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Youjo Senki - Volume 1 - Chapter 1




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[chapter] I The Sky over Norden 

 

JUNE, UNIFIED YEAR 1923, THIRD PATROL LINE, NORDEN THEATER, NORTHERN MILITARY DISTRICT 

Why am I out here fighting in a war? My conscious self, assigned the identity of Magic Second Lieutenant Tanya Degurechaff, poses the question again as I clasp an orb in tiny hands, leave the rifle that’s serving as my scepter on the ground, and soar into the sky. 

How did I end up like this? 

“Fairy 08 to Norden Control. Fairy 08 to Norden Control. Acknowledge.” 

A single dot stands out over the gloomy, overcast skies of Norden. This miniscule speck blending into the clouds is none other than one of the Empire’s mighty aerial magic officers. Due to a sick twist of fate, if I take a look at myself, I’m cursed to see a little girl participating in a war. The uniform and computation orb are proof that I’m a soldier. Through scientific means, the sphere I carry controls the supernatural phenomenon known as “formulas,” which allow mages to influence the world with their will. As implied by the modern name of the ancient orbs, courtesy of science and magic, this fruit of magic engineering has unraveled the numeric values of the world. 

My mission is to act as an artillery observer from a predesignated airspace while maintaining a comfortable ground speed at an altitude of six thousand feet. 

“Fairy 08, this is Norden Control. We read you loud and clear. No problems tracking you.” 

Talk about a piece of cake. This is just an air support mission at the border between the Empire and the Entente Alliance. But this vigilant spotter magician, maintaining her flight formula with the computation orb around her neck, must look surprisingly small. 

 

And I am pint sized. It makes people wonder if my age has hit double digits yet. Moreover, I have a petite frame, even for a girl. Comparing Tanya’s height to the physically blessed body of my previous life is absolutely mortifying. It was miserable to hear that Tanya’s neck was too narrow to properly wear the aviation throat mic headset. 

“Fairy 08, roger. I’ve reached the mission airspace. Reading you loud and clear,” I say. I’m already resigned to the voice spewing from my mouth, though the high-pitched tone makes me feel like something’s haunting me. No matter how accustomed to hearing it I become, I can’t stand it. Whenever my tongue can’t keep up with my mind and I end up nearly biting it or stuttering, I feel utterly humiliated. 

“Norden Control, roger. Proceed to your assigned mission.” 

Of course, the army is seriously something else for having no qualms even after hearing that girlish partial lisp. Perhaps it’s simply a matter of being pragmatic, but the military has adopted the position that a person’s aptitude for the magic arts can be a sufficient condition for military enlistment, since aerial mages focus on air combat. In the Empire, where that has been taken to its logical conclusion, age limits for mages are a thing of the past. Hence why the army has no problem deploying someone who looks young enough that they should still be with their guardian, if only as an artillery observer. 

“Fairy 08, roger. The area is all clear. I say again, area is all clear.” 

“Norden Control, roger. There is an infantry battalion assigned to your observation area. Call sign Goliath 07. Barring new orders from airspace control, continue to perform your observation duties until the area is pacified. Out.” 

The demands of the Empire’s geopolitical position have played a large role in this method of procuring human resources. Surrounded by world powers due to historical circumstance, the state has been forced to face potential enemies in every direction. Securing the military strength needed for their large territory’s national defense is a perpetually pressing issue. In order to resolve the problem, the General Staff’s frenzied efforts have reached the point where they’ll exploit anyone within reach. 

“Fairy 08, this is the Provisional Corps Artillery Battalion, call sign Goliath 07. How copy?” 

This being the case, the army apparently thinks nothing of tossing a young girl out to the border on air patrol if it can use her. I am quite literally a child soldier. 

“Goliath 07, this is Fairy 08. Reading you loud and clear. I’ve confirmed the enemy infantry advance. Sending data now. Acknowledge.” I bet the sight of a young girl flying through the air, her adorable voice confined to a matter-of-fact register, must seem terribly surreal. When you get down to it, a proper army is supposed to be composed of proper adult soldiers. That’s only common sense. 

But it isn’t just static in the signal—hearing women’s and children’s voices on the mic has become commonplace among mages. The armed forces have a practical exception in place for just about everything. More than anything, the harsh days in service exhaust decent people, so any initial discomfort over allowing a girl to participate in combat has long since worn off. 

“Goliath 07, roger… Base piece starting calibration fire.” 

That’s why the aerial mage enlisted as Second Lieutenant Tanya Degurechaff is serving as an artillery observer during this battle in the northern reaches of Norden, calmly and skillfully delivering periodic reports via the radio set on her back that’s nearly as big as she is. But actually, it isn’t as though I don’t question or doubt what I’m doing flying out here. 

“Impact confirmed… Looks like a close hit. Looks to be within the allowable error margin of ten meters. Fire for effect.” 

“Goliath 07, roger. Commencing fire mission now.” 

While my blue eyes attentively look below, there’s no denying they hold a glint of frustration. Why was I reborn into this world, made the opposite gender, and now stuck fighting a war? 

The most annoying things are the physical changes. A child’s body is horribly inconvenient. At first, even though girls develop quicker than boys, the size difference was simply too great to maneuver my body with the same equilibrium I had trusted for years. On top of that, I’ve keenly felt how much I’ve become a helpless child on multiple occasions since joining the army. 

I couldn’t hold a gun. It was too big. In the end, I couldn’t aim worth a damn, and the recoil ended up bruising my shoulder. When I sparred, there was a streak of pity on my partner’s face whenever he threw me. 

Until I could see the world as three numeric vectors with the computation orb and get the hang of superposing the realm of numbers with magical interference formulas, I had to crawl on my belly with arms and legs that refused to obey me. Because they depended on brains, not brawn, the magic arts were the only area where I succeeded, if only barely. The constraints of my body couldn’t trouble me, and I could soar across the sky as long as I superposed the world with my formulas. 

Perhaps I was able to overcome any reservations I might’ve had about magic due to its usefulness as a tool. But why must I use a tool simply because I have it? 

Oh, I get it. It’s essential that we’re able to use an ICBM 4 when the time calls for one. That’s why it’s necessary to make provisions for their maintenance, drills, and operations. That said, is there any reason we need to have ICBMs in the first place? In that same vein, gossip about seemingly strained relations with neighboring nations is hardly new. 

The Empire and Entente Alliance have been struggling for quite some time with unofficial border conflicts. But in the international politics arena, at least, there’s nominally no dispute over this territory. 

The problem isn’t acknowledged because the Empire is such an incredible powerhouse. As far as Tanya is concerned, it’s a simple matter, comparable to how nations surrounding the Soviet Union independently avoid border disputes with it. 

…Well, was. The only regrettable part of discussing the Empire’s strength is that it has to be described in the past tense. 

Multiple isolated accidents have occurred along the border. There has been “unintentional” fire on both sides, which led to firefights due to misunderstanding. All such incidents were resolved at the level of the local commanding officers, but there’s no denying the continually mounting tension. 

Under normal circumstances, if the Empire entered a state of “semi-war” at this point, Tanya’s position would allow her to fall back to the rear echelon and serve in noncombat roles. After all, Warrant Officer Tanya Degurechaff had been a cadet attending the military academy up until the outbreak of hostilities. A greenhorn would only get in the way on the front lines, so it would be normal for her to serve somewhere in the rear, such as in the Technical Arsenal or Logistical Command, once the Empire began making preparations in anticipation of war. 

Yet despite the unsettling state of world affairs, Tanya’s optimistic superiors decided this was all merely brinkmanship diplomacy. Thanks to them, she was stuck completing her training out in the field. The flight patrols she took part of in coordination with the army were only intended to serve as an extension of the education she was receiving at the academy. Having lost her opportunity to withdraw to the rear, Tanya was officially commissioned as a second lieutenant and deployed upon completing her training. She was also assigned the call sign Fairy 08. Clearly, people were obnoxiously comparing her to a fairy. Based on outward appearances alone, she was a puny kid—really—an incredibly young child. On top of that, she had blue eyes that seemed to reflect a strong will and short blond hair tied back to make it easier to manage. And considering her pale, clear skin complexion as well, her call sign did start to seem appropriate. 

The trouble began right after Tanya officially assumed her new post in the field with the border army. The administrative unit was composed of direct promotes from the magic officer training school and local relocations. As a new transfer, Tanya was forced to accept orders to stand by for forty-eight hours. Assuming it was a traditional training exercise conceived by the brass to test their capacity for coping and maintaining alertness, Tanya had reluctantly suited up and gone on duty twenty-four hours ago. 

Then the emergency warnings came flying in from security outpost positions scattered along the border with such impeccable timing that it surely made the devil smile. Apparently there had been signs that the Entente Alliance was planning to conduct a large-scale cross-border operation. 

The Entente Alliance’s new policy direction had already been a cause for concern. The reshuffling of executives, resulting from a change in administration, and the ensuing rise in nationalism had required a dramatic shift in doctrine. Honestly, the Entente Alliance’s operation was carried out with such ridiculously poor planning that not only Tanya but also everyone in the Imperial Army was left wondering, Why now of all times? Before they knew it, the Entente Alliance was scattering notices demanding imperials to withdraw—a declaration of war. 

In other words, the Entente Alliance had insisted, Imperial soldiers are to withdraw from our nation’s territory within twenty-four hours . Perhaps a lowly company officer was incapable of understanding the Entente Alliance’s reasons, but maybe the assumption was that the Empire would avoid full-blown military engagement since regional conflicts were extremely politically sensitive. 

If the Entente Alliance couldn’t face reality, it’s possible it would go down in history for all the wrong reasons. Are they stupid? Or so people wondered. Perhaps they devised some great plan that will lead them to victory? 

Despite being unable to comprehend the Entente Alliance’s agenda or objective, the Empire nevertheless maneuvered its finely tuned bureaucracy and military organizations according to protocol. They played it by the book and made preparations to intercept enemy forces. As a cog for her country, Tanya had no choice but to put in work commensurate with her pay. Admittedly, at this point she rather optimistically predicted that all this was mostly for internal propaganda. 

