Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 515 Prologue: The Worst Ending (Part 1)

[United Provinces Republic]
[Guitu Castle]
Army Officer Academy
Fritz couldn't remember when he last returned to the Army Academy.

As far as I can remember, he never came back here after graduation.

But at this moment, as his gaze swept across the Army Academy in the night, a wave of warmth surged through his chest.

Nothing has changed.

The wall doesn't look high, and it's not difficult to climb over at all;
A rustic-looking gate;
The tree-lined path, no matter how much you sweep, can't get rid of all the fallen leaves;

And the main teaching building located at the end of the tree-lined avenue;
And in the distance, there were the auditorium, school buildings, playground, storeroom, stables... Fritz could recognize the place with just a glance at the outlines.

The Army Academy, like a sleeping giant, lies docilely on an inky canvas. The scattered lights not only fail to disturb her sweet dreams but also make her appear even more tranquil.

Fritz sat on his saddle, gazing intently at the night view of the Army Academy, lost in thought.

However, the others present were not having it as easy as him.

The three military academy students on duty at the main gate saw the visitor's officer uniform and stood at attention with impeccable posture, not even glancing to the side.

However, the time it took for the teacher on duty to go in and report was far too long.

Since he didn't return for a long time, the military academy students on duty had no choice but to continue standing with the visitor as punishment.

Just when the poor students felt their backs were about to break, the teacher on duty finally returned.

“He’s waiting for you.” A short lieutenant stepped out from the side door, hastily raised his hand to salute Fritz, and said in an icy tone, “Major.”

Fritz snapped out of his reverie, looked at the short lieutenant, paused for a moment, then deftly dismounted and respectfully returned the salute: "Thank you for your trouble."

One of the trainees on duty quickly stepped forward and took the reins from Fritz, while the other two trainees pulled the gate open together.

"You're too kind, Major." The short teacher waved his hand expressionlessly. "This way, please."

The road to the cradle of Union Army officers opens toward [Flitz in Nice].

Walking along the tree-lined path that occupies the central axis of the Army Academy, looking at the oak trees planted by the old marshal himself and now standing tall and majestic, Fritz couldn't help but sigh: "It's still the same as before."

"No." The short teacher, carrying a lantern and walking ahead, gave a soft snort: "Everything has changed."

The short teacher led the way, continuing without turning his head:

"The first and second year Venetia students have all been taken away, and the Venetia staff no longer send new students."

"The same goes for the Palatour students. Not only those who haven't graduated yet, but even the preparatory students have been sent to the Kings' Castle. The selection of new students has also been interrupted."

"The school buildings are mostly empty, and the school has become much quieter."

"A lot of teachers have also been transferred to the south and the west. The teaching and research office can't even keep up with the schedule now."

"Even with all this, Army Headquarters still says it wants to expand enrollment and shorten courses and class hours..."

Fritz walked behind the short teacher, listening silently to his complaints without offering any comment.

The short teacher stopped at the steps of the main teaching building, turned around, looked directly into Fritz's eyes, and asked, word by word:
"Everything has changed. The Union Army Academy is now just an empty shell... Is this what you wanted to see, Major Fritz?"

Fritz felt a sharp pain in his back, especially when he heard the title "major," the pain was particularly intense.

He did not answer the senior's question; he was unable to answer it and did not want to answer it.

“He’s waiting for you in his office; you know the way. I’m sorry I can’t accompany you because of my duties.” The short teacher placed the lantern at his feet, saluted, and turned to leave: “Major.”

Fritz returned the gesture and watched his senior leave.
-
From the day the "revolution" triumphed, Fritz's fate was no longer in his own hands. He was like a canoe thrown into a stormy sea, lifted up by the waves and tossed back down by them.

He was initially hailed as a revolutionary hero, receiving countless flowers, praise, and applause.

The tide turned immediately after Richard Meyerhouse delivered his startling speech in the National Assembly, “Even if a coup is necessary, a coup is still a coup.”

Overnight, Fritz of Nice went from being the darling of Guevo's social scene to an outcast of the federal army.

After obtaining the "provisional license" to hold supreme power, Richard Myerhouse did not hesitate to kick aside the reformist officers and instead cooperate with the institutionalists who dominated the United States Army.

They enjoyed the fruits of the coup—greater authority, less constraint, and fewer opponents.

Then, they threw the initiators and executors of the coup outside, allowing those who were furious about the coup to vent their anger.

Public accusations, behind-the-scenes gossip, friends who avoid you like the plague, and colleagues who look at you with disdain...

Fritz experienced the full spectrum of human emotions—the fickleness of human nature, the bitterness and sweetness of life—through his many ups and downs.

Like other participants in the “revolution,” he received a special promotion.

But for Fritz, this promotion felt more like a mockery and humiliation.

