Chapter:3 Norden 2

THE SAME DAY, SOMEWHERE AT IMPERIAL ARMY

HEADQUARTERS IN NORDEN

The chill of Norden naturally urges people to prepare for it obsessively.

That said, it’s a pleasant fixation. A fire blazing in the hearth, its warmth

filling the room, is an indispensable feature of a quiet Norden winter.

“Welcome to Norden. Or I suppose I should say, ‘Welcome back’?

We’re happy to have you, Major von Degurechaff.”

“Yes, returning to this battlefield does bring back memories. I’m eager

to serve under you, General von Rudersdorf.”

There is something off about the General Staff officers and their

extremely serious expressions while they are having that utterly out-ofplace

exchange. Of course, Major General von Rudersdorf and Major von

Degurechaff have simply both judged that it is easier to speak pragmatically

with each other, so they hit it off relatively quickly.

“…Now then, let me tell you what a wonderful job I think you’re doing

right out of the gate. I heard from Colonel von Lergen—it’s quite the

achievement.”

“I’m honored, sir.”

“Ah, but I expected nothing less. I knew having Zettour send you here

was the right move.”

The cooperative relationship between these two geniuses within the

General Staff really is something. For better or worse, the only one who can

get their way with the deputy director of the Service Corps is his cohort or

his boss. Since Zettour had to be persuaded for her to be dispatched, she

inwardly braces herself to be worked to the bone by the deputy director of

Operations.

“We’d like you to cut loose up here, too.”

“I’ll do all I can, though it may not be much.”

“That’s fine. Then let’s get down to brass tacks.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Does your unit have experience conducting attack missions on enemy

positions?”

“A handful of our core members have some experience from the Rhine

front, but that’s it. In Dacia, we mainly did air raids, and even then it wasn’t

many.”

“So it’s more or less as I feared… But you at least understand how it’s

done in theory, right?”

“Yes, sir. I learned with 205th Company on the Rhine front.”

“All right, then I’ll be frank. I want you to think of this as an airborne

operation. Major, we’re probably going to have your unit seize the enemy

defense line.”

“You mean push them back? Whatever your orders, I’d like to get

started right away.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, but I imagine you’ll need to make

careful preparations. I’d like you to focus on training for a while.”

“Thank you! But are you sure that’s all right?”

“It’s fine—I’ll work you hard when the time comes.”

“Yes, sir. I promise you we’ll be ready in every possible way.”

THE PRESENT: ON PAPER

Londinium Times special correspondent Jeffrey told us about a theory he

had regarding the Eleventh Goddess.

In general, he thought the notion of its existence had some truth to it.

Although it wasn’t a very pleasant prospect, he considered the possibility to

be reasonably high.

Today I wanted to see whether it was nothing more than a battlefield

rumor or if it had any basis in reality.

All the people we asked related to the Eleventh Goddess refused to

comment on its existence.

Normally, most people would deny or confirm, but no one wanted to

talk about it at all.

The refusals were so firm.

“Is it something the army is ashamed of?”

When we asked that question, a retired general who had been silent up

until then pounded the table almost hard enough to break it.

He leaped to his feet, and the grimace on his face made him look just

like an ogre.

We shrank back in spite of ourselves; the retired general’s rage was that

terrible.

“There’s a world that people like you can’t understand! You weren’t on

that battlefield!” he barked, kicking his chair away as if even talking to us

was offensive.

Strangely enough, the other retired officers present also all stood up at

the same time.

It was as if they were all communicating their unanimous agreement by

way of their silence. I confess things got pretty awkward then.

So this much is true.

But if we rely solely on what we’ve seen in person to talk about the

truth, we won’t learn anything new. That’s why I’d like to discuss the data

and theory Jeffrey brought us.

Jeffrey says the first time the Eleventh Goddess was spotted by the

Commonwealth wasn’t in the west but in the north.

How?

Up until the big counterattack operation in the north at the end of the

war, the Commonwealth had concentrated their efforts on the western lines.

So how did the Commonwealth see the Eleventh Goddess up north when

she should have been in the west?

The answer, according to Jeffrey, is simple.

Before the Commonwealth officially joined the war, they sent an

expeditionary unit to the Regadonia Entente Alliance in utmost secret.

Yes, the Commonwealth assisted in combat before formally declaring

war.

People have always whispered rumors, but apparently it’s true. We have

the documentation to prove it. The national archives were a formidable

opponent, but they’ve already agreed to release the materials.

What was going on back then? We discovered this truth while in pursuit

of an answer to that question. Apparently, the Commonwealth had decided

to intervene while the Republic and Empire were busy clashing. The

national defense committee recommended gathering intelligence in actual

combat in order to better understand a future enemy.

In response, a “volunteer army” consisting mainly of a small number of

mage units was dispatched to Regadonia. In order to dodge accusations of

violating international law, the force consisted mostly of retired officers and

soldiers who “independently” volunteered and had gathered “on their own

authority.” The archives still refuse to release the details. Right now, what

we know from speaking with those involved is that a regiment-sized group

of mages was deployed. So maybe this had something to do with it.

At the time, the Commonwealth was a neutral country. Even if the

growing mage shortage had yet to become a major consideration the way it

did during the middle of the war, the fact that so many went was surprising.

This “volunteer army” was big by any measure.

Naturally, we can see there were political quarrels. And apparently, the

volunteers were brutally annihilated. That was the worst part. After

suffering the loss of precious combat mages, they had to bury the

clandestine intervention.

This is where we start to see references to the Eleventh Goddess. In his

report, the commander of the volunteer army says that’s what got them. So

we started to wonder: Is the Eleventh Goddess a person? Or is it some

specialized term?

Jeffrey’s take on this point is simple.

“Supply hell” is exactly eleven characters when you include the space.

In other words, it was a euphemistic way to complain about the leadership’s

management in a situation where a more open comment wouldn’t have been

tolerated. That would definitely be something for the army to be ashamed

of, right? Then again, “mass mutiny” would also work. In any case, they

must want to hide some sort of organizational failure.

In short, Jeffrey posits that the Eleventh Goddess was not a person but a

phenomenon.

Honestly, I simply can’t agree. I was embedded on the western front,

and from what I remember, supplies were coming in as well as could be

expected. And discipline seemed fine from what I could see. Of course, I’m

only one reporter, but I’ve been at it a long time, so I should be able to tell.

More than anything, there was an abnormal number of casualties on the

western front. No, you could say that abnormal became the norm; it was

like another dimension out there. It wouldn’t be surprising to find out a

devil had been on the rampage. And so our debate has gotten nowhere.

Well, the Londinium Times sort of serves as a watchdog keeping an eye

on the government. WTN specializes in offering news from abroad, so

maybe we just have different viewpoints.

Anyhow, I’d like us to keep investigating this. Lastly, I’d also like to say

how blessed I am to have such an understanding wife.

Well then, until next week.

*Andrew, WTN special correspondent

NOVEMBER 16, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, NORTHERN

ARMY GROUP COMMAND, STAFF MEETING ROOM

I don’t know what era he was from, but some great man once warned us:

“Victory is like a drug.”

Military triumph brings radiant glory and a most splendid intoxication to

a nation. For that reason, when people are drunk on victory, they think only

of getting more. Soon, no one is allowed to ask what the victory is for.

Military romanticism has a violent effect on countries.

That’s why no one likes pragmatic soldiers. They’re lucky to get off

with being called cowards.

“Thus, I think avoiding losses and keeping casualties to a minimum is

desirable.”

Drawn on the map is the Imperial Army pulling back. Mounting a

predictable pursuit is, naturally, the enemy army. It’s a proposal to retreat so

as not to put too great a strain on the supply lines. If a normal officer were

to suggest this plan, they would have to be prepared for an immediate string

of names worse than coward.

And the meeting room did freeze for a moment. With no idea when

Colonel General von Wragell might explode in his seat at the head of the

table, Lieutenant General and Chief of Staff von Schreise was inwardly

annoyed, but at the same time, the atmosphere was so tense he wanted to

bury his head in his hands.

“By moving the lines back, I believe we can lessen the inevitable burden

of distance on logistics as well as simplify plans for a spring offensive.”

But Tanya, who had purposely ignored the atmosphere and stated her

thoughts on the matter, quietly takes her seat. Acting like she has finished

her report, her impassive Noh-mask face is unreadable while she

completely ignores the staffers’ stares.

Actually, no matter how stormy it gets in the Northern Army Group

meeting room, I simply can’t seriously see it as something that has anything

to do with Tanya. Her battalion has carried out its mission and has already

returned to its garrison for the moment. She’s only present because Major

General von Rudersdorf ordered her to attend since she had time.

When it comes down to it, Tanya is a part of the Central Army, serving

directly under the General Staff, so she doesn’t have a place in the Northern

Army Group chain of command. And that’s precisely why she proposed, as

a bit of advice, that they use this time to shorten and consolidate their lines.

Really, I didn’t mean to interfere so much at first. Rudersdorf was there

from the Operations Division of the General Staff—I figured being pushy

was his job.

A major general in the General Staff serving as section chief has far

more influence than the rank indicates, so I thought I would politely listen

to him speak. But then, ahead of the meeting, he declared he would like to

hear the opinions of officers from the field, and several brigade

commanders were selected to comment. Perhaps their reports didn’t satisfy

him? Even though it would be easier to count up to her rank from the

bottom, the ball had been passed to her.

In that case, I felt I should probably show these hemming and hawing

numbskulls, who can’t offer a straight remark, how it’s done. The only ones

who don’t give their opinions at meetings are the inept or idiots too worried

about what everyone else thinks. That said, there are also times where

someone has to stand up and bear the brunt of the silent majority’s pent-up

frustration. The fact that someone has to be forced into this role,

reminiscent of the ship that draws fire away from the rest of the fleet, is a

problem that will no doubt plague all organizations forever.

And if the boss of the group dispatched from Central is going to keep his

mouth shut, then the role of the scapegoat falls to me, another person who

hails from Central, with field achievements to boot. It’s aggravating but

true.

First of all, I repulsed a regiment-sized assault. That’s a solid feat no one

can deny. In addition, my considerable accomplishments in Dacia as a

mobile strike specialist ought to lend some weight to my comment.

My battalion did its best. They’re a real bunch of war nuts, but they gave

their all. We turned back a regiment and shot down their bombers. We can

be proud of the serious blow we dealt to the enemy.

“Hmm, Major von Degurechaff’s proposal is quite novel… What is the

Northern Army Group’s take on the logistics involved?”

“Quite novel?” He has thicker skin than I thought.

But I suppose Central can’t come out and say that the supply lines are

dangerously overextended. Our now-dismissed predecessors, dreaming of

smashing the encirclement, mobilized the Great Army with gear appropriate

for fighting in the north, only for them to hastily deploy to the Rhine front.

It’s not just General von Rudersdorf—no one could ask whose fault the

messy supply lines were, because the blame lay with their predecessors’

blunders.

On the other hand, if it was simply an organizational failure, the problem

shouldn’t require Central to handle it so delicately. The issue at hand is that

the Empire is panicking, and the enemy is taking advantage of that. Winter

is already on its way, and partially because the Imperial Army’s Northern

Army Group is lacking supplies it needs to weather Norden’s cold, the

Empire’s movements are becoming severely limited. The Entente Alliance,

of course, is on its home turf, so its commandos are dominating and

constantly conducting guerrilla attacks on the Empire’s supply bases.

Security at small depots is already in shambles and growing difficult to

maintain. But the soldiers still need bread if they are going to march on the

enemy logistics base.

