Then you may withdraw."
Eaton’s gaze grew heavy. Joachim’s eyebrows twitched.
"Yes. Well... Sir."
Joachim retreated with a sullen look, and Eaton turned his questioning eyes to Adel. His gaze silently asked if he was all right.
"...Thank you, sir."
Although his maternal line was Zerpa, Lieutenant Colonel Eaton was an upper-class noble. He likely didn’t know a mere commoner like Adel well, but Adel knew of his excellence. He was a proper commander—one who was never swayed by external pressure and truly cherished his subordinates.
To him, Adel tried his best to answer calmly.
"...It was my failure, sir." He bowed his head, clenching his fists. "As his platoon leader, I should have been the first to understand what hardships my subordinate was facing..."
He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
Lieutenant Colonel Eaton watched him in silence for a long time.
*
The most important thing before a war was establishing military discipline. With lax discipline, we could not simultaneously handle the formidable terrain of the East and the military might of the West. For the Empire—no, for humanity—a two-front war was not a choice, but a necessity.
Fortunately, thanks to the various new policies the Empire had pushed and a massive injection of capital, the treatment and status of the Imperial Regular Army had risen far above their previously pathetic levels. However, the influence of the Imperial Guard remained a threat.
Additionally, I had re-established the authority of the Knights Order.
Still, even that was not enough to completely suppress the Imperial Guard.
The Knights Order had become much stronger than before my regression, but the Imperial Guard had also acquired new honors in their own right. Perhaps it was only natural. The Imperial Guard was an institution into which the Emperor himself had transplanted and cultivated his direct authority.
Ultimately, the Emperor was the one standing behind them.
"—Maximilian. I hear you’ve acquired Mason Industries’ research complex. The deficits and debts were worse than I thought, no?"
Inside a shabby hideout, Princess Justine spoke nonchalantly as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.
"It was something that had to be done."
"Do you plan on paying off the debts?"
"Yes. Most of the funds will be returned to the Imperial House."
Spread out in front of her was a top-class formal dinner I had personally procured from Lilac Vita. Thanks to a new invention from the industry—a 'Mana Stone Warmer'—the dishes maintained the perfect temperature, as if they had just come straight from the kitchen.
"How honest. I’ll forgive fifty percent of it." The princess chuckled. She was generous, in her own way. "Is the research underway?"
"We are currently analyzing the heart of the Izenheim as our primary focus."
The heart of the Izenheim—the center of the creature's deformed magical circuit. We had begun the research using the hearts I had been stockpiling all this time.
"However." The princess fiddled with her knife and looked at me. "Of all the sub-species, you react exceptionally strongly to the Izenheim. Is there a particular reason?"
"Wouldn’t all Aranians on the continent feel the same?"
The princess’s eyebrows twitched slightly at my composed reply.
"True. You’re not wrong. After all, they bear the Original Sin." She lifted her wine glass and murmured softly. "As you know, we are preparing for war."
The bloody future that would soon arrive.
The necessary cause that we all knew.
"But the discipline of the Imperial Regular Army still doesn’t meet my standards. The foolish and corrupt ones are still engrossed in their turf wars, busy lining their own pockets."
"...Is the Imperial Guard any better?"
At my question, the princess offered a crimson smile.
"The Imperial Guard belongs solely to His Majesty." She cut a small piece of meat, put it in her mouth, and added, "They are loyal dogs. Dogs that don’t think too deeply. They will accomplish anything His Majesty desires, by any means necessary."
That much was undeniable.
The Imperial Guard was reckless. They were a group of lunatics who had thrown morality and ethics to the dogs. They were fanatics who would toss their own lives into the fire like kindling at the Emperor’s command.
"And yet, I hear you’re helping the generals of the regular army fatten their bellies."
"...It was necessary."
I found the blind madness of the Imperial Guard distasteful.
"In that case, what about Your Highness?"
"Me?"
"Yes."
We needed control. A more precise system, a firm conviction for what we aimed to achieve.
The Empire had been defeated in the past because it could not control that wildfire of madness.
"Between myself and the Imperial Guard, which do you believe is better suited for Your Highness’s grand cause?"
"..."
The princess stared at me intently before setting down her fork and knife with a sharp clatter. Her eyes grew cold.
"A foolish question. I don’t believe in the process. I judge only by the results."
What the princess wanted from me was a willingness to do whatever it took. An attitude bordering on religious faith, devoted solely to her.
"...Yes."
If so, could I ever truly earn her trust?
But if the day ever came when I had her complete confidence...
"I understand."
...would I have any reason left to let her live?
*
Lieutenant Adel Pesto of the Eastern Regular Army was referred to the disciplinary committee and detained in the brig. For now, his official charge was negligence in managing his platoon members.
Drip. Drip.
Raindrops leaked into the damp solitary cell.
As he sat there alone in the dark—
Thud.
A quiet footstep echoed in the silence. Someone was approaching from beyond the iron bars.
"Hey. Adel."
It was his peer, Bernhard. His usual cocky attitude was gone, replaced by a sharp, nervous glare.
"You know something, don’t you?" Bernhard slammed his fist against the bars. "You know, you bastard. If you don’t talk, you’re actually going to die."
It probably wasn’t a bluff. Sergeant Manuel’s death was proof enough of that.
The only difference was that whether he talked or not, he would be kicked out of the army.
No, would he even be allowed to keep his life?
