Youjo Senki - Volume 2 - Chapter 1

[chapter] I The Dacian War 

SEPTEMBER 24, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, RANSYLVANIA REGION, TURAO COUNTY, IMPERIAL ARMY FIELD MANEUVER AREA 

The first thing Battalion Commander von Degurechaff asks about is the situation in the air. 

When the radio operator from Command replies that they have no information about enemy air strength nor any aerial contacts at all, she cocks her head as if she can’t believe what she just heard. Her distrust is plain in her next question—whether their communications are in working order. 

But the operator assures her that both wired and wireless communications are functioning normally. They’re even fully monitoring the Dacian FAC’s contact channel. 

The next moment, the personnel at Command feel a chill go up their spines. Major von Degurechaff’s smiling—an intoxicated smile? An indescribable shock ripples through the room. 

No one knew at the time, but if Lergen had seen that expression, he would probably have smiled the same way. It’s the smile of a ferocious hunter, and it contains the delight of a starved wolf eyeing its prey. 

That’s right. She can hardly believe her improbable good luck, but logic tells her it’s the truth, enveloping her in a burst of joy. Yes, this is what they mean when they say filled with emotion. It’s no wonder she can’t keep her lips from curling into a grin—the opportunity in front of her is that good. 

A battlefield entirely devoid of enemy air cover? 

Yes, a battlefield entirely devoid of enemy air cover! 

The significance of that is so luscious, so terribly seductive. How many officers, how many men, have yearned for relative imperial air superiority in Norden and the Rhine? 

Thanks to the complete lack of enemy air forces in Dacia, which is unthinkable in modern warfare, complete supremacy is guaranteed. 

No hostile forces in the sky? I have to confess that never in a million years would I have thought the Principality of Dacia’s military was this hopeless! 

I wanted to avoid the foolish error of underestimating the enemy, but to think I overestimated them to this extent! They say any number of unforeseen incidents can happen on the battlefield, but I heartily welcome any that are this happy. 

Has there ever been such a fortuitous turn of heaven’s will? Yes, the heavens are literally on our side! 

September 24 is only her birthday on paper. 

Still, this could be considered her first birthday present ever. Today seems like it’s going to be such a wonderful day I’m liable to start skipping around like a giddy little kid. Tanya’s cheeks flush, and without thinking, she whispers, “Dear God, thank you for this one-in-a-million chance.” 

In a normal mental state, she wouldn’t even entertain the thought of parting her lips for such an utterance. It must be an expression of her tender feelings toward this command. 

The establishment of absolute air supremacy… At least at that moment in time, the only one who understood the significance was Tanya. That’s why she shot off running with periodic little skips. 

And that entire scene played out where Lieutenant Colonel von Lergen could see it, even as his face was still twitching from the report that six hundred thousand Dacian troops had crossed the border. 

Thinking of the dire effects this would have on the front, he wanted to bury his head in his hands. And so, when Tanya ran off with her unit’s deployment orders in hand, apparently skipping her briefing, all he and some other personnel from HQ could do was stare after her as if the whole thing wasn’t actually happening. 

If someone asked what was lacking in the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, which had withstood being drop-kicked off a ridge in the Alpen Mountains as part of their extremely authentic training, Tanya would immediately declare, “Combat experience.” Not that the need to further develop esprit de corps and continue training are insignificant issues, but their commander can’t stand the fact that her subordinates lack a most critical baptism by fire. No matter how much rookies train at an exercise range, once stationed on a real battlefield they’re sure to muck it up. 

Not to mention that they’ve been drilling at the Turao Field Maneuver Area in the southeast—the exact opposite direction from the fighting. She can’t deny that they’re getting a bit overly comfortable, as everyone does when stationed too long at the rear. It would be a waste if the human resources meant to serve as my shields went soft, so after receiving word to keep an eye out for Dacia, I’ve been considering it a useful expedient to maintain some degree of tension—and not much more. 

Given the disparity of strength between the two nations and the Empire’s habit of freely throwing its weight around, I figured Dacia would get the message and mind its own business. 

Which is why when the alarm goes off, I’m at a total loss. The Dacians would go to war, risking occupation of their fatherland, in the name of international cooperation? I can’t believe idiots like that actually exist! She half expects a stern order to call off combat maneuvers because the warning was a mistake. 

But for better or worse, for reasons Tanya can’t fathom, they don’t seem to care if they really start a war. 

“Two hundred and third, to your battle stations, on the double. How’s Border Command?” 

Command personnel run around shouting requests into radios and telephones to be connected to one post or get information about another. 

“Lieutenant Weiss! Reassemble and have someone pass out ammunition!” 

“Major, we have a theater report from the Seventh Air Fleet. We’ve received the Command Post frequency.” 

“Verify immediately. And get me Lieutenant Serebryakov!” 

Efficiently canceling the exercise and giving instructions for their next move, Tanya scowls slightly in the direction of Colonel von Lergen, who seems to have anticipated this. He had dropped her a hint, but if their neighbor Dacia is really planning to oppose them, she would have liked a chance to scope out the area as a military attaché or liaison officer. That way she would have a better grasp of the lay of the land and thus a clearer image of what needs to be blown up. 

“…Well, this attack is certainly a bolt from the blue, wouldn’t you say, Colonel von Lergen?” 

“Spare me the sarcasm, Major. You’ll be delaying for us.” 

As my battalion is under direct command of the General Staff, there’s been a constant parade of high-ranking staffers in and out of the garrison. It seems my hunch that they were mainly interested in Dacia was spot-on. That’s why when Colonel von Lergen shows up with an urgent update from the border and sealed orders from the General Staff Office, I can only sigh and hold my tongue. 

“Huh? Delaying, sir? You mean you want my battalion to stop the Dacian Army?” 

“I realize it’s unreasonable, but whether we mobilize forces in the east or send reinforcements from Central, war on multiple fronts means we’ll need to buy time somewhere…” 

Her unit might be newly formed, and she may be an untested commander, but Tanya isn’t about to be underestimated. According to the report, it’s only six hundred thousand Dacian troops crossing the border. Yes, their infantry is marching through this mountainous region, greener than a bunch of Boy Scouts. 

“With all due respect, the Principality’s troops are a barely trained rabble of soldiers and farmers, hardly up to modern warfare.” 

After assuming her post, she’d done a little investigating as part of her Dacian studies and learned that the Principality is a so-called minor nation standing atop an unstable foundation at the moment. It may have a lot of soldiers, but Boy Scouts would probably be better prepared. It’s ludicrous if Lergen thinks her battalion can only manage to delay them. 

“Mobilize the regional army group? I’m sure four divisions assembled from the surrounding area would be plenty to trample them. My battalion alone would be enough to repulse the vanguard, not just delay.” 

“…Do you understand what you’re saying, Major?” 

“I do, sir. I see it as a fully outfitted army driving off a Boy Scout troop. It might even be easier than that.” 

Far from the level of national guard reserves or part-time soldiers, the Dacian forces are half farmers, more like the Korean People’s Army. A band of armed robbers would have more discipline than such a riffraff. The imperial troops will crush them in a single blow. If they can’t do at least that much, it would be too shameful to call themselves an army. After all, the military of a modern state is a dense conglomeration of precisely managed violence. There’s no way such an instrument will find it difficult to scatter an anachronistic mob drawn from whoever happened to be around at the time. 

The gap in fighting power between modern and premodern forces is insurmountable. 

“All the sealed orders 1 said was to take the most appropriate action to defend the border.” 

Tanya has been authorized to act at her discretion. In other words, she’s been given free rein to do whatever she thinks is best. That’s the minimum requirement of a commander as well as the standard for all evaluations. Would a fully outfitted army run from a rough gathering of picnickers? That would be an eternal blot on her record. Tanya would forever be a laughingstock in military history. 

Now that the mission has been given to her, the methods are essentially under the umbrella of her discretionary powers. That also means any failure would indicate a lack of resourcefulness. Call me anything but incompetent. 

“Colonel, before the Dacian forces crossed the border, was there any artillery fire or struggle for control of the airspace?” 

“Well, no.” 

If these were six hundred thousand Federal or Republican troops with air support, there’d be no shame whatsoever in calling for reinforcements, and that’s probably what I would do. But such worries are pointless against an enemy who didn’t bother with preparatory bombardment or securing air supremacy. It’s quite a pile of soldiers, but they’re helpful enough to line up in a row for easy targeting. 