If it were a tactical disadvantage we needed to fix, commanders would

still have room to work. Or if simply fighting hard could solve things. But

the supplies in a burned-down depot can’t be recovered. The conclusion I

reached is simple. It isn’t clear if the Imperial Army has enough supplies to

survive the winter. The supplies exist, but they need to be carefully

managed.

And that time could be used to reorganize the lines. Aha, so that’s why

he suggested I make careful preparations before the airborne assault on the

enemy. If you want to buy time with harassing attacks, airborne operations

are an effective option.

But Tanya is (I am) not very well-informed when it comes to the average

human psyche. Of course, she would come at this from the perspective of

her own unit’s airborne assault in the spring offensive.

But that’s why if I’m here, I have to sound the alarm about the danger

regarding our winter supply preparations—and declare that aiming for a

swift end to the war is too great a risk.

General Jekof von Schreise just barely keeps himself from losing his

temper as he thoroughly reviews the plan as chief of staff for the Northern

Army Group. At the same time, the part of him that remains cool and

rational screams in his mind about how bad this is.

Really, this proposal is only that and nothing more. In other words, it’s

simply one possible option. General von Schreise is a veteran who has

worked his way up in the Imperial Army’s meritocracy. He can see that

despite having its main force, the Great Army, pulled out and the local

numerical inferiority of its mages, the Empire still has a clear advantage

over the Entente Alliance.

Certainly, he understands that the burning of bases supplying the front

lines, including small depots, was a thorn in his side. He’s relieved that after

they shed some enemy mage blood, the raids should stop. But at the same

time, he’s equally worried about the supply issues on the front lines. No, it’s

not as if he isn’t already aware of the problems.

But to have it smugly pointed out by Major von Degurechaff, dispatched

from Central, is another issue.

“Major von Degurechaff, I’d like to confirm something.” After a

moment, a Logistics officer speaks. “Are you envisioning us digging in,

then waiting out winter?”

“Yes,” she replies calmly. Her tone is rather matter-of-fact. “At present,

we can’t maintain the supply lines. We’re under no obligation to please the

enemy by wasting matériel and men in a futile offensive.”

Schreise looked at the Logistics and Operations staffers. As he expected,

Logistics was resisting the urge to shout her down with obvious displeasure

and expressions that seemed to say they weren’t buying her plan.

After all, even the lowliest private knew there weren’t enough supplies

—you didn’t even need security clearance to realize that.

It wasn’t as if this Logistics staff was extraordinarily skilled, but they

were capable of approaching supplies with common sense. They understood

quite well that they didn’t have enough matériel. They also knew that even

if the chaos was due to an error on Central’s part, the ones who made the

error in the first place had already been dismissed. Their continued

dissatisfaction had to mean that Degurechaff’s appearance was affecting

their judgment. Nobody wanted to be the kind of adult who whaled on a

little kid. If Rudersdorf knew that and was having Tanya speak up for that

reason, he was quite the crafty fellow.

But though the Operations staff were restraining themselves, their masks

were beginning to crack, showing the limits of their tolerance. This would

surprise no one, but their purpose was different from that of Logistics.

Every day the other army groups would pressure them, asking how much

longer they were going to drag out the conflict. After all, Dacia, with about

the same number of troops committed to the theater, had fallen in six weeks.

The criticism of the Northern Army Group “still fighting up there” was

growing sharper with every passing day.

“Major von Degurechaff, if we did that, we’d be losing time.”

“Huh?”

There were all manner of expressions around the table, but on the whole,

everyone was waiting to see what would happen.

The Operations staff especially were looking to Schreise so as to

understand their boss’s intention.

Schreise nodded and pressed his point. “It’ll be a new year soon. We

don’t want a long war. And we don’t want to exhaust supplies, nor can we

continue tying up troops here.”

Operations continued, imparting internal details of the northern forces’

struggles. Commander Ragheno of the Northern Army Group expressed his

agreement with a nod, and Schreise felt some of the tension go out of his

shoulders. Apparently, the desire to put a swift end to the war wasn’t only

the wish of Operations but a view shared by high command as well. That

must have meant that the northern forces agreed on time being the primary

concern, at least. And that’s why he glared at Rudersdorf, shameless and

cheerfully listening to their debate with a smile plastered on his face; he

wanted to figure out what the man was really after.

“The enemy faces the same conditions.” Operations had raised their

objections in a near panic, but her reply was cool and calm. Degurechaff,

completely unfazed by all the eyes on her, gave a deadpan counterargument.

“Rather than wasting our resources in enemy territory, we should wait

for a chance to settle it in one decisive strike.”

“Logistics can’t take it.” Her suggestion was made with their

circumstances in mind. Of course, that’s why she proposed shrinking their

lines. But she hadn’t arrived at this solution by groping around in the dark;

her attitude said that she fully believed it was their only option. She

couldn’t so much as lend an ear to the suggestions of the Operations

officers who wanted to escape this phase of the war by bringing it to a swift

end. No, the expression on her delicate face said she thought their plan was

stupid.

“The minute you sally forth, you’ll already have gone as far as you can

go.”

Pressing lightly on his right temple, Schreise glared at the Logistics

staff.

They had guaranteed the supplies would cover a short offensive. The

problem was that the guarantee was for availability, and that was it.

Nobody had presented him with a foolproof plan for actually delivering

those supplies to the units that would be advancing at the edge of the front

lines.

“We can cover a short offensive without issue. We’ve secured almost all

the provisions we need for the front.”

Catching his glance, the Logistics officers mentioned they had enough

standard ammunition for two battles and rations for three weeks. They had

baseline levels of aviation and general-purpose fuel. Their numbers showed

the army group could fight for three weeks. Three weeks. Now that the

northern front had been reorganized and the units were preparing for an

offensive, if they launched a big push, they could wrap it up within that

time. The enemy’s reserve forces had already run dry, so if they could just

take care of the rest on the front with a large offensive…

But Degurechaff replied without even furrowing her brow at their

reports. “I’m against it. The enemy is putting up stiff resistance. I really

don’t think we’ll be able to break through in such a short time.” She flatly

rejected the idea, as if she thought it was simply unreasonable. “Once the

troops get more than twenty kilometers from the light-rail, we’ll be forced

to maintain the supply lines with sheer manpower. A steady winter advance

is practically out of the question.” She heaved a pointed sigh.

A few of the officers winced, but Schreise stood his ground even under

her scathing critique.

He was sure that mopping up enemy remnants would take a week at

most. Even in the worst case, he didn’t think the enemy could hold out

against a major offensive for three weeks. The one worrisome element, the

enemy mage commandos, had been mostly neutralized. Ironically, the one

who had played a major part in taking them out was the one stubbornly

disagreeing with him, Major von Degurechaff.

Even the logistics situation could be ameliorated if field engineers

performed road maintenance and laid down more light-rail. Frankly, the

staunch objection from the Central officers was just a pain in the neck at

this point. If he could find a way to get rid of them, he would keep holding

out.

“You have a point, but the enemy is too worn down to put up a fight.

You’re the one who achieved a victory despite being outnumbered two to

one. Do you really think you need to be so scared of the Entente Alliance?”

After all, in terms of mage casualties, too, the enemy army had long

exceeded their limits. Even if the other powers were intervening to some

extent, when a newly formed imperial mage battalion could drive off a

whole Entente Alliance regiment, it said something about the state of their

opponent’s affairs.

The enemy’s major line of defense only mounted sporadic attacks.

Capturing the entirety of the Entente Alliance was only a matter of time. A

few intelligence staffers tried to coax Tanya.

“We’re winning on the strength and quality of our troops. We should

make our move now instead of burning through our limited supplies doing

nothing.”

The intelligence they’d gathered from enemy prisoners indicated that

their opponents were hard up for not only weapons and ammunition but

even food. Intelligence had already decided that the enemy army had lost

the ability to fight as a cohesive whole.

Rather than camp out across the way, the Northern Army Group wanted

to decisively end the conflict before the winter set in, but because of one

stubborn major, the debate had been dragged out. What an enormous waste

of time.

Schreise couldn’t be the only one thinking that he would have thrown

her out immediately if she weren’t a representative of the Central Army’s

view.

“Really? Personally, I can only recall two battalions worn out by our

fellow soldiers’ efforts and an unsupported group about the size of an

augmented company.”

Intelligence’s coaxing only earned them a reply that ruined their

schemes.

If she hadn’t achieved anything, then they could kick her out for clearly

being a brat who knew nothing of the battlefield. Beneath Schreise’s

dignified exterior, he was gnashing his teeth. Her achievements were

extraordinary.

This was always how it went. The Central Army Group was constantly

pushing the regional army groups around with orders that weren’t

appropriate to their actual circumstances. But Rudersdorf, Schreise’s junior

at war college, had been whispering in his ear how futile it was to refuse to

cooperate with Central. The delicate issue was that Schreise’s superior

officer—commander of the Northern Army Group, Colonel General von

Wragell—was very angry.

Though he was getting on in years, the veteran who had long been

defending the north was furious that the Entente Alliance was trying to

trample his home, his fatherland, but he flung curses at the General Staff in

equal measure for their repeated errors. So whenever Schreise thought of

his boss, who wanted so much to crush this threat with his own hands, he

felt depressed.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you overcame an enemy that

outnumbered you. You slaughtered a group double your size.”

“The only confirmed kills were less than the company’s worth. It was

less defeating them and more just barely driving them off.”

The magic staffers frowned as Degurechaff indirectly emphasized that

her battalion had driven the enemy off. After that, the Northern Army Group

had pursued and achieved as good as nothing. They were to the point of

counting anyone they injured even slightly as a confirmed kill, whereas the

Central Army was underreporting.

They’d been granted a concession. He knew they were on the receiving

end of some kind consideration for their reputation. They were listed as

having downed a battalion, but the score mostly belonged to the Central

Army troops. Only a few people were aware of the behind-the-scenes

dealings.

That’s why, as most of those present looked perplexed, Schreise shot the

mage staffers a look. You owe them, so shut her up!

A staff officer’s job is to come up with a concrete plan to actualize the

higher-ranking officers’ intentions. So he tried to persuade Degurechaff

again. Please just understand your superiors’ wishes and relax your stance!

“You can say that, but in our battle together, the truth is that you achieved

the most with your fierce fighting.” Hadn’t her dedicated struggle changed

the tides of the war? “You say it was only a company, but that company was

the core of the enemy’s only mage commando unit. That’s the same as

taking out the supporting pillar of the whole regiment!” Hadn’t she

admirably defeated them? “Major von Degurechaff, I welcome your

prudence, but I think you and your battalion would be able to guard the

supply lines.” If anyone could do it, surely the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion

could!

He obliquely implied that the contributions of her and her battalion were

very highly regarded. Even if I’m ignoring your cautionary arguments, I’m

not failing to appreciate the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. A high-ranking

field officer wearing the staff braid was, strangely enough, flattering

someone who was still only a major, though wearing the staff badge.

Work with me here, please.

He stared at Major von Degurechaff with the same silent wish as

everyone else, careful not to let her suspect how much pressure he was

trying to put on her. She asked permission to speak, as if nothing was out of

the ordinary, and stood casually.

“I don’t even know what to say in response to such undeserved praise.”

Does she get it?

Yes, it was just as everyone was sighing in relief and the tense

atmosphere began to relax that…

“But as far as I can tell, Entente Alliance Army command units are a

mixture of infantry and mages, so I don’t think downing a single company

will hinder their activities very much.”

