chapter: 1 The Dacian War
SEPTEMBER 24, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, RANSYLVANIA
REGION, TURAO COUNTY, IMPERIAL ARMY FIELD
MANEUVER AREA
The first thing Battalion Commander von Degurechaff asks about is the
situation in the air.
When the radio operator from Command replies that they have no
information about enemy air strength nor any aerial contacts at all, she
cocks her head as if she can’t believe what she just heard. Her distrust is
plain in her next question—whether their communications are in working
order.
But the operator assures her that both wired and wireless
communications are functioning normally. They’re even fully monitoring
the Dacian FAC’s contact channel.
The next moment, the personnel at Command feel a chill go up their
spines. Major von Degurechaff’s smiling—an intoxicated smile? An
indescribable shock ripples through the room.
No one knew at the time, but if Lergen had seen that expression, he
would probably have smiled the same way. It’s the smile of a ferocious
hunter, and it contains the delight of a starved wolf eyeing its prey.
That’s right. She can hardly believe her improbable good luck, but logic
tells her it’s the truth, enveloping her in a burst of joy. Yes, this is what they
mean when they say filled with emotion. It’s no wonder she can’t keep her
lips from curling into a grin—the opportunity in front of her is that good.
A battlefield entirely devoid of enemy air cover?
Yes, a battlefield entirely devoid of enemy air cover!
The significance of that is so luscious, so terribly seductive. How many
officers, how many men, have yearned for relative imperial air superiority
in Norden and the Rhine?
Thanks to the complete lack of enemy air forces in Dacia, which is
unthinkable in modern warfare, complete supremacy is guaranteed.
No hostile forces in the sky? I have to confess that never in a million
years would I have thought the Principality of Dacia’s military was this
hopeless!
I wanted to avoid the foolish error of underestimating the enemy, but to
think I overestimated them to this extent! They say any number of
unforeseen incidents can happen on the battlefield, but I heartily welcome
any that are this happy.
Has there ever been such a fortuitous turn of heaven’s will? Yes, the
heavens are literally on our side!
September 24 is only her birthday on paper.
Still, this could be considered her first birthday present ever. Today
seems like it’s going to be such a wonderful day I’m liable to start skipping
around like a giddy little kid. Tanya’s cheeks flush, and without thinking,
she whispers, “Dear God, thank you for this one-in-a-million chance.”
In a normal mental state, she wouldn’t even entertain the thought of
parting her lips for such an utterance. It must be an expression of her tender
feelings toward this command.
The establishment of absolute air supremacy… At least at that moment
in time, the only one who understood the significance was Tanya. That’s
why she shot off running with periodic little skips.
And that entire scene played out where Lieutenant Colonel von Lergen
could see it, even as his face was still twitching from the report that six
hundred thousand Dacian troops had crossed the border.
Thinking of the dire effects this would have on the front, he wanted to
bury his head in his hands. And so, when Tanya ran off with her unit’s
deployment orders in hand, apparently skipping her briefing, all he and
some other personnel from HQ could do was stare after her as if the whole
thing wasn’t actually happening.
If someone asked what was lacking in the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion,
which had withstood being drop-kicked off a ridge in the Alpen Mountains
as part of their extremely authentic training, Tanya would immediately
declare, “Combat experience.” Not that the need to further develop esprit de
corps and continue training are insignificant issues, but their commander
can’t stand the fact that her subordinates lack a most critical baptism by fire.
No matter how much rookies train at an exercise range, once stationed on a
real battlefield they’re sure to muck it up.
Not to mention that they’ve been drilling at the Turao Field Maneuver
Area in the southeast—the exact opposite direction from the fighting. She
can’t deny that they’re getting a bit overly comfortable, as everyone does
when stationed too long at the rear. It would be a waste if the human
resources meant to serve as my shields went soft, so after receiving word to
keep an eye out for Dacia, I’ve been considering it a useful expedient to
maintain some degree of tension—and not much more.
Given the disparity of strength between the two nations and the Empire’s
habit of freely throwing its weight around, I figured Dacia would get the
message and mind its own business.
Which is why when the alarm goes off, I’m at a total loss. The Dacians
would go to war, risking occupation of their fatherland, in the name of
international cooperation? I can’t believe idiots like that actually exist! She
half expects a stern order to call off combat maneuvers because the warning
was a mistake.
But for better or worse, for reasons Tanya can’t fathom, they don’t seem
to care if they really start a war.
“Two hundred and third, to your battle stations, on the double. How’s
Border Command?”
Command personnel run around shouting requests into radios and
telephones to be connected to one post or get information about another.
“Lieutenant Weiss! Reassemble and have someone pass out
ammunition!”
“Major, we have a theater report from the Seventh Air Fleet. We’ve
received the Command Post frequency.”
“Verify immediately. And get me Lieutenant Serebryakov!”
Efficiently canceling the exercise and giving instructions for their next
move, Tanya scowls slightly in the direction of Colonel von Lergen, who
seems to have anticipated this. He had dropped her a hint, but if their
neighbor Dacia is really planning to oppose them, she would have liked a
chance to scope out the area as a military attaché or liaison officer. That
way she would have a better grasp of the lay of the land and thus a clearer
image of what needs to be blown up.
“…Well, this attack is certainly a bolt from the blue, wouldn’t you say,
Colonel von Lergen?”
“Spare me the sarcasm, Major. You’ll be delaying for us.”
As my battalion is under direct command of the General Staff, there’s
been a constant parade of high-ranking staffers in and out of the garrison. It
seems my hunch that they were mainly interested in Dacia was spot-on.
That’s why when Colonel von Lergen shows up with an urgent update from
the border and sealed orders from the General Staff Office, I can only sigh
and hold my tongue.
“Huh? Delaying, sir? You mean you want my battalion to stop the
Dacian Army?”
“I realize it’s unreasonable, but whether we mobilize forces in the east or
send reinforcements from Central, war on multiple fronts means we’ll need
to buy time somewhere…”
Her unit might be newly formed, and she may be an untested
commander, but Tanya isn’t about to be underestimated. According to the
report, it’s only six hundred thousand Dacian troops crossing the border.
Yes, their infantry is marching through this mountainous region, greener
than a bunch of Boy Scouts.
“With all due respect, the Principality’s troops are a barely trained rabble
of soldiers and farmers, hardly up to modern warfare.”
After assuming her post, she’d done a little investigating as part of her
Dacian studies and learned that the Principality is a so-called minor nation
standing atop an unstable foundation at the moment. It may have a lot of
soldiers, but Boy Scouts would probably be better prepared. It’s ludicrous if
Lergen thinks her battalion can only manage to delay them.
“Mobilize the regional army group? I’m sure four divisions assembled
from the surrounding area would be plenty to trample them. My battalion
alone would be enough to repulse the vanguard, not just delay.”
“…Do you understand what you’re saying, Major?”
“I do, sir. I see it as a fully outfitted army driving off a Boy Scout troop.
It might even be easier than that.”
Far from the level of national guard reserves or part-time soldiers, the
Dacian forces are half farmers, more like the Korean People’s Army. A band
of armed robbers would have more discipline than such a riffraff. The
imperial troops will crush them in a single blow. If they can’t do at least that
much, it would be too shameful to call themselves an army. After all, the
military of a modern state is a dense conglomeration of precisely managed
violence. There’s no way such an instrument will find it difficult to scatter
an anachronistic mob drawn from whoever happened to be around at the
time.
The gap in fighting power between modern and premodern forces is
insurmountable.
“All the sealed orders said was to take the most appropriate action to
defend the border.”
Tanya has been authorized to act at her discretion. In other words, she’s
been given free rein to do whatever she thinks is best. That’s the minimum
requirement of a commander as well as the standard for all evaluations.
Would a fully outfitted army run from a rough gathering of picnickers? That
would be an eternal blot on her record. Tanya would forever be a
laughingstock in military history.
Now that the mission has been given to her, the methods are essentially
under the umbrella of her discretionary powers. That also means any failure
would indicate a lack of resourcefulness. Call me anything but incompetent.
“Colonel, before the Dacian forces crossed the border, was there any
artillery fire or struggle for control of the airspace?”
“Well, no.”
If these were six hundred thousand Federal or Republican troops with air
support, there’d be no shame whatsoever in calling for reinforcements, and
that’s probably what I would do. But such worries are pointless against an
enemy who didn’t bother with preparatory bombardment or securing air
supremacy. It’s quite a pile of soldiers, but they’re helpful enough to line up
in a row for easy targeting.