After all, there was no way the nearby Federation would want two neighboring nations fighting on its doorstep. Everyone expected this to hold the Entente Alliance in check, whether through mediation or intimidation. Moreover, the Commonwealth and Republic were propping up the Entente Alliance. Surely they would put the brakes on this suicidal advance for fear that all the aid they had provided would be wasted. Yes, the vast majority of officers and soldiers were certain of the future. Military folk were realists by nature, after all. 

It goes without saying, but the Entente Alliance didn’t stand a chance facing the Empire head-on. Everyone was certain one nation or another would step in to arbitrate, and then the politicians and diplomats from the two opposing nations would hash something out. 

But the scenario that had been inconceivable to all—except for the Entente Alliance, apparently—became reality and astonished every human alive in this day and age. 

“Disarm and surrender to the advancing Entente Alliance Army or leave immediately.” 

From a commonsense perspective, the Entente Alliance’s demands could only be described as “shocking”; yet even then, the Empire continued to monitor the situation, incredulous. While reports that the Entente Alliance had crossed the border were not entirely unexpected, it was difficult for the Empire to see how such a thing could have actually come to pass. 

It seemed so preposterous that Lergen, an officer in the Imperial Army General Staff, would much later voice his suspicion: “…We were so unable to determine what the Entente Alliance was hoping to achieve that it made more sense to suspect our own military leaders of scheming and acting behind closed doors.” 

Doubts and ambiguities aside, the pragmatic Imperial Army responded soberly by ordering an immediate response to the Entente Alliance’s major cross-border operation. While there was hesitation and conf usion over the Entente Alliance’s agenda, once signs indicated that a potential conflict was brewing, the military began amassing supplies in preparation. All of the Great Army divisions that formed the core of the Empire’s military power then assembled by rail from Central. The Imperial Army was so efficient that it pulled all this off without incident. In fact, everything went so smoothly that it was internally regarded as an “organizational victory.” 

But although the Empire had procured an abundance of supplies and even gone so far as to mobilize troops, it was continually troubled by partial skepticism. Really? They’d never! 

The Empire was known for its superior armaments, even among the great world powers. During times of peace, it would deploy a corps-sized garrison to the border under the pretext of routine patrolling. The additional corps mustered to meet the minimum number of reserves, just in case, included Tanya’s unit. With information warfare in mind, the Empire even extended invitations to mass media from various countries. So as usual, the military was completely prepared, but the “usual” was precisely what made everyone wonder, Is the Entente Alliance really going to invade? 

Tanya never dreamed the Entente Alliance would, without any semblance of justification, launch their inferior forces across the border in an offensive against a military titan, right in front of the media. 

But truth is stranger than fiction. Tanya naturally found the turn of events utterly bewildering. If she could have spoken freely, she probably would have described it as witnessing the moment a death wish took concrete form. 

“It’s war! Everyone, I repeat, it’s war! A war has just begun! The Empire has declared war on the Regadonia Entente Alliance for violating the border! Moments ago, the Entente Alliance Army began crossing over at multiple locations! Imperial Army troops are rushing to the border one after the next to respond! We’ve received reports that fighting has already broken out in some areas!” 

But there was no denying the sight of friendly armored forces and other troops rapidly deploying below her. At the same time, the war correspondents raised their voices to transmit the latest news to the whole world over the airwaves. 

…Surely the Empire would only pull this publicity stunt with complete confidence in victory. Well, given its vastly superior national might, level of technology, and armaments, it was an obvious choice to make the next move with an eye on victory. 

If journalists were reporting the developments at the border right up to the declaration of war, it meant the brass was relaxed enough about the situation to think about publicity; spreading propaganda about the fair, mighty Empire couldn’t hurt the political situation, either. Furthermore, the Entente Alliance crossing the border first provided legitimate justification. And by admitting the mass media, they were essentially announcing this was a war they would win. Even in this alternate world, national leaders who would consider allowing journalists to freely cover losing battles only existed in fantasy. The fact that imperial officials had nothing to hide, or at least very little, was proof that everything was going smoothly. 

All of these factors help ease Tanya’s nerves. Honestly, when she first heard that she was getting sent to the north for field training, she wanted to yell, “I hope you rot!” to the military state that was planning to work a young girl to the bone out in the borderlands. She wanted to curse Being X for getting a good, decent person mixed up with this world to begin with. 

But Tanya is completely fine with the Empire presenting her with an opportunity to climb the ranks in a one-sided conflict like the Gulf War. This war is winnable, and the soldiers are the winners. Her mission is simply to take out enemies from the safety of the sky and get promoted. While extraordinarily unexpected, it isn’t a bad deal. In fact, it’s better than “not bad”—Tanya’s been presented with a one-in-a-million chance. Border patrol missions are simple but dangerous, and even if you get results, there is a tendency for the brass to claim your achievements don’t officially exist thanks to some “political consideration” ridiculousness. As a result, patrol duty in the disputed Norden Territory has a reputation within the Imperial Army as an “all pain and no gain” endeavor. 

It isn’t easy to rack up achievements there, and to make unfavorable conditions worse, like it or not, Tanya Degurechaff has the physique of a fair-skinned, blue-eyed, blond-haired little girl. On top of that, a glance at her records shows that she’s a military academy graduate on track to become an elite mage. If she’s selected for an assignment and fails, there would be no way around the bad PR saying the army had ruined a young person with a promising future. Setting her capabilities aside and going strictly by outward appearance, even Tanya feels put off by her doll-like face. If I weren’t Tanya, I wouldn’t want anything to do with her outside of the call of duty. 

This objective perspective has been consistent since she was commissioned in the Imperial Army. Before, Tanya didn’t have a bad reputation among the instructors, but the fact that her work contributions matched her pay grade simply couldn’t wipe out the stains of rumors about the “little girl mage.” The only way around it was to produce even greater results, but as much as she wanted to do just that, the opportunity had never arisen—until now. 

In other words, even though Tanya is a mage, no one recognizes her as one. She’s treated like a baby getting in everyone’s way. In a sense, they’re claiming that she’s defective. It’s insulting how they barely pay attention to her career. Ironically, the Empire wound up giving her active combat duty in a situation where its army handily dominated the battlefield—an unexpected stroke of good fortune for her first battle. 

It seems the war will continue for a while under favorable conditions. If Tanya hopes to keep surviving, she needs to use that time to gain status and influence. I also want her to secure some connections. To that end, it’s imperative for her to play a proper role in this predictable war and rack up honors and commendations. 

Having thought that far, Tanya unconsciously curls her rosy lips into a grin as she reassesses the situation. This might not be so bad after all. 

“Actually, couldn’t this work out wonderfully for my career…? I should consider this a pretty sweet deal.” No one is around to overhear her egocentric whisper. Even if someone were flying nearby, the howling of the imperial artillery gunnery below would have drowned out her voice, not to mention the endless echo of shells making landfall and exploding. If I think of the cacophony as a VIP view of the Fuji Firepower Review 5 but with several times the roaring artillery, it isn’t so bad. 

“Fairy 08, this is Goliath 07. Requesting firing results.” 

“Goliath 07, this is Fairy 08. Good effect on target. I say again, good effect.” 

Tanya’s job is simple. She only needs to calmly observe and report to the artillery batteries. Flying around with the radio set weighing her down while maintaining the flight formula isn’t easy, but the Imperial Army’s computation orb is up to the task. Due to the disputed nature of the Norden Territory, many of the troops spread across the north are temporary transfers from Central Command. On paper, Tanya is only on loan from Central after she completed her field-training program. 

If she takes her duties to heart, she could definitely return to the garrison in Central eventually. A position in the rear echelon isn’t just a pipe dream. Once she’s chosen as an officer magician in the rear, there’s a distinct possibility Tanya could spend the rest of the war on standby under orders to defend the capital. Depending on how she looks at it, Personnel might have actually given her a golden ticket for developing a promising career in the long run. 

Tanya was bitter when she first learned of the decision for her to train in the boring yet perilous north, but it just goes to show that there’s no telling in life what could be a blessing in disguise. It’s a bit late, but I should probably mail thank-you letters to my instructors with my latest updates as soon as possible. I have to build up my connections. 

I can already foresee a rosy career. Even in the midst of battle, Tanya is in visibly high spirits as she spots for artillery on the battlefield. 

“Fairy 08 to Norden Control. Please respond.” 

“This is Norden Control. Loud and clear.” 

The exploding shells below are satisfactorily laying waste to the Entente Alliance infantry who have crossed the national boundary. No matter how rugged the mountainous Norden terrain, once artillery is fully deployed, the soldiers casually advancing on the border become nothing more than targets. All the more so if the lay of the land leaves them exposed. 

“Fairy 08, roger. Enemy currently under suppressive fire. I believe we’ve neutralized them. Enemy infantry is breaking ranks.” 

Maintaining a suitable distance, the exceptional artillery batteries fire at unarmored targets under the guidance of an observer in an area where ballistics data was precalculated beforehand. It’s impossible that the barrage can fail to wipe them out. Down below, the swarms of once orderly infantry fall prey to the howitzers all too easily once they begin fleeing in all directions. As Tanya confirms the situation through a pair of binoculars, it becomes clear that any more will just be a waste of ammo. 

“Norden Control, roger. Advance to patrol line two and guide suppressive fire against the enemy’s primary infantry.” 

“Fairy 08, roger. Will advance and continue observation mission.” 

Her dispassionate exchange with Control is so free of noise that Tanya quietly thinks to herself, I didn’t expect radios to work so well in actual combat conditions. The sky is overcast as far as her blue eyes can see, so it isn’t as though weather will hinder enemy signal jamming. Yet the noise level can be termed the barely perceptible “clear.” The signal is so clean it’s almost ridiculous that she’s carrying the massive airman radio set, which she was issued in anticipation of poor reception due to magnetic abnormalities caused by Norden mineral deposits. Tanya passes over the Entente Alliance’s scrambling troops and feels genuinely puzzled as she advances in order to set her sights on the persevering remnants of the enemy army. 