It was as if someone from the shadows was mockingly asking, "You did this for this reason, didn't you? Are you satisfied now?"

Perhaps out of habit, or perhaps out of sheer willpower, Fritz remained silent. After his senior, Hallam Naldon, died in his arms, he never defended himself again.
-
The main teaching building of the Army Officer Academy is a four-story building. The first floor is an archive storage room, and the steps leading into the room lead directly to the second floor.

After entering through the main entrance in the center of the second floor, there is a corridor on each side, extending east and west respectively, with classrooms on both sides of the corridors.

Further up, the building structure remains the same, except that the rooms have changed from classrooms to research and teaching offices.

Fritz climbed the steps, carrying a lantern, and arrived at the fourth floor of the main teaching building.

The corridor on the fourth floor was pitch black, like a bottomless cave from which one could not escape.

Only a faint light shone through the crack in the door of the office on the north side at the end of the right corridor.

Fritz walked step by step toward the brightly lit office, his footsteps echoing behind him.

Although Fritz knew the location of this office since he was in school, this was his first time visiting it.

He stopped outside the office, tidied his appearance, but instead of knocking immediately, he turned around and looked at the office across the hall.

On the door opposite—that is, the south-facing office—the two lines of bronze lettering, "[Principal's Office]" and "[Ned Smith]", reflected a dim light.

Since the old marshal passed away, the provincial government deliberately did not appoint a new principal, so this office was preserved.

Across from the principal's office is the office of Jason Cornelius, the nominal second-in-command and de facto principal of the Allied Army Officer Academy.

However, all these descriptions must be accompanied by the qualifier "formerly".

Because after Richard Myerhouse dissolved the "Interim Military Council," the core of the coup, Jason Cornelis held no position.

Fritz placed the lantern beside the door, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

"Come in." A concise and forceful command came from inside the office; the person on the other side of the door had been waiting for a long time.

Fritz pushed open the door, and the bright light in the room made him squint for a moment.

When he was able to see his surroundings again, a spacious and impressive office appeared before him.

What first caught his attention was a sand table, as big as a double bed, in front of him on the left.

The sand table occupies the central position of half of the office, while the three walls around the table are filled with floor-to-ceiling glass cabinets.

Through the glass window, Fritz saw that one of the cabinets contained some small flags and models, which were probably markers used to set up the sand table.

The other cabinets were filled with file boxes large enough to fit a folio book inside.

An astonishing number of file boxes almost filled all the space, with only two shelves of empty space remaining in a cabinet in the northeast corner.

Seven or eight square stools are scattered around the sand table, indicating that this sand table is not some kind of exclusive toy.

The sand table has been set up, the mountains and rivers have been sculpted, the two opposing armies are already fighting, the battle lines are in disarray, and some small flags have been pulled down and placed to the side, freezing this small battlefield in a certain moment.

The remaining half of the office was dominated by a carved desk.

In front of the carved desk stood two hard, ugly chairs—the standard setup for a principal's office.

Against the wall behind, there were four mahogany drawer cabinets with polished surfaces, three of which displayed half-bust sculptures carved from pure white marble.

Fritz immediately recognized one of the half busts as the old marshal, but he was completely unfamiliar with the other two. However, based on the style of the armor on the busts, he guessed that they were Kaisan and Alexandra.

The fourth cabinet is empty.

In addition to the two distinctly different areas on the left and right, there is a small table and two soft chairs set up directly in front of Fritz, against the wall and by the window.

There was an unfinished game of chess on the small table.

The chessboard was stained and dirty from prolonged use. The chess pieces even had a color similar to agate due to the absorption of too much oil from the skin.

Besides the aforementioned furnishings, another striking element in the office is the "lights".

There were so many "lights" that Fritz could count a dozen at a glance, all with colorless glass shades that made the office as bright as day.

The office's owner, Jason Cornelius, was sitting at the chessboard.

Cornelius waited patiently until Fritz regained his vision before frowning and asking, "Should I salute first?"

At first glance, it seemed like a joke, but Jason Cornelius's expression was very serious—or rather, the head of the Allied Army Academy was always serious—so Fritz couldn't tell whether it was a joke or not.

"Excuse me." Fritz quickly raised his hand in salute: "General."

"Major." Cornelius simply raised his hand in return, knelt down to stand up, walked to the carved desk, and gestured for Fritz to sit down at the desk.

“The Ministry of the Army hasn’t appointed a new head yet, so I’ll continue using this office,” Cornelius said as he walked. “Anyway, no one dares to kick me out here.”

At first glance, it sounds like a joke.

But the former chief's tone didn't sound like he was joking at all.

He spoke the above in an extremely calm, detached tone, as if he were merely stating a fact, with a hint of impatience that suggested, "I'm afraid you won't understand, so I have to explain."

For safety's sake, Fritz did not respond.