Experience is a great teacher, and these primitive buffoons are about to
learn what a difference modern civilization makes.
“That should tell you something about who we’re up against. I’m going
to bring the iron hammer of civilization down on these barbarians.”
We shall conquer the sky and teach them to fear mages.
“What?”
“My battalion is a fully outfitted and properly trained military force.
We’ll rout the lot of them.”
Modern warfare depends on national strength to a savage degree.
Education, training, logistics. There is a world of difference in these areas
between countries that are considered great powers and those that are not.
History provides eloquent testimony about how undeniable this disparity is.
I’m gonna drive these guys off conquistador-style.
“The enemy vanguard alone is three divisions, you realize.”
On the map, the Dacian advances are represented by multiple arrows.
The one penetrating the farthest into imperial territory is supposedly
composed of three divisions—the elite core—from the standing army.
What a joke reality is, seriously. It cracks me up. This vanguard is
supposed to be their military’s best, and they don’t have any armored
divisions or mechanized infantry, just plain old foot soldiers. It reflects on
their nation’s true strength, and it honestly makes me feel sorry for them.
The competition principle, at its core, benefits the strong and crushes the
weak. Still, this is the first time I’ve ever felt guilty that the fight isn’t fair.
“This won’t even be a battle, just a simple thrashing. I’ll teach them
what a real army and war look like.”
Nothing more than three divisions of amateurs. That’s all. The
conquistadors had horses and guns, but they still fought it out on level
ground. We’ll be shooting like mad from our third dimension in the sky, so
victory is assured. This is going to be a pseudo-atrocity that can only be
described as a live-fire exercise.
“So how far can we go?”
“What?”
“If the enemy’s resistance is so fragile that we accidentally overextend,
that could be a logistical problem.”
“Hold on, Major. What are you saying?”
“Sir, I’m going to give Dacia some educational guidance. I intend to
personally drive home for them the high price of the teacher we call
experience.”
Okay, time for war. No, time for bullying a bunch of weaklings, more
like.
How lucky; this pathetic bunch showed up at just the right time. I lick
my lips in spite of myself. Unlike the muddy Rhine or freezing Norden, the
skies over Dacia in the temperate southeast are sure to have perfect flying
weather. It’s still September. We’ll have any number of opportunities to
attack before the sun goes down.
I ponder these things, but all those thoughts disperse when my adjutant
comes trotting over.
It’s time to work.
“Second Lieutenant Serebryakov reporting in, ma’am. You called?”
“Yes. Lieutenant, what’s the battalion’s status?”
“Everyone has assembled. Lieutenant Weiss is currently handing out
ammunition and explaining the situation.”
Their progress is the definition of smooth. All according to plan. Tanya
even feels her cheeks relaxing into a smile of satisfaction, but she wills
them to stay taut. Even elementary schoolers know that the field trip isn’t
over until they make it home in one piece. It’s careless to be so giddy before
departing.
But even if I don’t like it, it’s an undeniable fact that no one at command
shares my optimistic view of the situation.
And at the very top, openly anxious, is Colonel von Lergen, watching
our preparations in a speechless daze. Well, it seems he’s still
overestimating these six hundred thousand Dacians from his desk at the
General Staff Office. Regrettably, Tanya is forced to confront the reality
that though the colonel may be a genius, he’s been out of the game for too
long. That’s why when her adjutant finishes reporting in, she nods in
satisfaction and pounds her little fist against her chest as if to tell Colonel
von Lergen, Leave this to me.
Just as described, the unit has speedily assembled and is equipped with
their training gear plus the distributed live ammunition. The soldiers are
ready to sortie. Apparently, despite being a little winded from the
interrupted exercise, it’s not enough to affect their combat performance.
Very good.
“Attention, battalion! Instructions from our commander!” First
Lieutenant Weiss barks orders, his heels angled perfectly at a formal fortyfive
degrees.
In response, the members of the battalion align their feet and straighten
up with movements that are nothing if not brisk. Before she knows it, Tanya
finds herself smiling in satisfaction. Surely everyone agrees there is
something uniquely charming—dreamy, even—about rigorous discipline.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Okay, troops, this is war. Well, something
resembling war…and it’s about to begin.”
Perhaps it’s even charmed Tanya into taking the dais with unconscious
excitement and a smile of pure joy, nearly singing to them how happy this
makes her.
“Today is my birthday. Maybe the Principality of Dacia knew that? As
you’ve heard, they’ve been kind enough to offer the surprise present of
targets for a live-fire exercise.”
I have been hoping for some. It’s so nice of the Dacian men to volunteer
themselves.
“You’re free to shoot them with bullets or blow them up with spells.”
They won’t even have a chance as we slaughter them from the sky
unopposed. It’ll be an even bigger turkey shoot than the one in the
Marianas. The only question will be how great a victory we can achieve.
“Troops, we’re going to teach these invaders a lesson—with an iron
hammer.”
Which is why she makes a fist and brings it satisfyingly down on an
imaginary Dacian Army as she shouts to crush them. Beat them into a pulp!
Her enthusiasm makes her intention clear to all present.
It was a savage proclamation that the Imperial Army’s advanced forces
would literally pulverize the Dacian Army vanguard. The result is a given,
so she commands them to go out and make it happen.
“One last thing. I haven’t received any confirmation of this, but our
target practice should retaliate…in theory. I don’t think any of you are
stupid enough to get shot down, but keep an eye out. Okay, we’re restarting
the live-fire exercise. Gentlemen, let the games begin.”
This is a manhunt, in a way—literally. A sport.
Or a story to give the legendary knight Don Quixote a run for his money.
After all, our enemy is a bunch of anachronistic heroes from a bygone era
challenging a terrifying modern monster.
Leaving the rear personnel and the handful of officers visiting from the
General Staff Office to man the garrison, Tanya leads the battalion, setting
off as the fastest responding unit in the Imperial Army. Their target is the
Dacian Army’s vanguard, three divisions or so that have crossed the border
and started the war. The fact that everyone is flying in perfect strike
formation and remembering their training means that Tanya’s work is
already paying off, to her great satisfaction.
Before long, she manages to make contact with the evacuating Imperial
Army Border Patrol units. Receiving the latest about the enemy from them,
Tanya is convinced.
Without a doubt, whatever strategy the Dacian Army has in mind is
some kind of medieval relic. Moments later, making minute adjustments to
their course and preparing for their attack runs as they rush ahead, the
battalion sees a writhing mass of humans on the horizon.
How kind of them to wear brightly colored uniforms and pack together
in dense formations. Their outdated military doctrine doesn’t take magic
strikes or aerial bombardment into consideration. They are at once splendid
prey and a wasted mountain of human resources. What a pathetic nation. To
have so much human capital but be entirely incapable of putting it to good
use.
Anyhow, it’s the Imperial Army’s job to blow these youths away. So I’ll
leave the condolences for the sorrow of the widows and elderly to the
Principality of Dacia’s foolish government.
“Aconitum 01 to all hands. This operation is a go! Teach those fools the
definition of war!”
The battalion is using an incredibly obvious, textbook tactic for aerial
mages facing ground forces, where three of the four companies attack from
three different directions. That leaves one company leftover, which is a
great problem to have. Normally, the enemy would have direct support, and
I’d send that company to fight for control of the air, but…if you can believe
it, today they are simply extras.
“Company commanders, I’m expecting you to follow your orders and
show me good results!”
“““Understood!”””
I could save them as backup, but things are going so smoothly it hardly
seems like I need them. The companies on the attack aren’t even attracting
any anti–air fire with their tight maneuvers. All the enemy ground troops
can seem to do is panic as my mages lay waste to them from the sky. If all I
do is watch, people might start saying I get paid to stand around.
“I’m stumped, Lieutenant. There’s nothing for us to do.”
It’s not as if I’m pro-war or a workaholic, but I do worry what other
people will think if I’m the only one not being productive while everyone
else is working. It has been two months since the battalion was formed, and
it’s clear to Tanya that the General Staff is keeping a close eye on how they
are doing. There’s a strong need to take aggressive actions and achieve
appropriate results.
“…I was bracing myself for a difficult battle.”
“You’re nervous about three measly divisions on a reckless, half-baked
rampage? That doesn’t sound like a veteran of the Rhine front.”
