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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Remembering the Fallen
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The prisoners from the Ruth Kingdom couldn't care less that they were in an enemy nation. Most of them were rude and utterly shameless.
Especially the noble-born ones.
They would ramble on endlessly about how prominent they were in the Ruth Kingdom and how insignificant the Empire was.
Then, when death loomed, they would spill every secret they knew, begging pathetically for their lives by boasting about their family's wealth and offering to pay for their release.
Such information was usually useless, but since the Empire's commanders hoped these incompetents would return to leadership positions, they released most noble prisoners for a ransom.
In fact, those released did return to command and repeat the same mistakes—until Viktor took over command, that is. It had been quite successful up to then.
That was the typical impression of Kingdom prisoners, so when Viktor responded at first, I thought things would go as I expected.
It hadn't been easy to get even a word out of the existing prisoners, but Viktor accepted the conversation readily despite his intimidating aura.
I aimed to gather information on His Majesty's orders while satisfying a bit of my personal curiosity.
After all, I was eager to learn what kind of man this infamous Viktor really was.
But despite approaching him so confidently...
"Hngh..."
The result was completely unexpected.
I clenched my teeth tightly, afraid that even a slight relaxation would let tears spill out.
This wasn't the response I had anticipated.
I knew he wouldn't boast openly in this poor situation and mood.
Still, I figured he'd modestly flaunt his achievements, pretending reluctance or defeat, or at least offer some humblebrag for show.
All the high-ranking officers I'd met acted that way, regardless of Viktor's image so far.
Even General Gerhard, always brimming with passion, and the officers or knight commanders I occasionally encountered.
Even officers from other countries.
Whenever they mentioned battles they'd fought in, they'd light up and chatter excitedly.
Especially for their official first battle—it was even worse.
They'd start by praising the enemy, then explain the background while bragging about how brilliant their strategies and tactics were, and how glorious the victory.
They'd trumpet enemy casualties or troop differences but never mention allied losses, of course.
It was as if they treated battles like fond memories. Talking to them always left me with an indescribable feeling.
Something felt off, somehow.
I couldn't pinpoint it and felt I shouldn't voice it, so I'd swallowed it down until now.
Only after hearing Viktor's story did I realize what that unease was.
Not a single one of the people I'd met had ever mentioned fallen allies first.
At best, some would gloss over it with "along with their glorious sacrifice..." but even that was rare.
I'd assumed Viktor would be the same.
He'd used soldiers' blood as an excuse to urge the king into war, so he couldn't escape the high officer mold.
I'd thought he achieved such feats at a young age because he loved war and was obsessed with it.
I'd thought he commanded troops diligently out of love for the Kingdom, sometimes fighting on the front lines himself.
Like other soldiers, I'd assumed death on the battlefield was just glory to him—no fear of "sacrifice," no real concern.
The opposite was true.
Viktor's thoughts aligned more with ordinary soldiers than officers.
Doubts about war, guilt toward dead allies, a sense of responsibility—all of it.
When he spoke of his monumental first battle, the Angelgrad engagement.
He didn't recall the victory first.
He didn't remember the fleeing Imperial troops, mention the enemy commander, or discuss his tactics.
Without hesitation, he recited the names of those who had departed.
It was two whole years ago.
He hadn't commanded just a hundred men then, and he'd led thousands since.
Yet he still remembered the names and stories of those who fell in his first battle.
He spoke calmly, in his gentlemanly tone, but sorrow lingered in his eyes.
Imperial military academies teach none of that.
Going to war is glorious; death is honorable—they exalt it.
They focus on victorious wars, well-fought ones, insisting weaklings can't be generals and urging emotional detachment.
They train soldiers to view troops as numbers, to handle them efficiently.
The Ruth Kingdom's academies must be the same.
Cadets who don't fit that mold would face internal rejection.
Coward, chicken-heart—insults like that might stick.
He'd said as much himself, about clashing with others at the academy.
The key point is that Viktor proved he was different.
Viktor was never weak.
Defying the notion that generals must be cold, keep distance from troops, and only excel at strategy and tactics, he became Ruth's hero.
He sublimated guilt over dying allies into responsibility, commanding the battlefield more perfectly than anyone.
As a result, he's called invincible, and his legion earned the title "Immortal Legion" for its extremely low casualties.
In truth, until facing him now—no, until somehow bringing up the battle—he'd seemed utterly fearless.
Surrounded by guards trying to arrest him, facing dozens of nobles and the king staring him down, he maintained his dignity.
To ensure his men could trust and follow him, he'd probably buried those thoughts deep inside.
Even the Empire's reports, desperate to find his weakness, noted "no openings."
If he hadn't been betrayed by the Ruth king, he probably wouldn't have said any of this to me.
...
Strangely.
Seeing him like this only piqued my interest more.
He'd felt so distant before.
General Gerhard was admirable, of course, but I never wanted personal closeness.
Her Majesty Luise was just an object of loyalty.
I hadn't felt more than admiration for Viktor either.
Just awe at his competence, amazement at his strategies and tactics.
Now it's different.
I understood why he had the full support of the Ruth Kingdom's forces.
Hearing his story made me think that if I were a soldier, I'd want to serve under him.
I wanted to talk more.
Personal matters, work—anything.
But with Viktor closing his eyes as if refusing further conversation, starting one now seemed impossible.
...His own nation had discarded him like a used rag, so his mind must be in turmoil.
No matter how curious, pressing him would be rude.
I should be grateful he shared what he'd held inside.
-Scritch, scritch.
I pulled out my notebook and recorded our conversation.
The pen tip trembled slightly as I wrote.
---
Something about Erika's gaze had felt warmer lately.
And,
"...Viktor."
"...?"
Suddenly, Paul—who'd been silent the whole time—spoke up.
He'd seemed lost in thought while Erika and I talked.
"You're... unusual."
...
He said something odd out of nowhere.
Checking just in case, the Minimap showed Paul in gray.
What?
What in my story made his murderous intent vanish?
What was he thinking?
"Right?"
"Mm."
Erika and Paul exchanged glances and nodded to each other.
Unable to comprehend, I just closed my eyes.
"...Your mind must be a mess. Rest."
Oblivious that he'd complicated my own thoughts, Paul puffed up needlessly and stared out the window again.
***
"We've arrived."
The carriage stopped as the sun was setting.
Through the window, I saw tents fluttering with the Empire's flags.
The soldiers inside the camp bustled about pitching tents and moving supplies.
The move had taken longer than expected, but it seemed the Empire had preemptively shifted its garrison to the rear before the ceasefire was signed.
Hearing the war had paused for now, the working soldiers looked cheerful.
Guards chatted casually with comrades beside them, and overseeing officers didn't bother stopping them.
It contrasted sharply with Ruth Kingdom soldiers, who maintained vigilant stares until our carriage departed.
Seeing the Empire's troops—their uniforms, equipment, tent styles all different—finally made it sink in that I'd been handed over to the Empire.
From now until reaching Her Majesty, nothing major should happen.
The last wildcard, Paul, had turned neutral, so barring some freak accident, my life wasn't at risk.
Imagining the rosy future ahead, I leisurely took in the sight of the Imperial troops I'd soon join.
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