Experience is a great teacher, and these primitive buffoons are about to learn what a difference modern civilization makes. 

“That should tell you something about who we’re up against. I’m going to bring the iron hammer of civilization down on these barbarians.” 

We shall conquer the sky and teach them to fear mages. 

“What?” 

“My battalion is a fully outfitted and properly trained military force. We’ll rout the lot of them.” 

Modern warfare depends on national strength to a savage degree. Education, training, logistics. There is a world of difference in these areas between countries that are considered great powers and those that are not. History provides eloquent testimony about how undeniable this disparity is. I’m gonna drive these guys off conquistador-style. 

“The enemy vanguard alone is three divisions, you realize.” 

On the map, the Dacian advances are represented by multiple arrows. The one penetrating the farthest into imperial territory is supposedly composed of three divisions—the elite core—from the standing army. 

What a joke reality is, seriously. It cracks me up. This vanguard is supposed to be their military’s best, and they don’t have any armored divisions or mechanized infantry, just plain old foot soldiers. It reflects on their nation’s true strength, and it honestly makes me feel sorry for them. 

The competition principle, at its core, benefits the strong and crushes the weak. Still, this is the first time I’ve ever felt guilty that the fight isn’t fair. 

“This won’t even be a battle, just a simple thrashing. I’ll teach them what a real army and war look like.” 

Nothing more than three divisions of amateurs. That’s all. The conquistadors had horses and guns, but they still fought it out on level ground. We’ll be shooting like mad from our third dimension in the sky, so victory is assured. This is going to be a pseudo-atrocity that can only be described as a live-fire exercise. 

“So how far can we go?” 

“What?” 

“If the enemy’s resistance is so fragile that we accidentally overextend, that could be a logistical problem.” 

“Hold on, Major. What are you saying?” 

“Sir, I’m going to give Dacia some educational guidance. I intend to personally drive home for them the high price of the teacher we call experience.” 

Okay, time for war. No, time for bullying a bunch of weaklings, more like. 

How lucky; this pathetic bunch showed up at just the right time. I lick my lips in spite of myself. Unlike the muddy Rhine or freezing Norden, the skies over Dacia in the temperate southeast are sure to have perfect flying weather. It’s still September. We’ll have any number of opportunities to attack before the sun goes down. 

I ponder these things, but all those thoughts disperse when my adjutant comes trotting over. 

It’s time to work. 

“Second Lieutenant Serebryakov reporting in, ma’am. You called?” 

“Yes. Lieutenant, what’s the battalion’s status?” 

“Everyone has assembled. Lieutenant Weiss is currently handing out ammunition and explaining the situation.” 

Their progress is the definition of smooth. All according to plan. Tanya even feels her cheeks relaxing into a smile of satisfaction, but she wills them to stay taut. Even elementary schoolers know that the field trip isn’t over until they make it home in one piece. It’s careless to be so giddy before departing. 

But even if I don’t like it, it’s an undeniable fact that no one at command shares my optimistic view of the situation. 

And at the very top, openly anxious, is Colonel von Lergen, watching our preparations in a speechless daze. Well, it seems he’s still overestimating these six hundred thousand Dacians from his desk at the General Staff Office. Regrettably, Tanya is forced to confront the reality that though the colonel may be a genius, he’s been out of the game for too long. That’s why when her adjutant finishes reporting in, she nods in satisfaction and pounds her little fist against her chest as if to tell Colonel von Lergen, Leave this to me. 

Just as described, the unit has speedily assembled and is equipped with their training gear plus the distributed live ammunition. The soldiers are ready to sortie. Apparently, despite being a little winded from the interrupted exercise, it’s not enough to affect their combat performance. Very good. 

“Attention, battalion! Instructions from our commander!” First Lieutenant Weiss barks orders, his heels angled perfectly at a formal forty-five degrees. 

In response, the members of the battalion align their feet and straighten up with movements that are nothing if not brisk. Before she knows it, Tanya finds herself smiling in satisfaction. Surely everyone agrees there is something uniquely charming—dreamy, even—about rigorous discipline. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Okay, troops, this is war. Well, something resembling war…and it’s about to begin.” 

Perhaps it’s even charmed Tanya into taking the dais with unconscious excitement and a smile of pure joy, nearly singing to them how happy this makes her. 

“Today is my birthday. Maybe the Principality of Dacia knew that? As you’ve heard, they’ve been kind enough to offer the surprise present of targets for a live-fire exercise.” 

I have been hoping for some. It’s so nice of the Dacian men to volunteer themselves. 

“You’re free to shoot them with bullets or blow them up with spells.” 

They won’t even have a chance as we slaughter them from the sky unopposed. It’ll be an even bigger turkey shoot than the one in the Marianas. The only question will be how great a victory we can achieve. 

“Troops, we’re going to teach these invaders a lesson—with an iron hammer.” 

Which is why she makes a fist and brings it satisfyingly down on an imaginary Dacian Army as she shouts to crush them. Beat them into a pulp! Her enthusiasm makes her intention clear to all present. 

It was a savage proclamation that the Imperial Army’s advanced forces would literally pulverize the Dacian Army vanguard. The result is a given, so she commands them to go out and make it happen. 

“One last thing. I haven’t received any confirmation of this, but our target practice should retaliate…in theory. I don’t think any of you are stupid enough to get shot down, but keep an eye out. Okay, we’re restarting the live-fire exercise. Gentlemen, let the games begin.” 

This is a manhunt, in a way—literally. A sport. 

Or a story to give the legendary knight Don Quixote a run for his money. After all, our enemy is a bunch of anachronistic heroes from a bygone era challenging a terrifying modern monster. 

Leaving the rear personnel and the handful of officers visiting from the General Staff Office to man the garrison, Tanya leads the battalion, setting off as the fastest responding unit in the Imperial Army. Their target is the Dacian Army’s vanguard, three divisions or so that have crossed the border and started the war. The fact that everyone is flying in perfect strike formation and remembering their training means that Tanya’s work is already paying off, to her great satisfaction. 

Before long, she manages to make contact with the evacuating Imperial Army Border Patrol units. Receiving the latest about the enemy from them, Tanya is convinced. 

Without a doubt, whatever strategy the Dacian Army has in mind is some kind of medieval relic. Moments later, making minute adjustments to their course and preparing for their attack runs as they rush ahead, the battalion sees a writhing mass of humans on the horizon. 

How kind of them to wear brightly colored uniforms and pack together in dense formations. Their outdated military doctrine doesn’t take magic strikes or aerial bombardment into consideration. They are at once splendid prey and a wasted mountain of human resources. What a pathetic nation. To have so much human capital but be entirely incapable of putting it to good use. 

Anyhow, it’s the Imperial Army’s job to blow these youths away. So I’ll leave the condolences for the sorrow of the widows and elderly to the Principality of Dacia’s foolish government. 

“Aconitum 01 to all hands. This operation is a go! Teach those fools the definition of war!” 

The battalion is using an incredibly obvious, textbook tactic for aerial mages facing ground forces, where three of the four companies attack from three different directions. That leaves one company leftover, which is a great problem to have. Normally, the enemy would have direct support, and I’d send that company to fight for control of the air, but…if you can believe it, today they are simply extras. 

“Company commanders, I’m expecting you to follow your orders and show me good results!” 

“““Understood!””” 

I could save them as backup, but things are going so smoothly it hardly seems like I need them. The companies on the attack aren’t even attracting any anti–air fire with their tight maneuvers. All the enemy ground troops can seem to do is panic as my mages lay waste to them from the sky. If all I do is watch, people might start saying I get paid to stand around. 

“I’m stumped, Lieutenant. There’s nothing for us to do.” 

It’s not as if I’m pro-war or a workaholic, but I do worry what other people will think if I’m the only one not being productive while everyone else is working. It has been two months since the battalion was formed, and it’s clear to Tanya that the General Staff is keeping a close eye on how they are doing. There’s a strong need to take aggressive actions and achieve appropriate results. 

“…I was bracing myself for a difficult battle.” 

“You’re nervous about three measly divisions on a reckless, half-baked rampage? That doesn’t sound like a veteran of the Rhine front.” 