“I mean, Major…it’s three divisions. I don’t mean to be presumptuous,
but your sense of these things is…a little, er…never mind.”
Ahh. I realize that Lieutenant Serebryakov is at least a little bit right. I
should use my words properly. This Dacian unit does consider itself to be
three divisions.
Is my adjutant’s hesitance a sign of her apprehensions regarding my lax
use of specialized vocabulary? …That has to be it, without a doubt. I guess
it’s my mistake for taking a post-structuralist lightly. It’s very dangerous
when phenomena are evaluated based on words. I’ve got to deconstruct this
and remedy my error.
“…Sorry, Lieutenant Serebryakov. It seems you’re right.”
“Er, ma’am?”
“Yes, technically, I should have said it’s a fifty-thousand-man mob on a
reckless rampage. If you don’t properly define your terms, of course you’ll
invite misunderstanding. Honestly, what was I thinking…?”
It appears Lieutenant Serebryakov and the others were expecting the
fight to be a bit tougher. Their ability to brace themselves for a harrowing
battle against a mighty enemy shows good mettle, but it was my mistake to
label the enemy forces “divisions.” Tanya can only show remorse for
making her subordinates think the Dacian Army is a serious military power.
This conflict will be this world’s first world war. For most soldiers, it
will be their first experience with many things, including the menace of
aerial fighting power. They’re so caught up in two-dimensional warfare that
they have yet to understand the value of the sky when battles become threedimensional.
“Okay. We should participate, too. Command Company, follow me.
Let’s poke at their leaders.”
That’s why she wonders how this battle against opponents with no
presence in the air could be any more one-sided. Lieutenant Serebryakov
and the others’ worries are starting to seem a little amusing. The point of
this battle is simple. All they have to do is reap the heads of the enemy
soldiers. Then they’ll transition to blowing any remnants of the enemy
forces to literal smithereens.
“On me! On me!”
We swoop down and drop formula-fixed anti-surface grenades. The goal
with these is to scatter shrapnel, so they explode above the enemy soldiers.
The fools aren’t even wearing iron helmets, so their heads turn into
pincushions. But we don’t have time to watch; the company preps formulas,
locates optimal locations, then opens fire with full power.
We blow away the tightly packed infantry, and the surface devolves into
total chaos as soldiers run in all directions trying to avoid the blasts. There
is some sporadic return fire, but for infantry rifles to pierce our defensive
shells, they would need to wear them down with a dense barrage.
This battlefield, devoid of the harsh sound of heavy machine-gun fire, is
a horrible place for the infantry, forced to use nothing but their basic
firearms in rudimentary anti-air tactics, but for those of us who can fly,
there’s nothing better.
“The Dacian Army is dragging their feet. They’re too slow. All
companies, give me an update.”
“Everything’s fine, Major.”
“No problems here.”
“This really is a live-fire exercise.”
“It’s weird. I was sure we were the ones being attacked, but…”
This is such a letdown. The scene below is so absurd that I nearly
wonder if we mixed up offensive and defensive roles somehow. Those
Entente Alliance numbskulls crossed the border without intending to fight,
but once battle was joined, they took it seriously and fought almost too
passionately.
The Principality, on the other hand, has plenty of motivation and
declared war from their end, but they just have no idea what war even is.
“This really is strange. Did they think they could hit us and we wouldn’t
hit them back?”
“Seriously, these poor half-wits.”
Even in a fistfight, you expect some retaliation after punching someone.
Of course, when two nations’ instruments of violence clash, you should be
able to maintain a minimum of dignity, despite the foolish quarrel, with
artillery. These guys need to take a tip from Frederick the Great.
I’m stuck waging a war against these idiots, so clearly I’m the one who
has it the hardest. Of course, ever since the evil Being X interfered with my
ultra-ordinary working adult life, I haven’t been optimistic about my fate
even once…
“By the way, what’s that? What are they doing?”
As Tanya finishes communicating with the companies, she adjusts her
altitude to prepare for another attack run when she notices some kind of
organized movement beginning on the ground. According to Imperial Army
textbook, the expected enemy response to this situation would be to have
their soldiers spread out and begin anti–air fire in areas designated by their
commanders.
But rather than putting space between one another, they are starting to
form densely packed squares.
“Are they panicking?”
True, becoming isolated on a battlefield is a terrifying prospect. My
adjutant’s understanding of the situation is perhaps the most realistic…but
from what I can see, officer-looking types are actually commanding them to
form up in those ranks.
“…It doesn’t seem to be confusion. I think they’re making an infantry
square…”
“But that’s so stupid…! The age of cavalry is over!”
Yes, just as Lieutenant Serebryakov’s astonished remark would suggest,
we are conducting not a cavalry charge but magic ground attacks. The
correct response is spreading out to minimize casualties, and it’s honestly
hard to imagine that there are soldiers in this day and age who would form
an infantry square under the belief it would achieve anything. Even a
civilian should be able to tell that bunching up would be dangerous.
“How far back in time are they living? Is this some kind of mistake?”
Or maybe another power has given them some sort of new doctrine or
technology? But as those unlikely scenarios flit across Tanya’s mind, the
simplest solution is to quit worrying and attack to observe their reaction.
A moment later, however, she instinctively explodes at the scene
unfolding in front of her. “Weiss!! Why are you running away?!”
She can’t believe her eyes. Confronted with an enemy infantry square,
Lieutenant Weiss’s company has hastily changed course.
The Dacian troops are all packed together. They’re doing nothing but
holding their positions and bravely waiting for the moment they get blown
up, the poor bastards. The pain of being such a badly misused human
resource would have evaporated in an instant.
Conscious that she is practically quaking with anger, Tanya screams,
“Hey! Why are you reversing?! Why are you breaking attack formation?!”
“Major!!”
But the scene has made Tanya so furious that Lieutenant Serebryakov’s
startled shout has no effect.
Weiss’s company was in position to make their assault, but then they
hastily turned away from the enemy as if they were scared. As far as Tanya
could tell, there was no evidence of a counterattack that could warrant such
a move.
Her suspicion that they are fleeing before the enemy—the worst
explanation possible—rapidly eclipses any other thoughts. Her men are
spreading out and pulling back in the face of such flaccid defense? The
sheer spinelessness astounds her.
Unaware that her teeth are grinding, she doesn’t even hide the fact that
she’s lost her temper. “Lieutenant, go get the vice commander! If he resists,
you can shoot him!”
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
I order Serebryakov to grab Lieutenant Weiss by the scruff of his neck
and drag him over on the double, but at the same time, a sinking sense of
betrayal takes over. I thought he was going to be a good vice commander. I
thought he was a great subordinate. So how—HOW?!—could he be
deserting now? This is ludicrous. The fact that the vice commander of the
203rd Aerial Mage Battalion fled before this rabble will be a blot on my
career that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
I at least want to sublimate my rage rather than waste it on chewing him
out, so I seal a compound explosion formula inside a magic bullet.
Thanking the archaic mind-set that had the Dacian Army still struggling to
maintain ranks, I fire. The shot lands right where I aimed, in the center of
the enemy formation, and detonates.
Seriously, this is the easiest fight. It can’t even be counted as one of the
Lord’s trials; it’s ridiculous.
“Major, here’s Lieutenant Weiss.” Lieutenant Serebryakov makes her
report as efficiently as possible, as if to avoid conflict.
Tanya proceeds matter-of-factly, not because she interpreted the gesture
favorably but more because it simply didn’t register. “Thanks. Take my
company. Continue the attack.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Even the continuing verbal exchange is irritating. Having rather
irresponsibly entrusted her company to Serebryakov, Tanya closes in on
Weiss as if she’s going to bite him, openly livid. He has no idea why the
commander has suddenly called him over.
“All right, Lieutenant, if you have an excuse, you’d better give it to me
before I shoot you.”
“M-Major von Degurechaff, what exactly do I need an excuse for?”
“You’re suspected of fleeing before the enemy, Lieutenant. If you need
an explanation, maybe we should grill you in a court-martial!”
Weiss still hasn’t figured out why he was called over. Of course he
doesn’t. After all, he can’t recall making any mistakes. But it isn’t normal
for the battalion commander’s adjutant to take a position to shoot him down
as if he were an actual enemy and summon him “immediately.”