Seriously, what is the Entente Alliance trying to do? If they want to be targets for live-ammunition exercises, they should have said so. I would have volunteered to strafe instead of observe if I knew we were going to be hunting for dodoes instead of turkeys. The ones on bombing duty in this fight have escorts and control of the air, and if that isn’t enough, they get dibs on the juiciest targets. I’m so jealous, I can hardly stand it. 

“Fairy 08 to Norden Control. I’ve advanced to the designated position.” 

“Norden Control, roger. We see that. Relaying the situation to the artillery now. Continue to observe points of impact.” 

“Fairy 08, roger. Remaining on artillery observation until ordered otherwise. Over.” 

“Norden Control, roger.” 

 

THE SAME DAY, ENTENTE ALLIANCE, OVER NORDLAND 

Dear God, why? How can this be happening? Lieutenant Colonel Anson Sue found himself asking the heavens, his rugged snow-tanned face contorted in distress. The volleys of Imperial Army heavy artillery resounded across the sky he had flown so many times as an Entente Alliance aerial mage. The battle unfolding below was completely one-sided. No, any sane soldier would describe it as a massacre, not a battle. It wasn’t even an advance in soft-skinned vehicles—spongy infantry had marched in formation as if on parade through the wide-open hillocks toward a carefully arranged artillery position. 

“This isn’t what we were told! The bastards are opening fire!” 

“Help! Medic! Hurry! Get over here!” 

“Pull back! Retreat! Put down a smoke screen!” 

“My arm! I lost my arm!” 

“We still don’t have air support…!” 

“Command! Command, what’s going on?! What’s the situation?!” 

The “border,” according to the Empire, or the “provisional demilitarized zone,” according to the Entente Alliance, was a type of pseudo-border established under the Treaty of Londinium. 6 If the Entente Alliance forces were simply going to waltz over the national boundary and strike the ever-diligent Imperial Army positions head-on, they should have known this would happen. No matter what was going on in the politicians’ heads, the signals coming in over the radio proved that soldiers all across the battlefield were paying for an irredeemable political mistake with their lives—that’s the soldiers paying with their lives. 

“…Damn those bureaucrats to hell!” 

The economy was in a slump, the gap between classes was widening, and the unemployment rate wasn’t improving at all. Domestic problems that the Entente Alliance constantly faced threatened to throw it into a grave crisis due to destabilizing centripetal forces. The government was paying a horrifyingly high price for encouraging nationalism and exclusionism as a solution to those problems. No, the true horrors were yet to come. 

This spelled war—worse yet, a war the Entente Alliance had no hope of winning. 

As such, Lieutenant Colonel Sue slung vulgar curses at the officials as he flew. He condemned them for their mistake in continuing to fan the flames of nationalism, refusing to face reality. 

The Treaty of Londinium was an agreement regarding the border dispute between the Empire and the Entente Alliance with terms that were just barely tolerable, decided with the Commonwealth as a mediator. The provisional demilitarized zone that divided the disputed territory was in reality a national border, with administrative rights over the region serving as collateral to hold them to the agreement. All the treaty did was make a provisional show of respect for the assertions of both parties out of consideration for the Entente Alliance’s claim of dominion. 

“What part of this is ‘just hiking under pressure’?!” 

In short, the Entente Alliance was free to proclaim its actions as justified on the domestic front, but the treaty showed that in reality, the international community practically universally sided with the Empire. No matter how vehemently the domestic dreamers shouted that the territory was officially under dispute and fell within the Entente Alliance’s sovereignty, others saw it as nothing more than the wailing of sore losers. Of course no one would take them seriously. 

“Hiking?! This is their idea of hiking?!” 

The Entente Alliance sent its military to parade around so it could patrol its own domain? Arbitrarily? That made no sense. Apparently all those politicians had started falling for their own publicity somewhere along the line. Sue wished someone would say it was all just a bad joke. 

Some government spokesperson, or perhaps a salary thief only capable of spewing useless propaganda, actually had the balls to describe this invasion as a “highly organized hiking exercise under pressure” at a press conference. It was appallingly thoughtless. 

“Cunningham! What’s the status of our remaining forces?!” 

“Sorry, sir. The signal is unstable and only getting worse. I can’t get a grasp on the situation…” 

The troops were in utter chaos. Of course they were. There was no way anyone could remain calm after mindlessly crossing the border under the misconception that war wasn’t a possibility—only to find the Imperial Army waiting in full formation to intercept and butcher them. No doubt this folly would go down in history. 

“What about the command centers? Airspace Control or the Combat Direction Center is fine. Can you reach anybody?” 

“The lines are a mess…and I can’t call them, anyway; we weren’t even assigned the right frequency.” 

First Lieutenant Cunningham, who was considered a veteran even in Sue’s outfit, scowled as he fiddled with the long-range radio over his shoulders. The signals were tangled enough to stump a skilled veteran of the skies—proof that the Entente Alliance had kicked this operation off carelessly. If it weren’t Sue’s own country, no doubt he would have been flabbergasted. 

“They would never violate the border without properly transitioning to a war footing first. Clearly, the Entente Alliance government is merely practicing brinkmanship diplomacy. At least, the Empire wouldn’t play such a dangerous game if we weren’t ready to risk war.” A quote from an Imperial Army General Staff spokesman that Sue had read two days ago in a newspaper article. That comment said it all. 

At most, the Entente Alliance’s brinkmanship should have extended only to showing signs of increased military activity to discern how the Empire would react. The spokesman had offered a reasonable opinion, his face pulled into the scowl of a man who had bitten into something extremely unpleasant. Who would have thought the Entente Alliance would undertake military actions that risked the fate of the nation without preparing first? 

“I don’t care if you use short-range communications. At this point, you can hook up directly with the ground forces. We’re gonna help the remaining troops retreat.” 

“Roger.” 

For better or for worse, Sue’s battalion had been in a position at the rear when the border violation incident started. They were reorganizing after suffering heavy casualties in repeated irregular skirmishes near the national boundary. For units the size of a company or larger, it was possible to return to the capital to reorganize. Sue misread the situation precisely because he was often involved in operations that couldn’t be written down in official records… If he and his men could fall back, then surely it meant the country had no intention of going to war; it meant the government was up to its usual propaganda. 

Sue and his men—who were worthy of being called the best, even among the Entente Alliance’s frontline troops—had no shortage of profanity to describe the sheer idiocy of the politicians and military statesmen. They were fully aware that their government was a cesspool of imbeciles. They just didn’t realize the administration would pull a move so stupid it was beyond repair. 

“Darton, sorry, but could you get in contact with the other troops? I want to get a solid idea about where we stand.” 

Due to their starting position, they had been too late to react and were now faced with the impossible task of helping troops retreat from hopelessly superior enemy forces while essentially blind. To make matters worse, not only were they unable to reach the designated forward controller, but things were so chaotic that they weren’t even receiving support from the Combat Direction Center, which existed to guarantee at least the minimum necessary coordination between the mage troops, air corps, and ground forces. 

“If necessary, we’ll rendezvous with reinforcements. Platoons, in the event you get split up and can’t regroup, you have the option of gathering into groups under whatever authority you can find.” 

“Commander, I got through!” 

Sue snatched the proffered transceiver. From a brief exchange, he learned that the situation on the ground was completely unmanageable. The Entente Alliance was paying for its mistake of charging into wartime with the same chain of command they used during peacetime by losing any semblance of control. It was plain for anyone to see. 

“Understood. In any event, we can’t fight a war without some leadership. We need to do something about the bombardment causing all this turmoil. Agreed?” 

The situation was so awful that instead of putting up a unified resistance, it was every unit for themselves. Even among their fellow soldiers on the battlefield with whom they could communicate, albeit barely, it was impossible to find a unit that saw the whole picture and possessed enough leadership to take the necessary measures. 

“I fully agree. The artillery positions are certain to be fortified…but what about the observers?” 

Sue had to agree that the most realistic and practical support he could offer, given the forces currently at his disposal, was to interfere with the enemy’s indirect fire by eliminating their observers. 

“Commander Sue! This just in from Ground Division Six. We can still observe and signal!” 

“Great! See if they can find enemy artillery spotters.” 

As luck would have it, regaining communications with this division, which was maintaining discipline by a thread as it retreated, offered just the opportunity they needed. 

“…Bingo! They’re sending the numbers!” 

Several observer mages were flying solo, not even bothering to conceal their locations. Based on the frequency of the encoded messages being sent at regular intervals, they were definitely encoded wavelengths unique to artillery spotters transmitting intel. 

“Alone as expected, eh? They’re taking us too lightly.” 

“Maybe, but aren’t they behind a massive warning line?” 7 

Sue was aware of that. He wanted to groan, watching the way the imperial air corps and mage troops took the sure and easy route in the battle for air supremacy with a coordinated interception network. Clearly, they must have set up an air defense line adequate enough to allow support elements to fly solo. 

“I swear, we’re nuts to go to war with a military powerhouse. I should’ve taken my family and run.” 

“Commander Sue, I bet those imperial dogs are over there scratching their heads, wondering if war is supposed to be this easy.” 

“Good point. Let’s hope they’ve let their guard down.” 

As he thought about how horrible everything had gotten, all Sue could do was turn to God. 

…Honestly, God, where in the world did we go wrong? 

The mission assigned to Tanya is important, but it’s a monotonous job. All there is to do is keep an eye on impacting rounds with a radio and a set of observer gear. The task of processing the data in real time falls on the crew of the artillery arm that receives it. An operator at Norden Control provides the tactical commands. 

The fact that we’re winning probably has something to do with it, but my duty entails nothing more than watching the imperial artillery employ air bursts and time on target missions with praiseworthy expertise. Indeed, the Empire is a rising military force among the major world powers. And the army buoying that reputation is supplied with relatively new equipment, so much so that they’ve gone beyond believing in firepower supremacy and more in obeying it as accepted doctrine. 