“…What do you mean, Major von Degurechaff?”

“Sir, it’s true that in local skirmishes my battalion has emerged

victorious. But that group was the same one our troops fought hard to

exhaust and isolate. We drove off an enemy weakened by consecutive

battles, so I hardly think you can say my battalion took the brunt of their

attack.”

Can’t you even drive off a weakened enemy? she seemed to say with a

hint of nastiness. Probably not on purpose.

“…You’re very humble, aren’t you?” one of the staff officers murmured,

curling the corners of his mouth into a smile that was more of a sneer.

Normally, they would scold her. That’s what everyone was thinking, but

they all hesitated. Scold her for what? Disturbing the harmony of the officer

group? But all she had done was share her opinion on a military situation.

Silencing her would go against the staff officer traditions that the Empire,

the Reich, was so proud of.

The one who broke the silence in that awkward atmosphere was the very

person who had created the tense mood. “No, Colonel. I’m just answering

based on the facts.” Major von Degurechaff glared at the high-ranking

staffers. Well, it was proper etiquette to look a superior in the eye when

addressing them.

But when a mage who had been steeping in gunsmoke and blood on the

battlefield until just recently began staring you down, that was a different

story.

A few rash magic officers—no doubt unconsciously—reached for their

computation orbs.

“That’s about enough of that.” Any more is too much, Schreise decided

and interrupted. Piercing his subordinate with his gaze, he continued as a

mediator between the two. “We understand Major von Degurechaff’s

opinion now. And her fears are worth listening to, in part, but our pressing

topic right now is bringing the war to a swift end.”

They’d already let her yap this much. They understood the Central

Army’s position so well it made them sick. Honestly, it bothered him more

than anything in the world, but he could understand where she was coming

from. For a mere major to protest so stubbornly in a room full of superior

officers, she must have been under some strict orders. Schreise had never

seen a major with such a big head without making light of him.

So the little messenger needs to pipe down. He gave her a resolute stare.

“It is my duty to firmly object. The goal of lessening the load for each

regional army group could backfire and result in a larger burden.”

But surprisingly, it had no effect on her. Without hesitating even a little,

she—a mere battalion commander—matter-of-factly gave her opinion to the

staff and even had the audacity to disagree with them.

Even with the sacred, inviolable General Staff’s power behind her, she

was nearing an inexcusable challenge to authority.

A head could be allowed to swell only so far. There’s a limit to what can

be tolerated, even for recipients of the Silver Wings Assault Badge! Though

he wanted to scream at her and chew her out, he suppressed his fury and

said, “Our intention is to lessen the load on the troops. Major, please refrain

from rash remarks.”

The major, though still rather new, was readily crossing a line of which

all graduates from the war college should have been aware. She was

protesting too much. If they weren’t in a war zone, it would most certainly

not be allowed to stand.

This sort of behavior could only escape rebuke on a battlefield. It was

practically an outrage, wasn’t it? Indignant, the officers turned their anger

on her with violent glares.

But even under such silent censure, Degurechaff made a bold move. She

lifted the coffee cup she had been served for the staff meeting, eyed the

milk and sugar on the table, and murmured, “…In the west, our troops are

drinking dirty water, starving and suffering in the mud. The north is so

blessed…”

To the officers watching her, hanging on her every word, the smile on

her lips was both offensive and profoundly meaningful. At the same time,

she scanned the room with an expression that seemed to ask what exactly

they were all trying to say from their seats in this comfortable office. Her

face did the talking.

“Naturally, I don’t think that affects how much you care about the

troops…”

That comment was the last straw for Schreise.

The Central Army was always making unreasonable demands on the

regional army groups. He couldn’t take any more of this interference.

Without realizing it, he had kicked his chair away and stood up. He

wouldn’t listen to any more of her mouthing off.

“…Major! If you’re going to talk like that, then go back to the west! We

don’t need any cowards in the north.”

“Is that the will of the Northern Army Group?”

“That’s enough!”

He realized he was shouting at an officer. He was seized by the urge to

kick her out. Most of the others in the momentarily silent room held their

tongues, but they felt the same way.

Then, with a despicable calm, Degurechaff snapped off a splendid

salute.

“Then if you’ll excuse me.”

With that, she straightened up smoothly and bowed. They could hardly

believe it, but she approached the door with fluid motions and exited the

room. No one tried to stop her.

NORDEN HQ, MAJOR GENERAL VON RUDERSDORF’S

OFFICE

It was after Major von Degurechaff had politely thrown down her gauntlet

and left the meeting with no way to vent her rage. Hearing that she had

asked to see him with utmost urgency, Major General von Rudersdorf

nodded. Just as I thought. She never disappointed, so he was fond of her.

That’s what she had to do.

“I know what you’re going to say.”

That’s why he implicitly stated they would get right to the point. Do

away with the empty formalities and spit it out.

“Sir, frankly, considering the situation we’re in, an offensive is reckless!

Why don’t you stop it?”

“Major, I want you to tell me what you really think.”

She raises these indirect objections.

Yes, it was amusing to watch her maintain composure and deliver her

opinion with all the correct etiquette despite the anger seething in her eyes.

But he didn’t want to hear tactful, formulaic thoughts.

“Respectfully, sir, I’m a staff officer. I don’t believe I’m in a position to

say any more.”

“I see. You’re very easy to understand. Speak freely.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He’d urged her to speak her mind, but he accepted her polite yet also

sharp response.

Aha, so her criticism is so intense that it would be inexcusable for a staff

officer to give it voice? That’s an interesting way to get your point across.

Though she didn’t say exactly what was on her mind, she’d conveyed

her thoughts with a single indirect remark.

“So this is why Zettour thinks so highly of you, Major. Splendid. Now

let’s get down to business.”

Zettour would be thrilled. I see. Work goes smoothly with a mage who

has strategy on her radar and is also an outstanding battalion commander.

“What would you think about this offensive if you considered it as a

distraction, Major?”

“It’d be an almost perfectly timed supporting attack… Ah, but do you

mean as a decoy, assuming another main attack?”

She’s got a decent head on her shoulders. She’s quick, and more

importantly, she has the smarts to put what I’m trying to say together with

what she already knows. She’s one of the rare talents who has the steady

composure of a staff officer plus the courage of a commander.

“Evaluate the effects it will have on the various fronts.”

“At the very least, the Republic and its supporting countries will keep an

eye on the exchange in Norden, but being able to distract them from

offensive preparations doesn’t give us a very large benefit… So then, is

there a real operation in Norden? No, the supply lines couldn’t possibly…”

The way she lost herself in thought, as if she had forgotten her rage of a

moment ago, displayed the calm sensibility that was a quality greatly

desired in staff officers. Not many people could think on command under

the cool eyes of a third party. And that’s why those few exceptional

individuals were always welcome in the Imperial Army.

“And if it goes well, we might even be able to tie up the enemy

reinforcements.”

“With all due respect, sir…I don’t see how launching an offensive with

the objective of tying up enemy reinforcements would help other fronts. I

don’t think the forces involved on this front would send out enough

reinforcements to affect the Rhine front…which means the offensive should

be a feint with some strategic goal in Norden.”

When he told her to work out the meaning of the Northern Group

Army’s offensive, to which they were opposed, she arrived calmly at the

idea of a feint in Norden. Impressive, Rudersdorf thought and inwardly

raised his opinion of her.

“Hmm, continue.”

“To be blunt, are you thinking of occupying territory behind enemy

lines? I was ordered to prepare for an airborne assault…so we’d need some

sort of diversion and then we’d… In the rear? Is it the rear?”

But a conversation is a two-way street. At the same time Rudersdorf is

reading between the lines, so is Tanya. She’s thinking that she’s seen and

heard something like this before, and she finally manages to salvage the

memory from the deepest corners of her mind.

“What is it, Major?”

Letting Rudersdorf’s question slip by at the outer edges of her

consciousness, Tanya assembles the fragments of the memory she’s seized.

Tying up enemy forces on the front lines. A feint. An assault on the rear.

Remember. I know I’ve heard something like this somewhere before. And it

was the kind of news I really like to hear…

Where? Where did I hear it? No, I could have heard it or read it. But I

know I’ve encountered it before.

“Behind, back… Supply lines? Yes, their supply. Cutting it off?” As the

pieces come together, she mumbles without realizing it. She shuts out even

the way Rudersdorf’s face stiffens in shock as she speaks and focuses her

thoughts.

The back, yes, something from behind? It was— Right, a thoroughly

delightful kick from the rear.

Suddenly, a word appears in her mind.

Inchon? Yes, Inchon.

…That’s it. That immensely pleasurable commie ass kicking. MacArthur

pulled off a miracle with his meager talent: the Battle of Inchon. They made

a large-scale encirclement and cut off the enemy from behind. It was a

decisive strike that caused the North Korean army to collapse.

A great reversal from the annals of world history, where capitalism

smote evil communism!

“Sir, if the main enemy forces are concentrated along the front lines,

then wouldn’t a land operation in the rear be one way to end this?”

It seems as though she has just now remembered Rudersdorf’s existence,

but her sudden query and calm tone appear contrary to her overflowing

confidence.

Thinking of the Battle of Inchon, she realizes the invigorating,

admirable strategy of kicking numbskull commie asses from behind could

be employed against enemies other than communists. After all, it’s a way to

completely encircle the enemy and get their own logistics organized. If

there’s anything wrong with the plan, it’s that it requires absolute control of

the sea and the absence of the enemy’s main force…

“A large-scale amphibious operation in the rear followed by

encirclement to sever their supply chain. So the offensive would be a

diversion for the landing operation?”

To Tanya, all she has done is rediscover historical fact, which is why she

forgot that in this world, it’s merely a concept; it hasn’t turned into history

yet.

So Rudersdorf felt unfathomable shock as Degurechaff mentioned it

with such calm nonchalance, as if it were already a foregone conclusion.

But Tanya completely missed that.

After all, from Rudersdorf’s point of view, the amphibious landing was a

secret plan he’d only mentioned to a select few, and now a staff officer on

the lower end of the middle ranks was suggesting it to him as if it were a

simple answer. He stopped the muscles in his face from twitching through

sheer power of will. Still wondering where she’d gotten that idea, he

cautiously asked, “Did you hear that from General von Zettour?”

“Hmm? I’m not sure I understand what you mean, sir.”

But Degurechaff gave a puzzled response. It wasn’t as if Rudersdorf

could read all the emotions and thoughts of his subordinates, but going by

his experience, he judged this was a genuine reaction and was immediately

aware of his misunderstanding. The officer in front of him hadn’t heard it

from Zettour.

So then, could it be?

No, he thought…but the question welled up inside him: Did she come up

with the idea to do a large-scale landing operation in the rear on her own?

“Did you come up with that yourself?”

“Yes, sir. Considering our situation, I thought it seemed like an effective

option.”

“…I suppose I should say that’s a very interesting idea.”

She confirmed it so readily. It was all Rudersdorf could do to conceal his

emotions. As he worked to maintain his facade, he was astonished that she

had come up with it, but at the same time, he could now understand how

she had been able to make a convincing strategic argument regarding

transportation even back at the academy.

So that’s why, he understood. You can see that much? He was

flabbergasted. Either way, she was a terribly promising officer.

“All right. Yes, we’re going to use your unit. Major, transfer orders.

Your battalion is to stand by at the naval base.”

“Yes, sir. Understood.”

He watched Degurechaff as she calmly nodded in acceptance of her

orders; she seemed just like a child happy to be sent on a little errand. And I

gave this child the orders as easily as if I were sending her to do just that…

…Ahh, you never know what will happen in a war.