“Major! My men and I would never abandon our duty…”
This is precisely the moment he realizes he’s stepped on a huge land
mine, despite not understanding why. What did I do? Still, he can sincerely
swear that he only intended to fulfill his duty. His conscience vis-à-vis God
and his fatherland is clean.
And that’s why he dares to argue against his superior officer, who looks
ghastly enough to be a furious vampire.
“Then tell me, Lieutenant, why you drew back and spread out just
moments ago? Why did you turn around?”
“What?”
“Explain why you turned tail and scattered in the face of the enemy!”
But the shouts raining down on him didn’t take his defense into account
at all; on the contrary, the anger and murderous hostility only increased.
“Ma’am. The enemy infantry assumed an anti–air formation, so I played
it by the book and pulled my unit back to the edge of their range and
ordered containment fire on the enemy unit.”
“Book? What book?”
“The Twenty-Second Aerial Magic Combat Field Manual.”
His response is dead serious. From Weiss’s perspective, he skillfully
acted according to his training in the Eastern Army Group and made the
right call. But I want to teach him via actual combat that referring to the
manual for every operation is nonsensical. Really, there’s a limit to what the
manual even covers.
That’s why it takes me a minute to remember… Ah, right, it was
recommended in the section about anti-surface strikes to avoid anti–air
positions…but after recalling it, Tanya’s face twists up in disgust.
“Wait a minute. Look over there! That’s enemy infantry! Do you not
understand that I ordered you to attack immediately?!”
“Yes, they were in a close-ranks firing position, so I ordered my
company to avoid them.”
It’s just— It’s just a bunch of infantry standing close together! she wants
to scream, but Weiss’s explanation was straight out of the textbook.
“Lieutenant, let me make this clear. If we have any mages who would
get shot down by that, I will kill them before the enemy has a chance.”
“But, Major—”
“Listen up, Mr. Common Sense, I’ll explain this only once. Do you
really think bolt-action infantry rifles firing at the edge of their effective
range can pierce a mage’s defensive shell?!”
It’s not as if you’re heavy cavalry about to get dashed against a tercio
with their pikes and muskets. The utter stupidity! The lethality of our
sidearms alone is enough to render their infantry square defense useless.
The point proves itself when you look at the current Rhine front or the
amusing nastiness in the Far East between Akitsushima and the Federation.
Hence Tanya’s difficulty grasping the notion of her subordinate who had
been trained with completely outdated doctrine. If the infantry has gathered
together to commit suicide, why not assist them? But apparently, that’s
difficult to comprehend for someone who has never experienced actual
combat. Especially since live ammunition doesn’t get used on the exercise
range, the sight of all those barrels pointing at them from a dense infantry
formation tends to elicit a conditioned reaction to reverse course; the longer
someone has been serving and training, the stronger that tendency.
“I’ll give you a chance to clear your name. Try shooting a formula
straight into the middle of that formation.”
“Huh?”
“…After me. I’ll give you an example.”
With that, Tanya loads a magic bullet into her rifle and maneuvers neatly
down to attack the middle of the long formation. If his superior officer is
going to rush the enemy, Weiss has no room to argue; all he can do is
follow. He’s grimly determined as he hastily swoops after her to perform
what he’s sure is a desperate, reckless charge.
“…You blew them away.”
“There are no words. Now do your duty!”
He casts the formula directly in the middle, according to his training.
They even have time to watch scraps of flesh scatter in all directions.
Whether the enemy could defend or not, surely, they have some way of
countering—is what most of the Imperial Army troops think. As Weiss is
definitely in that camp, seeing Dacian soldiers, who went to the trouble of
bunching up with no plan, get blown apart is an utterly novel sight, even on
a battlefield.
“Major…my sincere apologies.”
“Lieutenant Weiss, I’ll consider your error the result of inappropriate
training. I guess it’s a good thing we’re doing this live-fire exercise.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Sheesh, I never expected there to be problems during such a simple
exercise. The fringes of the Imperial Army are unexpectedly shaky. How
sad.”
Up above, she breathes a sigh. She even misses what’s coming over the
radio reports for a split second. Tanya takes a deep breath and suppresses
her emotions that threaten to blaze out of control. The reality is that
education and training for the new realities of war aren’t reaching even the
best soldiers. Which means, unfortunately, the army’s doctrine is failing to
meet real combat situations.
I’m forced to realize that apparently those in the rear don’t understand
the frontline experience. Or perhaps a better way to put it is that they’re
failing to acknowledge the paradigm shift? It’s almost certain that most of
the officers in charge of training recruits still fail to understand threedimensional
warfare.
Veterans of the Norden and Rhine fronts have written enough reports on
what they learned through combat to make anyone sick, but the people
reading them are only interpreting the information through the old models
of war. The implications are truly sad. The situation is far worse than I
thought, to the point where I feel disgusted—this is just tragic.
The entire Imperial Army is failing to learn from even the instructor
whose exorbitant fee can only be paid in blood and iron: experience.
Now I understand why General von Zettour and the other Service Corps
authorities assumed the combat accounts couldn’t provide enough
instruction for the armies in the east and south and wanted to create a unit
immediately under the General Staff Office partially just to advise them
directly.
The extravagant folly of lowering your guard in combat airspace to sink
into thought… This kind of contemplation is only possible because of our
overwhelming air supremacy. In a way, it would make sense to be happy
we’re winning, but there are a few problems on Tanya’s mind that make
celebrating impossible.
“We’ve found their command post.”
“That’s awfully fast. It’s not a fake?”
Unbelievable things keep happening one after the other. Even Tanya
never imagined there would come a day she would distrust her
subordinate’s reports this much.
Yes, we have air supremacy, and we’re using leadership decapitation
tactics…but does that mean the top of the enemy command chain can be
exposed so easily?
“There’s no mistake, Major.”
“Is it the frontline command? Lower than that?”
If they could pick it out in this chaos, it had to be either a division or
brigade command post.
“No, it’s the headquarters of the invading army.”
“What? Are you sure?”
For a moment, the words seem to mean something inconceivable.
Headquarters?
Of the entire invading army?
“We intercepted an unencoded transmission.”
Conclusion: It has to be a basic form of disinformation. Even if they are
panicking, there’s no way even the lowliest radio operator, much less a
comms officer from their headquarters, would send information without
encoding it.
“Then it has to be a fake message.”
“No, I understand why you would say that, but…everything we’re
picking up in this airspace is clear.”
“…Seriously? That’s hard to believe.”
“But they aren’t even limiting the signal strength. It may seem unlikely,
but it could be real.”
Though the look on his face is half-disbelief, he reports in a voice that
can only belong to people who thoroughly understand their job. To put the
incomprehensible situation into plain words: Is the Dacian Army attacking
with only ground troops and sending unsecured communications from their
headquarters…for the benefit of the Imperial Army?
Though Tanya just reprimanded a subordinate for relying too much on
rigid common sense, she’s plagued by it as well. Of course, her own sense
is optimized, raised to a whole other level.
I still doubt what he said, but when I use my orb to listen in to the
signals, there is a huge convoy emitting uncoded transmissions in one spot.
“Lieutenant Weiss, bring your unit and support mine. Lieutenant
Serebryakov! Round up the company and follow me!”
““Roger!””
Just in case it’s a trap, we make sure to secure a route for rapid
withdrawal as we approach. I have Lieutenant Weiss’s company get into
position to support our advance, and with their overwatch covering our
backs, I have my company begin aerial maneuvers for reconnaissance in
force. Presuming the enemy will fire a volley, I consciously thicken my
defensive shell. I enter the enemy’s range knowing that in addition to the
Type 97, I can boot up my Type 95 in a worst-case scenario.
I’ll get shot at.
The possibility was on my mind, so of course I had imagined a number
of shots from the ground.
“…Of all the ridiculous—!”
That’s why I shout in disbelief. Surely even the sloppiest army can
manage to defend their headquarters. In stories, even dictators and corrupt
commanding officers diligently make sure their immediate surroundings are
guarded.
But…
But no one is shooting at us.
“How disappointing. Gentlemen, are we not at war? Is this lot an actual
army?”
It’s good that things are going smoothly. There’s no doubt about that.
But in war, nothing going according to the plan is a given. Even if I thought
it would be possible to repulse these invaders, I never dreamed things
would go even better than anticipated.
To think we can storm the Dacian Army headquarters without even
falling out of assault formation and face zero resistance.
“We didn’t accidentally attack a tour group visiting the Empire, did we?
