Chapter 172 - Bringer of Light (7)
The Battle of Avril Castle had come to a complete end.
The 1st Battalion headed back toward the village in front of the forest to regroup with the 3rd Company and block the Belliang Liberation Army.
"The battle is over."
But the fighting had already finished by then.
Andersen gave Soren a crisp, light after-action report.
The Belliang Liberation Army, hiding in the forest, seized the opportunity when only the 3rd Company remained, launching an attack under the cover of nighttime darkness.
More than anything, they absolutely had to retake the village for the food supplies. In other words, their plan all along had been to loot the very village they'd once promised to protect.
In fact, the Belliang Liberation Army's plan to attack the 3rd Company occupying the village wasn't a bad one.
Only a single enemy company was left, deep inside enemy territory, unfamiliar with the area, without any help from the villagers, and forced by the darkness to allow an approach.
But it seemed they hadn't considered just how powerful the Imperial Army could be when supplied to the brim and unleashing their overwhelming firepower.
And clearly, they also hadn't realized that darkness means nothing if a Baltracher is present.
With two Baltrachers unleashing the Balt Wind, the 3rd Company both blocked the enemy's gunfire and swept away the darkness.
The Belliang Liberation Army, crouched on the desolate plain as they crept forward, turned into perfect targets once the fields flooded with the pale glow of Balt Light.
All they could do was either be wiped out, pressing forward while getting pelted by a hundred bullets every three seconds, or turn and flee back into the forest.
The Belliang Liberation Army, who had approached under cover of darkness, managed their first—and last—volley of gunfire, resulting in a few casualties.
Two were killed, and three were wounded.
For the price of five casualties in the 3rd Company, several dozen Belliang Liberation Army soldiers were killed.
It was so dark that they couldn't confirm the exact number until morning, but it was possible that over a hundred had died.
"I have no idea what kind of idiot is in command. Did they just learn about war from a book?"
After hearing Andersen's report, Captain Hans Schum, the battalion operations chief, let out a sigh, expressing what everyone was thinking.
The so-called Belliang Liberation Army wasn't even trained enough to be called a militia.
It was more like they'd just rounded up a bunch of thugs.
When it came to military science, they only had a vague, superficial sense of the theory and seemed to know nothing about the details that actually decide battles.
"Maybe they overheard some dumb heroic tale somewhere."
Soren, a man usually reserved and measured on the outside—even as he inwardly raged at the threat to his comfortable Dream of the Honeybee—couldn't help but comment on the absurdity of the situation.
If you looked only at the surface, the Belliang Liberation Army's plan resembled the legendary "heroic victories" of irregular forces.
But surely, they had absolutely no idea what had actually made those so-called "heroic victories" possible.
For an irregular force to defeat a regular army is nearly impossible to begin with.
How could a bunch of untrained idiots, led by someone who clearly hadn't studied military science, hope to outwit and overcome a regular army whose leaders had mastered thousands of years of military knowledge and could conduct precise, sophisticated operations?
Everyone wants an easy victory, but trying to eat a bear raw is just a good way to end up getting eaten yourself.
When irregular forces did manage to defeat a regular army, there had always been good reasons for it.
Maybe the regulars were badly outnumbered, or their morale had collapsed, or they'd run out of supplies, or the terrain was terrible, or their commander made a grave mistake, or their ranks were mostly raw recruits with barely any training.
Conversely, the irregular force might vastly outnumber their opponent, know the terrain inside out, have a commander with genius-level talent or direct military experience leading regular troops.
In short, those "heroic victories" were either battles anyone with even half a functioning brain holder could have won, or they were cases where an irregular force was only "irregular" in name and had all the qualities of a regular army.
Trying to beat an Imperial Army like this—with sky-high morale, well-stocked supplies, two Baltrachers, and your own untrained rabble on open terrain—is simply insanity.
"Captain Fox, what's your view?"
Andersen turned to Ernest for his thoughts.
Andersen thought that if anyone could see a possibility in this seemingly hopeless battle, it would be Ernest.
"..."
But Ernest didn't even look at Andersen.
He remained silent, only staring out into the darkness over the plain where corpses surely lay scattered.