“You’ll drop in ahead of the landing party and be the vanguard for the

army. I’m expecting great things from you, Major.”

Having someone this smart head up the vanguard… Not too shabby. We

should be able to expect a lot from the tip of this spear.

“But may I ask something, sir?”

“What is it, Major?”

“If this was your plan all along, then you didn’t really need to suggest I

put a check on the Northern Army Group’s offensive, did you?”

Hmm, she’s right. Not that he hadn’t thought of that. He didn’t really

want to call for a halt on the Northern Army Group’s offensive and create ill

will, especially when he had heard from Lieutenant General von Schreise

that Colonel General von Wragell was about to explode.

But as Zettour had told him, there were pros and cons to both bending

over backward to attack and bending over backward to avoid attacking. For

Operations, fewer fronts would give them an easier time, but the Service

Corps had to worry about supplying the troops regardless.

“Well, it was General von Zettour’s condition.”

“What?”

He didn’t particularly think he needed to hide the fact. Or rather, he

figured she would find out anyway, and telling her now would be an act of

goodwill toward a fellow member of the General Staff.

“He said we should forget about the Entente Alliance and focus on

domestic defense. Either way has its logic, and if the Northern Army Group

had agreed, I would have sent you to the Rhine and been preparing to

survive the winter.”

“Understood. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

NORTHERN ARMY GROUP BARRACK 7 (WHERE THE

BATTALION HAD BEEN GARRISONED)

“Major?”

The one who meets Major von Degurechaff when she returns to the

barrack to notify the troops of their reassignment is Officer of the Week, her

vice commander, First Lieutenant Weiss. How considerate of him to have

an orderly ready an extra coat and coffee—that efficiency is skill and

experience. He really is excellent material.

The best part is that he doesn’t smoke. Tanya’s nose is sensitive to

tobacco. And the staff meeting is always smoky. No, I wouldn’t deny

anyone cigarettes on the battlefield, but I’d like separate smoking and

nonsmoking areas. Or just tell them, Don’t blow smoke in my face. It makes

my eyes sting and my nose itch. I resent this assault on my tear ducts.

Limitations on individual rights are obviously oppression and, as such,

difficult for people to stomach. Still, it should be fine if I murder the senior

officers who refuse to stop obnoxiously huffing their smoke in my face,

right?

They don’t even do any work, but the cigars they light up are luxury

items. Tanya can’t help but be disgusted. The gall they must have to voice

nonexistent concern for the troops. Even when I have to spout some

wholesome crap, I keep up appearances better than that.

“That was truly pointless. What an utter waste of time and budget.”

We could have a phony war, but instead these nutcases want to fight for

real. You don’t even need a consultant to point out how little can be done

with scant, poor managerial resources.

Lost in thought, Tanya sets her staff officer’s bag on the desk and begins

scribbling notes about the state of the war on a map. Her cover of staying in

the north can’t keep her from the front lines anymore now that a mobile

defense unit was no longer necessary to protect pulling supply lines back.

Not only that, but the Northern Army Group is planning an offensive

that reeks of a death march. Meanwhile, the General Staff, for its part, is

planning a top secret landing operation around the rear.

“These guys are too into war.”

From the bottom of my heart, I advise you to think twice about

surrounding yourself with people who are overly fond of war. I can’t keep

up with their notion of fighting with barely any matériel.

I can’t believe they don’t want to leisurely build fortifications while we

wait for supplies and leave the fierce fighting to the others.

I’d like to suspect them of being too steeped in the romance of

achievement and militarism, but now that the General Staff is planning a

major amphibious operation in the rear, they, too, seem way more into the

idea of fighting than I thought.

“I can’t understand this world.”

I didn’t want to confess my incompetence, but I decided there was

nothing else to do.

That said, if it’s a winnable battle, then it should be fine to advocate

loudly for the advance. And if we’re air-dropping in, we can just fly right

back out if things get rough. Considering how uniquely mobile aerial mages

are, she estimates the risk to be low and grows fairly enthusiastic about the

strike on the rear.

Even MacArthur managed it. The Empire’s General Staff is way more

serious about war than that guy was, so I’m sure they’ll come up with an

ultraprecise plan for us. It will be my first time to fight according to an

operation plan by General von Rudersdorf, but when I tried talking to him,

he seemed unexpectedly easy to work with. This might just pan out, thinks

Tanya, genuinely looking forward to it.

“Get me an extra map.”

“Here you go, ma’am.”

But that doesn’t mean there aren’t any problems.

She takes the map of the entire northern theater from her subordinate

and compares it to her annotated situation map.

She buries her head in her hands and racks her brain, but fjords really

have an optimal shape for coastal defense. You could bombard the narrow

bodies of water all you liked, so if you placed as many batteries as you had

along them, they would be impenetrable.

The only thing that saves Tanya is the lesson from history that

sometimes a fortress built against the water is terribly vulnerable to an

invasion by land, like Singapore. Having had that thought, Tanya tries

moving the pawns according to the scenario she envisions.

The batteries guarding the fjords are certainly a threat to a fleet of

warships. Yes, a threat—but to warships… If they all face the sea, they

could probably be blown up fairly easily from behind with explosives or

what have you. And coastal guns are usually positioned facing the mouth of

a bay. They aren’t built with the expectation of bombardment from behind.

Can we win? To Tanya, even if their opponents were spirits who strayed

from Moominvalley, the deciding factor is that their defensive shells could

be shattered.

“An attack from behind… I suppose our chances of success are decent

enough.”

Farewell from a sinking ship. It’s the most obvious, commonsense thing

to do. But in extremely rare cases, the ship doesn’t sink, and sometimes you

can even make a fortune. If that possibility exists, we should happily count

it as a winning battle. With that thought, Tanya rolls up the map with the

war forecast and mixes it in with the reports for the General Staff.

After all, the General Staff is planning an operation on such a large

scale. You can only call them stupid if they get so far without a contingency

plan in case of failure. It’s worrisome that the Operations Division of the

General Staff—section chief–rank officers—are planning the operation on

the assumption that the northern forces will ignore the General Staff’s

“advice” and march north. Is the cooperation between the regional armies

and the General Staff even shakier than I thought? This anxious thought

crosses my mind.

Then again, if I think of the ill will as a legacy of their predecessors,

who committed the Great Army to Norden and then pulled it out the next

instant, it makes sense. Ludwig really mucked it up. Technically, of course,

the General Staff is nothing more than one of His Imperial Majesty the

Emperor’s advisory committees—even if the supreme authority is simply

rubber-stamping things for them. Each regional army group may be

nominally loyal to that committee, but if everyone isn’t cooperating well,

that’s a problem.

But no, that’s exactly the point. After that realization, Tanya practically

sighs. I should probably be thinking that if the northern forces’ little

adventure fails, the General Staff will take advantage of the fact that the

world is watching the foray by attempting a major operation of their own in

Norden. And if that works, the General Staff will have taken the initiative to

lead the war.

Currently, the Entente Alliance can repel the Empire’s advance with

guerrilla-style interception, but they don’t have the available force to

counterattack. Until some obstacle to defense in Norden appears, it’s

practically a political issue to consider something that isn’t in accordance

with the Imperial Army elites’ wishes.

In other words, it’s a Vitamin P problem.

“I don’t want to get mixed up in this…”

No, wait. Let’s chill for a minute. At least Tanya has a lot of experience.

She won’t make the same mistake over and over.

My common sense is not always common. Might there not be some sort

of religion that teaches people to love war and recommends suicide?

“Lieutenant Weiss, do you want to kill yourself?”

“Huh? Er, why do you ask that all of a sudden?” He replies with a

question to confirm her intention. Well, judging from his reaction, I’m

worrying over nothing.

I guess that makes sense. After that thought, Tanya reaches for the coffee

Second Lieutenant Serebryakov brought. It’s cold up north. There’s no way

I could stand it without drinking hot coffee. The only thing is, Northern

Command has a tendency to treat me like a kid and load up every cup with

milk and sugar… I hate that.

“It’s hard to believe, but apparently there will be an all-out offensive.

What a waste of soldiers.”

Until the appointed hour arrives for Tanya to open her sealed orders, she

tells her trusty vice commander, Lieutenant Weiss, only as much as she can.

She can’t let anything slip.

In other words, to summarize what she can explain now: There will be a

big offensive this winter. And with only that context, she can’t get rid of the

impression that the Northern Army Group is rushing things with their sights

set on an easy advance like what happened in the war with Dacia.

It’s like making a huge gamble when you don’t have much cash on hand

—although since the stakes are actually soldiers’ lives, it won’t hurt the

high-ranking officers’ pockets at all. If the Chicago school were to analyze

it, they would diagnose a severe lack of proper incentives.

“…Is there money for logistics?”

I’m guessing Lieutenant Weiss’s incredulous reaction is an average

person’s response. Unless the Northern Army Group’s commanders have

some strange concept of supply lines, I don’t know what they’re thinking.

Do they have a secret stash of cash somewhere?

If so, those are off-the-books resources. We’d have to dismiss the

inspectors. Talk about lazy. This is why they say we can’t prevent bubble

economies. Proper audits are indispensable for a market to function

normally!

“How would there be? Once winter hits, the trains will stop running, too.

I have no idea where they’re planning on bringing in supplies from.”

Well, in any age, there are also markets that only officials who come to

collect taxes do well in. To prove it, not even believers in the free market

system call for the privatization of tax collection.

Meanwhile, there’s a fountain of diverse critiques and plans regarding

expenditures.

Look, even the Chicago school is against privatizing tax collection!

With that thought, however, I suddenly feel like something is off.

“So what about us?”

“When I pointed out the risk of an offensive, we were ordered to the

naval base. So I don’t think we can expect funds for a victory celebration.”

And this is an absolutely miserable misunderstanding created in the

name of confidentiality. Even if my intention is to be transferred according

to the will of the Central Army, a Northern Army Group administrator

won’t see it that way, so I’m sure the Budget section will reject the fund

requisition. They’ll make the excuse that it’s not under their jurisdiction and

refuse to pay out what they promised us just the other day.

I can only see it as bullying. Even if I accept the reshuffle, we have

made contributions here and should have the right to commensurate

compensation. Anyhow, we’ll just have to secure celebration funds by

“borrowing” from the Northern Army Group somehow. Hmm…? Finding

funds somehow?

“As such, Lieutenant Serebryakov, we need to dip into the battalion’s

treasury, so draw up a budget.”

“Understood. Umm, how much should I use?”

I could take funds for a little party from the battalion treasury, but

maybe we should avoid having a big bash in this war situation…? When

she considers this, Tanya figures she is thinking too hard and shrugs. She

has worked her troops hard in this freezing cold. Rather than developing a

cruel reputation, it would be better to have a heart and convince them she

was kind, even if they got a little wild.

“Hmm, let’s have a grand old time and not set an upper limit for alcohol

spending.”

Just as she is about to tell her to get it done—

“Major, sorry to intrude, but we have enough free alcohol to swim in.”

It was Lieutenant Weiss who interrupted with a triumphant look on his

face.

After inadvertently starting to ask where he’d snatched the liquor from,

Tanya wills her mouth shut, somehow successfully communicating with her

expression of disbelief instead.

“Umm, excuse me for butting in, but we were able to get this full

complement of canteen alcohol due to the kindness of a local unit.”

Lieutenant Serebryakov jumps in to respond to my suspicious look.