If so, that would be a major accountability mess.” The situation is so
unexpected that I murmur something uncharacteristically silly—it wasn’t
funny enough to be a joke.
“My apologies, ma’am.”
“It was an error not to check with immigration first. Next time we’ll
make sure to consult with them.”
The members of the battalion skillfully playing along, hanging their
heads to express their regret, must feel something is off, too. If this is all
we’re dealing with, it’ll seem like I subjected them to hellish training for no
reason. Seriously, these enemies are so easy I’m going to get mistaken as a
sadist.
That’s why, when we descend to capture the field HQ, its flag flying
prominently despite the danger, Tanya is so confused that she fires off
another rare joke.
“…Yes, excuse me. Are you the tour leader? The Empire humbly
apologizes for the trouble we’ve caused. Embarrassingly enough, Imperial
Army Border Patrol thought you were an army…” She mimics her
subordinates’ humorous motions, lowering her head and then bowing
slightly in the direction of the pathetically wailing, panic-stricken enemies.
A silence falls as everyone in the tent is rendered speechless, but the next
moment, she abruptly delivers some stock greetings with a cheerful smile.
“Welcome to the Empire! What is the purpose of your visit? May I see your
passport?”
The silent Dacians have probably frozen in response to the bizarre
circumstances. But as their brains start to reboot, they finally begin to
process what is going on. In all the confusion, a fully armed little girl has
attacked them before they even realized and is now engaging them in a
game of pretend immigration inspection.
“Cu-cut the crap!” The officers were all wearing so many decorations a
sniper wouldn’t have known who to aim at first. This girl is toying with
us… Realizing that, one of them leaps at Tanya, but First Lieutenant Weiss
steps out of the formation and kicks him to the ground, where he passes out.
Problematically, judging from his decorations, he’s the most senior officer
present. In a way, this is actually the first thing that hasn’t gone according to
plan.
“How about the rest of you? Would you like to enter the Empire as
prisoners?”
If they surrender, Tanya will have no choice but to treat them as regular
prisoners of war according to the law. Driving off three divisions is easy,
but feeding that many prisoners would be really hard. Just the thought of
the additional burden it would put on Logistics is dizzying. Still, as
slaughter isn’t one of her hobbies, she advises them to surrender…at least,
that’s what she’s doing from her perspective.
“Preposterous! As if the Dacian Army would ever surrender!”
“This is a waste of time. Shoot everyone except that general.”
Sadly, they didn’t understand, but she’s happy to give the order to fire.
The rest is fairly straightforward. Her company of mages conducts a
close-quarters battle against a company’s worth of command post
personnel. Taking on mages at close range with little more than pistols is
suicide. Before long, the outcome that will no doubt be printed in Dacian
textbooks is reached.
They eliminate their targets without a hitch, and the tent is filled with
fresh corpses. Like a gang of burglars, Tanya’s company is snatching up
every document and apparatus they can find and cramming them into their
packs. The papers and high-ranking prisoners, albeit few in number, will be
good souvenirs for the General Staff.
“Set a booby trap. Yes, we’ll put it by that head.”
At the same time, before the disorganized Dacian soldiers realize
something is amiss with their headquarters, Tanya has her troops leave a
little parting gift for them, too.
“The head of that officer we propped up is going to explode. No doubt
it’ll be very effective against these guys.”
A bit of a crude move but also a classic, and the tactic has been in use
for so long because it works: rigging a corpse with a booby trap. It’s a huge
blow to morale, and we can also inflict casualties on any enemies who
come to rescue the HQ personnel. Pretty good return for a low-cost
investment of time and effort.
“If only there were a pamphlet about group sightseeing tours…”
“Lieutenant, do you have any paint? I’d like to make an immigration
stamp…”
“Hey, don’t play with the corpses! Take this war seriously!”
Tanya raises her voice slightly to warn her soldiers, who seemed to have
relaxed with the path to victory so clear. This isn’t a game for kids. Her
troops have to remain vigilant. It’s understandable why tension is low, but
they had best stay on their toes. If she loses any men in this joke of a fight,
it’ll be a failure worse than useless Italy getting driven off by Ethiopia; I’d
never live it down.
That said, when Tanya flies up to look down on the scene, she’s plenty
satisfied with what she sees. The Principality’s army is still marching in
ranks down the road, and the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion is assaulting
them from every direction. The fragility of an army without any aerial or
magic support combined with the virtually insurmountable gap between
modern and ancient military technology have resulted in excellent
achievements for the Imperial Army.
Gaping holes have been blasted into the Dacian Army formations, and
personnel who have fallen out of rank litter the ground.
It’ll take more than a few hours to reorganize this chaos. After all, we’ve
succeeded in mowing down the command personnel responsible for
stepping up and taking charge of this mess. And even if the next in
command makes every effort to get the army united again, this is the chaos
they’ll be up against. There’s no way to regain control.
The only way the overwhelmingly inferior Dacian military can hope to
hit us hard is by launching a sneak attack with blitzkrieg tactics. Sending
unsupported infantry to attack the Empire is incompetent enough to give
full-of-shit-guchi in Imphal a run for his money. If any Dacian officers can
get this army back on the march by tomorrow, they deserve medals.
“Lieutenant Weiss! Is your unit assembled?”
“Yes, Major. What about the remainder?”
It seems he’s about to ask, Shall we mop them up? and Tanya just barely
manages to control herself and not burst out laughing. All this guy wants is
to rack up achievements. Even though he only just wrapped up his first
battle, and he played it entirely by the book, he’s eager enough to mention
the necessity of increasing their success—he is excellent material.
“Our air fleet has been deployed, right?”
That’s why she softens up when she poses the question. You could say
the key to making things go smoothly is searching for positives. Before, she
was critical of his actions but not anymore. That’s the trick to managing
personnel in the army.
“Yes. The Seventh Air Fleet is under way and should arrive
momentarily.”
“Then let’s leave the cleanup to them. We’re advancing.”
“Ma’am! Where are we headed?”
Weiss’s brisk response is proof that he’s at least somewhat soldier
material. It seems like he’ll perform his duties with more sincerity than I
anticipated. If I can use him, I need to use him well.
“The capital.”
“The capital, ma’am?”
“Yep.” Tanya senses that she’s mellowed out quite a bit as she gives him
a magnanimous nod. “Have an escort take the injured and prisoners and
withdraw. You can choose who to send.”
“Yes, ma’am. No one sustained even minor injuries, though, so in that
case… What would you like me to do?”
“Oh, right.”
When he points it out, I realize that it’s hard to imagine sustaining any
casualties in that kind of battle. Well, it’s not like I assumed there were any.
It was more to be considerate. Or force of habit? Though I’ll eventually
have to admit that I’ve been just a little intellectually lazy.
Tanya has grown used to the weight of her rifle, so is this just making
mountains out of molehills because she’s nervous about commanding a
battalion for the first time?
If that’s the case, I need to compose myself better. A leader shouldn’t
dampen the mood for no reason.
“All right. Then have the ones who are the most exhausted go. This is
going to be a long advance. Yeah, send some of the newer officers who just
had their first battle back to base.”
“May I send one platoon from Fourth Company?”
“That seems reasonable. I’m leaving it up to you.”
Weiss actually makes fairly good calls on things like unit management,
and Tanya has come to trust him during their time at the garrison. Peacetime
company commanders aren’t worth their salt unless they can properly lead
their subordinates. Whether he turns out to be a decent wartime company
commander or not depends on his experiences going forward. I just hope he
grows.
Anyhow, at least one of my hand-selected war maniacs has the right
skills and spirit for battle. With his measure of common sense, I have no
complaints about making Weiss my right-hand man, and I’m eager to have
him contribute to my security. Well, I guess I should just keep using him
and see how things go.
“Okay, now we can push farther, Lieutenant!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Farther! Even farther! Let’s see how far we can go! You never know
until you try.”
But for now, we should enjoy our bonus level. With that thought, Tanya
smiles in amusement. It’s the smile that chilled Colonel von Lergen to the
bone. She grins from ear to ear in celebration of their continuing advance.
Now, onward! Onward, still!
That is the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion’s raison d’être, and none other.
Mysteriously enough, First Lieutenant Weiss is wearing the same smile
without realizing it as he salutes.
Every soldier accepts the orders without question, believing that if
anyone can forge a path forward, they can.