“I mean, Major…it’s three divisions. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but your sense of these things is…a little, er…never mind.” 

Ahh. I realize that Lieutenant Serebryakov is at least a little bit right. I should use my words properly. This Dacian unit does consider itself to be three divisions. 

Is my adjutant’s hesitance a sign of her apprehensions regarding my lax use of specialized vocabulary? …That has to be it, without a doubt. I guess it’s my mistake for taking a post-structuralist lightly. It’s very dangerous when phenomena are evaluated based on words. I’ve got to deconstruct this and remedy my error. 

“…Sorry, Lieutenant Serebryakov. It seems you’re right.” 

“Er, ma’am?” 

“Yes, technically, I should have said it’s a fifty-thousand-man mob on a reckless rampage. If you don’t properly define your terms, of course you’ll invite misunderstanding. Honestly, what was I thinking…?” 

It appears Lieutenant Serebryakov and the others were expecting the fight to be a bit tougher. Their ability to brace themselves for a harrowing battle against a mighty enemy shows good mettle, but it was my mistake to label the enemy forces “divisions.” Tanya can only show remorse for making her subordinates think the Dacian Army is a serious military power. 

This conflict will be this world’s first world war. For most soldiers, it will be their first experience with many things, including the menace of aerial fighting power. They’re so caught up in two-dimensional warfare that they have yet to understand the value of the sky when battles become three-dimensional. 

“Okay. We should participate, too. Command Company, follow me. Let’s poke at their leaders.” 

That’s why she wonders how this battle against opponents with no presence in the air could be any more one-sided. Lieutenant Serebryakov and the others’ worries are starting to seem a little amusing. The point of this battle is simple. All they have to do is reap the heads of the enemy soldiers. Then they’ll transition to blowing any remnants of the enemy forces to literal smithereens. 

“On me! On me!” 

We swoop down and drop formula-fixed anti-surface grenades. The goal with these is to scatter shrapnel, so they explode above the enemy soldiers. The fools aren’t even wearing iron helmets, so their heads turn into pincushions. But we don’t have time to watch; the company preps formulas, locates optimal locations, then opens fire with full power. 

We blow away the tightly packed infantry, and the surface devolves into total chaos as soldiers run in all directions trying to avoid the blasts. There is some sporadic return fire, but for infantry rifles to pierce our defensive shells, they would need to wear them down with a dense barrage. 

This battlefield, devoid of the harsh sound of heavy machine-gun fire, is a horrible place for the infantry, forced to use nothing but their basic firearms in rudimentary anti-air tactics, but for those of us who can fly, there’s nothing better. 

“The Dacian Army is dragging their feet. They’re too slow. All companies, give me an update.” 

“Everything’s fine, Major.” 

“No problems here.” 

“This really is a live-fire exercise.” 

“It’s weird. I was sure we were the ones being attacked, but…” 

This is such a letdown. The scene below is so absurd that I nearly wonder if we mixed up offensive and defensive roles somehow. Those Entente Alliance numbskulls crossed the border without intending to fight, but once battle was joined, they took it seriously and fought almost too passionately. 

The Principality, on the other hand, has plenty of motivation and declared war from their end, but they just have no idea what war even is. 

“This really is strange. Did they think they could hit us and we wouldn’t hit them back?” 

“Seriously, these poor half-wits.” 

Even in a fistfight, you expect some retaliation after punching someone. Of course, when two nations’ instruments of violence clash, you should be able to maintain a minimum of dignity, despite the foolish quarrel, with artillery. These guys need to take a tip from Frederick the Great. 

I’m stuck waging a war against these idiots, so clearly I’m the one who has it the hardest. Of course, ever since the evil Being X interfered with my ultra-ordinary working adult life, I haven’t been optimistic about my fate even once… 

“By the way, what’s that? What are they doing?” 

As Tanya finishes communicating with the companies, she adjusts her altitude to prepare for another attack run when she notices some kind of organized movement beginning on the ground. According to Imperial Army textbook, the expected enemy response to this situation would be to have their soldiers spread out and begin anti–air fire in areas designated by their commanders. 

But rather than putting space between one another, they are starting to form densely packed squares. 

“Are they panicking?” 

True, becoming isolated on a battlefield is a terrifying prospect. My adjutant’s understanding of the situation is perhaps the most realistic…but from what I can see, officer-looking types are actually commanding them to form up in those ranks. 

“…It doesn’t seem to be confusion. I think they’re making an infantry square…” 

“But that’s so stupid…! The age of cavalry is over!” 

Yes, just as Lieutenant Serebryakov’s astonished remark would suggest, we are conducting not a cavalry charge but magic ground attacks. The correct response is spreading out to minimize casualties, and it’s honestly hard to imagine that there are soldiers in this day and age who would form an infantry square under the belief it would achieve anything. Even a civilian should be able to tell that bunching up would be dangerous. 

“How far back in time are they living? Is this some kind of mistake?” 

Or maybe another power has given them some sort of new doctrine or technology? But as those unlikely scenarios flit across Tanya’s mind, the simplest solution is to quit worrying and attack to observe their reaction. 

A moment later, however, she instinctively explodes at the scene unfolding in front of her. “Weiss!! Why are you running away?!” 

She can’t believe her eyes. Confronted with an enemy infantry square, Lieutenant Weiss’s company has hastily changed course. 

The Dacian troops are all packed together. They’re doing nothing but holding their positions and bravely waiting for the moment they get blown up, the poor bastards. The pain of being such a badly misused human resource would have evaporated in an instant. 

Conscious that she is practically quaking with anger, Tanya screams, “Hey! Why are you reversing?! Why are you breaking attack formation?!” 

“Major!!” 

But the scene has made Tanya so furious that Lieutenant Serebryakov’s startled shout has no effect. 

Weiss’s company was in position to make their assault, but then they hastily turned away from the enemy as if they were scared. As far as Tanya could tell, there was no evidence of a counterattack that could warrant such a move. 

Her suspicion that they are fleeing before the enemy—the worst explanation possible—rapidly eclipses any other thoughts. Her men are spreading out and pulling back in the face of such flaccid defense? The sheer spinelessness astounds her. 

Unaware that her teeth are grinding, she doesn’t even hide the fact that she’s lost her temper. “Lieutenant, go get the vice commander! If he resists, you can shoot him!” 

“Y-yes, ma’am.” 

I order Serebryakov to grab Lieutenant Weiss by the scruff of his neck and drag him over on the double, but at the same time, a sinking sense of betrayal takes over. I thought he was going to be a good vice commander. I thought he was a great subordinate. So how—HOW?!—could he be deserting now? This is ludicrous. The fact that the vice commander of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion fled before this rabble will be a blot on my career that will haunt me for the rest of my life. 

I at least want to sublimate my rage rather than waste it on chewing him out, so I seal a compound explosion formula inside a magic bullet. Thanking the archaic mind-set that had the Dacian Army still struggling to maintain ranks, I fire. The shot lands right where I aimed, in the center of the enemy formation, and detonates. 

Seriously, this is the easiest fight. It can’t even be counted as one of the Lord’s trials; it’s ridiculous. 

“Major, here’s Lieutenant Weiss.” Lieutenant Serebryakov makes her report as efficiently as possible, as if to avoid conflict. 

Tanya proceeds matter-of-factly, not because she interpreted the gesture favorably but more because it simply didn’t register. “Thanks. Take my company. Continue the attack.” 

“Yes, ma’am!” 

Even the continuing verbal exchange is irritating. Having rather irresponsibly entrusted her company to Serebryakov, Tanya closes in on Weiss as if she’s going to bite him, openly livid. He has no idea why the commander has suddenly called him over. 

“All right, Lieutenant, if you have an excuse, you’d better give it to me before I shoot you.” 

“M-Major von Degurechaff, what exactly do I need an excuse for?” 

“You’re suspected of fleeing before the enemy, Lieutenant. If you need an explanation, maybe we should grill you in a court-martial!” 

Weiss still hasn’t figured out why he was called over. Of course he doesn’t. After all, he can’t recall making any mistakes. But it isn’t normal for the battalion commander’s adjutant to take a position to shoot him down as if he were an actual enemy and summon him “immediately.” 

