People Who Want to Be Forgotten (3)
Even after that day, Lutus and Karin's peculiar dinners continued.
They had never made any formal arrangement.
Whenever Lutus prepared a meal and left it out, Karin would simply come and eat. Lutus would take only his own portion and return to his room.
On the rare occasions when Lutus dined with Lieutenant Colonel John Hobbs, Karin would instead carry her food inside.
What had begun as nothing more than chance encounters gradually solidified into a fixed part of their routine—one of the schedules at Forbidden Lake Fortress.
After all, even John Hobbs, the facilities officer, had been subsisting on combat rations. He volunteered not only to handle the dishes but also to prepare ingredients, supporting Lutus Edan's cooking in every way he could.
Before long, the rest of the fortress personnel—everyone except Karin Maven—began gathering for dinner each evening as well.
Edward, Dante, and Otto.
Unlike John and Karin, the three had not originally belonged to Forbidden Lake. They had been driven out of their previous fortress command for various reasons.
Edward had defied a commander who assigned him a suicide mission. Dante had lost someone precious through no fault of his own. Otto had lost a leg in an operational accident.
In short, they were a gathering of outcasts.
“Yet someone of your stature—the Empire’s very own Watchman—ends up in a place like this. What brings you here?”
“Everyone has their circumstances.”
Lutus answered while sipping an aged wine.
“So… does that mean we’ve all been reassigned to this Security Strategic Agency as well?”
“It would seem so.”
“…They were ready to discard us like luggage, and now that we might be useful again, they drag us back. I know it’s not my place to say, but I can’t help feeling disgusted.”
Edward grumbled. It was hardly the attitude one should show the director of the organization, yet Lutus paid it no mind. What good would asserting authority do in a place like this? Since they would be living together for the foreseeable future, there was no need to create unnecessary friction.
“So what exactly does the Security Strategic Agency do?”
“Precisely what the name suggests: it plans security strategy. I hear it was formed exclusively with personnel personally selected by the Chancellor.”
Lutus had already reviewed the relevant documents. Though nominally part of the military, it was a malformed institution placed directly under the Chancellor rather than the Supreme Command. All reports went straight to the Chancellor as well as the Supreme Commander; Arthur Philias was merely the nominal superior on paper.
The whole arrangement reeked of suspicion.
Lutus could vaguely guess why Arthur Philias had chosen him to head such an organization.
“And what kind of strategy are we talking about? The war with the Titans is already over…”
“The immediate fire has been extinguished, so now it’s time to look back at the past—including conflicts that were never properly resolved.”
“…”
“Isn’t that why all of you ended up here?”
At least in this place, no one failed to understand Lutus’s meaning.
“That’s correct.”
John nodded. Though his title of facilities officer had been hastily assigned, it did not mean Lieutenant Colonel John Hobbs lacked a complicated past. He was a whistleblower who had exposed the corruption of a former fortress commander. The only reason he had survived the attack was because he had already been under investigation by higher authorities for that very matter.
In truth, every single person here—including Karin—had once been at the center of controversy in their original units. Even Lutus, the war hero, had never enjoyed a favorable reputation among his own subordinates.
The Security Strategic Agency they had gathered into was little more than a collection of the Imperial Army’s problem children. People who had only wanted to be quietly forgotten had ultimately been dragged back into the light in this manner.
Yet the very name “Security Strategic Agency” lent them a peculiar distinction. Lutus could not shake the feeling that he had deliberately gathered those rejected by the military.
“…Well, whatever happens, happens. We just follow orders when they’re given.”
At that moment, Otto—who had remained silent throughout the meal—spoke for the first and last time. No one replied. Lutus merely nodded in silence. After all, that single sentence cut straight to the essence of what an army truly was.
After that, the days at Forbidden Lake Fortress passed in a blur. Since the fortress had never been in proper condition to begin with, the repairs alone took well over a month. With the fully unmanned heavy-armor engineering corps and the direct-support brigade dispatched from Supreme Command, Forbidden Lake Fortress soon bustled with activity.
Once the repairs were complete, several more months were spent procuring essential supplies and transforming the site into a functional military outpost. At last, Forbidden Lake Fortress began to regain the appearance it had possessed during its Emerald Lake days.
Thanks to this, the once-empty armory was filled with various firearms, while the most noticeable change appeared on the rooftop garden.
Evidently, Lieutenant Colonel John Hobbs’s claim of having been a gardener had not been a lie. The rooftop, once resembling a small jungle, had been neatly tidied.
“You weren’t lying after all.”
“Mm.”
Lutus nodded. The open view of the lake pleased him.
