Chapter 192: Sitting Face-to-Face with the Marshal
After not so long apart, Ernest and Bertrand found themselves unable to hide the mixed emotions flickering in their eyes as they faced each other once again.
Even though darkness separated them, how could they fail to recognize this worst enemy, someone they hadn't forgotten even in their dreams?
"Seeing you safe and sound makes me feel like my insides are being torn apart. It's truly unpleasant and revolting to meet you again, Krieger."
Bertrand greeted Ernest first.
Normally, etiquette demanded that the lower-ranked person speak first, but Ernest and Bertrand were hardly sticklers for such formalities. Besides, with the fall of Belliang, Bertrand could no longer expect to be treated as royalty—so in his own way, he was respecting this frighteningly talented young man by speaking first.
Ernest glanced at Bertrand, who was still being guarded by Jade, then shifted his gaze toward Estelle, who glared at him from behind a tree, eyes narrowed with hostility.
Even in the darkness, her presence was impossible to miss.
She looked ready to attack at any moment, radiating a murderous aura.
"I find it disgusting to see you again as well. I'll make sure you regret not killing me, Count Lafayette."
Ernest answered Bertrand with a polite greeting.
After everything they'd been through together—having seen each other at their best and worst—there was no need for meaningless formalities.
They both knew they were fighting with all they had to kill the other; all that was left was to speak from the heart.
"I'm already regretting it enough, Krieger. If I had killed you back there—even if it meant spilling blood—and then defected to Konchanya, I might have been able to wipe out all the Imperial Army crawling into this forest by now and even launch a counterattack."
Bertrand spoke with forced lightness.
Back when they parted ways at the forest in front of Lanosel, he had thought that was the best possible choice.
But now, looking back, not killing Ernest at that moment had become a mistake he would regret for the rest of his life.
If only he could kill this young man, even losing a thousand precious soldiers would not feel like too great a price.
But that opportunity had slipped through his fingers.
Now, killing Ernest would take far more than a thousand men.
To eliminate Ernest, now firmly entrenched among the 13th Regiment on its destined path, he'd have to throw at least ten thousand lives at the problem—and even then, success was far from guaranteed.
"But… yes, I have to admit this one thing. You really are remarkable."
Bertrand, having heaped harsh words on Ernest and lamented his failure to kill him, now smiled with a strange expression.
"Of course, your talent speaks for itself, but there's a great deal to learn from your character as well."
"..."
Ernest couldn't comprehend Bertrand's abrupt compliment.
He simply scowled, unable to hide his genuine discomfort and disgust.
Bertrand, catching sight of that expression in the moonlight and starlight as his eyes adjusted to the dark, let out an oddly cheerful laugh, hardly fitting for the situation.
"Not only did you withdraw to prevent meaningless sacrifice, but you're still doing your utmost for the Imperial Army—even though they only let you remain a lowly Company Commander, not out of loyalty, it seems."
It appeared that Bertrand was genuinely impressed to see Ernest—someone he'd appoint as a Division Commander if it were up to him—still fighting hard on the battlefield as nothing more than a lowly Company Commander.
"And honestly, I never thought there was still anyone left who would call me Count Lafayette."
Bertrand placed his hand over his heart as he spoke.
Belliang was gone now, and Lafayette belonged to the Empire.
The Count Bertrand Belliang Lafayette was now nothing more than just Bertrand.
Ernest was almost the only one who stubbornly continued to address him as Count Lafayette.
"I don't call you that out of respect. I just don't want to use your name."
"Haha."
When Ernest replied coldly, Bertrand laughed.
He knew.
But Bertrand still preferred being addressed as Count Lafayette over his given name.
And more than anything, the very sentiment of not wanting to use his name was, in its own way, a form of respect towards Bertrand.
At the very least, it meant Ernest wasn't disregarding or belittling him.
From Bertrand's perspective, Ernest's upbringing showed in this sort of thing.
He was stricter in certain aspects than most heirs of High Noble Families.
Sometimes, even more so than Bertrand himself, who was of Royal blood.
"Well, let's get to the main point. The feelings between us aren't exactly warm enough for light conversation."
With a relaxed air, Bertrand said this as he clasped his hands behind his back.
"Let's put an end to this foolish fight. I don't want to fight the Imperial Army while you're among them, and you… Frankly, the Imperial Army probably doesn't want to fight me either."
"Fine. But as you know, I have no authority in this matter."
Ernest replied calmly, unshaken.
At those words, Bertrand finally shifted his gaze away from Ernest and looked toward Soren, who had been standing in the background.
Soren knew he couldn't just leave everything to Ernest here, so with obvious reluctance, he stepped forward and faced Bertrand.
"Lieutenant Colonel Soren Kaufmann."
Soren introduced himself as he came forward.
Just from seeing him, Bertrand realized that Soren would not be an easy opponent.
'Unlike Hoffman, trying to push this one around wouldn't get me anywhere.'
