Youjo Senki - Volume 2 - Chapter 2

[chapter] II Norden I 

NOVEMBER 4, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, ENTENTE ALLIANCE DEFENSE MINISTRY, PERSONNEL OFFICE 2 

A man in the Entente Alliance Army’s type II dress uniform was receiving a new rank insignia from his superior officer in the Army Personnel Division, who wore a smile plastered over his face like a mask. 

“You’ve been promoted. Congratulations, Colonel Anson Sue.” 

“If I’m getting promoted after suffering such a loss, our country must be at its end.” He didn’t fly into a rage at the state of things, but neither did he bother to hide his murmurings. He simply expressed his sentiment before he realized what he was saying. 

Normally, an officer of his rank shouldn’t have talked like that. But the miserable situation of the Entente Alliance created a peculiar atmosphere in which Sue’s bitter comments could be excused. 

Their defeat was all too clear. The kind of fall that was guaranteed to come. Of course, there was still some hope. 

But in a room full of people who understood their circumstances and could see where they were headed, optimism was in laughably short supply. 

“Now then, here’s your new insignia. We expect a lot out of you, Colonel.” 

And that was why the people who fully comprehended the gravity of the situation were already exhausted. Their hearts were long spent from the intense rage they felt. 

“The fatherland is in crisis. I have to hope you’ll do your duty as best you can. That’s all.” 

“There is no greater happiness than to be entrusted with the fatherland.” 

“Excellent.” 

They did nothing but exchange set phrases. Probably the only thing on Sue’s mind as he delivered his stirring lines in monotone, like a sutra, was simple contempt for formalities. Since the leadership’s choices have been so grievously bad, aren’t the duties we soldiers can actually fulfill rather limited? 

It was for that reason that Sue was miserable. His only reaction to the impassioned commotion caused by mobs of citizens frantic to save the nation was the extreme fatigue on his face. 

He saluted according to protocol and left the room with a gait that grew even heavier when he saw the excited young volunteers, brimming with love for their country, forming up before marching out. They’re so innocent… Eager to go to battle, but what can they even do when they finally arrive? 

“How disappointing. What awful luck to have been born in a country that can only ask its youths to die for it.” 

A patriot would cry. They were supposed to protect their fatherland; they should have been proud of it. Instead, their nation had committed a grave mistake, and now it was ushering young people down a path that promised death. Though he could have sworn he was emotionally spent, he found tears blurring his vision. 

“Colonel Sue?” 

While trying his best to keep up appearances in response to concerned voices, in his heart, with a hint of resignation, he made a vow. If I’m going to send them to their deaths, then the least I can do is fulfill my duty as best I can, too. The commitment to self-sacrifice stemmed from his sense of responsibility and fate as a leader. 

If the youth are going to sacrifice themselves for the fatherland, then there at least has to be someone to accompany them down that path, an adult who will fall beside them. He was grimly determined. How could I let them die alone? 

Even so, as the young men paraded proudly down the road, he couldn’t stand the sight of the anxious-looking women carrying children in the crowd of people bidding them farewell. Thinking of those who were left behind, he prayed for salvation and nearly cried out. Anyone, anyone at all, please end this nightmare… 

If there was a hope he could cling to, it was that the Republic or some other great power would maybe, just maybe, show up in the nick of time to save them. Then the Entente Alliance might have a chance to escape total collapse. But can it really? Having thought that far, Sue sneered at the futility of clinging to a wish that couldn’t even convince him. 

He knew they were well and truly cornered, with no way out. 

They were supposed to protect their fatherland, but it was already ticking down its final days little by little, like an hourglass. In the future lay inevitable ruin. 

Facing downfall, he could only stand still, tormented by a sense of helplessness. His resolve to share the fate of the fatherland was unwavering. Nonetheless, when he thought of what hardships would befall the people when they lost their home country, he could only shed tears of grief. 

Wait. It must have been the workings of fate that made him realize something at that moment: Just because a country was destroyed didn’t mean its people had to be. If they couldn’t protect their homeland, they at least had to let its citizens escape. Even after the state was broken, mountains and rivers would remain. Yes, countries fell, but they were made up of people. Perhaps they would have a chance to rebuild their broken home. If they saved the people who would become the seeds, they could dream of a day when the field of the fatherland would bloom once more. It would be a difficult journey. Times would be hard. But this wouldn’t be the end. There was the hope of rebirth. 

A homeland is more than territory; as long as home existed in the hearts of its people, this wasn’t the end. 

He had to help as many fellow citizens escape as possible. Surely that was the great cause worthy of dedication for a soldier of a failing nation. No, it was the one and only way of sacrificing oneself that a soldier who had sworn to protect the fatherland could be proud of. 