With the arrival of the Eastern Army Group’s strategic reserves, the
Seventeenth Army and Air Fleet (which had split up on their way over), the
Dacian Army lines were demolished. Two thousand dead and innumerable
prisoners. The battle had pitted six hundred thousand against seventy
thousand, and the seventy thousand trampled them. The outnumbered side,
the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, had been the first to strike and held
absolute control of the skies over the combat zone. After scoring a victory,
they decided to attack the capital ahead of the air fleet. At the time,
Battalion Commander von Degurechaff was so confident it veered close to
arrogance, boasting, “Who couldn’t run them over?”
SEPTEMBER 25, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, 3:17 AM
AIRSPACE ABOVE THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE CAPITAL
OF THE PRINCIPALITY OF DACIA
Night fell on the capital of the Principality of Dacia as calmly as any
evening since the beginning of time.
The people, roused by a certain excitement that accompanied the start of
the war, had chattered boisterously, alcohol in hand, with great and
senseless fervor, but by this time at night, every place had quieted down and
most had gone to bed.
This could be called a nice, quiet night. Cloud cover is limited; visibility
is good. A slight southeasterly breeze is blowing, but it isn’t so weak that
gunsmoke wouldn’t disperse.
The only tiny smudge hidden in the night is the 203rd Aerial Mage
Battalion.
“This is the first night attack on a city in this world. That said, the
mission actually isn’t very difficult.”
The one who whispered is the battalion’s commander, Major Tanya von
Degurechaff, who is leading them from the head of the formation.
If there were a photograph of her to capture the moment where she
gazed at the city with a gentle, elegant expression, it would prove the
aptness of her alias “White Silver.” Soaring peacefully, she enjoys being
able to proceed through the starry expanse without trouble. But inside her
are thoughts incongruous with the beauty of the night—the upcoming
turbulent attack. It will be fun to burn their target down.
A night incursion on the enemy capital that hasn’t instituted a blackout
—this will be as easy as flying in parade. As expected, though still
astounding, there is no aerial or magical interception—not even any anti–air
fire. The fact that Tanya can’t spot a single artillery battery improves her
mood even more.
Of course, although it’s only in the realm of possibility, there is a
nonzero chance that the whole place is full of hidden gun emplacements.
But…if they made such careful preparations, why would they let enemy
soldiers into the capital? Ultimately, if the Dacian military takes air combat
so lightly, I can’t imagine they’d have the wherewithal to construct any
elaborate firing positions.
Ultimately, what convinces me is how bright the city is. The electricity
and gas are illuminating the place so well that I wonder more than once
about the possibility that the lights are decoys. On a battlefield, that
nonchalance is a regular occurrence in its own way, but it’s abnormal at the
same time. When she thinks that she might be able to teach them the
concept of a blackout, she even fancies herself a bit enlightened.
I’ll teach these fools a lesson through experience. Sometimes I wonder
why people would bother teaching the unwise, but now I understand.
Behind Tanya’s broad grin are pity and contempt. The satisfaction of
channeling those emotions into a lesson by means of kicking their ass is
ever so unique.
“Education, huh? I see. Becoming the instructor known as experience
and collecting a hefty fee isn’t such a bad gig.”
I guess it’s sort of like being one of those Meiji period foreign
government advisors.
The job is simple: Give the poor Principality firsthand exposure to the
difference between us in modern war, civilization, and national power.
Payment will be made in whole by the Imperial Army. This is a
sophisticated enterprise where everything, down to each individual round of
ammunition, is made possible by the cordial consideration of the Imperial
Army General Staff.
Oh, so this is what it’s like to understand something once you try it
yourself. Bringing the light of civilization to barbarians is clearly my sacred
mission. Aha, I see why there are people who confuse differences in culture
and civilization with racial superiority. It’s far too alluring, and most of all,
it provides this horrible sense of omnipotence.
Well, that’s not good. Tanya regrets the thought a bit and wisely
admonishes herself. If there’s one thing I won’t resort to, it’s interpreting
everything through the lens of God. That would interfere with my personal
raison d’être, so I definitely can’t do that. Well, I guess it’s fine to believe in
a sacred mission when I shoot Being X…
Anyhow, I pause that train of thought for the moment, like in a video
game, and then Tanya flicks her flashlight on and off while whirling it
around to call her commanders. It’s almost time to move.
The munitions factory is shining so brilliantly it seems to be trying to
turn the darkness into day. Even from our distant position, the bustling
energy of the workers is apparent in one area where they’re putting all their
efforts into shell production. We have nearly reached our target.
“You called, Major?”
“We’ve found our target as planned. You can see it, right, Lieutenant?
Over there.”
“…I can’t believe a weapons factory is unguarded.”
“Honestly, neither can I. This might sound arrogant, but…” That’s what
Tanya says, although she scoffs as she continues. It would probably be more
accurate to say that she bursts out laughing at the enemy’s foolishness.
“Their way of thinking is stuck somewhere about a century in the past.
They seem to still be living in two dimensions.”
Ignoring the third dimension in the sky, the Dacians only know of an
absolutely flat war. What a splendid concept. How stupid can someone be?
Thanks to that, I have it easy—their ineptitude really is wonderful. Any
enemy of mine is free to let their intelligence atrophy.
Tanya feels she should be genuinely happy about their enemy’s stupidity
while celebrating the favorable circumstances.
“Actually, we should probably be impressed that their factory is
operating twenty-four hours a day.”
“Thinkers of the Enlightenment would be delighted to find them so
industrious.” Though he was wincing a bit as he agreed, First Lieutenant
Weiss knew what he had to do as vice commander to clear his name.
Noticing that he’s trying his best to restore his honor, Tanya adjusts her
evaluation of him and decides he can be trusted with assignments.
“Anyhow, I think it’s good that our job will be easy, Major.”
Then, not one to betray expectations, Weiss offers his opinion. A vice
commander who can make their own calls but also affirm their superior
officer’s judgment despite their lack of experience is surprisingly hard to
come by. Having selected Weiss as her deputy, it’s a relief that Tanya seems
to have an eye for talent.
“This is a great opportunity to attack. Shall we?”
At the same time, her adjutant, Second Lieutenant Serebryakov, is
giving some cause for concern as she’s starting to sound a bit impatient,
perhaps due to her “opportunities” on the Rhine front. I’ve been teaching
her how to wage war but not how to navigate its rules… Tanya has only
received short, intensive officer training, so even if there are no issues with
the way she led her subordinates, it may be necessary to pay more attention
to the legal side of things.
“Lieutenant Serebryakov, we’re not such brutes that we would ignore
the law of war.”
Yes, established by humanitarians and people with legislative
experience, these statutes stipulate the sanctioned way of waging war on
cities.
It’s a parade of arguments no one could reasonably disagree with: You
mustn’t attack facilities that would interfere with people’s daily lives,
attacking civilians is prohibited, indiscriminate bombing is inhumane, and
so on. Oh, how great are laws that try to bring some sense into the mad
realm of war! They are worthy of respect. If we can do this sanely instead
of like maniacs, humans are honestly wonderful. Long live humans. If
there’s a problem, it’s that many of the laws are just slightly impractical.
But poorly conceived laws are still laws.
In reality, though, we don’t have any issues operating within them. What
with murky scopes of application and interpretation difficulties, most laws
can be handled simply. At least, we don’t have any problems this time.
“Please excuse the error, ma’am.”
“Let all units know that we’re only destroying the arms factory. Hey, put
out an evacuation notice—broadcast on the international distress channel
according to regulations.”
The enemy manufactory is obviously a military facility. It isn’t baking
bread or generating electricity to assist people in their daily lives—nothing
like that. Even if someone wanted to insist to the contrary, there’s no such
thing as a peaceful purpose for ammunition. Well, maybe the warm-hearted
humanitarian Mr. Molotov would be making bread baskets. Still, that’s no
problem. It would be their fault for making bread baskets in a facility so
easily mistaken as an arms factory.
“But, Major, if we do that, we’ll lose the element of surprise!”
“Lieutenant Weiss, common sense says that fear is justified, but you’re
thinking a bit too straightforward.”
It seems Tanya’s suggestion that they conduct their attack in line with
the rules dictated by international law is completely lost on her subordinate
officers.
“We came this far in secret only to reveal ourselves…?”
The same questioning look is on all their faces.
Their expressions share a common type of soldierly doubt. They don’t
have any question when it comes to carrying out their military objectives.