“Major! My men and I would never abandon our duty…” 

This is precisely the moment he realizes he’s stepped on a huge land mine, despite not understanding why. What did I do? Still, he can sincerely swear that he only intended to fulfill his duty. His conscience vis-à-vis God and his fatherland is clean. 

And that’s why he dares to argue against his superior officer, who looks ghastly enough to be a furious vampire. 

“Then tell me, Lieutenant, why you drew back and spread out just moments ago? Why did you turn around?” 

“What?” 

“Explain why you turned tail and scattered in the face of the enemy!” 

But the shouts raining down on him didn’t take his defense into account at all; on the contrary, the anger and murderous hostility only increased. 

“Ma’am. The enemy infantry assumed an anti–air formation, so I played it by the book and pulled my unit back to the edge of their range and ordered containment fire on the enemy unit.” 

“Book? What book?” 

“The Twenty-Second Aerial Magic Combat Field Manual.” 

His response is dead serious. From Weiss’s perspective, he skillfully acted according to his training in the Eastern Army Group and made the right call. But I want to teach him via actual combat that referring to the manual for every operation is nonsensical. Really, there’s a limit to what the manual even covers. 

That’s why it takes me a minute to remember… Ah, right, it was recommended in the section about anti-surface strikes to avoid anti–air positions…but after recalling it, Tanya’s face twists up in disgust. 

“Wait a minute. Look over there! That’s enemy infantry! Do you not understand that I ordered you to attack immediately?!” 

“Yes, they were in a close-ranks firing position, so I ordered my company to avoid them.” 

It’s just— It’s just a bunch of infantry standing close together! she wants to scream, but Weiss’s explanation was straight out of the textbook. 

“Lieutenant, let me make this clear. If we have any mages who would get shot down by that, I will kill them before the enemy has a chance.” 

“But, Major—” 

“Listen up, Mr. Common Sense, I’ll explain this only once. Do you really think bolt-action infantry rifles firing at the edge of their effective range can pierce a mage’s defensive shell?!” 

It’s not as if you’re heavy cavalry about to get dashed against a tercio with their pikes and muskets. The utter stupidity! The lethality of our sidearms alone is enough to render their infantry square defense useless. The point proves itself when you look at the current Rhine front or the amusing nastiness in the Far East between Akitsushima and the Federation. 

Hence Tanya’s difficulty grasping the notion of her subordinate who had been trained with completely outdated doctrine. If the infantry has gathered together to commit suicide, why not assist them? But apparently, that’s difficult to comprehend for someone who has never experienced actual combat. Especially since live ammunition doesn’t get used on the exercise range, the sight of all those barrels pointing at them from a dense infantry formation tends to elicit a conditioned reaction to reverse course; the longer someone has been serving and training, the stronger that tendency. 

“I’ll give you a chance to clear your name. Try shooting a formula straight into the middle of that formation.” 

“Huh?” 

“…After me. I’ll give you an example.” 

With that, Tanya loads a magic bullet into her rifle and maneuvers neatly down to attack the middle of the long formation. If his superior officer is going to rush the enemy, Weiss has no room to argue; all he can do is follow. He’s grimly determined as he hastily swoops after her to perform what he’s sure is a desperate, reckless charge. 

“…You blew them away.” 

“There are no words. Now do your duty!” 

He casts the formula directly in the middle, according to his training. They even have time to watch scraps of flesh scatter in all directions. Whether the enemy could defend or not, surely, they have some way of countering—is what most of the Imperial Army troops think. As Weiss is definitely in that camp, seeing Dacian soldiers, who went to the trouble of bunching up with no plan, get blown apart is an utterly novel sight, even on a battlefield. 

“Major…my sincere apologies.” 

“Lieutenant Weiss, I’ll consider your error the result of inappropriate training. I guess it’s a good thing we’re doing this live-fire exercise.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.” 

“Sheesh, I never expected there to be problems during such a simple exercise. The fringes of the Imperial Army are unexpectedly shaky. How sad.” 

Up above, she breathes a sigh. She even misses what’s coming over the radio reports for a split second. Tanya takes a deep breath and suppresses her emotions that threaten to blaze out of control. The reality is that education and training for the new realities of war aren’t reaching even the best soldiers. Which means, unfortunately, the army’s doctrine 2 is failing to meet real combat situations. 

I’m forced to realize that apparently those in the rear don’t understand the frontline experience. Or perhaps a better way to put it is that they’re failing to acknowledge the paradigm shift? 3 It’s almost certain that most of the officers in charge of training recruits still fail to understand three-dimensional warfare. 

Veterans of the Norden and Rhine fronts have written enough reports on what they learned through combat to make anyone sick, but the people reading them are only interpreting the information through the old models of war. The implications are truly sad. The situation is far worse than I thought, to the point where I feel disgusted—this is just tragic. 

The entire Imperial Army is failing to learn from even the instructor whose exorbitant fee can only be paid in blood and iron: experience. 

Now I understand why General von Zettour and the other Service Corps authorities assumed the combat accounts couldn’t provide enough instruction for the armies in the east and south and wanted to create a unit immediately under the General Staff Office partially just to advise them directly. 

The extravagant folly of lowering your guard in combat airspace to sink into thought… This kind of contemplation is only possible because of our overwhelming air supremacy. In a way, it would make sense to be happy we’re winning, but there are a few problems on Tanya’s mind that make celebrating impossible. 

“We’ve found their command post.” 

“That’s awfully fast. It’s not a fake?” 

Unbelievable things keep happening one after the other. Even Tanya never imagined there would come a day she would distrust her subordinate’s reports this much. 

Yes, we have air supremacy, and we’re using leadership decapitation tactics…but does that mean the top of the enemy command chain can be exposed so easily? 

“There’s no mistake, Major.” 

“Is it the frontline command? Lower than that?” 

If they could pick it out in this chaos, it had to be either a division or brigade command post. 

“No, it’s the headquarters of the invading army.” 

“What? Are you sure?” 

For a moment, the words seem to mean something inconceivable. 

Headquarters? 

Of the entire invading army? 

“We intercepted an unencoded transmission.” 

Conclusion: It has to be a basic form of disinformation. Even if they are panicking, there’s no way even the lowliest radio operator, much less a comms officer from their headquarters, would send information without encoding it. 

“Then it has to be a fake message.” 

“No, I understand why you would say that, but…everything we’re picking up in this airspace is clear.” 

“…Seriously? That’s hard to believe.” 

“But they aren’t even limiting the signal strength. It may seem unlikely, but it could be real.” 

Though the look on his face is half-disbelief, he reports in a voice that can only belong to people who thoroughly understand their job. To put the incomprehensible situation into plain words: Is the Dacian Army attacking with only ground troops and sending unsecured communications from their headquarters…for the benefit of the Imperial Army? 

Though Tanya just reprimanded a subordinate for relying too much on rigid common sense, she’s plagued by it as well. Of course, her own sense is optimized, raised to a whole other level. 

I still doubt what he said, but when I use my orb to listen in to the signals, there is a huge convoy emitting uncoded transmissions in one spot. 

“Lieutenant Weiss, bring your unit and support mine. Lieutenant Serebryakov! Round up the company and follow me!” 

““Roger!”” 

Just in case it’s a trap, we make sure to secure a route for rapid withdrawal as we approach. I have Lieutenant Weiss’s company get into position to support our advance, and with their overwatch covering our backs, I have my company begin aerial maneuvers for reconnaissance in force. Presuming the enemy will fire a volley, I consciously thicken my defensive shell. I enter the enemy’s range knowing that in addition to the Type 97, I can boot up my Type 95 in a worst-case scenario. 

I’ll get shot at. 

The possibility was on my mind, so of course I had imagined a number of shots from the ground. 

“…Of all the ridiculous—!” 

That’s why I shout in disbelief. Surely even the sloppiest army can manage to defend their headquarters. In stories, even dictators and corrupt commanding officers diligently make sure their immediate surroundings are guarded. 

But… 

But no one is shooting at us. 

“How disappointing. Gentlemen, are we not at war? Is this lot an actual army?” 

It’s good that things are going smoothly. There’s no doubt about that. But in war, nothing going according to the plan is a given. Even if I thought it would be possible to repulse these invaders, I never dreamed things would go even better than anticipated. 

