Imperial Elite

Chapter 12 The Dream of the Little Dark Room

Theoretically speaking, His Majesty George had no enmity with Frederick II of the Teutonic Empire; in fact, according to their family genealogy, they were cousins.

It's not fair to say that blood is thicker than water; it's more accurate to say that even broken bones are still connected by tendons.

Even after the outbreak of the war, His Majesty George changed his surname to avoid suspicion, in order to show that he was irreconcilably opposed to the Teutonic Empire.

Even after the war began, His Majesty George never imagined that his cousin would do something like this in order to win.

Yes... In order to win, this guy first used poison gas on the battlefield, then had combat engineers use flamethrowers in battle, and even used Zeppelins to bomb London.

But His Majesty George felt that this was all understandable, after all, it was all for the sake of victory.

He himself had approved the production and use of poison gas shells as a response to the Teutons' use of poison gas, and the Royal Navy's aircraft carriers had also attacked the Teutonic naval and airship bases, so they were even.

But this...

His Majesty George looked at the Teutonic newspaper and used the fact that a scientific talent like Joe had joined the army and was even sent to the front as an engineer to mock the Bunitania as a bunch of idiots.

Why would they send someone capable of making such an invention to the front lines instead of keeping them in the lab to invent? Did the Bunitarians think that trenches full of mud and barbed wire were more suitable for scientific research than a laboratory?

At the same time, if such a talent were in the Teutonic Kingdom, even if he joined the army, he would directly obtain a suitable rank, at least starting as a lieutenant, and be assigned to a more suitable position.

For example, the high-tech equipment on the Zeppelin airship that bombed London not long ago was more suitable for someone like Joe. Perhaps on the airship, Joe could make even more useful inventions.

The fact that someone like Joe was sent to the front lines also proves that Bonitania is now desperate and has no one left to use, to the point that they have even sent talented people like Joe to the engineering corps.

Even the Bonitans were able to use this incident as a prime example for propaganda.

This clearly demonstrates that while Bonitania may have been a great country in the past, it is now ruled by a bunch of bastards, beasts, animals, and parasites!

How can we possibly win a war when ruled by such a bunch of insects?!
Through this event, anyone with a modicum of common sense can easily see that the Empire's victory is already on the horizon!
After reading the newspaper, His Majesty George had a dark expression, and only one thought echoed in his mind.

What the hell do you think you are? A Germanic toilet brush, a Hohenzollern scoundrel, a Baltic salted fish head, a Rhine sewer cleaner, a laughingstock of Europe, a Satan's groom, a hellhound! You call yourself the "Teutonic Emperor"? Bah! You're nothing but a mangy dog, Viennese kitchen waste, a Constantinople sewer rat!

Friedrich, you with one arm and one leg, who can't even ride a horse properly, dare to insult me?!

Joe Harrison fought for his country, a man of integrity and loyalty like an ancient knight, and you dare to slander us like this?! Do you have any conscience?! Do you have any respect for the law?! No! I have to do something!
Seeing His Majesty George's increasingly gloomy, fly-like face, Sir Cumming opened his mouth, unsure whether he should reveal that the newspaper wasn't sent back from the Teutons by intelligence agents, but rather obtained from the Vikings in the north.

If even the Vikings in the north, who seemed indifferent to worldly affairs but in reality could only shrug when faced with problems, published this news, then the Teutons had made the whole Old World aware of the matter.

Although as the head of overseas intelligence, he was obligated to tell His Majesty the complete information, judging from His Majesty's current expression and his earlier remark, "Damn Teutons! They're lawless!", as a seasoned intelligence officer, Sir Cumming felt it best not to tell His Majesty too many details.

His Majesty George put down his newspaper and looked at Sir Cumming beside him.

“These damned guys are actually slandering us in the newspapers, even maliciously speculating about Joe’s noble behavior. Do you think we have any way to fight back against them?”

Upon hearing His Majesty George's question, Sir Cumming fell into deep thought.

As the chief of intelligence, Sir Cumming understood perfectly well that while His Majesty spoke of retaliation, he actually wanted to annoy the Teutons.

After all, Sir Cumming had heard a little about Joe's deeds.