Partly because we’ve been together for a while now, she’s getting good at

knowing what types of things I worry about.

“Oh, don’t worry. The Viper Battalion bought it with their own money

as a gesture of goodwill, I guess you could say.”

Very good. Tanya nods in satisfaction. Someone is treating us because

they’re pleased with our work. That’s wonderful. The only problem is that

due to military regulations and my age, I can’t drink a drop even if I want

to.

“Great. Go and buy some chicken or something, Lieutenant.” I’d like to

sink my teeth into some roast chicken, at least. “We’ll have to toast the

Viper Battalion. Thanks to them, I can treat my battalion.”

“Yeah, we can’t really thank them enough.”

Well, they’re mages. They’re well-paid. After all, there are deployment

allowances, transfer allowances, hazard pay, etc. They each make enough to

build a small house, so if you count the entire battalion’s funds, it adds up to

quite a lot.

“Indeed. Well, this is a good opportunity. Let’s send them a message

inviting them to the party.”

That’s what we’ll do. It’s not so bad to bond with our kind allies who

weakened our prey for us before we arrived. More than anything, I want to

clear up the misunderstanding that must have arisen due to that repugnant

confession of faith.

I’m normal.

I have to prevent weird rumors from damaging my reputation.

NOVEMBER 29, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, HOME PORT OF

THE NORTHERN SEA FLEET, FLAGSHIP COMMAND

Along the strait, it’s nearly time for the decisive battle. A high-strung

excitement runs through the air at the Imperial Army base. Usually the

atmosphere feels almost heavy, but for the moment, it’s so lively it keeps

the cold at bay. The officers and men running here and there are visibly

tense—no one is relaxed.

It’s the excitement that occurs immediately before a large-scale

operation. Humans are a pain in the neck; though wise enough to fear

fighting, they are also easily intoxicated by the romance of the military.

This has to be the concentrated effect of everyone’s wish to taste sweet

victory.

Those who can’t share in this festive atmosphere appear to be in the

minority. Resigning herself to the fact, Tanya goes to the designated

flagship command meeting room. As far as she can tell from a glance at the

soldiers coming and going in the halls on her way, the entire Northern Sea

Fleet crew seems full of fighting spirit. Even the vessels that would be left

behind seem to be longing to sortie enough to rush out of there at any

moment.

And the operational factors necessary for taking advantage of that spirit

appear to have been given the necessary consideration. A large number of

transport ships are anchored in the bay, and among them are some that

could qualify as landing crafts after being outfitted for the amphibious

assault. They probably have landing crafts requisitioned as high-speed

transports ready to go as well. As far as she can see, traffic in the bay is

orderly, and ships are in a position to begin operations at any time, thanks to

the controlling performed with the Empire’s usual efficiency.

Tanya is conscious again of the weight of her responsibility; a lot is

expected of her unit as the vanguard. It’s better for people to expect

greatness of you than not, but it comes with a lot of annoyances.

That said, she conceals any determination to live up to those

expectations and calmly takes her assigned seat in the meeting room. She

ignores the attention she is getting by nonchalantly looking over the premeeting

handouts once again. Of course, in part, she wants to reread them

to circumvent any avoidable problems during the operation.

Just as she’s already read many times, it seems like her unit’s role is

fairly large. Having their performance determine whether the operation

would work or not is a big responsibility. Drop in, capture the coastal guns.

It’ll be glorious but a challenge. If we fail, the whole army will be stuck in

the fjords.

“It’s time, so I’d like to begin.”

Even while she is lost in thought, the hands on the clock keep ticking.

Then, when they reach the appointed hour, an Imperial Navy staff member

announces the beginning of the meeting in a solemn voice, and everyone

turns toward the commander of the operation, the fleet commander, in

unison.

“All right, I’ll explain the situation.”

Tanya listens to the commander as he briefs everyone, unaware of her

feelings on the topic and with a sober expression, but the gripes in her head

threaten to overflow. Internally, she complains up a storm, whining over and

over that it sure would have been nice if the drop team had been given a

few more men.

“We’ll be performing a mission in support of the Northern Army

Group’s operation.”

…In support of the Northern Army Group? Tanya starts to think, but

then it makes sense to her. Yes, the Central Army is nominally giving credit

for the operation to the Northern Army Group. I guess it’s a show of the

General Staff’s intentions or kindness, you could say. After the

awkwardness between them over the Great Army mobilization issues, this’ll

be a heartwarming reconciliation.

In other words, this is a lousy plan, a military operation loaded with the

higher-ups’ motives. But you could also say that they’d managed it in a

nominal way that wouldn’t come back to bite the troops on the ground;

instead of a political compromise, they had pulled off a splendid handshake.

After all, the Northern Army Group is going on the offensive, and as a

bonus they get the honor of leading the operation. Even if they fail, no one

in the Northern Army Group will be harmed if the General Staff take

responsibility for implementing the action plan. Then again, if it goes well,

the war situation improves, so it’s worth it for the General Staff.

Major General von Rudersdorf came out to make an inspection—it’s

probably his evil scheming. On the one hand, I’m impressed with the move,

but on the other, I want to lament just a little bit that when you belong

directly to Central, this is how you get used as a tool.

“As you all know, we currently have both the Northern Sea Fleet and the

High Seas Fleet deployed on a northern support mission.”

Then there’s the situation being described. The main force of the

Northern Sea Fleet is a support unit that acts as a sort of check on the

Entente Alliance. Their mission is to prevent the Entente Alliance’s

warships from escaping to Republic waters while simultaneously

supporting the army maneuvers on land.

So ignoring those ships to perform the amphibious operation is almost a

strategic sneak attack. It isn’t about sealed orders or intercepting the fleet—

the plan from the first is to ignore the Entente Alliance fleet.

The Northern Sea Fleet is going beyond the parameters of its original

mission and sortieing for the sole purpose of receiving a huge number of

reinforcements in the High Seas Fleet and performing the landing operation.

The Entente Alliance ships that will surely come to stop them will be kept

at bay by the High Seas Fleet. If the Northern Sea Fleet can complete their

operation during that time, the war situation will see a literal reversal.

The success of a strategic sneak attack is tantalizing. You could say a

winnable battle is just dangling in front of us. It’s a comparably safe

opportunity to achieve things and get promoted. I’m not the only one—

there’s nothing strange about a soldier wanting to join a winning battle.

Actually, the ones left behind with no prospect of sortieing get depressed

or look for an excuse to go. Anyone is happy to be told they’re going on the

attack.

If there’s one problem, it’s the weather. History tells us units sent into

harsh winter conditions always end up getting stuck in some lousy situation.

And we’ll be performing an airborne operation. If we fall into the ocean,

we’ll freeze to death like Titanic victims.

Even the bright red Soviet Army met with all kinds of disaster in winter

wars. The Imperial Army isn’t used to such conditions, so if we fall into the

winter ocean, we’ll be turned into frozen meat packs.

“This means almost all our main force is going, but that’s just how big

the objective is…” The fleet commander leaves it as implied for just a

moment, then solemnly states our target. “…the Osfjord. We’re going for a

direct strike on their rear communication lines.”

The Osfjord… When everyone grasps the significance of what they’ve

been told, a momentary silence descends.

Fjords are bad news for naval ships. The detestable narrow bodies of

water with terrible cliffs on either side enable the enemy to shoot at them

from any direction. Even without counting the threat of mines, if there are

guns on both sides, any ship that makes a run for it can only lament its fate

to be pummeled to death. The gunners will surely shower the marks with

shells as they struggle to maneuver in the narrow waters.

And although their navy may only have a few destroyers left, if that, the

cramped space forces us to worry about torpedoes.

What’s more, given the geographical importance of Os, the Osfjord will

be more heavily guarded than the average fjord.

“Under these circumstances, we need to go in ahead of the fleet’s

advance and capture the enemy guns.”

From the time General von Rudersdorf gave her secret orders to prepare

for an airborne operation, Tanya has pretty much been expecting this.

Neutralize coastal guns in an aerial mage sneak attack is practically the

same thing as support the fleet as they make a run down the fjord. For what

other reason would the army pit their elites against a rear echelon coastal

stronghold?

She finds herself balling up her fists inside her sleeves. Capturing enemy

guns ahead of the operation to take the mouth of the bay… In other words,

our drop operation is a gamble that could decide everything. And we won’t

be walking leisurely down a gangway in this cold weather but parachuting

out of the sky with our computation orbs and rifles in hand. If we fail, it

will be a huge disaster.

“Our aim is to disable enemy guns in a short amount of time to allow the

fleet’s entry.”

It’s easy to order someone to get in there, but it sounds pretty outrageous

to the one told to go.

The purpose of the airborne operation is fine. I can grasp the military

need for it. At least, I understand that it has to be done. But what’s this

about us securing the guns? The operation is in support of the navy, so it

would make more sense to have the marine mages do it, since they train

closely with the fleet. If instead we seize the guns and sweep the area, it’ll

be basically like rolling out a carpet for the fleet to waltz down.

“Our troops are having difficulties, so in order to support them and

deliver a decisive blow, I want us to do this right.”

…That’s easy to say, but can we? Can we really capture enemy guns on

bad, snowy footing in the fjord? If we were told to suppress enemy forces in

that region, well, that just would have to be done, but the responsibility of

seizing all the enemy guns is enormous.

Talk about mission impossible.

That said, there’s a limit to how much mages can do as direct support for

the fleet, and if guns remain, it’s entirely possible that the ships won’t be

able to enter. So someone has to get saddled with this unlucky operation.

Annoyingly enough, that someone is the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion.

“And the vanguard will be… We’re expecting great things from you,

Major von Degurechaff.”

“May I say something?”

“What is it, Major?”

“My unit is an augmented battalion. Setting aside the issue of firepower,

I may not have enough men to take all the guns and cover the enemy

reinforcements who are bound to attack.”

I hate resisting superior officers. There is nothing I want to do less. But

that’s why I have to be bold at times like these.

Anyone can smash you if you oppose them with a subservient attitude.

But if, on the contrary, you make your case so confidently that it must be

logical, it sounds more persuasive. And if people think you’re giving a

constructive suggestion with the aim of accomplishing your mission, then

even an excuse transforms into the genuine truth. So I have to be the

donkey borrowing the lion’s skin. I just want to probe slightly. Even if I fail,

this isn’t rebellious enough to cause me trouble.

“Don’t worry. We were fearing that as well, so we’re arranging for two

regiments of marines to reinforce you thirty minutes after your drop.”

“Understood. So in a worst-case scenario, do I have the right to suggest

aborting the operation?”

Her attitude says she doesn’t feel at all bad as she masks her request.

Any sign of hesitation can be interpreted as cowardice, but if a request is

stated with conviction, it will most likely have a measure of persuasive

power.

It’s not about who’s right or wrong; it’s about who makes their claims in

a loud voice with confidence.

“…What do you mean?”

“Simply that if my unit fails, the fleet may be exposed to needless

danger.”

What if, hypothetically, we fail?

That we would have to withdraw is self-evident. Put another way, we’d

be able to avoid unfeasible orders to “just do something” so the fleet could

get in. Once we decide to fall back, all the mages have to do is fly away.

Even if the right to call for withdrawal isn’t granted, the record of me

asking for it would make it possible for me to argue that I made every effort

to avoid risks.

“You mean, we should prioritize the safety of the fleet in the event you

can’t neutralize the guns?”

That’s level one cleared. If I haven’t been flat-out refused, it shows he’s

willing to listen.