To think we can storm the Dacian Army headquarters without even falling out of assault formation and face zero resistance. 

“We didn’t accidentally attack a tour group visiting the Empire, did we? If so, that would be a major accountability mess.” The situation is so unexpected that I murmur something uncharacteristically silly—it wasn’t funny enough to be a joke. 

“My apologies, ma’am.” 

“It was an error not to check with immigration first. Next time we’ll make sure to consult with them.” 

The members of the battalion skillfully playing along, hanging their heads to express their regret, must feel something is off, too. If this is all we’re dealing with, it’ll seem like I subjected them to hellish training for no reason. Seriously, these enemies are so easy I’m going to get mistaken as a sadist. 

That’s why, when we descend to capture the field HQ, its flag flying prominently despite the danger, Tanya is so confused that she fires off another rare joke. 

“…Yes, excuse me. Are you the tour leader? The Empire humbly apologizes for the trouble we’ve caused. Embarrassingly enough, Imperial Army Border Patrol thought you were an army…” She mimics her subordinates’ humorous motions, lowering her head and then bowing slightly in the direction of the pathetically wailing, panic-stricken enemies. A silence falls as everyone in the tent is rendered speechless, but the next moment, she abruptly delivers some stock greetings with a cheerful smile. “Welcome to the Empire! What is the purpose of your visit? May I see your passport?” 

The silent Dacians have probably frozen in response to the bizarre circumstances. But as their brains start to reboot, they finally begin to process what is going on. In all the confusion, a fully armed little girl has attacked them before they even realized and is now engaging them in a game of pretend immigration inspection. 

“Cu-cut the crap!” The officers were all wearing so many decorations a sniper wouldn’t have known who to aim at first. This girl is toying with us… Realizing that, one of them leaps at Tanya, but First Lieutenant Weiss steps out of the formation and kicks him to the ground, where he passes out. Problematically, judging from his decorations, he’s the most senior officer present. In a way, this is actually the first thing that hasn’t gone according to plan. 

“How about the rest of you? Would you like to enter the Empire as prisoners?” 

If they surrender, Tanya will have no choice but to treat them as regular prisoners of war according to the law. Driving off three divisions is easy, but feeding that many prisoners would be really hard. Just the thought of the additional burden it would put on Logistics is dizzying. Still, as slaughter isn’t one of her hobbies, she advises them to surrender…at least, that’s what she’s doing from her perspective. 

“Preposterous! As if the Dacian Army would ever surrender!” 

“This is a waste of time. Shoot everyone except that general.” 

Sadly, they didn’t understand, but she’s happy to give the order to fire. 

The rest is fairly straightforward. Her company of mages conducts a close-quarters battle against a company’s worth of command post personnel. Taking on mages at close range with little more than pistols is suicide. Before long, the outcome that will no doubt be printed in Dacian textbooks is reached. 

They eliminate their targets without a hitch, and the tent is filled with fresh corpses. Like a gang of burglars, Tanya’s company is snatching up every document and apparatus they can find and cramming them into their packs. The papers and high-ranking prisoners, albeit few in number, will be good souvenirs for the General Staff. 

“Set a booby trap. Yes, we’ll put it by that head.” 

At the same time, before the disorganized Dacian soldiers realize something is amiss with their headquarters, Tanya has her troops leave a little parting gift for them, too. 

“The head of that officer we propped up is going to explode. No doubt it’ll be very effective against these guys.” 

A bit of a crude move but also a classic, and the tactic has been in use for so long because it works: rigging a corpse with a booby trap. It’s a huge blow to morale, and we can also inflict casualties on any enemies who come to rescue the HQ personnel. Pretty good return for a low-cost investment of time and effort. 

“If only there were a pamphlet about group sightseeing tours…” 

“Lieutenant, do you have any paint? I’d like to make an immigration stamp…” 

“Hey, don’t play with the corpses! Take this war seriously!” 

Tanya raises her voice slightly to warn her soldiers, who seemed to have relaxed with the path to victory so clear. This isn’t a game for kids. Her troops have to remain vigilant. It’s understandable why tension is low, but they had best stay on their toes. If she loses any men in this joke of a fight, it’ll be a failure worse than useless Italy getting driven off by Ethiopia; I’d never live it down. 

That said, when Tanya flies up to look down on the scene, she’s plenty satisfied with what she sees. The Principality’s army is still marching in ranks down the road, and the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion is assaulting them from every direction. The fragility of an army without any aerial or magic support combined with the virtually insurmountable gap between modern and ancient military technology have resulted in excellent achievements for the Imperial Army. 

Gaping holes have been blasted into the Dacian Army formations, and personnel who have fallen out of rank litter the ground. 

It’ll take more than a few hours to reorganize this chaos. After all, we’ve succeeded in mowing down the command personnel responsible for stepping up and taking charge of this mess. And even if the next in command makes every effort to get the army united again, this is the chaos they’ll be up against. There’s no way to regain control. 

The only way the overwhelmingly inferior Dacian military can hope to hit us hard is by launching a sneak attack with blitzkrieg tactics. Sending unsupported infantry to attack the Empire is incompetent enough to give full-of-shit-guchi in Imphal a run for his money. If any Dacian officers can get this army back on the march by tomorrow, they deserve medals. 

“Lieutenant Weiss! Is your unit assembled?” 

“Yes, Major. What about the remainder?” 

It seems he’s about to ask, Shall we mop them up? and Tanya just barely manages to control herself and not burst out laughing. All this guy wants is to rack up achievements. Even though he only just wrapped up his first battle, and he played it entirely by the book, he’s eager enough to mention the necessity of increasing their success—he is excellent material. 

“Our air fleet has been deployed, right?” 

That’s why she softens up when she poses the question. You could say the key to making things go smoothly is searching for positives. Before, she was critical of his actions but not anymore. That’s the trick to managing personnel in the army. 

“Yes. The Seventh Air Fleet is under way and should arrive momentarily.” 

“Then let’s leave the cleanup to them. We’re advancing.” 

“Ma’am! Where are we headed?” 

Weiss’s brisk response is proof that he’s at least somewhat soldier material. It seems like he’ll perform his duties with more sincerity than I anticipated. If I can use him, I need to use him well. 

“The capital.” 

“The capital, ma’am?” 

“Yep.” Tanya senses that she’s mellowed out quite a bit as she gives him a magnanimous nod. “Have an escort take the injured and prisoners and withdraw. You can choose who to send.” 

“Yes, ma’am. No one sustained even minor injuries, though, so in that case… What would you like me to do?” 

“Oh, right.” 

When he points it out, I realize that it’s hard to imagine sustaining any casualties in that kind of battle. Well, it’s not like I assumed there were any. It was more to be considerate. Or force of habit? Though I’ll eventually have to admit that I’ve been just a little intellectually lazy. 

Tanya has grown used to the weight of her rifle, so is this just making mountains out of molehills because she’s nervous about commanding a battalion for the first time? 

If that’s the case, I need to compose myself better. A leader shouldn’t dampen the mood for no reason. 

“All right. Then have the ones who are the most exhausted go. This is going to be a long advance. Yeah, send some of the newer officers who just had their first battle back to base.” 

“May I send one platoon from Fourth Company?” 

“That seems reasonable. I’m leaving it up to you.” 

Weiss actually makes fairly good calls on things like unit management, and Tanya has come to trust him during their time at the garrison. Peacetime company commanders aren’t worth their salt unless they can properly lead their subordinates. Whether he turns out to be a decent wartime company commander or not depends on his experiences going forward. I just hope he grows. 

Anyhow, at least one of my hand-selected war maniacs has the right skills and spirit for battle. With his measure of common sense, I have no complaints about making Weiss my right-hand man, and I’m eager to have him contribute to my security. Well, I guess I should just keep using him and see how things go. 

“Okay, now we can push farther, Lieutenant!” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Farther! Even farther! Let’s see how far we can go! You never know until you try.” 

But for now, we should enjoy our bonus level. With that thought, Tanya smiles in amusement. It’s the smile that chilled Colonel von Lergen to the bone. She grins from ear to ear in celebration of their continuing advance. Now, onward! Onward, still! 

That is the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion’s raison d’être, and none other. Mysteriously enough, First Lieutenant Weiss is wearing the same smile without realizing it as he salutes. 