He sat down at the carved desk. Although he had never been summoned to the department head's office for a reprimand, a particularly familiar sense of unease instantly gripped him again when he sat on that hard chair.

Fritz and Jason Cornelis never interacted.

Fritz came from a poor family in a small village called Nice, and he only had the opportunity to study thanks to the strong educational enthusiasm of the United Province Army. Jason Cornelius came from one of the leading banking families in Guido, and even without joining the army, his future was bright.

When Fritz was studying at the Army Academy, one of them was a private, the lowest-ranking cadet, and the other was a colonel, the chief of staff, who had the final say.

After graduation, Fritz was an insignificant centurion in the National Guard—a second-class unit—while Jason Cornelius was the de facto superintendent of the Army Officer School, a position of great social standing.

Even though both were participants and implementers of that "revolution," they never spoke in the same room because they were at completely different levels in this so-called "revolution."

In other words, the two had no personal friendship.

However, once Fritz sat in that chair, he took on the role of the person being questioned very naturally, which surprised even himself.

After Cornelius returned to his seat behind the carved desk, he opened a drawer and asked without looking up, "How's the work at the War History Office?"

“Very well, sir,” Fritz replied instinctively.

“Very good?” Cornelius raised an eyebrow, staring at Fritz. “Do you intend to continue doing this forever?”

Fritz was silent for a moment, then answered with great restraint, "No, sir. But if this is how it is for me, I can continue doing it."

Cornelius nodded, but judging from his serious expression, Fritz couldn't tell whether the nod represented approval or indifference.

“There’s nothing wrong with reading more war history,” Cornelius earnestly lectured Fritz. “It’s just that some people have written war history badly.”

After saying that, Cornelius took a file folder with no markings from the drawer and placed it in front of the former student across the desk.

Fritz noticed that the former chief of staff had opened a drawer containing many similar file folders that had no markings on their exterior.

However, the latter not only did not open it to check, but did not even look for it, and directly pulled out the file folder that was handed to him.

Fritz couldn't tell whether the other person had randomly picked one for him or was so familiar with the file folder that he wouldn't make a mistake even without looking at it.

“Take a look at this,” Cornelius commanded succinctly. “Tell me your thoughts.”

Fritz picked up the file folder, opened it, pulled out the documents inside, and was surprised to find that what he was holding was actually a student file from the Army Officer Academy.

His first thought was to check the names and student IDs, but those sections on the cover, as well as the first page recording the students' basic information, were folded up.

He tried to open the fold-out page, but was stopped by the former head of the department.

“Read the contents first, and tell me your thoughts,” Cornelius commanded. “Then read the names.”

Fritz wasn't sure if this was a test or if the other party was trying to convey some message to him.

Now, he can only look at the files first.

He nodded and turned directly to the second page of the file.

A form came into view. The handwriting on the left was relatively neat, with subjects and grades, while the handwriting on the right was very messy, with some cells even being empty—it turned out to be a transcript of a year's general education courses.

Fritz first glanced at the results:
[Mathematics 1][A-]
[Rhetoric 1][A]
[Geometry 1][A+]
[Law][C]
[Old saying 1][B+]
[Ancient Chinese phrase 1][C]
[......]
After quickly going through his somewhat hazy memories, Fritz confirmed that the file in his hand was not his.

Whose file is this?
Fritz could only watch.

He had hoped to glean some clues from the teacher comments in the form, but the teacher comments were extremely lazy.

The math classroom comments section only had one "[Good]" written on it for the entire academic year, the geometry comments were just a circle, and the law and rhetoric comments were simply blank.

Only the archaic and ancient phrases were written as a whole sentence, yet they spanned two spaces and were written on the dividing line—if I remember correctly, these two courses were taught by the same teacher.

Fritz struggled to decipher the words written in the flamboyant, cursive script: "Too lazy, need to practice more!"

Fritz found no useful information and could only continue reading.

The grades in the military science course on the second page were significantly better than those in the regular course.

Fritz quickly flipped through a few pages, skimming them.

Whether it's the first, second, or third academic year, the students' military science grades are always better than their regular grades.

However, this does not prove anything; almost all military cadets from the United Provinces have similar tendencies.

Flipping further down, you find rewards and punishments, as well as other miscellaneous items, which are quite brief.

There was no punishment; I don't know if it was good luck or if they were really well-behaved.

There are three accolades, all for winning second place in the school's swordplay competition [student group].

Fritz was speechless. He thought about it carefully and confirmed that the other person was neither his contemporary nor his senior.

If there were such a person among your contemporaries or seniors, it's impossible for you not to have any impression of him at all.

He continued scrolling down until he reached the final section on graduate evaluations, where he found some more valuable information.