The Empire believes “bayonets never lie, but neither do resources.” Accordingly, artillery is the Imperial Army’s “gods of war.” For someone like Tanya as well, these are deities much more absolute than some sketchy being who arbitrarily proclaims itself the supreme God. 

After all, everyone on our side has been on alert for signs of war despite initial doubts. In other words, we were fully prepared to maintain air supremacy with an anti–air mage surveillance network in place. If I report any sporadic resistance or a glimmer of anti–air fire to the gods of war, they’ll flatten the area with a single call. 

This is a safe and sound job that’s nonetheless well respected. I hope it stays like this. After all, I get to enjoy a prime view of the army’s victory with a leading role in the firing of so much iron that it makes the Fuji Firepower Review seem cute. 

It is by no means unpleasant to gaze out over our army effortlessly crushing the enemy from the secured safety of the sky. Artillery churns things up, then the infantry and armored vehicles advance in its wake. Us mages are in charge of air-ground support and combat air patrol. Soaring above the battlefield, the mixed fighter-bomber squadron go ahead as the vanguard for deep penetration. It’s hard to say if things would go this smoothly even in a drill. Cheers to the General Staff for pulling this off so magnificently. I can’t thank them enough for giving me such a safe and easy way to climb up the ranks. 

I know it’s a bit irreverent, but I’m afraid I have a hard time agreeing with General Lee’s quote, “It is well that war is so terrible, otherwise we would grow too fond of it.” For me, war is such a blast that I don’t know what to do with myself. 

“Norden Control to Fairy 08. Artillery commencing observed fire. Send your data.” 

“This is Fairy 08. Initial points of impact confirmed. Sending now. No need to adjust fire. I say again, no need to adjust fire. Initiate fire for effect.” 

First and foremost, our artillery is incredible for how it adheres to provided data with such astounding accuracy. The crews have to be awfully skilled to pull off everything from initial fire to consistent near hits with artillery integrated at the field corps level. Indeed, their performance is proof that the Empire isn’t regarded as a military powerhouse for nothing. As a result, my workload is extremely light. Everything’s great. 

“Norden Control, roger. Watch out for stray shots. We plan to begin concentrated fire in two hundred. Over.” 

“Fairy 08, roger. Out.” 

I move west to distance myself somewhat from the battlefield as I ascend to a slightly higher altitude. I doubt the artillery’s aim would slip that easily, but it would be outrageous if an ally inadvertently struck me down with shrapnel. And seeing as this is going to be concentrated fire, there’ll be a whole slew of shells coming. The artillery guys will have a blast firing their hearts out, and I’ll be looking on in envy. I need to stay out of their way so we can all enjoy doing our jobs. 

Before long, the artillery begins launching such a relentless hail of iron that it flushes every war movie scene from my memory. As far as I can see from my spot in the sky, black specks are raining down all over toward the earth, and immediately after their explosive flames dissipate, chunks of what used to be humans fly in every direction before vanishing. 

“Fairy 08 to Norden Control. Fire mission impact confirmed. Repeat.” 

“This is Norden Control with theater intelligence. Area ? , blo— Bzzt…zzz.” 

“Norden Control, this is Fairy 08. Reception is poor. The interference is awful. Over.” 

Either there’s electromagnetic interference or my equipment is simply acting up. Why couldn’t it have happened at any time other than this crucial moment? Just to play it safe, Tanya starts checking if the problem has to do with the equipment strapped to her back by trying to radio Control again when it picks up an unexpected signal. 

“Cherubim Leader issuing a theater warning! I say again, theater warning! Large number of incoming bogeys confirmed!” 

It’s not a regular message or an express message but an unknown warning. It’s strange for the airborne controller to declare a theater warning when he’s supposed to be patrolling on the first line. And since theater warnings generally aren’t issued during intercept combat unless the warning line in front of patrol line one gets breached, a great deal can be read into that transmission. 

Perhaps a fresh group of highly formidable soldiers has entered the fray. Well, this is war. It looks like the enemy won’t go down so easily after all. 

“…Norden Control to all airborne interceptors on standby. Transition ROE 8 from border patrol to mobile air defense. I say again, transition ROE from border patrol to mobile air defense.” 

Upon successfully regaining the connection, orders to intercept rushed in. Obviously, if bogeys have been spotted, the only option is to intercept them. That’s why the Empire not only established massive formations on the front but also has reserves standing by in the air. 

“Tally multiple bogey signals! Detecting formula interference! Consider them bandits! These are enemy signals! Take them out immediately!” 

The tone of the incoming transmission hints at rough times ahead, even if the enemy is fighting in vain. 

“Norden Control to all military forces. Norden Control to all military forces!” Although barely perceptible, a mixture of panic and confusion has slipped into the controller’s voice. These people would probably sound as dry as an announcer reading the newspaper even if allies were getting shot down. Their distress is a good indication of how bad the situation must be. “A battalion of Entente Alliance mages has been confirmed violating the border. I say again, a battalion of Entente Alliance mages has been confirmed violating the border.” 

Well, the status report is undeniably surprising as the combat controller reads it with a tinge of confusion. Normally it would be taboo to employ piecemeal commitment in military operations. How to position reinforcements so they can best function as a relief force is crucial to planning military operations, but at the same time, command needs to keep a certain amount of strategic reserves available at all times. It’s a classic dilemma but also the most difficult to overcome. 

It’s ludicrous for the Entente Alliance to make the infantry cross the border alone and then sortie their air assets afterward. I never dreamed the Entente Alliance would send out reserves when the imperial forces had already reached the point of transitioning from defense to pursuit. Strategically speaking, it would have made more sense for the Alliance to send in air support sooner, but then, that’s precisely why the Empire was taken by surprise. 

“Intercept them immediately according to the anticipated scenario! I say again, intercept immediately!” 

The artillery did a half-baked job of crushing the enemy, and right after all their units began changing positions and making minor adjustments, more than a battalion’s worth of enemy mages appeared to put up resistance on a massive scale. It isn’t as though no one speculated something like this might happen, but the Imperial Army was under the impression they had completely crushed the enemy’s main forces on the field. 

Generally speaking, if the Entente Alliance had been aiming to cover the troop withdrawal, it should have acted a bit earlier. No doubt, the unexpected enemy reinforcements have thrown the front lines into chaos. Although I was fretting only moments ago that my lackluster position might harm my chances of a promotion, I’m genuinely grateful to be closer toward the rear. If I were with the airborne forces on standby, I would probably be flying into vicious aerial combat right about now, but luckily the observers don’t have to go. 

“…Bzzt…zzz…zzt…” 

Just as I’m admiring my good fortune, noise completely drowns out the communications from Norden Control, even though they had informed me about the drastic change in the situation just seconds ago. This is a critical juncture for the battle, and all my radio can do is put out static. 

Considering how it acted up earlier, there’s a good chance the radio set itself is malfunctioning. It’s undeniably regrettable, seeing as how the radio is vital for me to continue spotting for the artillery and receive troop intel. But according to Tanya’s memory, the radio took more than its fair share of abuse during various drills. Prized for its durability, combat communication equipment isn’t supposed to be this fragile. 

It’s odd, but maybe the breakdown happened because I’m using it in actual combat conditions. But not only does this prevent me from reporting on where incoming rounds are landing, it also worryingly renders me unable to carry out my duties as an artillery observer, even if it’s due to technical difficulties. But in the end, I don’t need to bemoan my wireless set’s failure for long. 

…Radar emissions?! It’s pure coincidence that I catch it. Nonetheless, I listen to Tanya’s instincts and quickly veer off course, narrowly avoiding the attack. Countless magic formulas explode along the flight path I had been following just moments ago. The enemy has arrived. 

“Mayday! Mayday! Fairy 08 to Norden Control! Fairy 08 to Norden Control! Theater warning! Requesting immediate assistance!” Tanya shouts into the radio, the waves set at maximum amplitude; the static wasn’t due to a defect but enemy jamming. 

Without a doubt, these mages are the greatest threat among the surviving enemy forces along the border. The Entente Alliance is considered a developing country in the magician department, so their numbers are few, but to compensate for the short supply, the ones they do have are powerhouses. This has been made possible mostly due to support from nations who are aligned against the Empire. Essentially, it’s a classic case of “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” 

But the assumption that the Entente Alliance’s mages were lacking led Imperial Army’s mages, including me, to drop our guard even after receiving a situation report about enemy mage forces reorganizing behind enemy lines. According to intelligence obtained prior to the battle, the most elite enemy mages deployed to Norden were still hastily mustering in the Alliance a ways to the north. That’s why no one expected any particularly dangerous enemy mage forces in the vicinity. 

I suppose you could say this allowed the enemy to capitalize on our carelessness. In any event, the appearance of enemy forces will be reported immediately to the command post (CP). Not only is there tactical value in doing so, but there’s also infinitely vast political implications to consider. Naturally, I follow procedure and report them, too. Still, I have no desire to go all out as a hero and single-handedly draw in the enemy. Anyone with a death wish is welcome to go die. My top priority is to survive. The problem is whether or not I can get away. 

“I’ve detected a group of enemy mages, company sized, approaching rapidly,” I call into the radio as I prepare for air combat after sighting a rather large group of flying bodies swiftly closing in. It’s almost sickening how many there are. “Coordinates: Theater ? , block eight. Altitude: 4,300!” 

Whatever the other side’s conflict or political agenda, they’re certainly displaying a fierce will to fight. Honestly, it’s an absolute pain the way they remain undaunted by the losing battle, charging forward even as they exude despair. Nevertheless, my foes are hardworking soldiers overflowing with fighting spirit. No way they give a damn about all the trouble this is making for me. 

