Cannon Fire Arc

Chapter 962: Chapter 15 Empire Soldiers’ Break_2

The hostess laughed and said, “I’m just the right age for conscription. I haven’t been dragged away and am still running a tavern for you all. Use your brain; I’ve got connections.”

“Ah, we know,” a lieutenant joked, “you’re the Emperor’s mistress, right?”

The officer who just entered looked up at the hostess and whispered to the sergeant beside him, “Is she really the Emperor’s mistress?”

“Of course not. Before the war, she was a movie star, probably hooked up with some general. That’s why she could open her tavern here,” the sergeant replied, then stared at the officer for a few seconds, “Haven’t seen you around. Who are you?”

Officer: “I’m with the 600th Guard Division. Just escaped from enemy-occupied territory.”

“Oh? Why didn’t you just surrender then? You don’t think that now you’ve returned, they’ll give you the Iron Cross, do you? Even if they did, what’s the use? It’s said the Anteans are slaughtering anyone with the Iron Cross, calling them war criminals.”

The officer shook his head, “The Anteans aren’t doing that because their Marshal insists on maintaining military discipline, unlike how we acted on their territory.”

The sergeant looked at the officer with suspicion, “What’s wrong with you? If the Constitutional Guards hear you saying that, you’ll lose your head.”

The officer didn’t answer but grabbed the beer just placed in front of him and took a large gulp.

Then he stood up and shouted, “This beer tastes like horse piss!”

The room fell silent; everyone stared at the unfamiliar officer.

Someone shouted, “That’s a strange face; could he be an Imperial Ministry spy?”

“Kill him! We’ve said enough here to die several times over!”

The officer yelled, “Comrades! Now’s not the time for infighting! I ask you, where are your wives now?”

Everyone stayed silent.

Officer: “They’ve been conscripted, haven’t they? Your children have been forced to take up arms too! Even if they’re lucky enough to avoid becoming cannon fodder in the Self-defense Army because they’re too young, they’re starving, skin and bones, surviving off cabbage every day!”

The crowd hung their heads, silent and expressionless.

Officer: “Why don’t they eat bread? Because bread can only be bought on the black market at a price of fifty million marks!

“The most ironic thing is, even during this severe food shortage, there are those using wheat to brew beer. These people are left untouched and won’t be sent to serve in the army just because she’s a movie star, the mistress of some general!”

The hostess realized the implication and shouted, “Stop saying these things! If the spies of the Imperial Ministry hear us, we’ll all lose our heads!”

The officer’s voice drowned out the woman: “I believe this is wrong! Comrades! We’ve been deceived by the false Emperor on the throne. We bleed and fight, our elderly parents bleed and fight, even our women and children bleed and fight! Yet the false Emperor and his officials sit comfortably in the palace enjoying their lives!”

Someone shouted, “He’s a spy sent by the enemy!”

Officer: “I am a native of Plowsonia! I lived here before this so-called new capital was even being built; my family has lived here for generations!

“I am just like you, with Prosen blood coursing through my veins! I am here to guide you out of the lies of the false Emperor!”

The same person who shouted “spy” now yelled, “We’ve trusted the Emperor for so many years, and now you’re saying we’ve been deceived. Who should we trust then? The Four-armed God Emperor?”

The officer pulled out the secular faction’s Scripture authored by Saint Andrew and raised it high.

The hostess recognized the emblem on it and shouted, “He really is a spy! I’m going to call the authorities and report him!”

She picked up a telephone from behind the bar, but as soon as she grabbed the receiver, several people pinned her down.

“Speak,” said the captain, the highest-ranking officer in the room besides the one holding the Scripture.

Officer: “This woman will betray us; she must be silenced.”

“Convince us first. If you can convince us, we’ll silence her. If not, we’ll silence you,” the captain said, drawing a Luger pistol and slamming it onto the table.

The officer nodded, opened the Scripture, and began to preach the secular faction’s doctrines to the Prosens present.

————

November 27th, Plathen Emperor’s bunker in the royal palace.

“What does mutiny mean?” The Plathen Emperor stared at the head of the Imperial Ministry spies, “How could the loyal Prosen Army possibly mutiny?”

The spy chief: “We believe that secular faction priests took advantage of chaos at the frontlines to infiltrate. To combat their infiltration, I’ve already ordered strict screening of deserters, especially rigorous checks on returning officers.”

Emperor: “How large are the mutinous forces?”

The generals in the room exchanged glances, their eyes eventually landing on the most respected Celtic Marshal.

Marshal: “The mutinous forces… only make up ten percent of Plowsonia’s defense strength. Not particularly large. They haven’t fired on friendly forces, merely vacated their positions.”

The Emperor’s hand trembled so much he could barely hold his pen.

The Celtic Marshal continued, “When vacating their positions, they sang a song in Prosenese, something like ‘Rise from the Ruins.’ The soldiers who refused to mutiny brought back the lyrics; here they are.”

The Marshal placed a note before the Emperor.

The Emperor picked up the note. Though he was still young and at an age where his future exceeded his past, his hands trembled like those of an elderly Parkinson’s patient as he read the words.

“This is Rokossov’s handiwork!” the Emperor flung the note onto the table, “It must be Rokossov’s handiwork! I’ve said it all along; all secular faction believers are born traitors! They should be completely eradicated!”

The Imperial Ministry spy chief: “We’re already doing that. Anyone showing tendencies toward the secular faction is punished along with their entire family.”

“It’s too late now!” the Emperor roared, “You and our generals alike are all useless! Useless! Now the secular faction has managed to pull entire units of our army off their positions, and they leave singing ‘Great Motherland, Rise from the Ruins!’ Great Motherland! They’ve even changed their concept of the motherland!”

The room fell silent.

The Emperor stood up and paced around the room for five minutes before speaking again: “Given the situation, I have no choice but to duel Rokossov! If Rokossov wins, we’ll surrender with dignity. If I win—at least Rokossov will pay the price!”

Everyone in the room seemed shocked by the Emperor’s words, staring at him with incredulous expressions.

Emperor: “What are you standing around for? Send Rokossov a telegram!”

————

Wang Zhong: “Has the Plathen Emperor gone mad?”

He set down the telegram and looked at Pavlov.

Pavlov: “I feel like he’s making a clever move after understanding your personality. I won’t allow you to do something so insane.”

Wang Zhong: “Of course not. If I were to go, it’d be after Sergeant Gregory wipes out the Emperor’s guards and disarms his weapons.”

“Sukabule! Aren’t you planning to go anyway?” Pavlov slammed his desk, “No! Don’t pull off such insane stunts! We’ll occupy Plowsonia first, and then you can humiliate that Emperor or piss on his corpse—whatever you want! But you’re not going in while the fight isn’t over!”

Wang Zhong: “Don’t get worked up; I said I won’t go.”

“Do you know the story of the boy who cried wolf? How many times have you said you won’t go? Have you ever followed through? No, I won’t trust you anymore! I’ll keep an eye on you 24 hours a day. If you disappear from my sight for over two hours, I’ll quit; you find another Chief of Staff!”

At that moment, Sergeant Gregory said, “Perhaps I could go and duel the Emperor? It interests me. Besides, Marshal, you have Nelly to protect you.”

Wang Zhong: “No, I won’t respond to him. Deputy Officer, draft the telegram: ‘Idiot.’ Signed: Anteans Marshal Alexei Konstantinovich Rokossov.”

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