Bertrand felt a twinge of regret.
If someone like Bailey were Ernest's superior again this time, he could have easily provoked and manipulated them, dragging Ernest into a trap.
"Lieutenant Colonel Kaufmann. A pleasure to meet you. You probably already know, but I'm Bertrand Belliang Lafayette. You're free to call me whatever you prefer, but if possible, I'd like you to address me as Count Lafayette too."
"Very well, Count Lafayette. Let's discuss the specifics."
When Soren showed no sign of dithering or needlessly complicating things and moved straight to the main point, Bertrand allowed himself a slight smile.
Soren was the sort who communicated well, so it looked like things might proceed smoothly.
"We all may not want a battle, but unfortunately, that doesn't mean everyone feels the same way, does it? So, what if we each made small-scale military actions—not enough to cause real harm, but enough to maintain a sense of tension?"
As Bertrand spoke, a subtle twitch flickered in the corner of Soren's eye.
Bertrand was suggesting that instead of fighting outright, both sides should prod each other just enough to keep their higher-ups on edge, maintaining the constant threat of an attack.
If Bertrand weren't here, the 5th Division spearheaded by the 13th Regiment would attack and seize the forest.
And if Ernest weren't here, Bertrand would launch the assault and take control of the woods himself. In short, both Bertrand and Ernest needed to remain here, staring each other down in the forest, if the battle was to be held at bay.
And to keep this precarious equilibrium intact, they had to prevent the higher-ups from intervening—meaning the tension had to be sustained at all times.
Bertrand was proposing an elaborate performance over a battle that might change the balance of power on the continent.
Yet, there was another hidden motive behind Bertrand's suggestion—to prevent Ernest's promotion.
Bertrand had revealed to Soren that the very reason he could not attack the Imperial Army was Ernest's presence.
He made it clear that the moment Ernest was gone, he'd immediately go on the offensive and take the forest.
Levin, in his hope to stop the fighting, had allowed this secret meeting—a move bordering on an act of treason—and Soren himself had stepped in.
With things as they were, if Ernest left his post, everything would be for nothing, so promoting Ernest and transferring him elsewhere was simply not an option.
By letting the higher-ups know that Ernest was the only thing stopping Bertrand, it became impossible to assign him as battalion or regimental commander.
To try and persuade them otherwise, they'd have to reveal the secret meeting with Bertrand—and that would expose their act of treason and land them all on the gallows.
'This man… He's skilled not only in military matters but in politics too. Well, he is the king's nephew, after all.
Soren could read Bertrand's intentions.
Though he himself was resisting promotion and trying to hold his ground, deep down he also felt it was a waste to leave Ernest as just a company commander for much longer.
To be more precise, he secretly hoped Ernest would get promoted quickly, take his place, and help bring this damned war to an end by fighting on with everything he had.
'He catches on fast. He's no ordinary man.'
And Bertrand, realizing that Soren had seen through his ulterior motives, raised his eyebrows slightly in recognition and surprise.
The Empire really is something.
Even after losing so many officers in the Bertagne Forest, they somehow keep finding capable new talent to deploy.
"…Alright. Let's do that."
After a pause, Soren nodded his agreement.
"We'll discuss the details and more specific matters after we've had internal meetings."
"Agreed. I'll get in touch with you again."
Any military action—when and how it would be conducted—would have to be decided in advance through careful discussion.
At Soren's words, Bertrand readily agreed.
It looked like this secret meeting was about to conclude smoothly.
"But Count Lafayette, let me give you one warning."
At that moment, Soren addressed Bertrand with a grave expression and tone.
"Don't even think about trying to deceive us. If you do, I swear on my entire military career that I'll put everything in Krieger's hands and have him stop you, no matter what."
"…That's quite the frightening warning. I won't forget it—I'll take it to heart."
Bertrand fell silent for a moment at Soren's threat, then gave a wry smile and nodded.
It was almost laughable, in some ways, that Soren would threaten to dump all responsibility onto his seventeen-year-old subordinate and then wash his hands of it—but even so, Bertrand's heart skipped a beat at the threat, ridiculous as it was. Right now, things were manageable because Ernest was only a company commander, but if he'd been given full control of a battalion, Bertrand might have been driven out of the forest long ago.
'After all my efforts, I still can't best Krieger in the end.'
Bertrand, who had toyed with the Imperial Army with not just strategy but tactics as well, could do nothing but cower and hide when facing Ernest—a mere field commander of company rank.
'If only I'd had a subordinate like him, I would have conquered the world!'
It was agonizing for Bertrand, who had lost count of how many times his brilliant strategies had been derailed by the lack of a capable subordinate to carry them out.
Of course, if he'd ever said such a thing while Estelle was under his command, the other officers would have torn into him, so he kept that thought to himself.
"Well then, let's call it a day. No good will come from lingering here any longer."
"Agreed."