“Here it is. Yes, I found it!” 

With a shout so full of hope and purpose you would never have thought the speaker had been on the brink of despair just moments earlier, Colonel Sue made a vow. I’ll never let anyone destroy thee, O Fatherland. 

This country was his family’s home. He was a father, even if he hadn’t been around his child much. Though he regretted that, and it was a bit late to start caring, he swore to leave his wife and daughter a future. Though it was immodest, he wanted to be glad he could use the military connections he hadn’t paid much attention to until that moment. 

Meanwhile, the new Entente Alliance councilors, with traces of difficult-to-conceal resignation and contrition in their gloomy expressions, groped for a way to flip the hourglass back over as time slipped away. 

Nobody had foreseen the start of open hostilities with the Empire. Everyone present had been appalled upon hearing the news. “Why has the fatherland done something so reckless?” When they came to grips with reality and left by the wayside ideologies and the illusion that this was the way things should be, it was clear that the Empire was going to pulverize the cheeky little contender snapping at it. 

Though the gears of destruction had ground to a halt briefly due to the Republic’s surprise attack, the situation had definitely not improved for the Entente Alliance. On the contrary, the Principality of Dacia, after their warrior’s fanfare that sounded like music to the councilors’ ears, had been wiped off the map in the span of a few months. 

The overwhelming military might of the Empire and the pathetic final days of the upstart challenger… To anyone with a heart, this was a nightmare come to life for the Entente Alliance. 

In the midst of all that, the new councilors, despite their fear, were doing everything they could think of to maintain the front and continue the resistance. 

“Now then, I’ve got some good news for you, gentlemen. It’s only a stopgap solution, but we’ve begun coordinating with our allies.” 

As he read the announcement to the other nine councilors in the meeting room, Foreign Affairs Councilor Abensoll was a little excited by the first good news in a long while. 

Diplomacy had fallen into chaos ever since the war started, but he finally received a favorable reply. Ever since the Republic had entered the war, he had been going around apologizing to all their allies and begging for assistance, and finally someone replied. The Republic had stepped in, fearing the collapse of the Empire’s encirclement following the Entente Alliance’s reckless move, but between the stalemated front and a huge number of casualties, its attitude rapidly soured to the point that the Republic barely even gave the Entente Alliance the time of day after Dacia got involved, addressing them with openly cold contempt. 

What the nation wanted to say was clear: “Your heedlessness is the cause of this catastrophe.” A Republican diplomat had made that remark to Abensoll under the influence of alcohol, but those words said it all. 

“That’s fine, but all the Republic really hopes for is someone to lessen their burden on the Rhine front, no?” 

Because they knew exactly what the Republic was truly after, what should have been good news instead left the ten councilors in a hollow mood with low expectations. At most, the Republic hopes to take some of the heat off themselves by having us continue fighting on a second front, they thought. 

“Councilor Cazor, your apprehension is reasonable, but the Republic is worried about a repeat of Dacia.” 

“You mean they’re worried that if we fall, the Empire will turn its full energy on them? I see. Well, isn’t that a wretched thing to hear.” Army Councilor Cazor shrugged, seeming offended at being treated like a second Dacia, but his arguments weren’t very persuasive given how much he had hoped the Grand Duchy’s entry in the war would lessen the Entente Alliance’s own burden. 

“Councilor Abensoll, surely that isn’t all?” 

“No, excuse me. In addition to the Republic, it appears the Commonwealth will send over some manner of assistance. At least, there is consensus among the great powers that they would like to stop us from being completely annihilated.” 

Foreign Affairs Councilor Abensoll had trailed off, but at the urging of an older councilor, he presented some good news about a sympathetic neutral power’s foreign policy. 

The Entente Alliance would receive a helping hand from another nation, in addition to the Republic, that wasn’t happy with the prospect of the Empire expanding its influence. The Commonwealth, known for its excellent naval forces, was concerned by the Empire’s sudden expansion on the continent, so it had decided to take the first step toward joining the battle. Its plan was to maintain the balance of power—not much more than an excuse, but that was why they could be trusted from a realpolitik standpoint. 

“Ohh, the friendly Treaty of Londinium again? Though we’re the ones who broke it…” 

Despite thinking it was probably a good thing, there was no way anyone present could be genuinely happy to accept the help. Any member of the Entente Alliance leadership who was familiar with how the other powers felt about them, given that they had broken the treaty, could understand that the Commonwealth had offered half as an insult. 

“So what are our options?” 

“After analyzing the Dacian War, the Republic told us they worry our rear regions are under-protected.” 