Andersen quietly watched Ernest for a moment, then gently put an arm around his shoulder and spoke in a low voice.
"Krieger, you're still so young—don't make life harder on yourself than it needs to be."
Recalling how Ernest had struggled after killing Bailey, Andersen gave him the best advice he could offer—as a senior officer and as an adult, even if it felt a little cowardly.
"Why do you think there are ranks in the army, and a chain of command? A soldier is just a cog in the military machine. If you were only following orders from the higher-ups, then it's the army—not you—that bears the responsibility. It's not like you went off on your own without orders and caused trouble; you did what you had to, because those were your instructions from above, right?"
He hadn't heard the details, but Andersen could guess a civilian massacre must have taken place at Avril Castle.
However, he didn't know that Ernest and Ferdinand had refused to comply with the order.
Had he known about their disobedience, Andersen would have simply shaken his head and chosen not to get involved instead of trying to comfort Ernest.
They had disobeyed their superior's command and, as a result, lost their authority to lead.
That was why Soren had taken direct command to issue the order to fire, leaving Ernest and Ferdinand free of any formal responsibility.
And yet, the two of them were still tormented and weighed down with guilt.
From here on, this was something no one else could help with. It was something only they themselves could face and overcome.
"Yes, I understand"
And Ernest knew that, too.
That was why he replied in a calm voice.
"If it were up to me, I never would have fought in the first place."
Then, he finally answered Andersen's original question.
"If the enemy must pillage this village just to secure their food supplies, would you really still refuse to attack?"
Andersen pressed again.
Staring into the darkness, Ernest replied.
"I'm saying I never would have joined the Belliang Liberation Army in the first place."
As he walked toward the 2nd Company members, who were busy preparing for the night, Ernest muttered to himself.
"It's already over. What are we killing and dying for at this point?"
It was over.
There was no need for anyone else to die.
So why did this cycle of killing and being killed keep repeating? What was so important about supposed honor or glory anyway? Why was it necessary to send so many people to their deaths for a kingdom whose downfall was already certain?
"If you start questioning things like that, being a soldier itself makes no sense. A job that exists only to fight—honestly, there's only so much ignorance you can tolerate."
Andersen called after Ernest's receding back, but Ernest just paused briefly to glance back before walking on. I think that's absolutely correct. If only I had realized it sooner.
The 1st Battalion quickly finished getting ready.
Although they split up between two villages, each was too small, so most had to camp outdoors.
Still, since it was summer and the night wasn't cold, there was no real need to set up tents. They simply spread the tent fabric on the ground to block the chill, wrapped themselves in blankets, and slept under the night sky as their roof.
Even though it was time to sleep, the soldiers of the 1st Battalion couldn't fall asleep easily. Normally, the moment they lay down, their heads would hit the ground and they'd be out like a light.
"Sniff... huhh…"
Some soldiers pulled their blankets over their heads and quietly sobbed.
They knew full well that most of those they shot and killed tonight with their own rifles were innocent civilians.
The responsibility weighing on the officers who gave the orders was heavy, but the guilt of the soldiers who followed those orders and directly killed the enemy was hardly any lighter.
Tonight, they had slaughtered civilians who were fleeing the burning fortress, just trying to survive.
Every time they remembered that moment, it felt as if the ground beneath their feet collapsed, and they were falling endlessly into a bottomless pit.
"..."
The officers of the 2nd Company, who had gathered to sleep in one of the clean buildings, weren't any different.
There were six officers inside, but not a single one was asleep.
"It's still…"
Why do we end up doing things like this?"
Bruno, crouched in a corner with a blanket wrapped around him, mumbled in a voice thick with emotion.
"I thought we were liberating commoners suffering under the oppression of the nobles. I still believe that, for the common people, it's better for the Empire to rule this land than Belliang."
Everyone quietly listened to Bruno's words.
"But if we're going to kill helpless, innocent commoners like this, how are we any different from them?"
"Bruno, you know, don't you? There was no other way."
Isaac spoke, forcing a firm tone as he addressed the anguished Bruno.
"The Battalion Commander gave the order. What else could we have done in that situation?"