Every soldier accepts the orders without question, believing that if anyone can forge a path forward, they can. 

With the arrival of the Eastern Army Group’s strategic reserves, the Seventeenth Army and Air Fleet (which had split up on their way over), the Dacian Army lines were demolished. Two thousand dead and innumerable prisoners. The battle had pitted six hundred thousand against seventy thousand, and the seventy thousand trampled them. The outnumbered side, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, had been the first to strike and held absolute control of the skies over the combat zone. After scoring a victory, they decided to attack the capital ahead of the air fleet. At the time, Battalion Commander von Degurechaff was so confident it veered close to arrogance, boasting, “Who couldn’t run them over?” 

SEPTEMBER 25, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, 3:17 AM AIRSPACE ABOVE THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE CAPITAL OF THE PRINCIPALITY OF DACIA 

Night fell on the capital of the Principality of Dacia as calmly as any evening since the beginning of time. 

The people, roused by a certain excitement that accompanied the start of the war, had chattered boisterously, alcohol in hand, with great and senseless fervor, but by this time at night, every place had quieted down and most had gone to bed. 

This could be called a nice, quiet night. Cloud cover is limited; visibility is good. A slight southeasterly breeze is blowing, but it isn’t so weak that gunsmoke wouldn’t disperse. 

The only tiny smudge hidden in the night is the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. 

“This is the first night attack on a city in this world. That said, the mission actually isn’t very difficult.” 

The one who whispered is the battalion’s commander, Major Tanya von Degurechaff, who is leading them from the head of the formation. 

If there were a photograph of her to capture the moment where she gazed at the city with a gentle, elegant expression, it would prove the aptness of her alias “White Silver.” Soaring peacefully, she enjoys being able to proceed through the starry expanse without trouble. But inside her are thoughts incongruous with the beauty of the night—the upcoming turbulent attack. It will be fun to burn their target down. 

A night incursion on the enemy capital that hasn’t instituted a blackout—this will be as easy as flying in parade. As expected, though still astounding, there is no aerial or magical interception—not even any anti–air fire. The fact that Tanya can’t spot a single artillery battery improves her mood even more. 

Of course, although it’s only in the realm of possibility, there is a nonzero chance that the whole place is full of hidden gun emplacements. But…if they made such careful preparations, why would they let enemy soldiers into the capital? Ultimately, if the Dacian military takes air combat so lightly, I can’t imagine they’d have the wherewithal to construct any elaborate firing positions. 

Ultimately, what convinces me is how bright the city is. The electricity and gas are illuminating the place so well that I wonder more than once about the possibility that the lights are decoys. On a battlefield, that nonchalance is a regular occurrence in its own way, but it’s abnormal at the same time. When she thinks that she might be able to teach them the concept of a blackout, she even fancies herself a bit enlightened. 

I’ll teach these fools a lesson through experience. Sometimes I wonder why people would bother teaching the unwise, but now I understand. Behind Tanya’s broad grin are pity and contempt. The satisfaction of channeling those emotions into a lesson by means of kicking their ass is ever so unique. 

“Education, huh? I see. Becoming the instructor known as experience and collecting a hefty fee isn’t such a bad gig.” 

I guess it’s sort of like being one of those Meiji period foreign government advisors. 

The job is simple: Give the poor Principality firsthand exposure to the difference between us in modern war, civilization, and national power. Payment will be made in whole by the Imperial Army. This is a sophisticated enterprise where everything, down to each individual round of ammunition, is made possible by the cordial consideration of the Imperial Army General Staff. 

Oh, so this is what it’s like to understand something once you try it yourself. Bringing the light of civilization to barbarians is clearly my sacred mission. Aha, I see why there are people who confuse differences in culture and civilization with racial superiority. It’s far too alluring, and most of all, it provides this horrible sense of omnipotence. 

Well, that’s not good. Tanya regrets the thought a bit and wisely admonishes herself. If there’s one thing I won’t resort to, it’s interpreting everything through the lens of God. That would interfere with my personal raison d’être, so I definitely can’t do that. Well, I guess it’s fine to believe in a sacred mission when I shoot Being X… 

Anyhow, I pause that train of thought for the moment, like in a video game, and then Tanya flicks her flashlight on and off while whirling it around to call her commanders. It’s almost time to move. 

The munitions factory is shining so brilliantly it seems to be trying to turn the darkness into day. Even from our distant position, the bustling energy of the workers is apparent in one area where they’re putting all their efforts into shell production. We have nearly reached our target. 

“You called, Major?” 

“We’ve found our target as planned. You can see it, right, Lieutenant? Over there.” 

“…I can’t believe a weapons factory is unguarded.” 

“Honestly, neither can I. This might sound arrogant, but…” That’s what Tanya says, although she scoffs as she continues. It would probably be more accurate to say that she bursts out laughing at the enemy’s foolishness. “Their way of thinking is stuck somewhere about a century in the past. They seem to still be living in two dimensions.” 

Ignoring the third dimension in the sky, the Dacians only know of an absolutely flat war. What a splendid concept. How stupid can someone be? Thanks to that, I have it easy—their ineptitude really is wonderful. Any enemy of mine is free to let their intelligence atrophy. 

Tanya feels she should be genuinely happy about their enemy’s stupidity while celebrating the favorable circumstances. 

“Actually, we should probably be impressed that their factory is operating twenty-four hours a day.” 

“Thinkers of the Enlightenment would be delighted to find them so industrious.” Though he was wincing a bit as he agreed, First Lieutenant Weiss knew what he had to do as vice commander to clear his name. 

Noticing that he’s trying his best to restore his honor, Tanya adjusts her evaluation of him and decides he can be trusted with assignments. 

“Anyhow, I think it’s good that our job will be easy, Major.” 

Then, not one to betray expectations, Weiss offers his opinion. A vice commander who can make their own calls but also affirm their superior officer’s judgment despite their lack of experience is surprisingly hard to come by. Having selected Weiss as her deputy, it’s a relief that Tanya seems to have an eye for talent. 

“This is a great opportunity to attack. Shall we?” 

At the same time, her adjutant, Second Lieutenant Serebryakov, is giving some cause for concern as she’s starting to sound a bit impatient, perhaps due to her “opportunities” on the Rhine front. I’ve been teaching her how to wage war but not how to navigate its rules… Tanya has only received short, intensive officer training, so even if there are no issues with the way she led her subordinates, it may be necessary to pay more attention to the legal side of things. 

“Lieutenant Serebryakov, we’re not such brutes that we would ignore the law of war.” 

Yes, established by humanitarians and people with legislative experience, these statutes stipulate the sanctioned way of waging war on cities. 

It’s a parade of arguments no one could reasonably disagree with: You mustn’t attack facilities that would interfere with people’s daily lives, attacking civilians is prohibited, indiscriminate bombing is inhumane, and so on. Oh, how great are laws that try to bring some sense into the mad realm of war! They are worthy of respect. If we can do this sanely instead of like maniacs, humans are honestly wonderful. Long live humans. If there’s a problem, it’s that many of the laws are just slightly impractical. But poorly conceived laws are still laws. 

In reality, though, we don’t have any issues operating within them. What with murky scopes of application and interpretation difficulties, most laws can be handled simply. At least, we don’t have any problems this time. 

“Please excuse the error, ma’am.” 

“Let all units know that we’re only destroying the arms factory. Hey, put out an evacuation notice—broadcast on the international distress channel according to regulations.” 

The enemy manufactory is obviously a military facility. It isn’t baking bread or generating electricity to assist people in their daily lives—nothing like that. Even if someone wanted to insist to the contrary, there’s no such thing as a peaceful purpose for ammunition. Well, maybe the warm-hearted humanitarian Mr. Molotov 4 would be making bread baskets. Still, that’s no problem. It would be their fault for making bread baskets in a facility so easily mistaken as an arms factory. 

“But, Major, if we do that, we’ll lose the element of surprise!” 

“Lieutenant Weiss, common sense says that fear is justified, but you’re thinking a bit too straightforward.” 

It seems Tanya’s suggestion that they conduct their attack in line with the rules dictated by international law is completely lost on her subordinate officers. 

“We came this far in secret only to reveal ourselves…?” 

The same questioning look is on all their faces. 

