It took two full days for the entire incident to be resolved. After all, those implicated were not just bandits, but a captain who had served in the Military Police for eight years. The revelation that he had colluded with criminals caused quite a stir.
The divisional commander, however, managed to distance himself completely. The ledger contained only Waltz's dealings—there was not a single mention of the commander. Clearly, he had never been directly involved, only instructing Waltz to act on his behalf. That way, if anything went wrong, he would not be dragged down with him. There was nothing Lillian could do about that.
When Lillian and the others returned, they were met with arrest orders. However, because the evidence was irrefutable—and because that evidence had already been shown to numerous civilians and even reporters during the journey back—the captain's actions were firmly established as criminal.
The divisional commander had no choice but to report the matter upward, adding a few of his own opinions. The response he received, however, was completely unexpected.
He had assumed that even if the captain was dead and could not testify, it would be obvious he hadn't been killed by bandits, but by Lillian himself. Even if the recruits were not punished, Lillian should at least have been stripped of his post.
Yet that expected verdict never came.
Nile's response was simple: maintain the status quo—neither merit nor fault.
This was clearly unusual. The reply specifically mentioned that it had taken President Zachary's opinion into account. That led the divisional commander to speculate privately: could it be that Lillian had some kind of connection with President Zachary?
If that were the case, then not only could he not touch Lillian—he would need to do everything possible to stay on good terms with him.
And so, that was how the invitation now in Lillian's hand came to be.
{The Stratmann Family cordially invites Mr. Lillian Kafka to attend a banquet tomorrow at 3:00 PM. Formal attire requested. We look forward to your presence.
—Elliot G. Stratmann}
"The Stratmann family?!" Marlo, who shared the same dormitory, caught sight of the invitation and looked utterly shocked.
"You know this family?" Lillian asked.
While he knew some of the main plotlines, he knew almost nothing about the internal world within the Walls.
In the manga, only a handful of families ever appeared, most of them reduced to vague background names. But here, in reality, there were hundreds—thousands—of families inside the Walls. These weren't just numbers on a page; they were real people. The ones who caused trouble for the Military Police by racing carriages through the streets were usually from families like these.
"Of course I know them!" Marlo took a breath, staring at the gold-embossed invitation, his eyes burning with excitement. "He's the chairman of the Marleen company—the largest merchant guild in the Stohess District!"
"Tell me more."
"Ah—right!"
Marlo organized his thoughts. "They used to specialize in arbitrage—buying goods in Wall Maria and reselling them inside Wall Sina for massive profits. But after Wall Maria fell, their business shrank quite a bit. Still, they're incredibly rich… though no one really knows how they keep making money."
"I see."
"And the Marleen company is one of the largest taxpayers in the district. Because of that, the Military Police often 'make things convenient' for them."
Lillian understood immediately. He glanced at Marlo with interest. "We enlisted at the same time, didn't we? You know quite a lot about this."
"Uh…" Marlo scratched his head. "I look into these things sometimes. If you want to climb the ranks, you're bound to deal with people like them sooner or later." Then he looked at Lillian with envy. "But you—getting invited proactively already!"
"Nothing to be happy about," Lillian said calmly. "A banquet like this won't be a pleasant one."
"Don't say that. It's good to know powerful families—they might support you later." Then Marlo suddenly remembered something. "Oh, right… tomorrow at 3 PM is also Baker and Wilson's funeral."
---
The Funeral
As soldiers, the fallen could be buried in the military cemetery—unless their families objected and chose to take them home.
Of the two who died, Wilson had no relatives. Baker, however, still had both parents and a younger brother, only seven or eight years old. His parents had already arrived, weeping uncontrollably before the grave. The little boy stood nearby, staring blankly at the stone engraved with his brother's name, as though he still couldn't accept it.
"So pitiful…"
The recruits nearby couldn't help but feel the same. Some of them thought quietly: If it had been me… my parents would probably look just like that.
"Those bandits were unforgivable!"
"And really, this is all Waltz's fault…"
"Of course it is! Good thing he's dead!"
"By the way… hasn't the captain arrived yet?"
"The captain probably isn't coming, right? I heard he went to some banquet…"
Robert, whose shoulder was still wrapped in bandages, had barely finished speaking when he suddenly felt someone pat his injured shoulder twice. The pain made him bare his teeth as he spun around, ready to curse.
"Who the hell—uh… Captain?"
The one standing behind him was none other than Lillian. He was dressed in a black suit, his hair neatly styled, giving him a noticeably more mature air.
Robert looked embarrassed. Remembering what he had just said, he hurriedly pretended nothing had happened and asked, "Captain, didn't you go to the banquet?"
"What banquet could possibly be more important than a comrade's funeral?"
"..."
The words moved everyone present. At that moment, the sobbing parents noticed him as well and immediately rushed over, clutching his clothes.
"Y-you're Captain Lillian, right? Baker mentioned you before… You were received by the King… a soldier awarded by the medal of valor…"
"That's me."
The woman, around fifty years old, had cloudy eyes and a dark, weathered complexion—clearly someone who had worked the fields all her life. She asked slowly, word by word:
"Captain… why? Why did my son have to die?"
"I'm very sorry," Lillian said quietly. "He died bravely, fighting bandits."
Baker's father suddenly grabbed Lillian by the collar, eyes wide with fury.
"Why didn't you save him?! Why?!"
"Hey! Sir, ma'am, what's the point of taking it out on our captain?"
"Yeah! Baker was killed by the bandits—there was nothing we could do!"
"We almost all died ourselves back then!"
The recruits hurriedly pulled Baker's parents away from Lillian. Watching them, Lillian let out a silent sigh.
"Baker's sacrifice led to the destruction of a large bandit group," he said, "and exposed a cancer within the Military Police. His death was not meaningless. Please don't worry—the compensation issued by the government will be substantial. It will be enough to support your family of three until… until the boy comes of age."
He was referring to Baker's younger brother. The boy looked up at him and asked,
"Big brother… I want to avenge my brother. Do I have to become a soldier too?"
"..."
"No! No more soldiers! Never again!"
The woman's face changed instantly. She pulled the boy into her arms, muttering over and over, "No more… we've only got one left… no more joining the army…"
The family left shortly afterward. Once they were gone, Robert asked in a low voice,
"Captain, where's all that compensation money supposed to come from? The government only issued… a tiny amount. And that chest of money we kept last time was almost entirely given to the victims already. Speaking of which, those bandits had plenty of good stuff—how much alcohol? Medicine? All sorts of things—but the commander had people haul it all away. Originally, we—"
"That's enough," Lillian said. "Deduct it from my monthly salary."
He stopped listening to Robert's chatter and walked over to Baker's grave. Staring at the name carved into the stone, countless thoughts surfaced in his mind.
So much of life leaves you powerless. You, me—we're the same. Even if I hadn't acted, once Waltz was caught and everything was exposed… what choice would you have had? I could let you go, but could you really escape? What about your family? Would the divisional commander spare you?
"Bandits' blades are really fast."
A voice spoke beside him. Lillian turned his head—it was Annie. She stood quietly, looking at the gravestone, her expression calm, as if she hadn't spoken at all. For a moment, Lillian almost thought the cold voice had been his imagination.
"One strike to the throat," she added.
"…Yeah," Lillian replied.