"The enemy even fired on our side first."
Unlike Isaac, who seemed to be searching for reasons to avoid guilt, Simon, who didn't even consider it a crime, spoke in an indifferent voice.
"If we'd done nothing, enemy soldiers mixed in with the civilians would have kept firing on our men, and there could have been more casualties. It was the right decision and the right response."
"…Still, even so, if there had been something—anything else we could have done…."
Unable to fully argue with Simon, whose words were absolutely correct from an officer's standpoint, Bruno—raised more as a tool of the military than a true officer—struggled to speak.
He desperately wanted to deny that Soren's judgment had been correct that night.
"Company Commander, but still, wasn't there something—some other way we could have handled it?"
Bruno couldn't find the answer on his own.
That's why, in moments like this, he always looked to Ernest, who seemed to have the right answer for everything.
"..."
Ernest, sitting and quietly gazing at the faintly flickering lantern, slowly raised his head to look at Bruno.
For a moment, Bruno felt as if he'd committed a terrible sin.
"If everyone had acted rationally, maybe it would have been possible."
Ernest's low voice circled through the silent building, dry and matter-of-fact.
"If everyone had followed orders calmly and we'd been able to root out the enemy, if the enemy hadn't opened fire on us in that moment, if they hadn't made the grave mistake of deciding to use civilians as human shields."
And if, to begin with, there had never been a war at all.
"In reality, it's impossible for people fleeing a burning fortress to all respond calmly and take orders; and since we couldn't influence the enemy's choices, you could say, really, that there was no other way."
"..."
Ernest had given the answer.
But it wasn't the answer Bruno wanted to hear.
Bruno lowered his head, defeated by a harsh truth he hadn't reached by himself.
Even knowing it was the truth, it was hard to accept since he hadn't arrived at it on his own.
"So, it means we didn't do anything wrong, right? Isn't that so?"
Billim, wrapped in his blanket, pulled his knees to his chest and spoke up, his voice tinged with desperation.
"It was a situation out of our control, and besides, we weren't the ones who gave the order to open fire. The Battalion Commander said he was stripping us of command, and he gave the order. We didn't do anything."
"That's just it, Madsen."
Responding to Billim's desperate plea, Robert, who had been silent, replied in a gloomy voice.
"That's no different from saying 'we were just following orders from the higher-ups.' 'It wasn't my responsibility because I was just following orders. It wasn't my fault because my subordinates fired the shots.' In the end, it's just passing the blame."
"N-no, but it's true, isn't it? What did we actually do?"
Billim pressed Robert, as if demanding an answer.
"Really?"
And after struggling far too long in the swamp of 'Really?' because of Damn Ernest and Damn Krieger, Robert finally spat out that damnable phrase.
"Fine! We didn't do anything!"
...
Billim bristled, like he might lunge at Robert any second.
Robert silently watched him for a moment, then covered his face with both hands.
"You fool… That's exactly why it's our fault…"
In the end, Robert couldn't hold back and spoke through his tears.
"We could have refused. We could have told our men not to fire. If we truly wanted to stop it, we could have beaten the Battalion Commander to stop him if we had to."
"But that would've been disobeying orders! Assaulting a superior, no less!"
"That's the point—out of concern for our own safety, we just stood by and let innocent people be slaughtered… How is that not wrong…"
...
As Robert spoke between sobs, Billim, too, could no longer deny reality.
Silence meant agreement.
They had responded to Soren's order to massacre civilians with silence.
They didn't want to take responsibility for giving the order to fire on civilians.
But neither did they want to bear the consequences of defiance.
So they did nothing and stayed silent, passively allowing it all to happen.
That was still a tacit acceptance of the massacre.
Of everyone there, only one person had flatly refused to go along.
Only Captain Ernest Krieger had openly declared his refusal to obey—in defiance, right in front of Lieutenant Colonel Soren Kaufmann, the commander of the 1st Battalion.
Even Ferdinand, in the end, had chosen silence, which meant he, too, had given his tacit consent.
"..."
But even Ernest, though he disobeyed the order, didn't make any real effort to stop what was happening.