Their expressions share a common type of soldierly doubt. They don’t have any question when it comes to carrying out their military objectives. Of course, the one who was selected for that character was the battalion commander, Major Tanya von Degurechaff—in other words, me. Even if I try to put the blame on someone else, I’m the one responsible in the end. 

For a split second, I wonder if I made an error in gathering these particular subordinates, but I console myself with the thought that they are magnificent imperial soldiers who obey orders even when reluctant. Tanya opens her mouth to instruct them in a stately manner. 

“Lieutenant Serebryakov! Issue the warning. Order an evacuation according to regulations.” 

“You want me to do that?” 

But in the next moment, Serebryakov asks a question, without any deep meaning, that unintentionally highlights Major von Degurechaff’s acumen as a specialist. It’s enough to make her sick. 

Yes, the warning is only a formality, so less believable is more desirable. In that case, the cruel reality is that Tanya figured Lieutenant Serebryakov’s slightly unsophisticated voice would sound less reliable than the hard, soldierly tone of Lieutenant Weiss’s. 

Of course, Tanya is quietly exempting from consideration the youngest member of the unit—herself. 

But now that it has been mentioned, I have to admit Serebryakov has a point. If someone were to ask Tanya afterward why Lieutenant Serebryakov made the announcement, I was planning to say, “My assumption was that if a girl made the warning, they would drop their guard,” but the worst thing that could happen is someone asks, “Don’t you think the commander should have issued it?” 

I have to do it. I don’t want to, but… 

“…Mm, okay. You’re right, I should do it. I’ll make it really sound like a little kid.” 

Agh! Nothing for it. At this point, all I can do is think about increasing our chances of success. Argh, these shitty international laws—what a pain. Can’t they hurry up and meet their de facto death? What genius got on a high horse and suggested upholding rules of war? 

Having partially given up, she shouts into the receiver a subordinate handed her, leaning heavily on the infantile sound of her voice. “Thish is a warning.” 

And so the warning that day echoed grandly throughout the Dacian capital… Except it didn’t. 

It’s true that she is following the law to the letter and broadcasting it over the international distress channel. 

“We, the Imperial Army, are now commenshing an attack on a military supply facility!” 

However, I suppose would be the appropriate word…only a very tiny number of people will hear the announcement. For starters, radio penetration in Dacia isn’t high enough that every house has a set. Furthermore, households who leave their radio on in the middle of the night are no doubt an extreme minority. 

“We will begin maneuvers thirty minutes from now.” 

Most of all, would anyone take a threat from someone who is obviously a child at face value? Not really. If someone with a more rigid tone, voice, and manner of speech that practically shouted their identity as a soldier—someone like Rudersdorf or Zettour, with that undeniable military air about them—gave the warning, it would be a different story. But with Tanya as the announcer, objectively speaking…aside from the content, the announcement is awfully heartwarming. 

Many people will consider it at most an elaborate prank and think little more of it, going back to sleep with a critical frown. 

“We solemnly pwedge—errybody swears to fight fair and square, according to international law.” 

On the other hand, there remains the goal of playing the part properly despite the ridiculous voice, so Tanya lets all the emotion drain out of her words. In a way, this performance is a mortification of Tanya’s mind comparable to using Type 95 at full power. Praising God and affirming Being X is bad enough, but I still see my duty through to the end. 

Naturally, she is openly indignant as she scowls at their target and shouts that she will crush it. Visha’s emotions as she looks on next to her are probably shared with the rest of the battalion—unshakable solidarity. 

…No, her thought is, That’s so low, Major. 

Tanya finishes reading the warning in a voice appropriate for a child her age. No matter how you think about it, the only appropriate explanation would be some kid’s prank; anyone would think so. Even we feel like we’ve caught a glance of some gruesome sight. 

“Major, do you have experience in acting?” 

“Acting? I’m not sure I understand what you mean. I’m just hoping they lower their guard.” 

Though the tone matches her age, Tanya murmurs her dissatisfaction in her usual cold voice. It must be a sign of complex internal feelings. Weiss has only known her for a short time, but even he can pick up the displeasure his superior doesn’t bother hiding. Her mood is as dangerous as nitroglycerin. 

When Weiss quietly takes a step back, everyone discreetly follows suit. Nobody wants to be so close to Major von Degurechaff when she’s irritated. 

“…Okay, troops. It appears shaming myself was worth it.” 

Still, something has been beaten into them during their training as soldiers. 

And that’s why they understand that their superior will vent her feelings on the enemy as they ready themselves for the attack, grabbing their orbs and rifles with as much as a measure of sympathy. 

“This munitions factory has been receiving Republican assistance. It’s probably full of flammable materials.” Tanya’s tone contains a clear determination to blow the target sky-high. Normally her inner thoughts are inscrutable, but today, at this very moment, every mage in the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion can understand exactly what’s on her mind. There’s no mistaking it. 

She’s motivated. 

“I issued the warning. Our obligation has been fulfilled. Now let’s watch the fireworks.” 

I’m openly indignant—blowing off steam or maybe taking it out on them. 

The expression on Major von Degurechaff’s face while she casts an extra-large yet precise formula and conjures a long-range projection formula is a mixture of intoxication and anger, all indicating very real danger. Let sleeping dogs lie. Since no one has interfered, she’s able to turn her undiluted fury on the enemy. 

“Let’s educate them in the name of God.” 

That murmured remark informs her unit how serious she is. 

“I will manifest the power of God on this earth!” 

Their commander continues constructing an extra-large disaster. 

“Deploy formulas! Look sharp, observers!” 

“Deploy formulas! Target: Carberius Arms Foundry!” 

“All companies, match your timing to Major von Degurechaff!” 

Not wanting to fall behind, the commander of each unit shouts, and several long-range attack formulas are cast. 

Normally, any attacker leisurely launching this slow formula in the middle of a battlefield would end up pummeled by anti-magic artillery or picked off by enemy mages on patrol. 

But if the enemy’s even slower, then it’s a different story. 

“Deploy formulas!” 

“Fire!” 

We loose a volley of long-range explosion formulas cast by a forty-eight-man augmented mage battalion. That power and range requires more magic than usual, but this time at least, it’s the optimal solution. 

No one interrupts—no one even notices. 

The formulas rain down on the target so easily the mages are almost disappointed, and the spells explode on impact with the factory literally filled with ammunition. 

“Sixteen direct hits! The rest are close!” 

“If we can do that with long-range formulas, then I can’t complain.” Tanya nods in satisfaction. 

Then, just as Weiss is about to say something to her, it blows up. 

The flare is so dazzling, even the mages are blinded, despite having anticipated the blast. The light fills the quiet night with naked hostility. 

The roof of the factory, blown skyward, seems to fall in slow motion, and the Dacian capital has been jolted awake by a glare that lights up everything for miles around. 

“There go the secondary explosions.” 

Then a quiet, satisfied remark sums it all up. 

“Tamayaaa!” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s just an exclamation. Don’t worry about it.” 

She turns around and appraises the scene with a deflecting remark about the fantastic sight. 

“I gotta hand it to Dacia. Not only did they help us out with our live-fire exercise, they even arranged for a post-training fireworks show.” 

She cackles in amusement, her expression exuberant. If she had to sum it up, the gigantic sunlike explosion below feels just like a fireworks show in honor of her service. 

“Anyhow, we achieved our objective. We’re returning to base, troops.” 

OCTOBER 23, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF OFFICE, DINING ROOM 1 (ARMY) 

“That captain did say it lets you experience war rations.” 

An officer who worked in Personnel was reported to have said it. The General Staff Office dining hall was a “perpetual battlefield café” that didn’t let soldiers forget their combat experiences, even in the rear. 

Major General von Rudersdorf had no words to deny that. In fact, he secretly agreed with his junior colleagues’ opinion that the dining room and its “unique” cuisine seemed to be engaging with the Commonwealth in a fierce competition no normal person could comprehend. 

And likewise, as far as Major General von Zettour knew, there were no General Staffers who actually liked the food. So perhaps it was ironic that although discussing confidential matters in a cafeteria was generally considered a poor idea, this particular place was actually the optimal venue for strategy meetings if secrecy was desirable. 

It was Zettour’s and Rudersdorf’s natures to use whatever they could, together, to the fullest, and when it occurred to them that the dining hall was the best place for keeping things confidential, they reluctantly began taking at least one of their three daily meals there. 