Of course, the one who was selected for that character was the battalion
commander, Major Tanya von Degurechaff—in other words, me. Even if I
try to put the blame on someone else, I’m the one responsible in the end.
For a split second, I wonder if I made an error in gathering these
particular subordinates, but I console myself with the thought that they are
magnificent imperial soldiers who obey orders even when reluctant. Tanya
opens her mouth to instruct them in a stately manner.
“Lieutenant Serebryakov! Issue the warning. Order an evacuation
according to regulations.”
“You want me to do that?”
But in the next moment, Serebryakov asks a question, without any deep
meaning, that unintentionally highlights Major von Degurechaff’s acumen
as a specialist. It’s enough to make her sick.
Yes, the warning is only a formality, so less believable is more desirable.
In that case, the cruel reality is that Tanya figured Lieutenant Serebryakov’s
slightly unsophisticated voice would sound less reliable than the hard,
soldierly tone of Lieutenant Weiss’s.
Of course, Tanya is quietly exempting from consideration the youngest
member of the unit—herself.
But now that it has been mentioned, I have to admit Serebryakov has a
point. If someone were to ask Tanya afterward why Lieutenant Serebryakov
made the announcement, I was planning to say, “My assumption was that if
a girl made the warning, they would drop their guard,” but the worst thing
that could happen is someone asks, “Don’t you think the commander should
have issued it?”
I have to do it. I don’t want to, but…
“…Mm, okay. You’re right, I should do it. I’ll make it really sound like a
little kid.”
Agh! Nothing for it. At this point, all I can do is think about increasing
our chances of success. Argh, these shitty international laws—what a pain.
Can’t they hurry up and meet their de facto death? What genius got on a
high horse and suggested upholding rules of war?
Having partially given up, she shouts into the receiver a subordinate
handed her, leaning heavily on the infantile sound of her voice. “Thish is a
warning.”
And so the warning that day echoed grandly throughout the Dacian
capital… Except it didn’t.
It’s true that she is following the law to the letter and broadcasting it
over the international distress channel.
“We, the Imperial Army, are now commenshing an attack on a military
supply facility!”
However, I suppose would be the appropriate word…only a very tiny
number of people will hear the announcement. For starters, radio
penetration in Dacia isn’t high enough that every house has a set.
Furthermore, households who leave their radio on in the middle of the night
are no doubt an extreme minority.
“We will begin maneuvers thirty minutes from now.”
Most of all, would anyone take a threat from someone who is obviously
a child at face value? Not really. If someone with a more rigid tone, voice,
and manner of speech that practically shouted their identity as a soldier—
someone like Rudersdorf or Zettour, with that undeniable military air about
them—gave the warning, it would be a different story. But with Tanya as
the announcer, objectively speaking…aside from the content, the
announcement is awfully heartwarming.
Many people will consider it at most an elaborate prank and think little
more of it, going back to sleep with a critical frown.
“We solemnly pwedge—errybody swears to fight fair and square,
according to international law.”
On the other hand, there remains the goal of playing the part properly
despite the ridiculous voice, so Tanya lets all the emotion drain out of her
words. In a way, this performance is a mortification of Tanya’s mind
comparable to using Type 95 at full power. Praising God and affirming
Being X is bad enough, but I still see my duty through to the end.
Naturally, she is openly indignant as she scowls at their target and shouts
that she will crush it. Visha’s emotions as she looks on next to her are
probably shared with the rest of the battalion—unshakable solidarity.
…No, her thought is, That’s so low, Major.
Tanya finishes reading the warning in a voice appropriate for a child her
age. No matter how you think about it, the only appropriate explanation
would be some kid’s prank; anyone would think so. Even we feel like
we’ve caught a glance of some gruesome sight.
“Major, do you have experience in acting?”
“Acting? I’m not sure I understand what you mean. I’m just hoping they
lower their guard.”
Though the tone matches her age, Tanya murmurs her dissatisfaction in
her usual cold voice. It must be a sign of complex internal feelings. Weiss
has only known her for a short time, but even he can pick up the displeasure
his superior doesn’t bother hiding. Her mood is as dangerous as
nitroglycerin.
When Weiss quietly takes a step back, everyone discreetly follows suit.
Nobody wants to be so close to Major von Degurechaff when she’s irritated.
“…Okay, troops. It appears shaming myself was worth it.”
Still, something has been beaten into them during their training as
soldiers.
And that’s why they understand that their superior will vent her feelings
on the enemy as they ready themselves for the attack, grabbing their orbs
and rifles with as much as a measure of sympathy.
“This munitions factory has been receiving Republican assistance. It’s
probably full of flammable materials.” Tanya’s tone contains a clear
determination to blow the target sky-high. Normally her inner thoughts are
inscrutable, but today, at this very moment, every mage in the 203rd Aerial
Mage Battalion can understand exactly what’s on her mind. There’s no
mistaking it.
She’s motivated.
“I issued the warning. Our obligation has been fulfilled. Now let’s watch
the fireworks.”
I’m openly indignant—blowing off steam or maybe taking it out on
them.
The expression on Major von Degurechaff’s face while she casts an
extra-large yet precise formula and conjures a long-range projection
formula is a mixture of intoxication and anger, all indicating very real
danger. Let sleeping dogs lie. Since no one has interfered, she’s able to turn
her undiluted fury on the enemy.
“Let’s educate them in the name of God.”
That murmured remark informs her unit how serious she is.
“I will manifest the power of God on this earth!”
Their commander continues constructing an extra-large disaster.
“Deploy formulas! Look sharp, observers!”
“Deploy formulas! Target: Carberius Arms Foundry!”
“All companies, match your timing to Major von Degurechaff!”
Not wanting to fall behind, the commander of each unit shouts, and
several long-range attack formulas are cast.
Normally, any attacker leisurely launching this slow formula in the
middle of a battlefield would end up pummeled by anti-magic artillery or
picked off by enemy mages on patrol.
But if the enemy’s even slower, then it’s a different story.
“Deploy formulas!”
“Fire!”
We loose a volley of long-range explosion formulas cast by a fortyeight-
man augmented mage battalion. That power and range requires more
magic than usual, but this time at least, it’s the optimal solution.
No one interrupts—no one even notices.
The formulas rain down on the target so easily the mages are almost
disappointed, and the spells explode on impact with the factory literally
filled with ammunition.
“Sixteen direct hits! The rest are close!”
“If we can do that with long-range formulas, then I can’t complain.”
Tanya nods in satisfaction.
Then, just as Weiss is about to say something to her, it blows up.
The flare is so dazzling, even the mages are blinded, despite having
anticipated the blast. The light fills the quiet night with naked hostility.
The roof of the factory, blown skyward, seems to fall in slow motion,
and the Dacian capital has been jolted awake by a glare that lights up
everything for miles around.
“There go the secondary explosions.”
Then a quiet, satisfied remark sums it all up.
“Tamayaaa!”
“Huh?”
“It’s just an exclamation. Don’t worry about it.”
She turns around and appraises the scene with a deflecting remark about
the fantastic sight.
“I gotta hand it to Dacia. Not only did they help us out with our live-fire
exercise, they even arranged for a post-training fireworks show.”
She cackles in amusement, her expression exuberant. If she had to sum
it up, the gigantic sunlike explosion below feels just like a fireworks show
in honor of her service.
“Anyhow, we achieved our objective. We’re returning to base, troops.”
OCTOBER 23, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, IMPERIAL ARMY
GENERAL STAFF OFFICE, DINING ROOM 1 (ARMY)
“That captain did say it lets you experience war rations.”
An officer who worked in Personnel was reported to have said it. The
General Staff Office dining hall was a “perpetual battlefield café” that
didn’t let soldiers forget their combat experiences, even in the rear.
Major General von Rudersdorf had no words to deny that. In fact, he
secretly agreed with his junior colleagues’ opinion that the dining room and
its “unique” cuisine seemed to be engaging with the Commonwealth in a
fierce competition no normal person could comprehend.
And likewise, as far as Major General von Zettour knew, there were no
General Staffers who actually liked the food. So perhaps it was ironic that
although discussing confidential matters in a cafeteria was generally
considered a poor idea, this particular place was actually the optimal venue
for strategy meetings if secrecy was desirable.
It was Zettour’s and Rudersdorf’s natures to use whatever they could,
together, to the fullest, and when it occurred to them that the dining hall was
the best place for keeping things confidential, they reluctantly began taking
at least one of their three daily meals there.