Since his own life and those of his friends were not at stake, he didn't go further or resist the situation more forcefully.
In the end, Ernest was, to a certain extent, complicit in the massacre of civilians, even if his involvement differed in degree.
Of course, under the circumstances at that time, Ernest did as much as he could as a soldier without crossing the line. In non-combat situations, mutiny is not punishable by summary execution under military law; instead, the offender must be brought before a military tribunal.
However, during combat, disobeying orders can be punished by immediate execution on the spot.
If the battalion commander had been Bailey instead of Soren, Bailey would have gleefully put a bullet in Ernest's head and killed him on the spot.
Remembering how Bailey had tried to kill Ernest several times for insubordination, it's clear that Ernest really did do all he could—and that Soren, strangely enough, had been uncharacteristically lenient in forgiving him.
Even so, when seventeen-year-old Ernest looked back on that moment, he couldn't help but feel regret.
He didn't regret refusing the order.
Not for a single moment.
'I could have stopped the massacre.'
Ernest's regret was that, in the end, he hadn't been able to prevent the slaughter of civilians. Logically, it was a truly arrogant thought. How could a mere lowly company commander criticize or interfere with the regiment's operations?
In fact, there had been no way for Ernest to stop the massacre at the time.
Even if he'd gone crazy and attacked Soren to prevent the 1st Battalion from opening fire, the 13th Regiment would have simply killed everyone as they escaped from Avril Castle, and then gone on to massacre the stragglers left behind in the aftermath.
In other words, to truly prevent this disaster, one would have to be the regimental commander—the commander of a unit capable of executing independent operations on at least the scale of a regiment.
A regimental commander holds the rank of colonel.
Ernest was only a captain.
What could he have possibly done?
He couldn't blame Levin, either.
Levin was simply trying to minimize the casualties within the 13th Regiment he commanded; it wasn't as if he committed the massacre of civilians out of any personal desire.
In fact, Levin hadn't wanted to fight at all.
If Delano had surrendered right away, Avril would have been occupied peacefully and calmly without a single death—just as they'd done in other regions before.
"…If it weren't for those bastards from the Belliang Liberation Army, none of this would have happened."
Bruno muttered bitterly, his words dripping with hatred. He couldn't pin this on the higher-ups; he couldn't blame his subordinates; and he couldn't completely ignore his own fault in what happened.
So instead, he tried to hold the Belliang Liberation Army fully responsible for this disaster, clinging to them as a scapegoat to keep himself from falling apart.
This time, Ernest didn't argue with Bruno. Bruno's words were, at their core, just a way to deflect responsibility and avoid facing his own guilt—but they weren't entirely wrong, either.
If the Belliang Liberation Army hadn't pulled such a reckless stunt, they could have passed through Avril without incident.
Of course, none of this would have happened if The Emperor hadn't started the war in the first place.
Ernest put his hand inside his uniform and gripped the Opeka he'd been given as a gift.
Sleep never came.
Barely eighteen at most, these young men were far too inexperienced to carry the crushing weight of a civilian massacre on their shoulders. Fearing that the stench of their own sins would cling to them, they kept their distance from one another and spent the long, restless night in darkness.
The Morning After
After dawn broke, the cleanup began—not for their own Allied Forces, but for the enemy.
Honestly, from the perspective of the 1st Battalion, this situation wasn't so bad.
All they had to do was recover the bodies scattered outside the village.
Other units entered Avril Castle, its flames now extinguished, and picked through the rubble. From there, they dragged out burnt corpses, bodies dead from suffocation, swollen drowned bodies fished out of the river, and those who had been slaughtered before the collapsed castle walls, crushed and burst beneath vehicles. Every last body had to be burned to prevent any outbreak of disease.
There were very few survivors from the fire at Avril Castle. Of those, less than ten escaped with both their bodies and minds intact. Crimes like murder, looting, and rape had occurred even as the castle burned and people died.
Some bastards took advantage of the chaos to indulge their most primal urges.
Others suffered burns as the fire spread, some inhaled smoke and lost consciousness, and some went mad, watching their families and neighbors burn alive.
"Kill them all."
Levin gave that order.