The five personnel adapted to their new lives with surprising speed as the fortress was restored. Perhaps they had simply needed someone to lead them. Of course, Karin Maven still avoided going out during the day, but at least the sound of ghostly wailing had ceased.
Just as Lutus was becoming busy with additional maintenance work and the task of reinforcing personnel beyond the original five, Supreme Commander Arthur Philias paid a visit to the fortress—exactly four months after Lutus Edan’s retirement had been rejected and he had been appointed director of the peculiar Security Strategic Agency.
“You look far more presentable now. Last time I thought I was seeing a wreck.”
“Nothing has really changed…”
“You shaved the beard, tidied your hair. The atmosphere around you has shifted in just a few months—shifted quite a bit.”
Arthur Philias spoke while producing two elegantly wrapped boxes.
“What are those?”
“The same liquor we drank last time. I bought two bottles so you could share them with your subordinates.”
He chuckled and set the boxes down in front of Lutus. The habit of bringing expensive alcohol whenever he visited the fortress remained unchanged from the previous cycle.
Lutus placed one box on his office desk and immediately opened the other, removing its contents.
Valentine 30-year-old whiskey.
“Oh? Opening it right away?”
“I have no hobby of collecting liquor.”
The flow had always been the same in the previous cycle as well. Arthur Philias was such a heavy drinker that Lutus sometimes wondered whether he came simply because he wanted a drink. Yet Lutus felt no displeasure. He knew better than anyone how crushing the responsibilities of the Supreme Commander’s position truly were.
Glug, glug.
This time it was Lutus who poured and offered the glass to Arthur. The old man accepted it, savored the aroma for a moment, then took a light sip.
“Mmm… As expected of Valentine. That rich, refined flavor is just right.”
Arthur Philias smiled faintly at Lutus, his bushy beard twitching with the motion.
“I’m glad to see you’ve adapted well.”
“Did you come merely to confirm that?”
“That was part of it. This place holds memories from my days as a colonel, after all. The last time I saw it, it was little more than ruins. Now the old appearance is clearly returning.”
Yet those who knew that fact had done nothing until now. Lutus swallowed the words and sipped his drink.
“But as you’ve probably guessed, that isn’t the only reason.”
A sharp glint flashed through Arthur’s previously peaceful eyes.
“The Chancellor has issued an order. It’s the first directive handed down directly to the Strategic Planning Bureau.”
“…?”
“There will soon be a banquet hosted by the Eastern Military District, which oversees the eastern front.”
The moment Lutus heard the words “Eastern Military District” and “banquet,” he understood the true intent behind the Chancellor’s command.
“The Chancellor intends to begin by weeding out impurities within the military.”
Lutus had grasped the precise point without even hearing the full details. Arthur’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
“…You’re sharper than I thought.”
The Imperial Army’s Eastern Military District was rife with discord. The current Empire had transferred all real power from the Emperor to the Chancellor, transitioning from an absolute monarchy to a constitutional monarchy. Consequently, relations between the Eastern Military District—largely composed of imperial loyalists—and the Chancellor were far from amicable. Had the Titans’ sudden global invasion never occurred, the conflict between the Eastern Military District and the Chancellor might have escalated beyond control.
Lutus knew this only because he had once held the position of Supreme Commander in a previous cycle. He had never imagined the tension would persist even after the war.
Arthur met Lutus’s gaze and let out a sigh.
“Yes, you’re right. The Chancellor believes that now—while the entire military is intoxicated with victory—is the perfect time to solidify his own power.”
Lutus pictured the Chancellor’s face: the heavy dark circles beneath his eyes, the faintly anxious gaze, and yet the rigidly straight posture of his back and shoulders.
A dangerous man. The sort who would do anything for the sake of his power.
From that realization, Lutus naturally arrived at a conclusion.
“You recommended me for the director’s position, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Was that… to protect me from the Chancellor’s suspicions?”
Arthur did not answer immediately. Lutus knew at once that he had hit the mark.
“…You really are something. I should have spoken with you more often, and sooner.”
Blocking Lutus’s attempt to retire so abruptly. Appointing him head of the strange Security Strategic Agency. If all of it had been Arthur Philias’s intention, then it made sense. A war hero who had willingly accepted demotion and promised to serve under him… was the perfect shield against the Chancellor’s suspicions.
Arthur Philias stared quietly at his glass before downing its contents in one go and adding,
“Throughout history, exceptional war heroes have always been sacrificed by those in power—even if the heroes themselves harbored no desire for power.”
“…”
“They call it being cast aside once the hunting dog is no longer needed… Unfortunately, you were no exception, Brigadier General Lutus Edan.”
The Supreme Commander muttered bitterly.
“A war hero who retired without leaving behind a single connection—there could be no better position from which to disappear without a trace.”