Unlike the Republic, forced into a head-on clash with the Empire, the Entente Alliance was using its topography and climate to maintain its front. But in reality, what allowed the Entente Alliance to just barely hold was that the Empire didn’t consider it a serious threat and was treating it as a side project. 

“…I’m envious of countries that have power to spare. We’ve got nothing left.” The interior councilor commented on the disparity in national strength, which was truly massive. 

In fact, simply going at it with just one of the Empire’s army groups required the majority of the Entente Alliance’s resources to maintain the troops on the front lines. 

“For now, we have mage units stationed to fend off any attempts at incursions in the rear. They should at least be able to handle most things before it becomes a serious problem.” 

The Entente Alliance was on guard against surprise raids deep in their territory, but so far nothing major had come up—one of the leadership’s few comforts. The most they expected was a gamble by an imperial cavalry brigade to destroy Entente Alliance railways or an airborne operation by a handful of aerial mages. The Entente Alliance’s quick response division had been successful in repulsing everything that had come before with their mages, so they were fairly confident they could fend off most invasion attempts. 

“The Commonwealth says they’re anxious about an imperial naval assault.” 

“A seaborne invasion? I don’t mean to be master of the obvious, but couldn’t we just attack them once they make landfall?” 

Foreign Affairs Councilor Abensoll himself was dubious, but the Commonwealth was seriously concerned the Empire would try an amphibious assault, and its officers were unanimous in voicing the warning. “I understand your country’s situation, but your coasts are wide open.” 

“If our main forces are all tied up, even a small amphibious landing force could prove catastrophic.” 

Abensoll had no choice but to warn his colleagues with a measure of anxiety that if invaders met no resistance when they made landfall, then it would open up the Entente Alliance to a thrust from behind and bring their whole country down. 

“Councilor Abensoll, the Republican Navy doesn’t have the power to put a stop to that. And might I remind you we only have two capital ships ourselves?” 

But he still managed to feel hopeful. 

“That’s no problem. This is confidential, but the Commonwealth is already monitoring the Empire’s navy. The Republican fleet is apparently ready to deploy if need be.” 

Which means… 

“Gentlemen, time is key. We need to buy time.” 

“We must ask the other powers to intervene. It’s utterly shameful, but we have no choice. In the meantime, let’s do our best.” 

NOVEMBER 5, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, IMPERIAL CAPITAL GARRISON 14, AUDITORIUM 

“Battalion Commander!” 

In the auditorium where all the unit members have already gathered, the commander of Second Company, First Lieutenant Weiss, stands and salutes the battalion commander as she enters. The troops follow suit, saluting and voicing their greetings as Tanya gestures for everyone to be at ease. She takes the dais in the center and nods in satisfaction after glancing around at her men. 

“I think you’ve already heard, but the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion has been given transfer orders. We’re going to Norden.” 

Man, that’s exactly what I don’t want to do, but I don’t let my opinion on this injustice show on Tanya’s face. Right now, it’s all hidden with that particular tone officers use to keep their emotions unreadable, but I sent a dozen complaints in writing to Lieutenant Colonel von Lergen about how much the military has been overworking Tanya. Rest and joint training for four months, plus two months of basic training to improve the recruits’ skills. The unit should have had six months of deferment. It was no small shock to have the unit declared trained and ready for deployment after their combat exercise in Dacia. 

Running my gaze over the troops from the platform, I can understand how it was possible to see them as a disciplined unit brimming with confidence. With their field gear perfectly polished and their feet all lined up as if they were toeing a ruled edge, they do seem elite. 

But the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion isn’t as ready as the General Staff might want to believe. They have so many weak points remaining that it’s enough to give Tanya a headache as their commander. First, as exemplified by Lieutenant Weiss’s misstep in Dacia, most of them are still operating on an obsolete version of common sense, even if only partially. Of course, it’s true that after their baptism by fire, their understanding had changed so dramatically it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call it a Copernican-level revolution. It was almost like Paul’s conversion—Tanya could practically bless them and inform all that they were on the right path. But that’s still nowhere near good enough. 

“Naturally, the General Staff expects us to bring to Norden the same skills and quick thinking that we showed off in Dacia, so we need to be ready.” On Tanya’s face is a smile of anticipation, but it feels so forced. Well, that makes sense. This unit has never been through a tough fight. There are too many examples from history of game dogs who only just learned the sweet taste of victory and turned into a pack of cowed mongrels with a single loss. No one is weaker in the face of adversity than purebred elites, which applies to Tanya as well. 

“Gentlemen, be proud that you’ve finally been given a chance to overcome a trial of fire and iron.” 

