Free Web NovelKarl's movements froze.
"What?"
He jerked his head up, his eyes widening.
"It's organized already?"
"Just finished it."
Sophie leaned back in her chair and yawned.
"That's why I said I needed to rest."
"You—when did you—"
Karl hurriedly tore open the wax seal and pulled a stack of documents from the file bag.
"Where did you get this information?"
"Bought it with money."
Sophie stretched, her tone nonchalant.
"Over on the Usar side, there's an archivist behind the Kaldburg defense line. Well, they call him an archivist, but he's actually just an old veteran banished to watch over the warehouse. His daily job is to sit among a pile of moldy paper and drink low-quality vodka."
She gestured a number with her fingers. freёweɓnovel.com
"Two hundred."
"Just two hundred?"
"Two hundred!" Sophie nodded, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly.
"He probably felt like he'd struck it rich. After all, in a place like Kaldburg, two hundred is enough for him to drink for three months. Besides, the higher-ups are pushing hard now, and I need to settle these messy affairs as quickly as possible."
Sophie sat up straight, her gaze becoming a bit more serious.
"Among the intelligence the Security Bureau requested, there are two most urgent matters. First, concerning the 'ghost of caldberg' who appeared on the battlefield like a phantom—the owner of the file in your hand. Second, concerning the whereabouts of the relics of 'Viscount von Erich'."
Karl stopped flipping through the documents and looked up at her. "Von Erich? That unlucky noble who was burned to death just a few days after going to the battlefield?"
"Yes, that unlucky fellow."
Sophie snorted coldly. "It's said that on the night before the 'Night of Calderburg', this Viscount and his squad were burned to cinders by a fire at the front lines. No body was found alive... well, there was a pile of ash, but several important relics he carried have vanished without a trace. The higher-ups suspect those items fell into the hands of someone in Usar, or are simply on that 'ghost'."
Karl frowned. "So, that's why you were so anxious to uncover the details of the Punishment Camp?"
"I just want to get off work early."
Sophie closed her eyes again. "Look through it first. When you're done, help me pass it along."
Karl spread the documents on the table—or rather, on top of the pile of documents already on the table—and began to flip through them rapidly.
The contents of the file bag were much more than he had expected.
It wasn't just one person's information, but—
"This is... the files for half the Punishment Camp?"
"That old veteran isn't very literate."
"I told him to steal the files related to 'Pavel Ivanovich Sokolov'. He probably thought taking more would show more sincerity, so he stuffed everything from the same cabinet into the package in one go."
"But it's just as well. Given Usar's level of management over the Punishment Camp, they often misspell even the soldiers' names. These files are likely the only remaining original records in all of Usar and Victoriana; it would have been disastrous to take the wrong ones."
Karl didn't reply.
He was already completely immersed in those yellowed, dog-eared files.
Usar Union Third Army, The 404th Independent Mech Punitive Battalion.
Personnel Roster.
He flipped through page by page, his frown deepening.
"...Pyotr Kuznetsov, former Sergeant of the 12th Infantry Regiment. Crime: Insulting the presiding judge during a court-martial. Method: Hit the judge's face with a boot. Note: The boot was for the left foot and was oversized."
Karl's lip twitched.
He continued flipping.
"Dmitry Volkov, former Private of the 5th Engineer Battalion. Crime: Illicitly brewing strong alcoholic beverages within the barracks, leading to the mass poisoning of 117 people in the entire company, three of whom were permanently blinded. Note: The beverage was unanimously rated as 'excellent tasting' by the poisoned victims."
"..."
"Alexei Popov, former Corporal of the Gendarmerie. Crime: Desertion five consecutive times. Note: Captured by the same Gendarme all five times. Upon the fifth capture, the soldier stated, 'We're so familiar now, can't you just pretend you didn't see me this time?'"
Karl was silent for a moment.
"These people..."
"Are indeed all talents."
Sophie shifted her position in the chair, her tone carrying a hint of lazy mockery.
"Usar's Punishment Camp is, after all, a place where they throw the most unwanted people to wait for death. Those who get in are ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ either those who've committed crimes, those who've offended someone, or those who are purely unlucky."
Karl did not respond.
Because he had flipped to the next page.
The quality of the archive paper was even worse than the previous ones; the edges even showed signs of being soaked in water,
and the ink had bled into blurry patches in some places.