The first page of the evaluation section reads in hasty handwriting:

[With unwavering will and tenacious character, if fate smiles upon them, they will surely achieve great things.]
Fritz narrowed his eyes. It was a high compliment, yet one that could be applied to anyone—who is favored by fate and will not achieve great things? And who who achieves great things dares to say that they were not favored by fate?

Looking at the handwriting again, it's hard to say whether the other party wrote this evaluation in every single file.

Continuing to read on, most of the comments that follow are similar and could be applied to anyone; the geometry teacher's comment is even just a circle.

Only one teacher's comment caught Fritz's attention.

Evaluation by Richard Nal, the swordsmanship instructor.

He only wrote one word:

[Underwater volcano]
The file was almost at the end, and Fritz continued to flip through it. As a result, he found a piece of paper tucked inside the last page of the file, which was the page for the internship evaluation.

This piece of paper is not part of the archives; it was put there by someone later.

There was only one line of text written on it:

[Reward: Special Promotion]
Flip down to the back cover.

The voice of the former chief of staff came from across the carved desk:
"What do you think?"

Fritz closed the file, put it back in the bag, and placed it back in its original position.

After a moment of contemplation, he calmly said:

"In my memory, there is not a single student who has won second place in the school fencing competition for three consecutive years."

“换而言之，对方不是14、15、16、17、18期的学员。

"The file is an original, the paper is very new, and there are no signs of fading. It is highly likely that the other party is not a student from before the 14th class."

“19、20、21、22期里，我同样没有听说过有谁连续三年勇夺剑术校赛第二。但是我却听说过21期学员里有一位剑术高手，每年都是无可争议的第一。

"Then the situation may be that the oddity of the second-place finish in three years is overshadowed by the even more unusual first-place finish in three years."

"So I guessed that the other party was a member of the 21st class, and from a Venetian family, and came from a military family..."

"Stop—" Cornelius slammed his hand on the table and asked seriously, "Why did you guess that the other party was a Venetian? Why did you guess that the other party came from a military family?"

Fritz had originally wanted to verify his suspicions by observing the former chief's reaction, but Jason Cornelius remained as cold as ever, making it impossible to discern his true feelings.

Fritz could only suppress his unease and reply:

"Special promotion awards will only be given to officers who have participated in actual combat and performed outstandingly in their service."

"The internship period for the 21st cohort of trainees was from mid-557 to mid-558. During this year, the Republic of Palatum did not launch a campaign against the Hed people; only Venetta and we had military operations in the Taniri Islands."

"Since we did not engage in any actual combat, I judged that the other side was very likely a Venetian."

"If the other party is from Venetia, then based on their academic performance, they are very likely from a military family."

"Unlike the majority of students from the United Provinces who come from the Army Primary School, a significant portion of the students from the Preparatory School from Venetia are directly admitted from outside the university, rather than being promoted from the Army Primary School."

"These cadets, who were taught in grammar schools or by private tutors, generally had better academic performance but poorer military skills. This is the opposite of the cadets who were promoted from army primary schools."

"As for the students who advance from the army primary school, they all come from military families... because in Venetta, only army soldiers and the poor would send their children to the primary army school."

"And none of the students from poor families were able to get into preparatory school... at least not among my peers and those before and after me..."

How confident are you in your own judgment?

Fritz lowered his head and thought for a moment, then said honestly, "The chances are slim. If I only use one 'very likely,' I'm very confident. But when many 'possible' statements are combined, the conclusion 'may' be wildly wrong."

“That’s enough.” Cornelius tapped the table and said bluntly, “Your intelligence analysis skills are very good. You’ve passed.”

Fritz didn't ask what was acceptable; instead, he asked, "Did you slip that note in there?"

“Yes. That’s the exam paper.” Cornelius leaned slightly towards the former student, resting his arm on the table, and asked, “Now it’s bonus question time. Do you have anything to add?”

“If possible,” Fritz said cautiously, “I would like to ask Instructor Richard Nal what he thinks of the other party.”

A slow smile crept across Cornelius's lips.

He opened the drawer, took out an envelope, placed it on the table, and pushed it in front of the former student.

“The last question, no points.” Jason Cornelius stood up, placed his hands on the desk beside the other person, and looked down at his former student: “Who is ‘he’?”

"Based solely on the existing intelligence, I'm sorry, I don't know."

Fritz met the former director's gaze: "But of the 21st class of Venetia students, I've only heard of one... the one everyone's heard of..."

Jason Cornelius laughed.

"It's that one, the one everyone's heard of."

Jason Cornelius reached out and unfolded the folded file cover in front of the former student:

"Marshal Ned Smith's 'last work'"
"The most outstanding achievement of the Cenas Union Army Officer Training System in nearly twelve years."
"It will also be the most difficult enemy for the Southern Army to deal with... Of course, it can be yours if you wish."

Fritz looked down at the file.

First page of the cover, name field:
Winters Montagne
[Orz]
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