No army can win forever. Even the USA, despite boasting that it would bomb its enemy back to the Stone Age, was long traumatized by the nightmare of guerrilla warfare. It dispelled the trauma momentarily in the Gulf, but when it got overconfident, the result was Iraq. 

I recall that even the great Empire, one of the leading world powers, hasn’t achieved military strength on par with the USA’s dominance. I really need to cultivate subordinates who can withstand hardship. 

Not only will I be branded as incompetent if I handle it poorly, it could literally mean death for me. After all, once a bunch of numbskulls who’ve never lost a battle collapse, they’re extremely fragile. An army with a broken spirit is simply a mob. Even with magic technology, it’s not as if soldiers can be miraculously imbued with an iron will to fight—although somewhere in my heart, I’m sure that’s what a certain mad scientist and his cohorts are trying to accomplish. 

That said, at present, all I can do is manage as best I can with the cards I’ve been dealt. My salary is looking better, and considering my raises on top of that, I need to work at least as hard as I’m getting paid. 

“Gentlemen, Dacia was nothing but a live-fire exercise. Now it’s time for the real war you’ve all been thirsting for.” 

The best part is probably that a whiff of war fever is coming off most of her handpicked subordinates. Under normal circumstances, of course, there would be nothing good about that at all, but the moment a unit has to go into battle, that trait becomes more than welcome. 

“Give your all for His Imperial Majesty the Emperor and your fatherland. Never forget your duty.” 

““““Yes, ma’am!”””” 

Their magnificent reply satisfies her for now. 

In terms of personnel management, it can be necessary to remind them that their duty is commensurate with what they receive, but this time, given their reactions, there doesn’t seem to be any need. Of course, I can’t let my guard down. 

It’s for the Empire that everyone seems so attached to and for myself. Yes, I’ll have them properly serve the apparently beautiful and respectable emperor as well as the fatherland… Luckily, my subordinates are strong, so in a worst-case scenario, they can be my shield, too. 

It’s too bad they’re so obsessed with fighting, but for the most part, they’re still talented enough mages that I want to work with them. 

“Good. Now we’ll hear the notice from the General Staff. Lieutenant Weiss.” 

Of course, I’ll have my deputy explain the details. After all, that’s why the Empire and every other country established a system with adjutants and vice commanders. 

“Ma’am. As you’ve already heard from our commander, this unit will serve as a mobile battalion.” 

According to the notice from the General Staff, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion will be deployed in an entirely different way than being assigned to one of the army groups, as would be standard. We are the first unit created specifically as a mobile battalion. 

Naturally, it’s safe to assume that there will be plenty of experimenting and that we’ll be expected to bring back a lot of informative reports. Due to our status as a unit the General Staff can deploy without coordinating heavily with an army group first, we won’t be picked on much as long as we can live up to their expectations. In other words, be an easy-to-use independent unit that promptly tackles any mission entrusted to us and we’ll have no problems. Yes, though it hasn’t been explicitly stated, we’ve been given de facto autonomy. 

“To put it another way, we’ll be constantly shuttling around via interior lines.” 

In other words, it’s an even exchange of authority and responsibility. If there is ever a problem on the front, we’ll be sent over and expected to resolve it immediately. To explain it simply, Tanya employs a simile. 

“The General Staff’s working us like a team of harnessed draft horses. Rejoice. Apparently, they’ve prepared some carrots for us.” 

I don’t know what the exact perks will be, but I predict the General Staff will do all they can in terms of salary increases and chances for promotions. Whether it will be enough for her men is another question. 

“““Wa-ha-ha-ha-ha!””” 

Well, laughing was probably all the troops could do. Who would happily go to war for a perk or two? The officers and generals might see a modest raise, but the rank-and-file soldiers don’t get much in terms of special rewards. It honestly isn’t a very good proposition considering they’re putting their lives in danger. Of course, if a free market system were in place, it would be up to each individual to decide whether it was worth it. 

In that sense, the conscription system is outrageous. The Empire drafts people like Serebryakov who might be even slightly useful because the nation doesn’t have the resources to fully attend to its citizens’ rights… Tanya herself had no other option than to volunteer for the military for much the same reason. 

I would prefer it if they switched to a system of voluntary military service as soon as possible. Or let me resign this very instant. Of course, only if I can still collect on my civil servant and commissioned officer pensions. 

Tanya shakes her head slightly to clear out the extraneous thoughts, then gestures to Weiss, who was looking at her questioningly. She indicates that there’s nothing to worry about and has him continue. 

“Battalion! Attention!” 

The way the room quiets down the moment he shouts is extremely satisfying. At least they’re disciplined enough to follow instructions properly. Then again, of course soldiers should be able to do that much… 

“Carrots or not, even horses aren’t lucky enough to eat for free.” 