On the other hand, the Empire’s forces are still winning across the board. It’s only natural this battle will end with our victory—which is exactly why the situation can’t be any worse. If the enemy only broke through the area under my supervision when imperial forces were dominating most of the field, it would literally go down as the Empire’s one and only black mark for the whole battle. 

“My incompetence would be recorded as the sole failure among everyone else’s successes.” I’m terrified that my actions might be remembered so poorly that I won’t even be able to defend myself from censure. It’s a dreadful thought that people might scorn my inability to do something as simple as fulfilling my assigned duties. Things being the way they are, that possibility alone is enough to rouse fear. And once the superiors give orders to intercept, grunts like me don’t have the right to refuse. 

I initiate erratic evasive maneuvers with everything I have. With my petite frame, I would normally be able to expect a slight reduction in the g-force. In actuality, narrowly evading the fusillade of magic formula warheads brings the strain to a whole new level. 

Going by the size of the group hurtling toward me, there are enough of them to at least be a platoon. No, this could be an elite squad. They’re going by the book, raining shells on the target they have under their thumb while using their superior firepower to dictate enemy movement. As they close in, their objective becomes indisputably clear. 

Without so much as a single person providing air cover, the Empire’s artillery batteries make superb tactical targets. Since the hostile company’s main forces have already broken through, their plan to neutralize fire support is worth the risk from a strategic perspective. In any event, the situation is dire. 

It might not be so bad if the corps used self-propelled artillery, but the lion’s share consists of towed pieces. Even for the Empire, it’s too much to ask to mechanize the artillery crews while also properly maintaining the armored divisions, mage troops, and air corps. Of course, the artillery lacks the time it needs to limber up the ungainly howitzers and run or hide. 

Consequently, the fate of the weapons on the ground rests on how well the combat air patrol performs. But it’s going to take a great deal of strength to halt the advance of a company-sized group of mages. In short, it’s essential to keep them busy until allied air units can be organized. 

“Engaging!” 

“Norden Control to Fairy 08! Provide a status update!” Fortunately, our electronic counter-countermeasures must be up—the latest transmission is coming in clear. Agh, this is it. I predict a 100 percent chance of trouble. They say a woman’s intuition is often right. But despite looking like a young girl on the outside, I don’t particularly think of myself as a lady on the inside. So what is it? Why do I have such a bad feeling? 

“This is Fairy 08. I’ve made contact. I say again, I’ve made contact. A hostile mage company is penetrating our airspace.” 

“Norden Control, roger. Maintain contact and delay the enemy. Also, if at all possible, gather intel.” 

Ah, that would explain it. I swear, it can’t get any worse than this. Engage the enemy and gather intel? No, no, trying to slow them down comes first, right? But single-handedly trying to disrupt a whole company? Up in the open sky with no cover? If they’re ordering me to die, I wish they would say it outright. 

“There’s a substantial gap in fighting power. Requesting reinforcements.” 

“Norden Control, roger. We’re already scrambling an allied mage platoon. Additional company already in the air on standby should also arrive in six hundred.” 

Oh, really? Apparently reinforcements will arrive in ten minutes. That’s more than enough time to whip up some instant ramen, eat it, and finish cleaning to boot. Honestly, there’s no way I can pull off delaying actions for ten minutes against an entire company. 

If I take into account preserving my own life, which I give the utmost importance, my wisest course of action is to beat a hasty retreat. It should be obvious, but I’m simply not patriotic enough to fight a grand battle out here alone. That said, I need a pretext to ensure I don’t become immortalized in military history for the horrible disgrace of running from the enemy. If, at the very least, I could get an order from high command to move from this strategically worthless airspace… 

“Fairy 08 to Norden Control. Requesting permission for immediate withdrawal. I say again, requesting permission for immediate withdrawal.” 

“Norden Control to Fairy 08. I’m afraid I can’t approve that. Do your best to delay them until the allied response team arrives.” 

Arghh, damn you. Curse this elitist controller! You could take a life with a single order from the rear! I seriously want to scream, asking if they want to try switching places with me. They should come out to the front and give things a go before they start ordering the impossible. 

“Fairy 08 to Norden Control. How is our artillery?” 

That said, I’m an adult. I know that if I let Tanya’s physical age get the best of me, act on these emotions, and raise hell, it’ll just lead to problems down the line. I can always get my revenge after I make it big someday. And it’s precisely because I hope to make everyone pay later that I need to do my best in the current situation. 

My efforts will allow the mage known as Tanya Degurechaff to dodge criticism once everyone learns about how she gave her all to fulfill her duty even under the worst conditions. And just in case they eventually court-martial me as a scapegoat, I can take initiative to show that I’m acting with the knowledge of the danger facing the artillery in the rear. I can claim later that I did everything within my power to deal with the problem. It’s always wise to have some insurance. 

“The mage platoon is on their way to reinforce you. They should reach artillery airspace in approximately three hundred. And at the same time, the Seventh Mobile Mage Company is en route to intercept. As I said before, we expect them to reach you in six hundred.” 

Aghh, the worst-case scenario has been set in stone. Damn the law of causation that brought about this shitty situation!! 

Why do the enemy mage troops have to rush straight at the artillery positioned right behind airspace under my jurisdiction? What the hell are the troops in charge of the early warning line doing? 

How does a mage company make it this far before anyone notices? It’ll be unbearable if I get blamed for this due to someone’s complacency after our victory was virtually assured. And if these guys want to take out artillery, wouldn’t it all be the same to them if they go to the next sector? Why do they have to come here of all places?! 

Damn you, devil. Are you still cursing me?! Okay, fine. If that’s how you’re going to be, screw it. All these guys are out to get me, right? In that case, I won’t go down alone. I’ve made up my mind. If I’m gonna die, we’re all going together. I won’t be satisfied unless I take a whole bunch of these bandits with me. 

“Fairy 08, roger. Norden Control, I’ll struggle with all my might!” 

“Norden Control, roger. Good luck.” 

…I’ll admit that I yelled in desperation. But “good luck”? Really? I mean, what’s up with that unnecessary comment at the end? I can’t help but furrow my brow as an ominous feeling flutters in my chest. 

This situation reminds me of how, in a weird twist of fate, the Tokugawa soldiers who were dominating the Battle of Sekigahara encountered the peculiar Shimazu forces. In other words, what I want to say is Don’t come over here. Go away. Shoo. 

Biting my lower lip, I can’t help but curse my rotten luck. Well, I am being toyed with by entities like Being X. I’ve braced myself, I really have…but I never dreamed I’d end up committing to a defensive delaying action in enemy-dominated airspace. 

Are there no child welfare services? I dunno if I’m cute as a button, but at least I look the part. And not just any kid but one small enough that people regularly refer to me as “young” or “little.” I wish the enemy would hesitate to shoot when they see me, but you can’t expect humanitarianism on a battlefield. 

Anyone who knows what happened in the Holocaust, and then in Sarajevo and Rwanda, should have realized by now how truly dangerous it is to blindly believe in the ideals of humanism. It’s all too easy for humans to transform into demons capable of performing monstrous atrocities. That might not be taught in ethics class, but it’s our nature. 

Admittedly, the sensible Western comment that “a virtuous God must exist” precisely because of those demons committing such evils is intriguing. Unfortunately, since Being X doesn’t come across as particularly virtuous to me, I have to disagree. 

“‘God is dead,’ was it?” 

While nevertheless controversial, Nietzsche’s conclusion is probably right. It’s impossible for God to exist. People have to save themselves. In this situation, that means a defensive delaying action. 

The equipment on hand includes a light bulletproof uniform, observer gear, and a Type 13 Standard Computation Orb from the Volcker Arms Factory. Because I’m on observation duty, I don’t have my magic ammunition rifle, which allows the shooter’s will to cast at greater ranges by loading formulas. And besides, it’s too heavy for me, anyway. 

How am I supposed to slow the enemy down like this? Of course, I know my only option is to find a weak point. Naturally, I have absolutely no intention of dying quietly. If worse comes to worst, I intend to self-destruct or whatever it takes to bring them down. If it’s that or get slaughtered, I won’t be satisfied unless I take them out with me. Still, if at all possible, I’d prefer to survive. 

In fact, survival is my highest priority. Really, I want to just make a break for it. If I dump my artillery support equipment, it’ll make me lighter. The enemy troops trying to break through are targeting the artillery, so I can definitely take refuge in a safe zone if I focus on retreat and immediately put some distance between us. But even if I manage to escape, I don’t stand a chance afterward. It goes without saying that the army punishes desertion in the face of the enemy—execution by firing squad. From the day I desert, I’ll be trapped playing an epic game of tag with the military police that never ends. There’s no choice but to fight, despite being completely isolated, without so much as a single wingman. 

“…I guess that makes this my own personal war.” 

On a battlefield where my side’s triumph is already assured, I’m currently preparing to die in mortal combat. Well, technically, the enemy’s goal is to provide support for their withdrawing troops by striking at our artillery, not to eliminate me. In other words, shooting me down is probably something along the lines of swatting a pesky fly for the enemy mages. 

It’s truly insulting that my life and career are being endangered while I’m treated as nothing more than a side note. It’s my right to look down on others; no one should be allowed to do that to me. Without a thought about what’s going to come after, I start doping up with one interference formula after the next. Improved reaction time, increased instantaneous strength. Before my brain registers the shooting pain of forcing open the magic circuits, I alleviate it with intracerebral narcotics. Ahhh, I’m getting pumped. My body’s running hot with excitement. 

I wonder if this is how it feels to get high. Now, if the worst case happens and the enemy shoots me down, I’ll be able to escape without collapsing from the pain. 

“What an honor. This is great. Such a wonderful moment. Ahh, this is so, so much fun. I can barely contain myself.” 

“Fairy 08?” 

I’ve been talking to myself intending to be heard, so I’m relieved that the CP seems to pick it up. This way, I have a witness who can testify how eager I am to fight. I’m bursting at the seams with excitement. Even when the world is delightfully spinning, a mage’s brain manages to sustain clear thought. It’s a truly wonderful thing. 