A good officer would give serious consideration to the risks the fleet

would face if we failed to take the guns and they were in working order. An

officer concerned with self-preservation would be worried about being

blamed for the results of a forced charge under such circumstances.

Either way, he has to carefully analyze what I’ve said, weigh the pros

and cons, and see what he thinks.

“If we don’t take preserving the fleet seriously enough, we may let the

Republican or Commonwealth fleet slip in. That would render the blockade

meaningless and create a very dangerous situation.”

So I give him a little push. The concern of weakened patrol in our

waters. I just prod his instincts as an officer of the navy by asking whether

we should really conduct a landing mission at the risk of our command of

the sea. It’s really too reasonable. Whether he’s out for self-preservation or

not, he can’t ignore this. Of course, I can’t push too hard. Balance in this,

too, is paramount. That said, if I don’t mess up the pressure level, I can

persuade him without upsetting him too much.

“…That’s a reasonable concern, but we can’t leave our course of action

up to a single advance unit. Major, if you fail, fall back to join your

reinforcements and try again.”

“Understood, sir. But due to a quirk of the command structure, I can

neither command nor be commanded by marine mages…” Having gotten

this far, I just need to give him an excuse. He must know how things work.

The navy’s original job is only providing escorts to the mouth of the bay

and maybe firing their cannons. I’m sure he doesn’t want to exacerbate

mage command structure issues. “In light of that, I’d like permission to

advise aborting if the marine regiment commanders agree.”

It’s an adjusted step to save everyone’s faces and avoid any bothersome

disputes.

It doesn’t take any time at all for him to agree.

“…All right. You have it.”

A few days later, the operation is to be carried out as scheduled, and

Tanya and the brave members of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion are in a

transport plane being taken to the drop zone as the vanguard.

The plan is to jump at the crack of dawn and capitalize on the enemy’s

confusion in order to seize the guns. As the ones performing the operation,

it seems risky, but coastal fortifications are extremely vulnerable to attacks

from behind, so it has its logic.

“I guess we might be able to do this…?” Tanya murmurs, inwardly

seeking comfort in reason.

Coastal fortifications are put in place to prepare for attacks by enemy

ships and units. When she tells herself there is no reason for the backside to

be protected because all that’s there are the communication lines to the rear

echelon, it feels like they have a chance of succeeding. Even if the enemy is

on guard against a sneak attack, their units are likely to be only lightly

outfitted.

The coastal fortifications would say that the army should protect the rear

and that their purpose was to prevent attacks by sea. And a century ago,

they wouldn’t have been wrong.

“I’ve cut the engines! We’re gliding!”

The announcement from the cockpit alerts them that they have entered

the final prep stage.

Loath to betray even the sound of the engine, we make our careful

gliding approach. Naturally, our drop will be performed with airborne gear

and not rely on magic. If we can’t descend undetected, Tanya’s fate is

sealed.

“All right. All hands, prepare to jump.”

She can only hope the troops she has trained will put all their talents on

display. Her only tasks now are to increase the probability of success and

eliminate obstacles.

And a commander can’t wear an anxious expression moments before an

operation. That’s why she orders them to prepare with the carefree tone of

someone announcing picnic plans.

It’s a bit surreal to see mages in full gear jostling around in the cramped

plane, but they’re getting ready, anyhow, so that’s good.

“You’ve heard this before, but our targets are the guns and mines

guarding the fjord. Capturing them is optimal, but if that proves difficult,

disabling or damaging them to inhibit effective functioning is fine.” She

doesn’t insist that she believes in them but reconfirms their objectives

matter-of-factly. “I think you know this, but if we fail, the landing unit will

get stuck in the fjord.”

Guns are not fortresses, which means they aren’t impossible to capture.

Most importantly, their muzzles are pointed at the sea. They aren’t set up to

fight mages dropping in on them from behind, but they still have the power

to trap the fleet. That’s why this operation hinges on us.

“There isn’t much wiggle room in the schedule. Thirty minutes after we

drop, marine mages will arrive ahead of the fleet to back us up, but the plan

is for them to deal with enemy reinforcements on the ground. Basically, we

have to do this ourselves.”

If things get bad, I can make a joint suggestion with the commanders of

the troops coming later to abort the operation, but the consequences would

be the sacrifice of my career and worse. I’d be ruined. I have no interest in

going to ruin by myself, but to avoid ruin entirely, if possible, is surely the

modest wish at the root of all human emotions.

“Destroy all the positions as best you can in thirty minutes. I expect you

to all be putting the true power of aerial mages on display out there.”

So Tanya is expecting a lot out of her subordinates. No, not even

expecting—all she can do is hope. Don’t fuck this up. Please show me you

have more than it takes.

“Lieutenant, head up the capture of the Albert battery. I’ll take the Narva

battery as planned.”

“Understood. What time are we lifting radio silence?” Vice Commander

Weiss confirms for the third time.

“If you fail to seize the position, contact me immediately. Otherwise, the

plan is to maintain radio silence until our reinforcements arrive.”

“What about enemy reinforcements?”

“Come crying to me if you can’t handle them. Otherwise, crush them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Reconfirming everything to make sure we don’t miss anything and

keeping the troops informed of relevant information—we’re model

communicators. Anyhow, we can’t say for sure that we’ll succeed, but there

are blatant reasons we could fail, so there’s no better way to prepare than

getting rid of them.

“Okay, Lieutenant Serebryakov, you’re our reserve commander. If

Lieutenant Weiss and I go dark, order the retreat.”

“Retreat, ma’am?”

“The operation is a failure if you lose our signals. If well-outfitted

enemies show up, you have no chance of winning. We’re just like canaries.”

A canary in a coal mine gives its warning by dying. The point of view

that resulted in this method is exemplary in its practicality. Of course, we

face the vexing reality that the army values us and canaries equally.

That said, though Tanya made this troubling simile, she has absolutely

no intention of nobly sacrificing herself. If need be, she’ll make a scene

screaming about the danger to everyone as she makes an airborne escape;

that’s how far her loyalty to the Reich goes.

“Then I’ll try to sing my sweetest.”

I kind of have to hand it to Weiss for that joke.

“I’m not interested in hearing you sing, Lieutenant. Get ready to move

out!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

As each soldier briskly checks over their gear, Tanya grabs her

parachute, makes the last pre-jump checks, and nods in satisfaction.

If I have no choice but to go, I should at least do a good job.

“Okay! Go!”

When it came to zeal for one’s work, Colonel Anson Sue of the Entente

Alliance Army was like Tanya—the kind of person who made rigorous

preparations for battle.

“Enemy attack!”

“That’s insane! We can detect their mana signals from this far away?

What’s the suppression squad doing…?”

Colonel Sue’s unit had just been stationed there out of a need to protect

the sea, and although they weren’t in perfect fighting condition, they were

already on guard—no doubt because he had learned the horror of

completely losing the initiative in battle.

And especially considering their situation now… Ever since they had

carelessly started the war, the pressure had been growing.

“They were attacked in their sleep? Is the army even training people

properly anymore?”

Which was why Sue couldn’t hide his displeasure with the chaos

descending over their coastal guns and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

The discipline was probably so lousy because they were calling up reserves

from the rear.

“…Enemy status?”

At that time, he was regarding the attack as a mere bit of harassment.

But even a harassing attack on the guns was a nasty move that could lead to

a dispersal of their forces in the name of stationing additional troops in a

rear echelon city like Os. One might say that he still had the wherewithal to

lament such things at that point.

No, more accurately, he was sighing while keeping a hopeful eye on the

situation. Colonel Sue himself probably didn’t understand the core of his

emotions.

But up until then, at least…he didn’t grasp how grave the situation was.

“Unclear. I have reports that the coastal units are engaged…and it seems

the patrol boats haven’t made their regular check-ins.”

“What? Ask the patrol line what’s going on. Could be a sneak attack by

mages flying out of a sub.”

Approach in secret and attack. In that sense, a commando unit and a

submarine went together perfectly. That was why Sue persistently appealed

to the military to adopt submarines, but sadly, the Entente Alliance Navy

was really only a slightly thicker-skinned version of a coast guard. They

didn’t have the resources to allot submarines for use in magic operations.

The few they had, frustratingly enough, had gone on their periodic deep-sea

exercise before the start of the war and then wound up getting disarmed as

warships in a neutral country. That disgraceful situation meant they had

zero operational submarines.

Reflecting jealously, Sue wondered if they could perhaps capture one as

he had his men get ready to sortie. He had the radio operator connect him

with the picket line.

“I’ve been calling them, but none of the ships are replying…”

“Do you think there’s some kind of confusion and they can’t connect?”

That was when he understood the situation.

The picket line ships had gone dark. If it were only one of them, it could

have just happened to be near the submarine and gotten attacked, but if the

entire surface warning line went quiet, that was not a minor problem. No, it

meant the root of the trouble was on the surface!

“…Crap! They’re targeting the guns? We’re moving out! Scramble!”

Enemy mages were sneak attacking the batteries. And they had lost

contact with the ships on the sea.

“Huh?”

“The guns are all facing forward!”

It was the enemy. An enemy attack. A major methodical attack! The

fatherland, my country…the home I must protect…

“In the air now! Scramble! Engines on!”

Sue’s unit, taking off with determination in their breasts, was an

unexpected newcomer for the Imperial Army. The Imperial Army General

Staff thought it was a newly organized unit that had just been stationed

there. They had also grasped that the enemy troops were not very content

and tended to have insufficient logistical support, and the General Staff’s

intelligence wasn’t wrong. So the staff officer who had analyzed the data

came to the utterly commonsense conclusion that it was a static guard with

a measure of defensive capabilities that was protecting the city of Os.

And that was why he thought the troops would be able to clean them up

with the strength of their main force.

He had figured that by the time that unit had assembled to counterattack,

the main imperial force would have already landed.

And he wasn’t entirely wrong. Only his conclusion was.

After all, at face value, Colonel Anson’s force was a puny mage

battalion, a mix of wheat and chaff that was undertrained and lacking unity.

But the Empire didn’t know why these troops were fighting. Because it

didn’t need to yet.

Still, from a totally objective standpoint, the unavoidable truth is… The

Imperial Army commander, Tanya, muttering mainly curses at either God or

the devil about the arrival of these unforeseen enemies, has to come up with

a way to handle the situation.

“Major! New enemies!”

The rapidly approaching formation is a battalion-sized group of mages.

Both their speed and altitude are quite impressive. No doubt about it,

they’re a first-rate interception unit—and a horrible nightmare for the 203rd

Aerial Mage Battalion suppressing enemies on the ground.

“I see that! Lieutenant Serebryakov, take command of First Company

and stop them!”

“Major, it’s too dangerous with only one company! I’ll share some

troops from my group.”

“Lieutenant Weiss, you just capture that battery! We’ll figure out some

way to handle this.”

Tanya decides without a moment’s hesitation to go meet them herself.

I’m at wit’s end, but I can’t run away. If I send my subordinates up and

they get the shit kicked out of them, there’ll be nowhere for me to run. If

that’s how it’ll go, Tanya feels more at ease intercepting them herself from

the start and preparing for trouble.

True, she isn’t terribly keen on facing an elite-seeming enemy battalion

with a force the size of a company, but it’s better than the fear of having

them on top of her. If she doesn’t want be made into a target, she has to get

above them.

“R-roger!”

“First Company, follow me! We’re intercepting!”

The moment their short exchange is finished, Tanya accelerates to climb

hard. As she swiftly ascends, aiming to occupy a combat altitude that is

even with or superior to their opponent’s, she catches sight of the tiny dots

drawing nearer every second.