He had everyone who'd barely survived executed. In their shattered state, none were useful as labor, and if they lived to spread rumors of what had happened the night before, nothing good could come of it.
Even if the official line was that the 13th Regiment had no choice but to commit these acts because of Lord Delano of Avril and the Belliang Liberation Army, the truth remained: they had set fire to Avril Castle and massacred civilians.
The Imperial Army was supposed to be the "liberator" and "savior" of the commoners and serfs of Belliang.
Becoming mass murderers would spell disaster.
The bodies of those executed the next morning were thrown onto the piles of corpses from the previous night and all burned together, consumed by the flames. No one knew how many had died; the fires didn't stop burning until the following morning.
The Belliang Liberation Army, who had hidden in the forest, suffered a crushing defeat and surrendered early the very next day. But the bastard who commanded the Belliang Liberation Army did not survive to surrender. The Belliang Liberation Army was nothing more than a gang of thugs with no sense of discipline.
Even in victory, they struggled to maintain order, so after a string of defeats, internal strife was inevitable.
Right after they attacked the 3rd Company and were forced to retreat, the Belliang Liberation Army turned on their incompetent commander and ripped into him.
When he continued to babble nonsense about how they could still win, they killed him on the spot.
By the time the Belliang Liberation Army surrendered, the pitiful fool they brought with them was nothing but a bloody pulp of meat, unrecognizable after absorbing the rage of so many.
Levin arrested all of them, then separated out the key figures to interrogate for information.
Thanks to that, he learned that the mangled corpse was actually the young son of a local lord.
"Ah... This is going to be a bit of a headache."
"Hey, we didn't kill him, so there's nothing for us to worry about."
That was the end of it.
No one mentioned that idiot again.
The surrendered soldiers of the Belliang Liberation Army stood shivering and bound, praying desperately for mercy.
Fortunately, a few days later when the Logistics Corps arrived, they received some good news.
"If we kill them all, who's going to farm the fields? We'll use them as slaves."
Those who surrendered weren't granted the partial freedoms or land reforms given to serfs under the Empire's colonial rule. Instead, they became true slaves—forced to work for the Imperial Army until death, never earning even a single coin.
Still, the fact that they didn't die but managed to survive was, in its own way, cause for joy.
The first task given to the slaves was rebuilding Avril Castle, which had been burned and destroyed.
So as not to waste precious labor, they were worked just hard enough to keep them alive.
Everything was over.
The 13th Regiment, having suffered only minor losses, took control of the Avril region and was recognized for its achievement in subduing the Belliang Liberation Army and the rioters.
Many would be awarded for their deeds.
And along with the Logistics Corps, some good news was delivered to the 1st Battalion.
"We are grateful for your dedication."
The review of their achievements in defeating Bertrand in the forest before the Bertebras Mountains had concluded.
In a surprise, every surviving member of the 1st Battalion was given a medal.
This included not only those like the Baltrachers, who held officer rank but were not recognized as such, but also the ordinary commoner soldiers.
Of course, the medals they received were little more than Distinguished Service Medals at best.
Yet the very fact that Fiders and commoner soldiers were awarded medals was cause for astonishment.
Most of the officers received the Medal of Merit.
Among them, only Andersen and Hans were awarded the Bronze Star Medal.
As for Ernest and Ferdinand, they were given the Silver Star Medal—the third-highest honor a soldier could receive for distinguished military achievement.
It was a glory for their families.
"...."
"...."
Yet neither Ernest nor Ferdinand showed any sign of happiness. They simply pinned the ribbon bar to their chests, sending the medals to the rear the moment they received them.
Robert and Baumann joined them, sending the Medal of Merit they had received along as well.
Those medals would be solemnly dedicated at the grave of their friend, Georg Brandt, who had been awarded the Bronze Star Medal after dying in battle.
Everything was brought to a close in Avril.
The 13th Regiment began advancing once again, taking control of several regions with ease and without further combat.
And as autumn approached, the long-resisting King of Belliang finally declared his surrender.
The Kingdom of Belliang had fallen.
Now, all that remained was the Belliang region—reduced to nothing more than the Empire's breadbasket, its colony.