It effectively protects my thought processes from being clouded by drugs or insanity. I’m so lucky to be a mage…though it’s not like I want to be a soldier. 

“I was afraid this job would be boring, but now I’m the star of the battlefield, getting to take on a whole army by myself.” 

There’s absolutely no way I should die out here. The world isn’t fair—far from it—but that’s merely a matter of market failure. The market’s shortcomings have to be corrected. 

As the problem ultimately boils down to cost, I have to raise mine as high as possible. And a marketing strategy is always imperative. I need to put myself out there. Giving it my all, never letting a prime chance to self-promote pass me by. In other words, making the most of every opportunity. If I can manage that, life will become rather enjoyable. 

“I was afraid I’d get lost among our friends and foes in the mayhem of battle, but instead I get to stand in the limelight.” 

It doesn’t make me the least bit happy, and I’m the only one in this airspace. The fact that I can’t even sneak away makes this situation all the worse. Circumstances on the field have left me with painfully few options. That being the case, all I can do is consider how best to please the audience (aka my superior officers) with my performance. Surprisingly, humans can put on quite a show when cornered. 

“So this is what it’s like to feel deeply touched. ‘It’s a good day to die…’ Damn, it really is.” 

I chuck the observer gear. These heavily armed enemy mages are envisioning sluggish ground combat, but we’re going to be dancing instead. Beginning basic fighter maneuvers, I pump myself up with the exhilarating thought. This is nothing more than the accursed best choice out of all the awful options, and as disinclined as I am to take it, the only thing that matters is carrying out my duty and surviving. 

The appearance of fulfilling my mission will suffice. After a respectable dogfight, I can pretend the enemy either got away or shot me down. Then someone else can deal with them. By my calculations, even a group willing to brave the impossible to take out our artillery won’t bother coming after me if I fly off somewhere else. 

Rather than desert in the face of the enemy, my efforts will merely fall short, rendering me unable to continue fighting. It’d be ideal if I could crash-land as close as possible to friendly troops. And it’d be even better if I could slow down those Entente Alliance maggots. After all, time is far more valuable than gold, and the jerks trying to break through are pillaging it. While only a minor consolation, it would also be nice to get some payback. Ergo, I won’t allow anyone to come out the victor in this skirmish. And if anyone did, it would be me. 

I don’t enjoy pain in the slightest, and I have absolutely no desire to get all muddy, but I don’t want to die. There is absolutely no reason I should die anyway. I’ll lap up muddy water if that’s what it takes to survive. Life is a battle in and of itself. 

“…Commander Sue! Enemy reinforcements! A company is coming up fast! And I’m picking up a mage platoon behind them. I suspect they’re reinforcements!” 

God, Oh, God, why? Why does this have to happen? 

“The enemy has breached the Sixteenth Holelstein Division’s defenses!” 

How in the world did it come to this? 

“Colonel Lacamp’s battalion is issuing a distress signal to the strike team! They’re jumping into a fight with a battalion of imperial mages. They say they won’t be able to hold the escape route for long.” 

Where did we go wrong? 

“I know! We don’t have time for this. Can’t we take out the observer mage already?!” 

From his view in the sky, Lieutenant Colonel Sue was forced to acknowledge that the situation of his fatherland’s army, engulfed in flames and collapsing, was only growing worse with each passing second. His face contorted with anger and impatience, but even if he screamed to stop the indirect fire until his voice went hoarse, it wouldn’t improve the situation whatsoever. 

“Our shots are grazing!” 

If his glare could start fires, Lieutenant Colonel Sue would have seared the enemy mage nimbly soaring through the sky until they were burned so badly not even a crisp remained. Agh, how could this happen when we’re flying over Nordland airspace that we know so well? Today everything is putting a sour taste in my mouth, even these familiar skies. 

“Bastard’s got us in a fine position. Fighting over allies is a pain in the ass.” 

The majority of his men were pursuing a single enemy. Sue couldn’t call that mage a coward for doing their best to survive. If he wasn’t personally involved, he would have deeply admired and respected the display of valor and indomitable fighting spirit. As it was, though, they didn’t have time to appreciate the enemy’s bravery. 

Anson Sue’s ears heard only the incessant firing of artillery, and his eyes saw naught but allies blasted to smithereens in the bombardment. 

“…Damn politicians!” 

If asked who was to blame, the reply was indisputable. The lone curse that slipped out of his mouth said it all. Sue wanted to take the fools—those who mocked the Treaty of Londinium, casually ignored it, and then made it part of their election campaign—and stand them up out here. The ones the politicians were throwing into harm’s way were the fatherland’s citizens. 

“Get in close! Prepare to charge!” 

“Commander Sue! Let’s go with the alternative plan and strike the enemy artillery! If you have one squad stay, no matter how fast the mage might be, they should be more than enough to deal with them!” 

“Forget it, Lagarde. Enemy reinforcements are already on their way. We’d get wiped out!” 

For better or for worse, Lieutenant Colonel Sue’s troops had penetrated too deeply into enemy lines. Perhaps if they had come prepared with a few more men, they could have taken the enemy battery by assault. But when they initially broke through, he had to leave several units to hold the breach open. That left him with a group the size of a reinforced platoon. 

“Cunningham, how long until enemy reinforcements arrive?!” 

“The closest formation will be here in 480 seconds! If we don’t hurry, they’ll be on our tail!” 

With imperial units coming to intercept one after the next, even if they risked annihilation to carry out the assault, he couldn’t see how they would survive. Still, he would do what he could with the manpower available to him. 

That was Lieutenant Colonel Anson Sue’s sound decision as an Entente Alliance soldier, as well as the limit of what he could accomplish given the limited information he had. He was indifferent to military romanticism, so when he figured the enemy batteries would be heavily guarded, he quickly gave up on attacking them. 

But the truth was cruel. The airspace above the batteries was wide open. 

“I know. If we… Damn it! Lagarde?!” 

“Captain?! Captain Lagarde?!” 

“Cunningham, cover him! Lagarde, can you pull up? Lagarde?!” 

Right before his eyes, Captain Lagarde had blindly rushed the enemy mage. His support, unsure how to react, fell out of sync, and the moment they stopped firing for fear of accidentally hitting the captain, the enemy cast a formula. Lagarde had charged under the assumption that support fire would stifle enemy mobility, and now he was too near to veer away. 

“Oh no, you don’t! Cover me.” 

Lagarde was caught by much more than just a shock wave—he took a direct hit from the blast itself. Slightly altering his course wouldn’t have helped. In an instant, his protective film peeled off, and his defensive shell shattered. He made a split-second decision to shield his face with his arms, but it was still only through God’s good grace that he survived. 

“…Break! The bastard was aiming for that! Thor!” 

Sue’s side had superior numbers; they were concentrated on the firing line. But the price they paid for letting go of an enemy after pinning them down was too high. 

“Casualty report!” 

“Two downed, and Captain Lagarde is severely injured.” 

With both arms burned, Lagarde was falling, only dimly conscious through the blood loss and pain. First Lieutenant Thor had been hit by the explosive formula at close range as well when he darted into the line of fire, hoping to cover for his comrade, so practically speaking, he was also no longer combat capable. 

“Grah, they won’t get away with this. Commander, I’ll make a rush at the enemy. Back me up!” 

“Agh, damn it! Cover him!” 

“Hit! Come on, hit!” 

“You’re mine!” 

Amid all of that, Sue was certain he heard, “ Gotcha .” 

The voice sounded almost happy—like the laugh of a lunatic. 

“Stop, Baldr! Pull back. That mage is going to…,” Sue began to cry out, but in the very next moment, the imperial mage cast a spell that engulfed everyone around them. 

“A…suicide bombing…?” 

He didn’t want to comprehend such a sight, but he had witnessed it himself. 

“Commander, time’s up! They’re almost on top of us!” 

“…We took out the observer! Pull out!” 

 

UNIFIED YEAR 1923, IMPERIAL CAPITAL BERUN, IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF OFFICE, PERSONNEL DIVISION, SECTION CHIEF OFFICE 

Major von Lergen, part of the team who handled the Imperial Army’s Personnel Division, was smoking as he relaxed a head weary from overwork. His well-defined features, reminiscent of the Junker aristocracy, gave an impression of masculine vitality and intelligence. At the moment, however, they were drawn into a grimace, and he emitted a groan in spite of himself. 

The General Staff’s Achievement Assessment Department of the Personnel Division investigated frontline achievements and suggested the appropriate decorations and bonuses to the top brass. It was a keystone of the Imperial Army’s personnel affairs. The General Staff’s mid-level officers were posted there to build experience as candidates to become the Empire’s future generals. Naturally, the tradition was to choose the best. 

As expected, these individuals were highly regarded for their ability. Lergen proved that the superior officer who designated him chief of decorations had a good eye by successfully processing all the award nominations in a timely manner despite the fierce battles to the north and the ensuing flood of recommendations. 

Lergen unconsciously stopped his pen hand mid-scrawl as he stared at documents from the north regarding recommendations for distinctions and applications for medals and suddenly groaned. It was only natural for his subordinates in the department to send him worried looks that asked, Is something the matter? 

“…I had no idea she was in Norden,” Lergen whispered as he exhaled a puff of smoke, displaying irrefutable unease and disgust in response to the documents. 

The name of the recommended officer printed there was “Magic Second Lieutenant Tanya Degurechaff.” She had graduated from the Imperial Army Military Academy second in her class and encountered a disturbance in Norden after her unit training in the north. She then put up a valiant fight with the Northern Army Group, where her brilliant feat and valuable contribution to the army led the commanding officers on-site to submit a joint recommendation. If Lergen viewed it like all the other papers received by the Achievement Assessment Department, it was truly just another formal document. If anything, it seemed a bit unusual for them to assign an alias. 

