Chapter 8: Treason and Vanishing Secrets

Several months prior, deep into the night, the President of the Francis Republic was still in his office. He was engaged in a discussion with several veteran marshals and numerous high-ranking officials from the Ministry of Defense, concerning the border deployment between Francis and Teuton.

“Hmm… I understand,” the President said. “As long as our forces are properly deployed along the Titan Line, facing those formidable fortress defenses, the Teutons won’t be able to breach them.

“As for the southern mountains, we can rest easy. Hmph, can the enemy in the south even climb mountains? They might as well stay at the border and eat pizza.”

“Your Excellency’s insight is profound, however…” Marshal Peter, standing nearby, wore a troubled expression. He repeatedly shot glances at Gaowen, signaling him to hold his tongue.

Yet, the tall general, Gaowen, who had been itching to speak, showed no deference. He immediately stepped forward, directly voicing the objections he had been continuously raising up the chain of command.

“Mr. President,” Gaowen declared, “focusing solely on the defense of the Titan Line is insufficient. With all due respect, what if… what if the Teutons launch a surprise attack from the north, directly targeting the Lowlands? Purburg has no natural defenses to the north!”

“The north is the Lowland Federation, a neutral country!” The President retorted, stroking his beard impatiently.

“Furthermore, if Teuton truly attacks the Lowlands as they did in the last Great War, we have contingency plans in place. General Peter will lead a large army into the Lowland Federation’s territory to establish a joint defense line and continue the defensive war.”

“Hmph, General Peter is an expert in defensive warfare; it will be foolproof. By then, the Teutons will be bogged down in the Lowlands, just as they were in the last Great War.

“Time is on our side. Surely, the Teutons… wouldn’t stumble in the same place twice, would they?”

“But…” Gaowen shook his head. “The enemy won’t fight the same way they did twenty years ago. What if our northern forces can’t withstand the Teutons’ armored assault?”

“All our armored divisions are positioned along the Titan Line for a defensive battle—that’s a complete waste…”

“Enough!” The President snapped, glaring at Gaowen with sharp eyes. “That is precisely how we won twenty years ago, and we can do it again this time.

“As for armored divisions… Ah, General Gaowen, since you are so fond of them, then… go to the Southern Continent. Go to the Southern Continent colonies and put your theories into practice. That will be all.”

“But…”

Gaowen attempted to speak further, but he was promptly escorted away by the presidential palace security. Watching the young man being led off, the President let out a sigh.

The marshals nearby stepped forward to console him, advising him not to fret over a young man. The President then wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel.

“Ah… these young people today, their thinking is far too radical,” a renowned defensive doctrine expert remarked, offering comfort from the side. “They don’t understand the importance of experience.

“They’ve all been terrified by the Teutons’ tactics in the east, forgetting that Francis is a powerful nation.”

“Indeed, but war is always undesirable…” The President instructed his secretary. “Summon the Foreign Minister. Ask him if we can still negotiate with the Teutons once more.”

****

‘Something… something… something…’

In the dim room, the young man dared not turn on the light. He was hunched over the cabinet of the Councillor’s desk, tirelessly rummaging through its contents.

Time was running out. He absolutely had to find something, and quickly.

Fran had not forgotten his mission here. While caring for the old man and ensuring his swift recovery was part of it, the more crucial task had been entrusted to him by his teacher.

He needed to uncover a scandal involving the Councillor, preferably with documented evidence.

Fran gritted his teeth, a sense of difficulty washing over him. He had been searching for a long time without finding any sufficiently valuable clues, yet…

A large number of Francis’s northern forces were encircled by the enemy. Rumor had it that the enemy’s armored divisions were already close to Purburg. If he didn’t find something soon, there might truly be no point in searching anymore.

He stood up, surveying the room’s surroundings.

‘If someone committed a heinous act and could only leave behind irrefutable evidence, where would such a person, living in constant fear, hide that dangerous secret?’ he mused.

He put himself in that position, and only one image materialized in his mind: his own reflection. He saw himself, shovel in hand, stained with blood, digging out damp soil and sand.

Then, scoop by scoop, he watched himself refill the nearby pit with the excavated earth.

Something seemed to be buried in that pit…

What could it be?

A secret, perhaps.

Probably.

Fran tilted his head, feeling a slight daze. ‘What exactly did I just see? That scene… it was a bit eerie. No, perhaps unsettling is a better word.’

He, however, had no such secrets of his own. Yet, this thought had sparked an idea!

‘Of course! Who would ever place the “blade” that could condemn them to death in an ordinary cabinet or box?’

Things they feared would be exposed to the world, things that made their hearts tremble, naturally had their own unique hiding spots.

Fran walked to the window of the Councillor’s bedroom, his hand brushing against an exquisite ceramic flowerpot. He then began to clear away the soil.

As the loose, strikingly incongruous topsoil was carefully scraped away layer by layer, a kraft paper envelope slowly came into view.

Just as he suspected!

He pulled out the kraft paper envelope, took a deep breath, and began to read its contents.

****

A sharp intake of breath—

Upon finishing the letter, Fran couldn’t help but gasp. This…

No wonder it was hidden in such a place. This was a hundred times worse than infidelity or bribery. This was…

It clearly documented the Councillor’s communications with the Teuton government during this period. It even detailed the positions the Councillor would receive after the Teuton army occupied Purburg, and the reciprocal assistance he would provide to them…

This was… treason…

Fran was dumbfounded with shock. It explained why that man had been constantly heading to the outskirts—he was likely meeting with enemy agents…

Fran immediately photographed the letter’s contents with his camera. Then, relying on his memory, he carefully tucked the kraft paper back into the flowerpot, just as he had found it.

“Bang…”

A soft bang echoed, seemingly from the door. Startled, Fran spun around in a panic, fearing the Councillor had returned.

However, the doorway was empty.

A sigh of relief escaped him.

It had been a false alarm. Fran wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

Alright, the major task was now complete. All he needed to do was hand the camera to his teacher. Fran put away the camera, calculating that it was almost time to bring food to the old man.

He meticulously cleared away any trace of his presence in the room. Then, he exited and headed directly towards the old man’s chambers.

The moment he pushed open the door, Fran froze.

To his astonishment, the room was utterly empty. Only a scattering of cups lay haphazardly across the bed.

This… this was impossible…

The old man was nowhere to be found in the room. How could this be? How could a paralyzed elder simply vanish into thin air?

He rushed frantically to the balcony. Standing there, Fran spotted a familiar figure in the center of the square below.

‘This… this is bad, everything’s going to be exposed!’ he thought. How had the old man managed to open the door and get outside? He… he… he…

Fran immediately sensed that something terrible was amiss. He was so desperate he nearly jumped from the balcony, but ultimately chose the stairs. He had to bring the old man back, and fast.

Yet… for some unknown reason, as Fran descended the stairs, he faintly heard the rhythmic thud of footsteps approaching from a distance…