A photograph was pasted in the top right corner—black and white, with extremely poor printing quality, as if it had been taken casually with the cheapest equipment.
In the photo was a young man.
To say "young" might not be entirely accurate.
His face was somewhere between a boy and a young man, with a thin profile, slightly high cheekbones, and a sharp jawline.
But what was truly impressive were his eyes—even through this blurry, faded photo, the things in those eyes were uncomfortably clear.
A kind of... sinister gloom.
Like an animal crouching in the shadows, patiently and quietly calculating something.
Karl stared at the photo for a few seconds, then looked down and began to read the text on the file.
"Pavel Ivanovich Sokolov."
His voice lowered unconsciously.
"Gender: Male. Nationality: Usar Union. Year of Birth: Imperial Calendar 1889. Current Age: 21. Place of Birth: Lyubertsy Town, Zalesye Province, Northern Provinces of the Usar Union."
He flipped a page to confirm he hadn't misread it.
"Father: Ivan Nikolaevich Sokolov, blacksmith shop worker in Lyubertsy Town, died of silicosis in the winter of Imperial Calendar 1901. Mother: Ekaterina Sokolova, former textile mill worker in Lyubertsy Town, died of tuberculosis in the spring of Imperial Calendar 1903. No siblings. Taken in by the town's public almshouse after his parents' death, and took to the streets at age thirteen when the almshouse closed."
Karl's gaze moved down.
"In the autumn of Imperial Calendar 1905, arrested by the Gendarmerie for stealing military supplies in the capital of Zalesye Province. After a summary court-martial, sentenced to serve in a front-line Punishment Camp for 'theft of military property'. In the winter of the same year, assigned to the The 404th Independent Mech Punitive Battalion of the Third Army, serial number 404-631."
Karl stopped here.
His gaze lingered on the words "summary court-martial" for an extra two seconds.
"Summary court-martial..."
He murmured, flipped back to the previous page, then back again.
"Sophie, did you notice—there's no record of a defense on this judgment."
"Where would a Punishment Camp case get a defense record?" Sophie said with her eyes closed.
"No."
Karl shook his head, his finger pointing at the paper.
"I mean, there isn't even a formality. In a normal summary trial, even the most perfunctory kind, the dossier would at least have a line of boilerplate like 'defendant waived defense' or 'appointed defense counsel failed to appear'. But this—"
He brought the page closer.
"From arrest to judgment, only three days passed. No defense record, no witness testimony, not even a list of stolen goods attached. Only the Gendarmerie's arrest report and the judge's judgment. Two pages, and that's it."
"So?"
"So, an orphan stole some military supplies, and it was worth the Gendarmerie personally intervening, completing the entire process within three days, and then throwing him directly into the Punishment Camp?"
There was a hint of confusion in Karl's tone.
"What kind of place is the Punishment Camp? It's for deserters, murderers, and traitors. For a petty thief who steals things, under normal circumstances, they'd be sentenced to a hard labor camp at most. It would never be their turn for the Punishment Camp."
Sophie was silent for a while.
"What are you trying to say?"
"I'm not trying to say anything."
Karl put the page down. "I just think this judgment... was too fast, and too heavy. It's as if someone was in a hurry to get rid of him."
"Maybe the judge was just in a bad mood that day."
Sophie's tone was hard to read, whether she was being serious or perfunctory. "It's not like you don't know Usar's military courts; the judgment results all depend on whether the judge has had enough to eat."
Karl did not press further.
He knew Sophie's habits—she wouldn't make any inferences without evidence.
But he also noticed that when Sophie said this, her closed eyelids twitched slightly.
He continued reading.
"Piloted Model: thug-iv. The remarks column says—'Stitched modification, unknown source of parts, multiple maintenance records missing'."
He frowned and continued looking down.
"Combat Evaluation..."
The handwriting in this column had changed several times, obviously filled in by different people at different times.
Karl read through them one by one.
The earliest few entries were very brief, routine attendance records.
"Participated in defense line patrol on 【Month】 【Day】"
"Participated in logistics transfer on 【Month】 【Day】"
—And so on, without any special remarks regarding combat performance.
From his assignment last winter until before the Month of Twin Stars this year, for nearly half a year, Pavel Ivanovich Sokolov was, on paper, a cannon fodder of the Punishment Camp, as ordinary as could be.
Then, the Month of Twin Stars arrived.