It would have been an easy task to annoy the Teutons if one wanted to, but it would be much more difficult to do so by targeting Joe's situation.

In this situation, explanations are useless; the best course of action is to let Joe give the Teutons a sound thrashing on the battlefield, and then publicize the victory.

This would not only make the Teutons suffer once from the loss, but also suffer again from the exposure of their lie.

If the Teutons suffer twice, it's equivalent to the Bunitas winning twice. However, this is risky; if Joe were to die on the battlefield, it would confirm the Teutons' claim.

This is not good for international perception.

After all, on the other side of the ocean in the New World, there was a large, thriving America that had been watching the show from the very beginning of the war.

From the very beginning of the war, almost everyone understood that although the United States claimed to be neutral and just, in reality, these guys were definitely thinking about whoever won and would help them, hoping to get the status of a victorious nation to establish a new post-war order.

Although this method sounds shameless, if it were Sir Cumming, he would definitely have done the same.

It would be bad if the Americans believed the Teutonic nonsense and became astonished by their allies.

However, there aren't any other particularly good ways to annoy the Teutons besides this one, and even if there were, they wouldn't be as effective as this plan in allowing them to win twice.

So... it's better to suffer a little longer, Qiao, and let His Majesty bear the blame.

After Sir Cumming analyzed how to "counterattack" the Teutons based on the current situation.

His Majesty nodded.

“Camin, what you said makes a lot of sense. But don’t worry about Joe getting into trouble. Just a few days ago, he temporarily took command of more than 30 men in the trench warfare and then wiped out two companies of Teutons in the counterattack.”

His Majesty George picked up the report he had been reading again.

"Moreover, Marshal Haig is now preparing to transfer him to our secret unit to use our newly developed secret weapons to give those Teutons a good beating. I have confidence in Joe; he is a hero and deserves this treatment. Since he wants it, then I'll let him give the Teutons a good kick in the ass."

His Majesty George picked up a pen from the table beside him and quickly signed his name on the report.

“He might not be quite ready for the Victoria Cross, but the Medal of Distinguished Conduct is enough for him to receive it again. Once the process for establishing the Order of the British Empire is complete, Joe will be among the first recipients.”

His Majesty George put down the report in his hand, stood up from his chair, and looked at the portraits hanging on the wall of the study. They were portraits of the previous emperors and outstanding prime ministers of Bonitania.

But as His Majesty George looked at these portraits, only one question remained in his mind.

Which ancestor among these people made the process so complicated? All they wanted to do was create a new medal to reward non-combat behavior, and the money was even coming from the imperial treasury. Why did they have to go through such a long process?

Meanwhile, looking at Joe sitting in the small dark room, the military police major was already sweating profusely.

As a military police commander, the major had seen too many people locked in solitary confinement. Even the toughest of the toughest men would shut up and leave as soon as they learned they could leave.

But now, when he told Joe that he was alright and could leave, he actually saw surprise and reluctance in Joe's eyes.

This guy actually said he did something like gathering people to drink alcohol, how can he just let himself off the hook like that?

"My crimes are heinous and I should be dealt with severely and swiftly. Even if I'm not dealt with severely and swiftly, I should at least be locked up for a while longer. It's quite comfortable here, so I won't trouble you two officers. You can go back to where you came from." After saying that, Joe continued to bend down and start carving on the floor of the small dark room with something.

Just as Joe was saying that it was quite comfortable here, the military police major watched as a fat rat scurried past the moldy pile of straw used as a mattress in the corner, showing no fear whatsoever.

If this had happened in an interrogation room, or after the person had been released from solitary confinement, the military police major would have assumed that the guy was being disrespectful and throwing a tantrum.

I have to satisfy him, give him some talent shows, and let him understand why everyone hates the military police, but everyone is also afraid of them.

But Joe is different; this guy seems to be enjoying it...

Oh no, oh no! Not only did my own unit arrest the combat hero who was on the king's radar, but they also drove him insane.

If this gets out, I'll be the one facing a military court!

No! I absolutely cannot let this happen. Even if this guy is going crazy, he can't go crazy in my little dark room.

