Chapter 189: The Meaning of a Disposition (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 189: The Meaning of a Disposition (4)
…In the Empire, nobles seemed to be everywhere, yet nowhere at all.
The recently subjugated South had few of them, but the West and East, rich in tradition and history, were home to quite a few storied families.
Bernhard himself hailed from a historic, native noble family of the West. But growing up, the phrase he heard countless times was "nobles from the capital."
To provincial nobles, those from the capital were subjects of both vague fantasy and strange resentment.
The capital nobles Bernhard actually met at the military academy and in his unit were a different breed, starting with their spending habits. They were preening dandies, adorned from head to toe.
To be completely honest, they were full of shit.
Baseless confidence, bone-deep vanity, and a vulgar sense of superiority. They carried a bizarre arrogance that practically screamed: You might have more money and a higher rank than me, but my family's standing crushes yours.
Some Western nobles wagged their tails, yearning for the glamour of the capital. But to Bernhard, who came from a long line of warriors, it was nothing more than a ridiculous clown show.
Nobles from the capital. Nobles from the capital. Nobles from the capital.
He’d heard the phrase until he was sick of it, and he fully believed the reality behind it was entirely hollow.
—However.
The man who now appeared before his eyes was different.
Qualitatively different. Fundamentally different.
Simply walking beside him, Bernhard felt a suffocating pressure.
Thud. Thud.
To Bern, he was a man as sharp as a drawn blade. Both noble and incredibly dangerous.
Thud. Thud.
His stride. His posture. The subtle gestures of his hands. Every action was steeped in an inaccessible grace and absolute composure.
The man was the complete embodiment of the ideal Aran noble—something Bernhard had never seen in his life. It was as if all the finest qualities of humanity had been gathered and sculpted into a single being.
Maximilian Ebenholtz.
"—Salute!"
They had reached the brigade. A large crowd of soldiers was already gathered at the main gate.
Brigadier General Juken came running, out of breath. He shoved Bern aside to stand next to Maximilian.
"Sir Knight! What brings you to such a humble, remote place...?"
Maximilian walked serenely through their ranks.
"I received a written accusation."
A written accusation. Bern’s heart dropped, and Juken sucked in a sharp breath. Maximilian, however, remained expressionless. No, he was entirely devoid of emotion. He seemed to view everyone here as mere 'lowly things.' Yet his gaze was so natural, so inherently superior, that everyone present accepted it as a matter of course.
Bern couldn’t yet tell if the man was friend or foe.
In truth, he was likely neither.
Because he was completely different from them. A noble who was different in every conceivable way.
Maximilian Ebenholtz spoke.
"Where is Lieutenant Adel Pesto?"
*
Adel was curled up on the cold cement floor of a dark, damp solitary confinement cell.
Days of intense interrogation. The grueling exhaustion of sleep deprivation. His consciousness wavered precariously on the border between reality and illusion.
Thud. Thud.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the corridor beyond the iron bars. It was distinct from the rough tread of the usual guards or military police. A quiet, steady pace.
Is it my execution?
Have they come to kill me?
"..."
Through his blurred vision, Adel stared weakly at the navy-blue military boots that stopped in front of the bars.
"A pleasure to meet you."
A deep voice fell from above. Adel forced himself to look up. His eyelids were swollen from the torture, making it impossible to see the man's face clearly. Only a hazy silhouette flickered before him.
"Who..."
He forced his eyes to blink, trying to focus. The first things to register on his retinas were a brilliant gold—hair and eyes.
"I am Maximilian Ebenholtz."
The moment he heard the name, Adel’s focus shattered. Electricity shot through his paralyzed mind.
"Uh..."
Maximilian. Ebenholtz. An impossible combination of a name and a family.
The monster of House Ebenholtz, a man who shook the very center of the Empire, had personally come to a brig on the remote Eastern Front?
But why?
"Are you Adel Pesto?"
Maximilian asked, sliding a single white sheet of paper and a fountain pen through the gap in the bars.
At the very top, a single sentence was written.
[Write down everything you know.]
*
"It’s all right. Please calm down, Brigadier General."
Lieutenant Colonel Eaton calmly soothed the ashen-faced Juken.
"Nothing will happen."
"Eaton, do you not know who Maximilian is?"
Of course, Eaton hadn't expected this either, but he had plenty of countermeasures prepared for just such an occasion.
A Knight was just a Knight. In other words, he wasn’t a soldier who rolled around in the mud and trenches of the Eastern Front. He only heard reputations and rumors from afar. There was no way some noble from the capital could know the true inner workings of this place.
"No. I know better than anyone," Eaton replied, a relaxed smile playing on his lips. "He is a Knight who abides by principles and prioritizes dignity."
Rumors about Eaton's own reputation must have surely reached the man. This was precisely why Eaton had spent so long building his brand as an "incorruptible and upright commander."