“…Time is not necessarily on the Empire’s side, though it isn’t exactly on our enemy’s, either,” Rudersdorf grumbled, sounding absolutely fed up. Irritated, he washed down some bread-like foodstuff with pseudo-coffee. Among all the ersatz items on the table, he could tell from the feel and luster that only the Meissen cup in his hand, and only that, could be called genuine. 

“Taking our current situation into consideration, it’s not a good idea for the Empire to deal with two fronts for too long, but you still think time might be with us, Rudersdorf?” 

Zettour looked dissatisfied with the food but smiled, somewhat amused, as he replied. He was in charge of logistics. Of course, as a General Staff officer, he could stick his fingers into strategy or operations just as much as Rudersdorf, who had long been involved in operational theory research and development. 

The General Staff had simply seen what these two were capable of, so they put energetic, dynamic Rudersdorf in charge of war operations—mainly mobile—while expecting Zettour’s wise, scholarly precision to keep the military organization running smoothly. 

And in Dacia, all expectations had been met. Rudersdorf set a perfect example of how to conduct maneuver warfare with his astuteness, whereas Zettour made arrangements for the efficient deployment of troops, even organizing the dispatch of an advance unit. Both of their talents achieved everything the General Staff had hoped for. 

“Of course, more time spent will mean more waste. But that’s exactly why our basic strategy of knocking out the weakest enemies first, like we did in Dacia, shouldn’t change.” 

“In other words, what you mean to say is, ‘I’ll give you time, so handle the logistics?’ Rudersdorf, I have to warn you, the Anluk E. Kahteijanen as well as the port facilities are already at their limits with the construction jobs and expansion work in Norden. Transporting enough matériel for a winter offensive will be much too large a burden.” 

“If you say it can’t be done, then I guess it can’t. But I’ve known you long enough. You say it’s impossible, but you won’t convince me you don’t have an alternative plan.” 

An ideal mutual understanding between the front lines and the rear. In a way, this was made possible by the rare cooperative relationship the two men had been able to build where they completely trusted in each other’s exceptional abilities. 

“I’m sorry, General von Rudersdorf, but as far as I’ve heard from the managers of rolling stock in the Service Corps, the logistics situation in Norden isn’t going to improve anytime soon.” 

“General von Zettour, do I need to explain to you about the possibility of a maritime supply route?” 

Relaxing both his expression and the mood just a little bit, Zettour dropped all pretenses. “All right, all right. As you say, since the war began we’ve had our sea routes cut off, so there are all kinds of trade vessels anchored in the port that we could requisition.” It was a plan he had considered many times. “If necessary, I can send a nearly three-hundred-thousand-ton ship to a port facility somewhere in the north for a landing operation.” 

“So it’s decided, then? I wish you would just say that from the beginning.” 

“I have to warn you, this discussion is only valid assuming we have control of the sea. I’ll put up with a skirmish or two, but I’m not keen on the idea of losing a unit and a ship for the chance to gamble on an amphibious operation far behind enemy lines.” 

Zettour frowned slightly. He was more worried about the possible losses than he was about the potential success of the operation. 

It was true that the Empire currently had a glut of ships because the sea-lanes had been tenuous since the war started. There was a chance they could solve their supply and operational issues with them. But put another way, the Imperial Navy had nothing but vulnerable sea-lanes, so would they really be able to protect supply lines? That was the risk they faced. 

As long as that was the case, maybe they could use the narrow straits near the Empire, but they had no choice but to be pessimistic about the idea of establishing a major supply route. 

“You worry too much about supposed losses. Even if it’s a bit of a risk, getting behind Entente Alliance lines and cutting off their communications would crush them.” 

Rudersdorf’s reply was almost carelessly optimistic compared to Zettour’s strategic concerns. 

Despite the deadlocked front lines, the substantial gap in national power left the Entente Alliance on the brink of collapse just like Dacia. In other words, Rudersdorf’s take on the situation could be criticized as an oversimplification, but if the Imperial Army could seize a region in the rear the same way their soldiers had trampled Dacia, even the Entente Alliance would collapse on its own. 

“I can’t deny it, but frankly, I don’t think they are much of a threat anymore even if we leave them as they are. Shouldn’t we forget about them and finish off the Republic?” 

“There’s nothing better than having fewer fronts, but…” 

On the point of whether it was actually necessary to force the Entente Alliance to completely collapse, a slight disagreement between Operations and the Service Corps began creeping into their remarks. Zettour didn’t think advancing north would do anything to ameliorate the logistical strain. On the other hand, from Operations’ point of view, cleaning up that front would make things much easier strategically. 

“From the logistics standpoint, the burden of maintaining the amount of troops necessary to hold against the Entente Alliance is not a light one. Even without firing a single round of ammunition, soldiers starve to death if they don’t eat, you know.” 

“I’m aware of that. But it’s true that compared to the Republic, it would be easier to take out.” 

“Fine.” 

In the end, both men had clear criteria for how to optimize the instrument of violence known as state warfare while not losing sight of their greater objective. An operation could be undertaken if it didn’t strain logistics too greatly and if it gave them a chance to shrink their active fronts. 

Given the fact that in those operational terms there were no issues with gaining control of the rear in the north, Zettour agreed to draw up an attack plan. 

“If we’re going to attack, I’d like us to consider the Osfjord.” 

“The Osfjord? It’s too heavily defended. It’s situated inside that narrow bay, but I’m pretty sure they have a few coastal guns.” 

“The city of Os is the main railroad hub. If we take that, all the Entente Alliance’s trains should be out of commission. Then we can stroll in and keep our troops’ supplies using their rails.” 

The city Zettour pointed out was significant because of its role as a transportation center—presenting an opportunity to knock out enemy logistics in one fell swoop. It would be difficult, but if they could cut the enemy’s supply lines… When the thought crossed Rudersdorf’s mind, he could no longer hold back a savage smile. 

“Got it. You come up with some really nasty plans, don’t you…? But it does make sense. So you want us to capture Os…” 

If the Entente Alliance was crippled like that, their army would die like dogs even if their frontline forces put up a heroic resistance. A military with no head or limbs was just a mob that used to be called an army. Assuming things went as Northern Command hoped, victory could then be achieved with a short frontal assault… It could be so easy that they might want to consider how to achieve an even better outcome. 

“Say you can do it and I’ll give you a unit. If it doesn’t work, I’ll just deal with Norden in a less sneaky way.” 

“No, let’s give it a shot.” With that same grin on his face, Rudersdorf decisively met the challenge. He would try to take them down. It was the dream of every General Staff officer to dramatically shift the tides of war on the operational level with one large-scale battle. He nodded at Zettour as if to say he would even drink down this dirty-water coffee with a smile. 

“Very good. If you need anything, let me know.” 

“Oh, then lend me a mage unit.” 

Rudersdorf was merciless in asking for what he wanted. 

“A mage unit? Sure, but which one?” 

“The pet in your pocket, the 203rd. I want you to let me use the troops that performed so well in Dacia.” 

“That battalion’s a handful. Are you okay with that?” 

The pet in Zettour’s pocket… They were a dauntless combat unit that had waged impeccable maneuver warfare in Dacia and had even bombed a weapons factory. Not only that, but they were an augmented unit equipped with cutting-edge gear from the Technical Arsenal. When Lieutenant Colonel von Lergen had reported on their training progress, he insisted, with undisguised shock, that there was no unit in the Empire that could match them. 

“That’s fine. Besides, I believe the commander has combat experience in Norden. It’s reassuring to have someone who is even a little familiar with the lay of the land.” 

The 203rd’s commander was said to have a distinctive personality, but if she had to be sorted into the groups “useful” or “not,” she was certainly a part of the former. That made her just the type that he could afford to push hard as a game piece. 

“All right. I’ll make the arrangements right away.” 

“Thanks. Here’s to the hope that we win.” 

A glass was raised. 

“Then here’s to the hope the food here improves.” 

The return toast made them both wince. 

“I think the war’ll end first.” 

“You’re probably right.” 

Though grimacing, they stayed faithful to the basic soldiering principle of eating whenever a chance presented itself. That said, neither hid the fact that they would rather dine elsewhere.