Naturally, as a member of Personnel, he had a duty to maintain fairness and objectivity. It wasn’t as though he didn’t appreciate the valuable acts of self-sacrifice Lieutenant Degurechaff took in combat up north. She had completely dedicated herself to a delaying action and tied down an enemy unit. While she ultimately wasn’t able to detain them until reinforcements arrived, she defeated one and possibly two others in a bold move that stopped the enemy assault. Though she ended up literally covered with wounds, she fulfilled her duty and diligently supported her allies the whole time. As large as the Imperial Army was, it was rare to find such commendable acts of self-sacrifice. 

Normally, Lergen would have no cause for hesitation; on the contrary, he would have drawn up the documents to expedite the process for her to receive distinctions. But unfortunately, Lergen had known of Second Lieutenant Tanya Degurechaff ever since she was a first-class student at the military academy. She didn’t exactly leave a good impression on him. 

It happened during one of the many occasions Personnel Division business took him to the academy. That was when he saw it unfold. Small rather than petite, the girl was young enough that it would have been perfectly appropriate for her to still play sweetly with toys. But instead he witnessed the surreal scene of her roaring, brandishing her computation orb and scattering a line of cadets. That was the one and only time that he had ever questioned his eyes. 

Normally, a simple mental note stating She’s a gifted mage who skipped ahead would suffice. In fact, his initial impression was There really are precocious child prodigies out there . 

In spite of sympathetic voices that had reservations about deploying a child whose age hadn’t yet hit double digits to the front lines, the army’s empirical evidence strongly suggested that mages matured early to begin with. In times like these, the authorities were perfectly willing to send grade school boys and girls to the front lines as long as they were talented mages and had volunteered. Of course, the applicants accepted into the military academy didn’t receive special consideration for their assignments. This prodigy had performed within her abilities while demonstrating her devotion to the Empire. Under normal circumstances, that would have been the extent of it. Under normal circumstances. But when he really thought about it, the situation was terrifying. 

This child—this young girl—had yet to reach ten years of age. The thought of her flying around the battlefield like a seasoned soldier was inherently chilling. While Lergen didn’t mean to speak poorly of the academy, he wanted to ask the girl’s instructors whether they had created a killing doll instead of preparing her to become a magic second lieutenant. 

For one thing, typical officer cadets exhibited massive inconsistencies between their actions and words. For all their bravado, newly appointed officers were surprisingly useless. It wasn’t uncommon that all anyone asked from the overly enthusiastic cadets was to not hold back the veteran officers. But Second Lieutenant Degurechaff was a textbook example of “a woman of her word.” Since her days at the academy, she had shown glimpses of surprisingly realistic values. 

According to the instructors Lergen pumped for information, after learning of the policy for first-class students to instruct second-class students, she proclaimed that she would weed out the incompetent fools. The enthusiasm wasn’t uncommon for first-class students, and so the instructors initially laughed it off as healthy enthusiasm; however, Degurechaff stayed true to her word, to such extremes that it made the blood rush from the instructors’ faces. 

While out on a field training exercise, a second-class student started a minor quarrel and foolishly contradicted First-Class Mentor Tanya Degurechaff’s orders, moronically underestimating her young age and outward appearance. Lergen witnessed the moment she attempted to carry out her duty as his commanding officer and literally moved to execute him on the spot for insubordination, as dictated by military law. That incident marked the moment Lergen felt that out of all the countless Imperial Army magic officers, Tanya Degurechaff was a dangerous one worth remembering. 

Of course, the insubordinate cadet should have been severely punished. Regulations and training formed the very heart of the Empire. If no one heeded them, the foundations of the army would crumble. When an issue concerned fundamental doctrine, standard officer attitude was actually for instructors to take a firm stance. 

In fact, an officer’s pistol historically served as a tool for punishing desertion or insubordination. There was no need to argue that maintaining discipline among one’s subordinates was one of the major duties assigned to an officer. 

But even so. Degurechaff took it too far when she screamed, “If you’re too dim-witted to remember orders, how about I split open your skull and pound them in for you?!” and drew a magic blade on the insubordinate cadet she had pinned down. Lergen was certain he had seen the blade coming down the moment the instructors rushed over and pulled her off. If they hadn’t stopped her, she definitely would have killed the man. 

Perhaps Degurechaff made an outstanding officer on the front, but she was definitely not of sound mind. 

In terms of her humanity, she had a loose screw. Perhaps that was an ideal trait for soldiers off fighting wars on the battlefield. In reality, few possessed personalities innately suited for combat. Hence, the Imperial Army, along with the armies of other nations, trained people as soldiers through regulations and drills before finally recognizing them as trained combatants. 

In that regard, Degurechaff was blessed with great talent. It was annoyingly obvious to him, precisely because Lergen worked in Personnel. She embodied the ideal officer from the army’s perspective, from the way she calmly used a nearly self-destructive maneuver to the way she loyally carried out her duties. Of course, she was clearly hazardous in some ways. 

In particular, she greatly strayed from the army’s desire for unit cohesion. Degurechaff’s way of thinking was dangerous enough that it wasn’t possible to trust her to act on her own discretion, so Lergen was forced to consider her a potential threat. She was truly war hungry. 

“…This is no joke.” 

Realizing that he would be in the minority as far as his views were concerned, Lergen was nonetheless driven to have the proposed decoration reconsidered. 

The girl had held the line until reinforcements arrived, ultimately fighting so hard that she was hanging on by a thread when infantry searching the area found her. Such a feat was definitely worthy of praise, but considering her disposition, he was convinced that was the natural outcome. As for the way she fought, it was hardly surprising that she had followed the textbook to the letter by putting up a noble resistance. She had extensive gunshot wounds all over her arms and legs, and there were signs that she had held her computation orb with her teeth. In short, this indicated that she had made the levelheaded strategic decision to buy time and desperately defended her vitals while resisting enemy forces for as long as possible. 

But that was precisely the problem. Having finished reading the documents, Lergen couldn’t help but bury his head in his hands. It was true that Degurechaff was horribly dangerous. Yet at the same time, based on the principle of rewarding excellence and punishing inadequacy, he couldn’t overlook such an outstanding accomplishment. It would be unacceptable if he did. 

It was unclear what the future held, but considering the achievement that earned Degurechaff these recommendations, she would most likely receive the glorious Silver Wings Assault Badge. The Northern Army Group probably regarded this as the greatest deed in the initial phase of the war. During a critical phase in the early battles, a crisis occurred. Enter a mage from the academy, performing exactly the kind of distinguished exploits the military hoped for to boost morale. She’d gotten real results. And the story was absolutely perfect. It was an honor for a mage to be awarded an alias, and so soon in her career. He immediately understood that she’d been given the elegant nickname “White Silver” because everyone was thrilled. 

While Degurechaff might not be a hero for boosting morale, Lergen still had to exercise both positive and negative discipline. He took pride in being fair and true to his duty. Yet for the first time, he was torn between his emotions and his obligations as a military bureaucrat. 

A child honed into the perfect weapon is terrifying. The only way to use Degurechaff is to turn her on the enemy. I’ll build you up as a hero. I’ll respect your exploits as much as possible. I’ll permit you to act on your own discretion to the best of my ability. I’ll support you however I can to make certain you can fight. I’ll do all of that. So please, I’m begging you, fight on the front. 

Is it right to bestow honor and influence on a soldier I can only possibly hope to control with a prayer? 

“…If only this was one rung lower,” Lergen grumbled in spite of himself. The Silver Wings Assault Badge provided massive influence and recognition in the army. 

This decoration was one of the most valuable distinctions of many the Empire had to offer. Of course, merit awards were also presented out of honor and courtesy for years of continuous service or at certain points in a soldier’s career. Still, it was true that the decorations for courage and remarkable devotion to the nation were viewed more highly. (This tendency was attributed to Empire-like fortitude and utilitarianism but could have simply fallen under nationalism.) 

Long ago, each individual received a crown of laurels for his or her brave actions. But with the modernization of the army, this was switched to the current decorations. Among these decorations, the assault badges honored soldiers who fought with dauntless courage in field operations. Normally in a large-scale offensive, the unit that served as vanguard would receive the General Assault Badge, while whoever among them who clearly contributed the most would receive the Assault Badge with Oak Leaves. 

A soldier holding the Assault Badge with Oak Leaves was viewed as a core member of the unit and trusted unconditionally. But even that honor could not compete with that of the Silver Wings Assault Badge. After all, it was reserved solely for those who were like archangels coming to the rescue of allies in crisis. Even the nomination requirements differed from the normal assault badges. 

Nominations for the Silver Wings Assault Badge were not submitted by the candidate’s superior officers. Generally, the commanding officer of the rescued unit would nominate the fellow soldier out of overwhelming respect. (Though in most cases, the highest-enlisted officer of the rescued unit would do this.) 

But that wasn’t even the most unique aspect of the Silver Wings Assault Badge: The majority of its recipients were already deceased. In other words, the bar was set so high that the badge wasn’t awarded unless the soldier heroically fought under such perilous conditions. 

Could an individual rescue a unit in dire straits? How would one pull that off? Was such a feat possible through normal means? Needless to say, the answer became clear at the sight of the photographs taken in commemoration of the Silver Wings Assault Badge recipients. For the most part, the badges were pinned to the recipient’s hat resting atop their rifle. Official regulations said the only decoration that could be presented to the rifle and hat in place of the deceased was the Silver Wings Assault Badge, so it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say these restrictions alone indicated a bitter struggle. 

As a result, regardless of a Silver Wings Assault Badge recipient’s rank, it was appropriate for officers and soldiers to show them respect. The badge connoted that level of honor. 

I’ll admit it. Bluntly put, I dread what will happen if we give Degurechaff that kind of clout. She’s simply too different. At first, he had suspected she conformed too well to an overzealous recruitment agency’s wishes. Wondering if she had been indoctrinated with fanatic patriotic beliefs, he went so far as to have an acquaintance in Intelligence investigate her orphanage. But it came up clean. It was an ordinary orphanage that could be found anywhere, up to typical standards, and the staff were sensible enough. If anything stood out, it was that they provided average nutrition, since donations and the like had created some leeway for the administration. 