Bertrand said this in his usual laid-back manner, and Soren nodded in response.
Ernest, matching Estelle's piercing stare without so much as blinking, slowly blinked himself and then stepped back.
The desire to kill Bertrand and Estelle still lay inside him, coldly frozen, its sharp edge bared.
But if he acted on that impulse now, everything would be for nothing.
The flames of war would rage once again.
"You go ahead first."
Bertrand spoke to Soren with a gentle, kindly smile.
"We were the ones who arrived late, so your side should go first."
Soren replied warily to Bertrand.
"How could I, having invited you here as guests, possibly leave before you? You must go ahead of us. I'll depart only after you. If you refuse, I'll stand here until morning comes."
Bertrand declared, his voice firm.
His demeanor was resolute, projecting dignity and grace.
Even as a fugitive prince in exile from a fallen kingdom, here on the battlefield where they hunted each other's lives, Bertrand's honor seemed to shine brilliantly.
But there was another reason he insisted that Soren and Ernest leave first.
'I cannot let them see me being carried by Sir Jade!'
For a man of his years to be unable to walk on his own two feet and have to be carried on the back of his bodyguard knight—absolutely not!
Even Soren and Ernest, no matter how sharp, couldn't read Bertrand's true feelings here.
It was hard to imagine that a man who had once been royalty of a kingdom could be so utterly powerless.
Even Ernest, who had seen just how wretched Bertrand's condition was, still thought the same.
After all, he couldn't believe that a man whose limbs were intact could be in such a state.
"…Very well. In that case, we'll leave first."
Soren accepted and stepped back.
Despite breaking out in a cold sweat, Bertrand inclined his head gracefully to see them off.
Just as Ernest was withdrawing, still on guard until the very end, Bertrand spoke up—his timing slightly off.
"Krieger."
Ernest stopped in his tracks and met Bertrand's gaze. Bertrand hesitated for a moment, then offered a faint smile as he spoke.
"I'd like to hear news of my family. If it's not too much, could you tell me—even just briefly?"
The reason he asked Ernest, even when the two of them were out for each other's blood, was because they understood one another to that extent.
Bertrand knew that beneath this youth's cold and ruthless exterior, Ernest was, in truth, gentle and warm-hearted.
That's why he believed Ernest would answer him—no matter their circumstances—even about his own family.
"..."
At Bertrand's request, Ernest's lips twitched, and Soren froze as well.
Isaac and Bruno, who had been waiting in tense silence, also flinched in surprise.
Ernest looked Bertrand straight in the eye.
Unlike the composure and confidence he had displayed until now, Bertrand's eyes were now filled with anxiety and worry.
Ernest parted his lips, then spoke in a low, slightly rough voice, almost as if he were whispering.
"The others are safe, as far as I know."
"…The others?"
"Your uncle took his own life after the surrender."
"..."
"My condolences, Count Lafayette."
At least in this moment, he could offer his sympathy sincerely, free from all the hatred and resentment that existed between them.
Bertrand simply stared at Ernest in a daze, utterly stunned by his words, while Jade, equally shocked, reached out with trembling hands as if to grab Ernest.
Ernest took a large step back, quietly watching Jade reach toward him.
When Jade saw the sorrowful glint in Ernest's eyes—darker than the night—he froze in his tracks.
With Ernest's heartfelt consolation, even Bertrand could realize that it was the truth.
"…How… how could he do such a thing…"
"Your Excellency."
As Bertrand staggered, murmuring in a voice full of disbelief, Jade hurried to steady him.
Ernest silently watched Bertrand in that state In the darkness, amidst the sounds of ragged breathing, there was the faint sound of someone quietly sobbing.
Ernest waited in silence.
After leaning on Jade and crying for a while, Bertrand eventually managed to compose himself, straightening up to face Ernest once more, although still unsteady on his feet.
"…Don't worry. I'll keep my promise. I'll be in touch again."
Bertrand assured him that he wouldn't break his word and attack, even though his uncle had died.
"Those who can… yes, those who can survive, must live."
Bertrand muttered.
Ernest nodded, and this time, without any hesitation, turned around and strode back toward the Imperial Army outpost.
Already clumsy when it came to moving through the forest, Bertrand, now in shock, could barely walk at all.
After Ernest left, Jade carried him on his back through the dark woods, while Bertrand stifled his sobs.
Even though his uncle had taken his own life—no, precisely because of that, Bertrand knew he couldn't give up here.
For his uncle's sake, he would have to fight harder, survive, win, and revive Belliang.
"..."
As she silently walked through the night, Estelle paused and glanced back toward the far side of the forest, where the torches burned in the Imperial Army's outpost.
They hadn't exchanged a single word, but she understood Ernest's feelings completely.
After all, she felt exactly the same way herself.
I said we should never see each other again, but no, that's not right.
Let's meet again next time.
When that happens, I won't miss my chance—I'll make sure to kill you for good.