"Hey, hey. Look at this. Look." Bernhard shoved a thick stack of papers through the gap in the bars. "This is all testimony from your platoon members."
Rustle.
Adel silently picked up the papers that had scattered across the floor of his cell.
[ Statement ]
• Witnessed Lieutenant Adel siphoning supplies for personal use.
• Sergeant Manuel complained of extreme stress due to Lieutenant Adel’s coercive orders.
• Embezzled company funds to pay off gambling debts.
• Routinely subjected platoon members to verbal abuse and harsh treatment...
"They’re saying you’ve been meticulously skimming off everything you could get your hands on, you son of a bitch."
At Bernhard’s sneer, Adel crumpled the statements in his hand.
"Pfft. Oh, you mad? That’s why you're in here, you bastard." Bernhard looked down at Adel, then pushed a pen and a blank document through the bars. It was an incident report form. "Just write it. You think you’ll get anywhere just by kissing Lieutenant Colonel Eaton’s ass?" he spat coldly.
Clang! Clang!
He banged on the bars, forcing Adel to look at him.
"Just write it! Write down everything you saw, without leaving anything out. I don’t know what you saw, but..."
"..."
Adel quietly looked at the document. A deep sigh escaped through his clenched teeth.
"Ugh, you frustrating bastard. Just write it all down. I’ll be back in a bit. If you don’t write that, you might actually face a firing squad."
Bernhard turned and left.
Left alone, Adel stared blankly at the pen and the stack of paper, already growing damp from the humidity.
‘...If I’m going to die anyway.’
His mind made up, he picked up the pen. He scribbled something on the blank paper. To be precise, he wrote on two separate sheets.
One was a statement declaring he knew nothing.
The other was a letter of accusation... a petition, exposing every sin of this Eastern army.
It was then.
Thud.
The heavy iron door to the brig’s corridor opened, and someone's heavy footsteps echoed through the hall.
Thud.
A man appeared, looking as if he had seized the darkness itself, and approached the cell.
"..."
Adel faced the man beyond the bars and spoke in a strained voice.
"Lieutenant Colonel Eaton. I have something to tell you."
*
"Change the frequencies immediately, starting tomorrow."
In the office of the commander of the 7th Armored Grenadier Brigade, a dozen field-grade officers stood with their heads bowed in a line.
Brigadier General Juken barked irritably. "You bunch of morons. How the hell did you manage security so poorly that our internal communications were intercepted?!"
Here, at the Empire’s foremost front line, the top brass had been holding a secret feast. They had been siphoning military supplies and smuggling them to the Eastern Union, growing fat by splitting the illicit profits.
The malpractice had gone on for so long that it had become custom. They no longer felt any guilt or sense of corruption; they simply treated it as a 'bonus' they rightfully deserved.
Bang!
Just then, the office door flew open and someone entered.
"Sir."
It was Major Joachim. He approached Brigadier General Juken and held out an envelope.
"It’s a petition from Lieutenant Adel."
It was the envelope Lieutenant Adel had written in the brig, the one he had been caught trying to send out secretly.
"Would you like to check the contents?"
"There’s nothing to check." Brigadier General Juken waved his hand dismissively, not even glancing at the envelope. "Burn it immediately. And that bastard—convene a military tribunal and execute him at once."
Even for the borderlands, there had been far too many suicides in the unit lately. Processing another death as a suicide would inevitably arouse suspicion from high command. It would be cleaner to frame him as the main culprit for the embezzlement and abuse, then execute him legally.
"Yes. Understood. Sir!"
Major Joachim bowed his head and quickly left the office.
Thud. Thud.
Clutching his pounding heart, he feigned perfect composure as he left the headquarters, a slow smile spreading across his lips.
"Hoo..."
An unbearable sense of anticipation and excitement surged up from the tips of his toes.
Thud. Thud...
Pretending to go burn the petition, he changed his path and headed for the deserted, abandoned barracks at the rear of the base. Muffling his footsteps, he made a secret rendezvous with a certain 'agent' waiting for him in the shadows.
"My apologies for making you wait. It was unavoidable if I was to evade suspicion..."
Major Joachim offered an apology far more polite than the attitude he had just shown Brigadier General Juken.
The title of the person receiving the major’s words was a mere 'official.'
Even so, Major Joachim knew the truth. He knew that the lifeline he was trying to grasp now was far more powerful, far more precious than someone like Brigadier General Juken of the East.
"The item first."
"Ah, yes. Here it is."
Joachim handed over the thin paper envelope. Their hands brushed, and the envelope vanished into the official's inner pocket.
"I’ll be on my way, then."
"Yes. Take care. Sir!" Major Joachim saluted.
And so, the petition that was supposed to burn slipped through the military zone of the East under the cover of darkness.
It traveled down the roads to a place far away, deeper into the center of the Empire, and...
"—Sir Knight."
The office of the Sentinel Knights.
Along with an official’s deeply respectful voice, the petition was placed squarely on a certain person’s desk.
If one had to describe him in a single sentence, he was a man of great importance. No, to describe him as merely important was an insult in itself. He was a noble among nobles.
He slowly reached out and picked up the envelope.
Crinkle.
The seal broke, and the papers unfolded with a soft rustle.
The densely written sentences reflected in his flawless golden eyes.
"..."
As he finished reading the document, a faint curve slowly formed on his lips. He set the petition down and murmured softly.
"Let’s depart."
Maximilian Ebenholtz.
He nodded his head, thoroughly satisfied.