"Furthermore."
Eaton pulled documents from his breast pocket and placed them on Juken’s desk.
"What are these?" Juken asked.
"These are the communication logs Lieutenant Adel acquired from the communications control room. The original data of the mana waves that prove the illicit trade."
Lieutenant Adel had been completely deceived, meekly handing over the most crucial piece of evidence.
"In that case...?"
"Yes. I’ve already doctored them."
Since he held the original, fabricating the data was child's play. Juken’s eyes widened.
"This will serve as physical evidence that Lieutenant Bern, along with a few other field-grade officers we can use as scapegoats, sold supplies to the Eastern Union. I will hand this over to Maximilian."
Eaton smiled nonchalantly.
"It means you and I will be safe, Brigadier General."
Brigadier General Juken stared blankly at the forged documents before his face finally brightened.
"Ha, hahaha! You’re one of a kind, Eaton. Truly one of a kind!"
As if pulled back from the brink of death, he burst into a laugh of pure relief.
*
Out on the desolate fields of the Eastern Borderlands. The command staff of the 7th Armored Grenadier Brigade, Brigadier General Juken, and the bound prisoners—Lieutenant Adel and Lieutenant Bernhard—were summoned to a barren patch of dirt and weeds.
Whoosh—
A fierce wind kicked up the dirt, creating a brown haze that shimmered at their feet. Maximilian Ebenholtz stood motionless at its center. Juken approached him as the Knight gazed up at the night sky.
"Sir Knight. This is it. The matter related to the accusation you received..."
With a tense expression, Juken handed the documents to Maximilian. It was the mana wave data that Lieutenant Colonel Eaton had fabricated.
"My apologies. We had no intention of hiding it; we were already conducting our own internal investigation."
Maximilian took the documents, glanced over them indifferently, and raised an eyebrow.
"It seems there’s no need to go as far as a military tribunal," he muttered softly, flicking the papers with one hand.
"Pardon?" Juken asked.
Maximilian shifted his gaze, looking down at Bernhard.
"Lieutenant Bernhard."
"...Yes."
"Did you sell military supplies to an enemy nation?"
At the sudden question, Bernhard’s eyes widened in fury.
"What the fuck is this bullsh— Ugh!"
A military policeman standing behind him struck the back of his knee with a baton. Brigadier General Juken cried out in alarm.
"You bastard! How dare you speak so crudely in front of a Knight!" Juken shouted.
"Absolutely not! I’ve never done such a thing!" Bernhard roared, protesting his innocence.
Maximilian simply shook the document in his hand.
"This record, which deciphers the mana communication waves, clearly has your name on it."
"Th-that’s impossible! It’s been fabricated! Those bastards are trying to frame me—"
"Shut your mouth, you son of a bitch!"
Juken smacked Bern hard across the face. Maximilian let out a faint smile and turned his eyes away.
"Then. Who was the one who personally acquired this evidence?"
"That would be me."
Lieutenant Colonel Eaton Weiss stepped forward, answering respectfully. Maximilian stared intently at his upright figure.
"Lieutenant Colonel Eaton Weiss. I’ve heard high praise for you, even in the central military command."
At those words, Bernhard’s face twisted in despair. A smile of relief spread across Brigadier General Juken’s lips. Eaton merely bowed his head with perfect decorum.
"You are too kind, Sir Knight."
"Sir Maximilian!" Juken stepped forward triumphantly. "Shall we send these traitors to a military tribunal immediately? Or directly to the Knight Court?"
Maximilian shook his head.
"...That won’t be necessary."
As he spoke, he drew a silver pistol from his hip.
"Ah. Surely not." Juken’s voice was suddenly parched.
Maximilian raised the muzzle of the gun. The series of movements that followed was fluid, completely natural.
A silent discharge. A bullet compressed with mana tore through the air. There was no time to react. No time to even think.
In that instant, Lieutenant Colonel Eaton’s brow was pierced.
"..."
Eaton collapsed, the look of sanctimony still plastered on his face. His pupils dilated as his brain matter splattered across the dirt. Maximilian immediately twisted his wrist and pulled the trigger once more.
Another silent discharge.
This time, the temple of Colonel Michael—a man of Izenheim who had been standing next to Eaton—exploded.
"Uh..."
"..."
"..."
In less than a second, two field-grade officers were dead. Everyone in the field fell dead silent. Not a single sound was made.
Only Maximilian, backlit by the pale moonlight, opened his mouth.
"All traitors of the Empire who have illicitly sold military supplies to an enemy nation will be summarily executed."
His voice resonated through the air. Adel and Bern froze, petrified by the mana rippling outward like an echo. They could only stare blankly at the Knight standing before them.
"S-S-Sir Knight!"
Just as the pale-faced Brigadier General Juken began to back away—
BANG—!
This time, an unsuppressed, ear-splitting crack echoed loudly.