And as one side got visual confirmation, so too did the other.

“We can’t get through to the surface!”

“I’ve got visuals! They’re on their way up to meet us!”

As Colonel Sue’s battalion raced across the sky in a messy formation

and reached the Osfjord, the situation was as he had feared. The batteries

had descended into chaos due to a sneak attack.

Not only that, but enemy mages were smoothly gaining altitude while

maneuvering into combat formation, as if they had been skillfully lying in

wait.

He could instantly gather from their impressive aptitude and clean

formation that they were formidable opponents—in other words, the kind

he hated.

“They’re fast!”

“A company? They must think we’re wimps!”

“These guys parachuted in. Don’t underestimate their training! Put our

numerical advantage to good use! Let’s go!”

That said, they couldn’t cower. How much do you think numerical

superiority will really matter? the realistic part of his head sneered, but he

suppressed it and encouraged his unit to drive the attackers away from the

batteries.

“Beat them back!”

What else could he say?

“Go! Get ’em!”

All he could do was scream and lead his troops in the charge.

He chose to do it, but it was also his only choice. But it should probably

be said…

Sue looked up at the sky. I guess God isn’t smiling on me.

“Ngh?! That’s—”

“Colonel Sue?”

Dear God, why…? Why is she here?

“This one’s pesky as rust. Take some distance and fire to suppress. Do

not let her get in close!”

She’s got that obnoxious alias White Silver or whatever. When it came to

an enemy who fought bitterly against his own unit and got an award out of

it, he remembered news from an enemy country. With all the blood she has

on her hands, her alias is White Silver? Ha, the Empire has no talent for

coming up with names.

Might as well call her Rusted Silver, looking like that.

A devil spattered and rusted in the blood of his fellow soldiers. There

was no way for him to mistake that detestable girl—his sworn enemy.

Dear God, I pray. Give me the strength to destroy that devil.

Sue even prayed as he shot the formula, and just as an attack filled with

fervent hopes should, it plowed into the enemy formation.

Or rather, things happened as he expected.

They scattered, taking barely any damage, and sped toward him with no

hesitation. Still, that didn’t mean he could back down. There was no way he

could withdraw.

He was carrying a submachine gun. If that mage would just get in range,

he would turn her into honeycomb. With that thought in mind, Sue eagerly

charged.

In terms of inability to withdraw, Major von Degurechaff’s unit is in the

same boat. Tanya inwardly feels that she is being seriously overworked for

her salary, but even if she wants to declare, This isn’t in my contract and fly

away, that’s not how the army works.

Rules have to be followed.

If a regiment of mages had moved in to attack, perhaps she could have

used numbers as an excuse to run away. But when both the enemy mages

and your own are battalion-sized groups, you can’t get away with excuses—

though she wants to flee, she can’t. In a case like this, the army says to put

up a fight.

“Tch! These guys are tough. Attack in platoon formations!”

As she thinks how badly she wants to run, she realizes that if she did, the

career she had spent all this time building up would disappear, and she

would be helpless to stop it. Reluctantly, even grudgingly, she has to take on

some degree of risk and fight.

The only way to thwart gaps in firepower and numbers is to dart in for

melee. At close quarters, there is a greater danger of misfire; as a result, the

imbalance in firepower stemming from the disparity in numbers decreases

somewhat. More importantly, if they bring the fight to an individual level

instead of organizational, the imperial mages will definitely have the

advantage.

“Get above them!”

“Don’t let them get above you!”

Crisscrossing gunfire and formulas. The scene displays the very essence

of mana science technology, a fantasy where the practical modern advances

of civilization are having their day. Sadly, it’s a picture painted only in

blood and iron.

In the end, though, the impact of numerical superiority will be felt. If it

becomes a battle of attrition, the side with more matériel and men will be

declared the winners.

“Oh, the reinforcements are here?”

“Shit! Again? More reinforcements?”

A regiment is approaching. Openly jubilant as she notices indications of

their arrival, Tanya is sure of her victory, while Colonel Sue is devastated.

As such, their voices reflect their situations—the former’s is very cheerful

and the latter’s sounds helpless and bitter.

“Major von Degurechaff, what’s the status of the seizure operation?”

“Below they’re sweeping up, but I’m currently fighting an enemy unit.

Requesting backup.”

“Understood! You two battalions, support the major! The rest of you,

head for the interior.”

And in her straightforward exchange with the commander of the

reinforcements, her remarks are businesslike to ensure the operation

proceeds smoothly. The two of them are so in control of the situation,

they’re no longer worried about whether they will succeed or not; instead,

they’re thinking of what comes next.

The coastal guns are being seized, the enemy unit can be eliminated, and

the imperial transport ships are coming into view across the bay. The scene

below makes all the Imperial Army soldiers feel that they are moving stepby-

step closer to victory.

Victory… It will be an established fact in the Imperial Army’s near

future.

Colonel Sue’s beloved fatherland no longer had the power to object.

THE SAME DAY, THE REPUBLIC, CHANNEL

COMMAND

“Alert from the early warning line!”

The observation units along the warning line had an alert. What that

meant was clear: The imperial fleet was on the move.

This was the chance for a naval battle they had been hoping for. The

tension at Command peaked all at once.

“Order DEFCON 1. So they’re finally coming out.”

We’ve been waiting.

That’s practically what the commander was saying, and his feelings

were shared by all the other members of the Republican Navy. While the

army was fighting a grueling battle on the Rhine lines, the navy was

ridiculed as slackers. This was an opportunity to clear its name; they had

been looking forward to this chance to support their troops.

“Er, they have…transport ships with them? Why?!”

But the enemy movements they had longed for completely betrayed

their expectations. The latest update on the imperial fleet indicated that,

contrary to their hopes, it had no intention of engaging in a naval battle. The

fleet maneuver they had predicted was happening, but the warships were

leaving the port accompanied by several transport ships.

Unless the movement was a long one, it was hard to imagine a unit of

battleships sailing with slow, vulnerable transport ships—which is precisely

why upon hearing about those vessels, the clever ones among them

immediately speculated upon what might be inside and were assailed by a

type of foreboding.

…What could be in there? Common sense would say coal, oil, food for

the troops, ammunition, spare parts, and so on—things the unit would need

on a long operation. But there was no way the Imperial Navy would take a

leisurely cruise around the world right now. In that case, the ships had to be

taking something important to where it was needed.

The Command personnel all waited with bated breath for the next

report. The atmosphere was so tense their uneasiness was burning them up

inside.

“Spike 04 to HQ. The imperial fleet is setting course to the north. I say

again, course to the north!”

“Ngh! An amphibious operation?”

Of course, they all felt like they’d been whacked in the back of the head

when they understood.

After all, this was the worst possible development for the Republic. It

had been their worst nightmare ever since one corner of the encirclement,

Dacia, had crumbled—the fear that the Entente Alliance would collapse as

well. And now as they could see the Imperial Northern Army Group

planning an offensive, the Entente Alliance’s main forces were tied up on

the front.

…If the rear logistics base were seized in a landing operation, it would

mean they had failed to avoid another Dacia. War could no longer be fought

with superior ground forces alone, and if the rear supply lines were cut, the

army’s fate would be tragedy.

In the back of their minds, a few senior officers remembered the plans

for the Imperial Army’s amphibious operation, delivered in utmost secret

from the Commonwealth. If the Entente Alliance were to fall like Dacia,

how much would that increase the burden on their beloved fatherland?

“Ready the fleet and the marine mages to sortie on the double! They’re

planning to land in the Entente Alliance’s rear area.” In came another

enemy status report. Increasingly agitated, Command notified them that

they should hurry up and send out the fleet. But one report made them all

freeze. All the hubbub faded in an instant and dissipated.

“…Are you sure?”

“There’s no mistake! Subs and enemy mages are forming a restraining

line!”

The primary mission of the Republican Channel Fleet was to confront

and annihilate the Imperial High Seas Fleet. But while the Republic had to

split their main forces between the north and south, the Empire could

concentrate their naval power in the north. With the Northern Sea and High

Seas Fleets combining forces, the Republican Channel Fleet would be

forced into a disadvantageous position.

A fight that was once seven on seven had just been joined by three

enemy reinforcements. Fighting a ten-on-seven battle wasn’t impossible,

but it was far from the numbers they would like to see.

Even if they got backup from the Entente Alliance, it probably wouldn’t

help very much. Meanwhile, the Northern Sea Fleet may have been small,

but it featured a lineup of relatively new models. Its flagship, the

Helgoland, was the first of the state-of-the-art Helgoland class. In terms of

capital ships, the Channel Fleet would be overwhelmed.

If under those circumstances, the Empire had chosen them as its

opponent, even if they ended up getting cut in the process, they could

probably have thwarted its aims.

But that hope was only feasible if the imperial fleet chose to meet them

for a knife fight. Instead it was futile because the enemy ships were paying

them no mind and heading in a different direction. They were leisurely

escorting the transport ships north. It was certain—completely certain—that

if they landed successfully, the Entente Alliance would fall. So the only

time to take a risk was now. They had been lucky to discover them so early.

If they had naively gone out to challenge them to a naval battle

unawares, they probably would have been sneak attacked and forced to flee

in a panic. Discovering them first was truly good fortune. The problem now

was how to handle the situation.

“Request backup from army mages! Send in the patrol boats and do

anything necessary to beat a path to the capital ship!”

Will we make it? It only lasted a moment, but the doubt that flitted

across the minds of the Channel Fleet Command personnel was serious.

Whether or not the Republic’s nightmare of the Entente Alliance collapsing

came true hinged on them making it in time. We just have to. They were

determined.

“Send out any ship available! Full-power sortie!”

Sadly, they were out of luck.

As they raised fists and were about to advance toward the enemy, they

received bad news from the military attaché in the Entente Alliance and

understood. They had been too late. And so they swore with all their might

that Next time… Next time, we’ll get them.

DECEMBER 4, UNIFIED YEAR 1924,

COMMONWEALTH, LONDINIUM, UNDISCLOSED

LOCATION

After the shocking report that the Imperial Navy had taken an amphibious

force to the Osfjord and launched a decisive landing operation, the

atmosphere in the room was unbearably bitter.

The agony of the deteriorating situation was so terrible that it even

dashed all hope for the nearing Christmas leave. Contrary to the

Commonwealth’s futile wish that the Empire, Republic, and Entente

Alliance would just destroy one another, the Empire continued to pile on

victories. By virtue of their shared view on the situation, the entire group of

people connected to the Commonwealth’s intelligence agency had fallen to

the gloom. But the office itself wasn’t out of sorts. The unpleasantness of

the situation was due to the foul mood of the office’s chief occupant, Major

General Donald Habergram, which was permeating the room to a

preposterous extent. He had a difficult personality to begin with, and now

he was especially irritated.

Heads would roll at the first careless remark. The radio operator who

saw the next notification that arrived was truly lucky. Normally, delivering

a report was as nerve-racking as being shoved into a minefield, but this time

was different.

To be blunt—it wasn’t bad news! How many days had it been since he

had nearly run like this to inform his superior? Since Dacia had fallen? Of

course, since it was his job, he couldn’t be swayed by likes or dislikes, but it

was true that there was nothing he hated more than reporting bad news.

“Urgent message from the auxiliary ship Lytol.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Without flinching at the disgruntled tone, he relayed the facts in a

straightforward way. They had received reports from their intelligencecollecting

ships disguised as civilian vessels as well as their armed

merchant cruisers, but out of all the messages, this one was sent at the

highest emergency-level priority, even using a onetime pad.