“…Time is not necessarily on the Empire’s side, though it isn’t exactly
on our enemy’s, either,” Rudersdorf grumbled, sounding absolutely fed up.
Irritated, he washed down some bread-like foodstuff with pseudo-coffee.
Among all the ersatz items on the table, he could tell from the feel and
luster that only the Meissen cup in his hand, and only that, could be called
genuine.
“Taking our current situation into consideration, it’s not a good idea for
the Empire to deal with two fronts for too long, but you still think time
might be with us, Rudersdorf?”
Zettour looked dissatisfied with the food but smiled, somewhat amused,
as he replied. He was in charge of logistics. Of course, as a General Staff
officer, he could stick his fingers into strategy or operations just as much as
Rudersdorf, who had long been involved in operational theory research and
development.
The General Staff had simply seen what these two were capable of, so
they put energetic, dynamic Rudersdorf in charge of war operations—
mainly mobile—while expecting Zettour’s wise, scholarly precision to keep
the military organization running smoothly.
And in Dacia, all expectations had been met. Rudersdorf set a perfect
example of how to conduct maneuver warfare with his astuteness, whereas
Zettour made arrangements for the efficient deployment of troops, even
organizing the dispatch of an advance unit. Both of their talents achieved
everything the General Staff had hoped for.
“Of course, more time spent will mean more waste. But that’s exactly
why our basic strategy of knocking out the weakest enemies first, like we
did in Dacia, shouldn’t change.”
“In other words, what you mean to say is, ‘I’ll give you time, so handle
the logistics?’ Rudersdorf, I have to warn you, the Anluk E. Kahteijanen as
well as the port facilities are already at their limits with the construction
jobs and expansion work in Norden. Transporting enough matériel for a
winter offensive will be much too large a burden.”
“If you say it can’t be done, then I guess it can’t. But I’ve known you
long enough. You say it’s impossible, but you won’t convince me you don’t
have an alternative plan.”
An ideal mutual understanding between the front lines and the rear. In a
way, this was made possible by the rare cooperative relationship the two
men had been able to build where they completely trusted in each other’s
exceptional abilities.
“I’m sorry, General von Rudersdorf, but as far as I’ve heard from the
managers of rolling stock in the Service Corps, the logistics situation in
Norden isn’t going to improve anytime soon.”
“General von Zettour, do I need to explain to you about the possibility of
a maritime supply route?”
Relaxing both his expression and the mood just a little bit, Zettour
dropped all pretenses. “All right, all right. As you say, since the war began
we’ve had our sea routes cut off, so there are all kinds of trade vessels
anchored in the port that we could requisition.” It was a plan he had
considered many times. “If necessary, I can send a nearly three-hundredthousand-
ton ship to a port facility somewhere in the north for a landing
operation.”
“So it’s decided, then? I wish you would just say that from the
beginning.”
“I have to warn you, this discussion is only valid assuming we have
control of the sea. I’ll put up with a skirmish or two, but I’m not keen on the
idea of losing a unit and a ship for the chance to gamble on an amphibious
operation far behind enemy lines.”
Zettour frowned slightly. He was more worried about the possible losses
than he was about the potential success of the operation.
It was true that the Empire currently had a glut of ships because the sealanes
had been tenuous since the war started. There was a chance they could
solve their supply and operational issues with them. But put another way,
the Imperial Navy had nothing but vulnerable sea-lanes, so would they
really be able to protect supply lines? That was the risk they faced.
As long as that was the case, maybe they could use the narrow straits
near the Empire, but they had no choice but to be pessimistic about the idea
of establishing a major supply route.
“You worry too much about supposed losses. Even if it’s a bit of a risk,
getting behind Entente Alliance lines and cutting off their communications
would crush them.”
Rudersdorf’s reply was almost carelessly optimistic compared to
Zettour’s strategic concerns.
Despite the deadlocked front lines, the substantial gap in national power
left the Entente Alliance on the brink of collapse just like Dacia. In other
words, Rudersdorf’s take on the situation could be criticized as an
oversimplification, but if the Imperial Army could seize a region in the rear
the same way their soldiers had trampled Dacia, even the Entente Alliance
would collapse on its own.
“I can’t deny it, but frankly, I don’t think they are much of a threat
anymore even if we leave them as they are. Shouldn’t we forget about them
and finish off the Republic?”
“There’s nothing better than having fewer fronts, but…”
On the point of whether it was actually necessary to force the Entente
Alliance to completely collapse, a slight disagreement between Operations
and the Service Corps began creeping into their remarks. Zettour didn’t
think advancing north would do anything to ameliorate the logistical strain.
On the other hand, from Operations’ point of view, cleaning up that front
would make things much easier strategically.
“From the logistics standpoint, the burden of maintaining the amount of
troops necessary to hold against the Entente Alliance is not a light one.
Even without firing a single round of ammunition, soldiers starve to death if
they don’t eat, you know.”
“I’m aware of that. But it’s true that compared to the Republic, it would
be easier to take out.”
“Fine.”
In the end, both men had clear criteria for how to optimize the
instrument of violence known as state warfare while not losing sight of their
greater objective. An operation could be undertaken if it didn’t strain
logistics too greatly and if it gave them a chance to shrink their active
fronts.
Given the fact that in those operational terms there were no issues with
gaining control of the rear in the north, Zettour agreed to draw up an attack
plan.
“If we’re going to attack, I’d like us to consider the Osfjord.”
“The Osfjord? It’s too heavily defended. It’s situated inside that narrow
bay, but I’m pretty sure they have a few coastal guns.”
“The city of Os is the main railroad hub. If we take that, all the Entente
Alliance’s trains should be out of commission. Then we can stroll in and
keep our troops’ supplies using their rails.”
The city Zettour pointed out was significant because of its role as a
transportation center—presenting an opportunity to knock out enemy
logistics in one fell swoop. It would be difficult, but if they could cut the
enemy’s supply lines… When the thought crossed Rudersdorf’s mind, he
could no longer hold back a savage smile.
“Got it. You come up with some really nasty plans, don’t you…? But it
does make sense. So you want us to capture Os…”
If the Entente Alliance was crippled like that, their army would die like
dogs even if their frontline forces put up a heroic resistance. A military with
no head or limbs was just a mob that used to be called an army. Assuming
things went as Northern Command hoped, victory could then be achieved
with a short frontal assault… It could be so easy that they might want to
consider how to achieve an even better outcome.
“Say you can do it and I’ll give you a unit. If it doesn’t work, I’ll just
deal with Norden in a less sneaky way.”
“No, let’s give it a shot.” With that same grin on his face, Rudersdorf
decisively met the challenge. He would try to take them down. It was the
dream of every General Staff officer to dramatically shift the tides of war on
the operational level with one large-scale battle. He nodded at Zettour as if
to say he would even drink down this dirty-water coffee with a smile.
“Very good. If you need anything, let me know.”
“Oh, then lend me a mage unit.”
Rudersdorf was merciless in asking for what he wanted.
“A mage unit? Sure, but which one?”
“The pet in your pocket, the 203rd. I want you to let me use the troops
that performed so well in Dacia.”
“That battalion’s a handful. Are you okay with that?”
The pet in Zettour’s pocket… They were a dauntless combat unit that
had waged impeccable maneuver warfare in Dacia and had even bombed a
weapons factory. Not only that, but they were an augmented unit equipped
with cutting-edge gear from the Technical Arsenal. When Lieutenant
Colonel von Lergen had reported on their training progress, he insisted,
with undisguised shock, that there was no unit in the Empire that could
match them.
“That’s fine. Besides, I believe the commander has combat experience in
Norden. It’s reassuring to have someone who is even a little familiar with
the lay of the land.”
The 203rd’s commander was said to have a distinctive personality, but if
she had to be sorted into the groups “useful” or “not,” she was certainly a
part of the former. That made her just the type that he could afford to push
hard as a game piece.
“All right. I’ll make the arrangements right away.”
“Thanks. Here’s to the hope that we win.”
A glass was raised.
“Then here’s to the hope the food here improves.”
The return toast made them both wince.
“I think the war’ll end first.”
“You’re probably right.”
Though grimacing, they stayed faithful to the basic soldiering principle
of eating whenever a chance presented itself. That said, neither hid the fact
that they would rather dine elsewhere.
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