Chapter 1402: Prologue (Part 1)

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The main teaching building of the Army Officer Academy was a four-story structure, with the first floor serving as the archives storage room, and the entrance stairs leading directly to the second floor.

Upon entering through the central main entrance on the second floor, there were corridors to the left and right, extending east and west, with classrooms on either side of the corridors.

Going further up, the building’s structure remained the same, except that the function of the rooms changed from classrooms to research offices.

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

The corridor on the fourth floor was pitch dark, like a bottomless, inescapable cave.

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

Step by step, Fritz walked toward the office with the light, his footsteps echoing behind him.

Although he knew the location of this office since school, this was Fritz’s first time visiting.

He halted outside the office, tidied his appearance, but did not immediately knock on the door. Instead, he involuntarily turned to look at the office across the hall.

The nameplate on the door of the opposite office, on the south side, bore the two bronze lines, [Principal’s Office], [Ned Smith], reflecting a dim glow.

Since the Old Marshal passed away and the Federated Provinces government deliberately refrained from appointing a new principal, this office has been preserved.

And opposite the Principal’s Office was the nominal second-in-command of the Alliance Army Officer Academy, the actual principal—Jansen Cornelius’s office.

But all these descriptions must be prefaced with “formerly”.

Because after Richard Mayerhaus disbanded the coup’s core “Provisional Military Committee”, Jansen Cornelius was left without any position.

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

“Come in.” A brief and powerful command came from inside the office, where someone had been waiting for a long time.

Fritz pushed open the door, and the overly bright light in the room momentarily made it difficult for him to open his eyes.

When he could see his surroundings again, a spacious and grand office appeared before him.

The first thing that caught his attention was a sandbox table as large as a double bed, located at the front left.

The sandbox table occupied half of the center of the office, with three walls surrounding it filled with glass-fronted cabinets reaching the ceiling.

Through the glass panes, Fritz saw that one of the cabinets contained some small flags and models, likely used as markers for the sandbox.

The other cabinets were filled with document boxes large enough to hold a folio book.

An astonishing number of document boxes nearly filled all the space, with only two empty shelves in the cabinet at the northeast corner.

Seven or eight square stools were scattered around the sandbox table, indicating that the sandbox table was not some kind of exclusive toy.

The sandbox was already set up, with mountains and rivers formed, armies clashing, and the battle lines in chaos. Some small flags had been removed and placed aside, freezing this miniature battlefield at a particular moment.

The other half of the office was dominated by an intricately carved desk.

In front of the carved desk were two hard and ugly chairs — standard fixtures for the Principal’s Office.

Against the wall at the back stood four polished mahogany drawer cabinets, with three of them topped with pure white marble busts.

Fritz instantly recognized one of the busts as the Old Marshal, but the remaining two were entirely unfamiliar to him. Based on the style of the armor on the busts, he guessed they were of Kaisan and Alexandra.

The fourth cabinet was empty on top.

Apart from the two functionally and aesthetically distinct areas, directly in front of Fritz, against the wall near the window, there was a small table with two soft chairs.

On the small table was a chess game that had not been finished.

The chessboard was stained from prolonged use, and the pieces had absorbed so much skin oil that they had acquired a hue akin to agate stone.

Apart from the aforementioned furnishings, another striking feature of the office was the “lights.”

Many, many “lights,” Fritz quickly counted a dozen, all with colorless glass shades, illuminating the office as bright as daylight.

And the owner of this office, Jansen Cornelius, was seated by the chessboard.

Cornelius patiently waited until Fritz’s vision recovered, then frowned and asked, “Should I salute first?”

At first glance, it seemed like a joke, but Jansen Cornelius’s expression was very serious — or rather, the Minister of the Alliance Army Academy had always been very serious, so Fritz couldn’t tell if it was a joke.

“Sorry.” Fritz hurriedly raised his hand to salute: “General.”

“Major.” Cornelius simply raised his hand in return, braced his knee to stand, and walked toward the carved desk, gesturing for Fritz to take a seat in front of the desk.

“The Army Ministry has not yet appointed a new Minister, so I’ve continued using this office.” Cornelius said as he walked: “After all, here, no one dares to drive me away.”

At first, this again seemed like a joke.

But the former Minister’s tone did not sound like he was joking.

He stated the above with an extremely calm observer’s tone, as if merely explaining a fact, with a hint of the impatience of “I’m explaining because I think you might not understand.”

For safety’s sake, Fritz didn’t respond.

He took a seat in front of the carved desk. Although he had never been summoned to the Minister’s office for a reprimand, as soon as he sat on that hard chair, a particularly familiar discomfort instantly gripped him again.