He’d thought it would be exceptionally horrible news, but when he

deciphered it, to his surprise, it wasn’t bad, at least. Well, he wasn’t sure if it

was something to get very happy about, but anyhow.

“The Entente Alliance is requesting transport of a VIP.”

The content of the request was transporting a VIP. More specifically, the

person in question was one of the ten councilors of state who, in practical

terms, held the most authority in the nation. Essentially, the Entente

Alliance, no longer concerned about appearances, was shedding decorum in

order to establish a government in exile. That was much better than the

country obediently surrendering to the Empire. And it wasn’t necessarily a

wholly bad development in terms of the Commonwealth’s national

interests, either.

“…Isn’t that Foreign Office business?”

But to the one receiving the message, it seemed like the matter was out

of their jurisdiction. The job of the Foreign Strategy Division was planning

and analysis. They were decidedly not a contact point. In fact, they wanted

to avoid any actions that could compromise their intelligence gathering, as

much as possible. Honestly, they were loath to get involved.

Ordinarily, it was the Foreign Office that accepted diplomatic requests.

In the case of the Entente Alliance, the official channel was through the

embassy on the ground there. And would the heads of a country really try to

negotiate asylum directly with a room in the strategy division of the

intelligence agency? It wasn’t unthinkable to assume they must have just

contacted the wrong place.

The radio operator understood the higher-ranking officer’s suspicion

immediately. He had the same doubts. Still, he had to give a short

explanation, even to General Habergram, who hated wasting time.

“Someone from the Entente Alliance Navy made contact personally.”

“Did they find us out? If so, all I can think is that we have a huge

security leak somewhere.”

“No, it seems they’ve contacted all our vessels.”

They hadn’t called a ship from the Commonwealth’s intelligence

agency. No, the ship just happened to be the auxiliary ship Lytol. Actually,

they had tried every vessel stopping at the Entente Alliance.

Though they were deeply concerned about the possibility of an

intelligence leak, in this case, the request was simply the natural outcome.

Surely the caller was just trying their luck. In that case, however, they were

dealing with a bothersome amateur.

“No regard for appearances, hmm? What a bad move. Do you have the

list?”

“Here it is. It seems the others were just regular ferries.”

This had to be the worst way to go about it. If you seek help

indiscriminately, word will definitely get out somehow. As more people

learn a secret, the risk of it being leaked grows exponentially. And their

opponent in this case is the Empire, waging war seriously as a world power.

He couldn’t imagine that imperial intelligence was slacking off. So if these

guys were trying to pull off a secret asylum operation, they should probably

proceed with a bit more caution. Well, maybe he couldn’t expect so much

from the Entente Alliance government, now in a state of panic and

dysfunction.

Even if they weren’t planning on doing it in secret, the fact that the

heads of government were preparing to flee would no doubt demoralize the

citizens…although they may very well shift toward nationalistic resistance,

so it was also possible to imagine a hopeful outcome.

The timing was delicate, given they were expecting a large-scale

imperial offensive on the northern lines at just about any moment. Honestly,

if word of this spread now, it could weaken Entente Alliance resistance. But

if it held out heroically and the government called for resistance…it might

have a chance.

If that happened, the Empire would be forced to tie up troops in Entente

Alliance territory, unlike in Dacia.

“What should we do, sir? If we’re going to accept, we need to hurry.”

Actually, in the case of Dacia, things had happened so quickly that the

government-in-exile idea didn’t work out. With that failure behind them,

they knew that this issue demanded a rapid response. They were receiving

the message right when they keenly felt the need to play a card. An

Operations officer asked a question, taking the initiative to suggest it

wouldn’t be wise to pass on this turn: “Shouldn’t we make a move?”

“I’m opposed. I don’t think anything good will come of drawing

attention to our armed merchant cruisers.”

From elsewhere came a proposal for cautious handling of the situation.

After all, armed merchant cruisers were already in violation of international

law as well as various states’ laws. If their orders to collect intelligence and

disrupt trade were exposed, there would be an uproar. Disguising armed

vessels as merchant ships to get them into the port was a legal problem. In a

worst-case scenario, all the crew members would be declared pirates and

arrested.

Even if breaking international law didn’t nag their conscience, every evil

organization needs calculated reluctance based on profits and loss.

You weren’t supposed to break treaties; you were supposed to force the

other party to break them.

At least, General Habergram intended to toe the line of what he could

get away with at the bounds of international law.

“I want to avoid being boarded either way. How’s the loading going?”

Although they shared the same thought, the leader’s idea was somewhat

different. After all, they knew a little bit more than the others—that

Intelligence was proactively working to clear their bad name after Dacia

and had learned several interesting things.

“I think it’s almost done…”

“…Then at this point a little extra cargo won’t make much difference.

Who is the VIP?”

After all, the Intelligence agents had counted their chickens before they

had hatched and suggested it was because Dacia collapsed so readily that

the Republic and the Entente Alliance had more time to construct third

lines. They thought this would be a good time to redeem themselves.

Intelligence collection and analysis was proceeding at a fantastic pace on

the northern lines, and they were really getting results.

The intelligence that the auxiliary ship had so rapidly acquired and the

machinery they had used was secretly on board. They had even learned that

the Imperial Navy was planning a landing operation.

So it went without saying that an inspection of that ship would be bad.

That said, they already had so much dangerous cargo that adding something

new wouldn’t do anything.

He didn’t think throwing in a little more problematic cargo would

change their situation much.

“A councilor.”

One of the ten councilors of state establishing a government in exile in

the Commonwealth was fraught with political implications. Officers

couldn’t work in Intelligence unless they had a nose for understanding

politics, so it was evident to all of them. That probably went for any

outstanding staff officer.

It was no small thing for a politician at the level of minister of state to be

appointed as a government in exile by the previous government with the

proper authority.

And General Habergram was far from inept—which was why he

hesitated.

“…Wait a moment.”

It was certainly true that if they succeeded in getting him asylum, that

achievement would overshadow their previous failure. They might be able

to prevent the nightmare of the Empire smoothly building government

organizations, as it was doing in Dacia, from happening in the Entente

Alliance. That was how well the man in charge here understood the issues.

But that would all only happen if the bid for asylum succeeded. If it

failed, the political and diplomatic risks were huge. Additionally, the fallout

was so far-reaching that this matter was far above what General Habergram

could decide on his own.

And he was a person who knew the extent of his authority. He

understood very well what wasn’t up to his discretion. That was precisely

why he was selected to hold the reins. His ability to make calm judgments

and not go off the rails was valued.

In actuality, the reason they had thrown someone so toxic in there was to

get the department under control. He swiftly had a document prepared, took

it, and stood. This was a matter that demanded extra attention to

confidentiality. And so, taking a few escorts along, he left at once for the

Office of the Admiralty.

“Habergram here. Is the First Lord of the Admiralty in?”

A military policeman stood guarding the office. Habergram had to put

up with the duty officer’s suspicious look, given the man’s job.

He himself had always been terribly nervous when he had to stop

officers of a higher rank when he was younger. With that in mind, he made

a mental note that this officer had to be quite a serious-minded young man.

“He is. Do you have an appointment?”

“No. There’s an urgent matter I’d like to ask him about.”

After the duty officer confirmed a few things, the general was shown

into the office.

As soon as he ran inside, he asked everyone else to leave. After all the

attendants had been sent away, he made sure no one else was around and

then gave his report.

“General, I trust you can make this quick.”

“Sir, something I’m unable to handle on my discretion alone has

occurred.”

He passed the First Lord the summary he had prepared. At the same

time, he gave him the outline verbally. As he watched his superior look over

the document, he supplied more detailed explanations as necessary to help

him understand.

Anyhow, every second counted. There could be no hesitation, but at the

same they couldn’t act thoughtlessly. That was why the basis of the

decision, the report, had to be given as quickly as possible. The Entente

Alliance was collapsing with each passing moment. The life of the country,

measured by an hourglass, had begun trickling away. If they wanted to save

its invaluable political fruits, they had to act basically right now.

“An Entente Alliance councilor is requesting carriage via our auxiliary

ship.”

“What a hairy situation. There aren’t any civilian vessels of

Commonwealth nationality anchored in the area?”

Politically, creating the government in exile and getting in the Empire’s

way was a promising choice. But it was the difficulty of the task that he was

considering and thus asking about.

The reason was crystal clear. Any major political achievement that came

without risk-taking was a dream. While a government in exile would be an

excellent way to harass the Empire, getting the core members out of the

country in secret and then taking them home to a supposedly neutral

country was so difficult that calling it “hairy” seemed dismissive.

Yes, the issue was how to transport them. How could they get them to

Commonwealth territory? Even if the Lytol was in disguise, it was still

unquestionably conspicuous.

After all, it was registered not as a ferry but purely as a cargo-passenger

ship. It wouldn’t be strange for them to call at any port, but anyone

watching the mouth of the bay would definitely notice.

It was too great a risk to carry someone so important in such a vessel.

“Four or five. But they’re all regular liners. I’m sure the Empire is

watching them.”

The problem was that most ships of Commonwealth nationality had

been avoiding docking at Entente Alliance ports. More accurately, since the

start of the war, anything trying to call at Entente Alliance bay facilities was

being blown out of the water. It wasn’t so much a matter of neutrality; the

Commonwealth was simply worried about getting mixed up in a fight.

So the only boats in the ports right now were the regular ferry lines

scheduled beforehand. But they were almost completely filled with ordinary

citizens trying to evacuate and get asylum. Apart from a slim minority of

charter ships, there were no other vessels anchored besides ferries. It would

be weirder if the auxiliary ship didn’t stand out.

He couldn’t imagine the Empire overlooking it. Even if they weren’t

deliberately keeping watch, it was a ship from the Commonwealth—sailors

at the port would find it a rare sight, and hopeful civilians would be literally

begging to board. The Empire was bound to hear of it somehow.

The ship stood out so much, the Office of the Admiralty was considering

sending a diplomat to go retrieve the intelligence.

At least the Lytol wasn’t armed in a conspicuous way. But it was moving

at 29.5 knots, which was faster than a cargo-passenger ship ever needed to

go, and on top of that, it was even secretly carrying a seaplane, nominally

for sightseeing flights, and a measure of firepower. They were disguised as

hoses and recreational equipment, at least.

If it weren’t for the confidential materials, even if the ship was boarded,

there wouldn’t be any issues under international law. The crew might be

made up of mages, but that was a decision a business could freely make.

After all, the Commonwealth was a free country.

But if they were caught assisting with asylum from a country at war,

things would get tricky. It would raise the issue of whether they should give

the refugee up without resistance… The Entente Alliance would probably

want him to be guarded; it would be furious if they just handed him over.

So what would happen if he had the crew fight the imperial boarding

unit? The answer was obvious. It would come around to bite them in the

ass.

“Lytol can move at a fairly quick clip, but can it outrun the imperial

patrol boats?”

Even if the Lytol was fast, it had its limits. And considering marine

mages or aircraft might be present, it was impossible to say whether it could

make a clean getaway. To go a step further, was a ship really even the best

transportation method in this case?

“All right. We’ll transfer them to a submarine on the water.”

That must have been why the First Lord of the Admiralty made a daring

decision. The ship could certainly sink. Or the living quarters could be

attacked.

But if they used a vessel that could operate underwater, they could stay

hidden.

“A submarine? We have one we can use?”

“Admiral Meyer guarantees it. In any case, we need to consult with the

submarine squadron.”

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