A hole appeared dead center in Juken’s forehead. His heavy body collapsed onto the dirt.
Thump.
Maximilian toyed with the muzzle of his gun, wisps of mana still rising from the barrel, and muttered nonchalantly.
"A sound like this is more helpful for setting the mood."
He smiled faintly. He looked as serene as a nobleman who had just finished a leisurely hunt.
In stark contrast, the military police and soldiers on site were completely dumbfounded. The scene was utterly surreal.
"..."
Major Kenso stared at the three corpses strewn across the ground. The leadership of the Eastern Front’s cartel, which had seemed so solid—the generals and field-grade officers who had seemed so untouchable—had been slaughtered in mere seconds. No trial. No chance to defend themselves.
It was an utterly overwhelming, natural display of Imperial authority.
"—Sir Knight!"
Someone broke through the ranks and ran forward. It was Major Joachim.
"I—"
"I know." Maximilian lowered his gun and smiled gently. "Let’s move."
He gestured with his chin toward Adel and Bernhard.
"You two as well."
*
7th Armored Grenadier Brigade, Headquarters Conference Room.
The communication intercept logs that Adel had smuggled out were cross-referenced with all the ledgers and documents the military had concealed until now.
"...The estimate is 335 men."
Lieutenant Colonel Goetz and Major Joachim delivered their report.
That was the exact number of corrupt soldiers who had systematically siphoned off military supplies under the command of Brigadier General Juken and Lieutenant Colonel Eaton, engaging in illicit trade with the enemy for personal gain.
Perhaps some of them had only taken a pittance, and others might have been forced to participate under immense pressure.
Excluding those, the number dropped to 280.
"Bring them all out."
Maximilian gave the order. Adel and Bern moved diligently to carry it out.
Afterward, the 280 soldiers on the list were disarmed and dragged out to the field. In one corner, the bodies of the three leaders were unceremoniously buried.
"Hmm..."
Maximilian looked down dispassionately at the rows of sinners. Twenty men formed fourteen lines. It was the size of an entire battalion.
"Hah. Shit."
"There were this many?"
Bern and Adel let out hollow laughs. So many soldiers... had been rotting from the inside out.
"The disposition is—"
And then came Maximilian’s next words.
"Execution for all."
Execution for all. Adel turned to look at him in sheer disbelief.
"...All 280 of them, you mean?"
Maximilian nodded placidly. "Yes. Everyone here will be summarily executed."
"..."
Lieutenant Bernhard blinked. So did Lieutenant Colonel Goetz and Major Joachim. They looked at the massive crowd of soldiers in the distance.
At a single word from Maximilian, hundreds of human heads were about to roll.
Thump—
Meanwhile, the virus beneath Maximilian’s collarbone was stirring.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Among these 280 soldiers, a staggering number—over thirty of them—were from Izenheim. Cancerous tumors that had somehow infiltrated the Imperial military, eating away at the organization from within and promoting corruption.
As a percentage, it was close to twenty percent. A number well worth killing.
"...Sir Knight."
Adel stood before Maximilian on trembling legs. He pointed to his own squad members, bound in the front row.
"These are my men. It is because of my oversight and incompetence that they became involved in this corruption. They only succumbed to pressure from above and the temptation of money, so if you could just this once—"
"What are you doing!"
Bernhard roughly grabbed Adel’s arm, but Adel stood firm. He met Maximilian's gaze, desperately pleading for leniency.
"...Lieutenant Adel Pesto."
"Yes."
Maximilian looked down at Adel in silence. After staring at the crown of the man's head for a long moment, he raised his pistol.
BANG!
A gunshot rang out without a shred of hesitation.
Right before Adel’s eyes, the head of one of his teary-eyed squad members exploded.
"The discipline of the military..." Adel gasped for breath, his heart pounding so violently he thought his ribs would break. "...begins with never forgiving betrayal."
Maximilian walked past the frozen Adel and aimed his gun at another squad member.
"If you wish to become a pillar of the Empire..."
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Merciless gunshots rang out in rapid succession. Soldiers with shattered heads collapsed into the dirt. They fell like weeds caught in a gale, never to rise again.
"...then possess a heart befitting that role."
Maximilian holstered his pistol and asked coldly.
"Understood?"
"...Yes."
Adel nodded. Maximilian quietly raised his hand.
"Load."
Click-clack.
The bolts of the firing squad's rifles slid back and forth in unison.
"Aim."
Towards the comrades they had shared hardships and jokes with just yesterday. Towards the colleagues who had tormented them, drunk on the backing of their corrupt superiors.
The iron sights were aligned.
"Fire."
They pulled the triggers.
BANG—!
Countless, deafening gunshots filled the mountain range of the Empire’s East.
The bullets surged like a tidal wave. And everyone, including Adel and Bern, clearly witnessed the final moments of the 'collaborators.'