In other words, the basis for Second Lieutenant Degurechaff’s loyalty to the army and will to fight was neither a means to escape starvation nor an inclination toward violence caused by abuse. Out of curiosity, he checked her responses on the question-and-answer section of the military academy entrance exam only to find that she—this monster in little girl’s clothing—had said, “This is the only path for me.” 

Overflowing devotion and loyalty to the nation. Nothing short of a magnificent display of what the military looked for in an ideal soldier. Continuous training and a desire for self-improvement. All those things were worthy of praise. A soldier with any one of those traits would make Lergen perfectly happy as an imperial officer managing human resources. 

If an officer has a combination of them, we’re delighted. That’s precisely what the army wants. But ironically, now having seen those qualities made incarnate, Lergen realized that highest form of the Imperial Army’s desires was simply another way to describe a monster. And it filled him with fear. 

He didn’t know what she was implying with “This is the only path for me.” One of the logical theories he had conceived was that perhaps she was trying to sublimate her overflowing lust for murder into something practical. Who could say for certain that she wasn’t born hungry for war, and the army was the only path that could sate her appetite? 

Who could guarantee that she wasn’t a loose cannon who would enjoy the sight of dripping blood and fly off on a journey of carnage? Even if she conducted herself like an ideal soldier in every way, the overall picture suggested she had to be crazy, or at least abnormal. 

Naturally, he understood that you couldn’t fight a war with tranquil serenity. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know from experience that only those who snapped or were truly mad could fight without getting nauseous. But what if someone enjoyed it? 

He had once heard that as far as a murderer was concerned, both theory and practice were nothing more than a difference in aesthetics. Meaning a serial killer conflated their theories with actual implementation. At the time, he had laughed it off as a rather wild opinion, but he understood all too well now. Sadly, he had come to understand. At best, Degurechaff is an anomaly, fundamentally different from the rest of us. 

Maybe that’s what a hero is—someone divergent from the average person in some way. There’s nothing wrong with celebrating a hero, but we will never teach “Follow the hero.” We cannot afford to foster that. The military academy is a human resources development organization, not a place for creating lunatics. 

 

SAME DAY, IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF OFFICE, WAR ROOM 

The General Staff came to a formal decision to award a certain mage officer a medal, and not only was this one of the rare occasions where the Silver Wings Assault Badge was presented to someone other than a corpse, but also the judgment was handed down with unprecedented speed. The recipient was even given an alias. But while one area bustled with the award ceremonies that accompany victory, a heated debate was filling the tense air in a corner of the General Staff Office—the General Staff’s First Conference (War) Room, where guards refused entry to all unauthorized personnel. 

To be exact, two brigadier generals stood in fierce opposition. 

“I absolutely oppose! If we make a concentrated commitment like that, we may lose the flexibility to respond swiftly, a risk which greatly outweighs any merits!” A manly soldier in his prime stood and roared in unending protest. His pale blue eyes overflowed with such confidence that he seemed arrogant, but anyone who met his gaze realized it was always fixed on reality. The General Staff regarded Brigadier General von Rudersdorf as an officer whose balance of confidence and ability made him exceptional. Now, this man cast aside his reputation and all but leaned over the desk as he continued howling in protest. “We have more than enough troops on the field already for a running fight! We should maintain tactical flexibility while applying a reasonable amount of pressure. That’s all there is to it!” 

“Likewise, I must voice my protest as well. We have successfully destroyed the enemy’s forces in the field. What more is there to accomplish through war? We have already met our national defense objective.” Furthermore, he agreed with the need to maintain tactical flexibility. With his quiet disposition and scholarly outward appearance, Brigadier General von Zettour gave off a sensible impression, characteristic of a man who measured himself as a soldier. He joined the debate, speaking as matter-of-factly as a mathematician reading his finalized results. 

“Both of our brigadier generals make valid points… Would you care to comment, General von Ludwig?” Presiding as the chairman, Adjutant General Marchese felt that both brigadier generals presented arguments that sounded too reasonable to simply overlook. Naturally, the adjutant general was experienced enough to ignore opposing views in the debate if he chose to do so. 

However, it wasn’t as though Marchese didn’t have his own cause for concern. Considering the General Staff’s stance would have primary influence over the commander in chief’s office, it was worth digging deeper. As such, he had prompted a statement from Lieutenant General von Ludwig, chief of the General Staff, who advocated a large-scale offensive. He intended to hear all sides. 

“Prudence is all well and good, but we haven’t caught a whiff of mobilization from our neighboring nations. If we want to conduct a large-scale offensive without the restraint of the given conditions, isn’t this a prime opportunity?” 

The chief of the General Staff had risen, a troubled look on his face. He appeared mildly confused that two of the subordinates for whom he had high expectations were rising in revolt against him. Yet he was also angry. As a result, he was trying to figure out how he felt, so what everyone saw was his bizarrely perplexed expression. 

“Lieutenant General, sir! At the very least, we should limit the scale of mobilization! A full mobilization would destroy the fundamental premise of Plan 315!” Rudersdorf strongly objected. 

His concise criticism stemmed from the Empire’s geopolitical situation. The Empire was the only great power surrounded by other world powers, so in terms of national defense, it was in the difficult position of always accounting for the possibility of a multifront war. 

Then there was the historical background behind how the Empire built its reputation as a new military power. Compelled by fear and geographic necessity, the Empire had to pursue military superiority to withstand a two-front war. 

“I don’t mean to simply parrot General von Rudersdorf, but we should not alter our policies for national defense, including Plan 315,” added Zettour. 

Assuming the Empire was surrounded by potential enemies on all sides, efficiently moving and managing troops along interior lines became its only defense option. The minutely detailed plan called for mass mobilization to neutralize a single potential enemy’s field army with forces superior in both number and quality. Thereafter, the military would prepare to take on the other hostile countries. This was defense policy Plan 315. In order to get them through a nigh impossible two-front war, it had been fine-tuned down to specific train schedules—the plan was something of an artistic masterpiece for the Empire. To put it another way, it would take a massive amount of time to build a new plan if they scrapped this one. 

“Zettour, we must avoid sending in forces piecemeal. That hardly needs to be said.” 

“I am fully aware of the foolishness of gradual mobilization, but I find it questionable to claim we need to deploy our entire force now that we have destroyed the enemy’s field army.” 

On the other hand, Ludwig’s argument also stood to reason. Given that the Kingdom of Ildoa, the François Republic, and the Russy Federation showed no real signs of mobilizing troops, the stage was set to completely crush the Entente Alliance. If the Empire was going to strike, it should go all out. 

But as for launching an immediate offensive, Zettour’s notion that they had achieved sufficient victory contradicted Chief of the General Staff Ludwig’s opinion. 

“I agree with Brigadier General von Zettour. Victory is within our grasp, so the question we should be asking is how to exploit its fruits! If we needlessly mobilize troops without a clear plan, the tactical objective will be too ambiguous. I fail to see how that will benefit our national defense.” Rudersdorf didn’t feel they needed to add to their achievements. The question he posed was simply how to best utilize their gains once they had an understanding of the situation. While that wasn’t exactly the main point of his proposal, he too was concerned that the army would needlessly compromise their well-established national defense policy without a plan. 

“Rudersdorf, as long as the commander in chief doesn’t give us directives, the General Staff can only pursue expanding its military gains.” 

“General, with all due respect, it would be unspeakable to conduct a military operation that lacked a clear tactical objective. I am strongly opposed to a reckless large-scale invasion that could consequently ruin our defense policy,” Rudersdorf replied. 

Zettour agreed with an outright bitter expression on his face. 

“Opportunity waits for no man! We are prepared to settle the territorial dispute over Norden once and for all with this campaign! We can resolve the Empire’s geopolitical problem!” 

The cheers that slipped out from a portion of the attendees were not wholly unjustified. Zettour had painted a luscious picture of the future by presenting the opportunity to free the Empire from the ever-present problem of being surrounded on all sides by other nations. If they dealt a devastating blow to the neighboring Entente Alliance, they could successfully eliminate one of the potential threats facing the Empire. It was a prime opportunity to resolve a geopolitical problem that had haunted them for ages. 

“Objection! We should not go through with this at the cost of our established defense program!” The point Rudersdorf fiercely made struck at the heart of the disagreement. Should they try to secure a safe future at the risk of jeopardizing their current defense program? “The Empire’s goal is national security. Seeing as we’ve established a de facto border with the Treaty of Londinium, the issue might as well not exist.” 

Zettour went so far as to coolly say that they should forget about the Entente Alliance. In other words, he didn’t want to open the can of worms the Treaty of Londinium had shut. 

“There’s no need to do what the enemy wants! Should we not rather follow our own plan? Would you have us squander all of our preparations?!” 

More importantly, as Rudersdorf vehemently appealed to those present in the conference room, this decision would affect the very fundamentals of the Empire’s national defense. 

Plan 315, which the General Staff had continually altered over the years, was the Empire’s only viable defense policy due to the country’s geopolitical environment. Surrounded by potential enemies on all sides, the Empire made the desperate decision that no matter which country set off the invasion domino effect, it would resolutely defend its territory through coordinated counterattacks. In truth, it was unable to conceive any other defense plan with a high chance of success. 

“Will you pass up the chance to break free of this encirclement, if only partially?” 

“If we could weaken the Entente Alliance, we would be able to concentrate more on the east. And to the west, we could mount a somewhat less tense line of defense against Albion, François.” 

But they continued their arguments one after the other with no end in sight. The debate stemmed from the General Staff’s inescapable desire to seize this opportunity; they could finally break free of their stalemated country’s defense strategy. If we act now—if we act right now, for the first time since the founding of the Empire—we could resolve our military problems in one fell swoop. 

“Fortunately, none of the powerhouses show any indications of mobilizing. I believe that if we act now, we can eliminate the root of the Empire’s problems.” 

They had no way of knowing whether or not this decision was for the best—at least not at this point in time. 



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