We must get rid of this guy at all costs!
With the same determination as charging a Teutonic machine gun position, the military police major entered the small, dark room.

A moment later, a bewildered Joe and Major General Parker walked out of the military police camp together, wondering why the military police's procedure for releasing people was so casual.

And his attitude was just too good; even the waiters in London's most luxurious pubs didn't have such a good attitude.

On one hand, they said that their law enforcement work was too rigid, the temporary military police were inexperienced and overreacted, and these guys had to be severely reprimanded!
While apologizing to himself, he dragged him out of the small dark room, praising his own bravery and fearlessness on the battlefield all the way.

This didn't feel like military police letting soldiers out of a small dark room at all. It felt more like special technical workers, after the time was up, saying things like "You're so amazing," "You're the best man I've ever met," and "You must come again next time, I'll be waiting for you," while pulling the person out of their room, as if they were afraid that the person would stay in their room for even a second longer.

Moreover, judging from the shoulder insignia, the person who just arrived was a military police major.

A major actually did this to him, and the reason behind it left Joe completely baffled.

Although I did receive a medal and even made it into the newspaper, this is a bit too much, isn't it?

As Joe stood outside the military police camp, looking completely bewildered, Major General Parker, too, began to feel a growing headache as he looked at Joe.

It's certainly good to have a combat hero in your own unit, as it gives you the confidence to ask those higher-ups for more resources, and might even allow you to get a little exposure in the newspapers, just like before.

But it wouldn't be good if a mentally unstable... well, a combat hero who looks like he's about to go crazy, appeared in his own unit.

If it were an ordinary soldier, it wouldn't matter; their death wouldn't even be mentioned in an obituary.

However, if it is the death of someone who has received a high-ranking medal and whose death has been remembered by His Majesty, then an obituary must be published.

At that point, if those reporters dig any deeper, they'll definitely end up putting all the blame on themselves.

It's too late to withdraw the medal and promotion application now. What other way can I prevent myself from being affected by this crazy guy?
After a moment's thought, Major General Parker came up with an excellent idea.

Isn't this kid about to be promoted? Promotion just means temporarily being transferred away from the original unit. When he comes back after completing his training, he can just say that the unit is already fully replenished and doesn't need anyone else, and that's it, right?

As for the time spent waiting for the promotion notification...

Major General Parker patted Joe on the shoulder.

“Son, you’ve been doing very well lately, so it’s time for you to take a good rest. I’ll give you a sick leave note, so you can go to Paris and relax for a while.”

"what?"

Holding the leave slip personally signed by Major General Parker, Joe stood on the street with a dreamlike, unreal feeling.

The events that had occurred during this period were so fantastical to Joe that he began to wonder if it was all a dream he had in the dark room.

Joe pinched his thigh; it hurt. This wasn't a dream.

Joe raised his hand and scratched his head, not understanding how things had turned out this way.

Is the division commander so free? He actually came to rescue me personally and even granted me leave to go to Paris.

Going to Paris is certainly a good thing, but what about the punishment for violating military discipline?

What happened to the promise of being discharged from the military?
They've almost finished calculating the metal stamping parameters for aluminum cans themselves. The army can't just keep him in the military, can it?

What the hell does this happen?

In the summer of Gaul, Joe stood on the street, lost and confused.

However, this confusion did not last long before Joe patted his face.

Paris, oh, I'm going to Paris! I've heard that Gaulish women are very passionate and outgoing, and they especially like foreign men. I'd better give them a good evaluation.

A smile appeared on Joe's face. He had just taken a step forward when he heard someone call out to him from the side.

"Are you Joe, Joe Harrison?"

Upon hearing the sound, Joe looked in the direction of the sound and saw a messenger standing in front of him, covered in sweat, wearing a dirty military uniform, a mailbag slung over his shoulder, and an equally dirty military cap.

Joe nodded.

"Yes, it's me, Joe. What's up?"

"I have your letter."

The messenger pulled a huge document from the mailbag and handed it to Joe.

"Thank you."

After thanking the messenger, Joe took the thick-looking letter and looked down at it.

"The Expeditionary Force Headquarters?!"

(End of this chapter)