Lieutenant Weiss almost seems like he’s lecturing the soldiers as he insinuates that the unit is expected to produce results. Watching him talk to the troops is gratifying. I adjust my evaluation of him upward in a mental grade book. My vice commander isn’t half-bad. 

No one likes meaningless expenditure. A racehorse is expected to win; a farm horse, to plow; a stud, to pass on his genes; and the workhorse earns its keep through pure labor. If the vice commander can understand that and explain it to others, he’s a keeper. 

“Of course, we need to prove that we’re capable of handling a bit of work.” 

I’ve never particularly wanted to be a horse. And I wouldn’t want to risk my human dignity by thinking I’d want to be “cultivated.” But if they’re going to wedge the carrot into my mouth, I’m not opposed to biting it—although it would be unfair if afterward they said, See? We’re supporting you, so get to it! 

“We’ll be assigned to a mixed group drawn from the Eastern Army Group and the Southern Army Group, but we’re going to be under Northern Command as a unit dispatched from Central.” 

Political dignity as a concept is honestly ridiculous. Perhaps political decisions that are considered without looking at the issues logically show its limitations. Then again, the dictatorship of an emperor or nobles can be just as terrible. Even democratic forms of government falling into the hands of mob rule may be due to latent defects within the system. Humans truly are political animals. 

It’s possible that animals that have no honor are far more rational than any human. Of course, this might just be a misunderstanding, since we haven’t yet confirmed whether animals understand the concept or not. 

“The General Staff wants us to test new combat tactics in the north.” 

While listening to Lieutenant Weiss’s explanation, the essence of the message echoes in Tanya’s mind. 

This is a test. In any case, we belong to the General Staff, and no army group on the front can order us around directly. Basically, we’re a unit the General Staff can send on missions without interference from the regional armies. I suppose all we can do is reconcile ourselves to our duty and follow our orders to put on a show. 

I feel like a circus monkey being forced to perform for other monkeys. You could call it a species of abuse. 

The only difference between me and the monkey is that there are countless protection groups dedicated to preventing animal cruelty. There is no organization that would shout That’s abuse! when it comes to imperial soldiers. I’d like the people who cry Animals are not your food! 5 to spare a thought for us, too; people may be political animals, but we’re still animals. 

I guess this is better than the pity of paternalists, though… 

“…And so we’ve got to show them that we can work well enough in a group to go picnicking.” 

We’re stuck with orders to go up north to try some new stratagem for the General Staff’s Operations Division. This isn’t really a mission that I want. It’s the same as being sent on a pointless business trip due to company hierarchy. 

And talk about wasting time and resources. New tactics or whatever are generally just novelties; they can’t be trusted. And on the off chance there is an element that turns out to be something we could implement, how much trial and error will we be forced to do before it’s usable? Tanya hasn’t said much about it to anyone, but I can only think that someone thought this up after noticing her service with Technology and the instructor unit. 

Anyway, putting that irritation on display won’t get her anywhere. She nods benevolently at Lieutenant Weiss, who was looking at her for permission. 

“Today at 1800 hours 6 we’ll begin a long-range maneuver toward the supply depot. Company commanders, after everyone is dismissed, we’re having a meeting to decide the flight plan.” 

While watching them trying to get down to business in the meeting, I decide to throw out a few words—instructions, I guess. Soldiers love these kinds of formalized interactions. 

Let’s just say that not only do I disapprove of this waste of time, I can’t sincerely appreciate this prioritizing mental intoxication. Of course, as a member of the organization there’s no good reason for me not to participate. 

That’s where Tanya endeavors to string together some sort of advice. 

“Sorry to interrupt while you’re enjoying your chat, but I have some quick news.” 

It was a truth that people at company commander–level should have already picked up on. Though it was only an unspoken doubt at this point, if they knew it, their units would have a different outlook. It wasn’t a particularly confidential matter. 

“The Great Army may have pulled out, but it’s strange that the fighting in the north hasn’t settled down yet.” 

According to military standards, the Entente Alliance isn’t considered a major world power. The fact that it’s able to qualitatively compete with the Empire, on any level, implies that they’re receiving aid from somewhere. 

Needless to say, its ally the Republic has already given it a formidable helping hand, so there is no doubt that the majority of the support is from there as well. 

The real crux of the problem is whether those that claim neutrality are intervening. Of course, these bystander countries deny any participation on a national scale, but they are silent whenever the possible existence of voluntary armies comes up. The participation of at least a few countries like the Federation and the Commonwealth is certain. 

To begin with, the Entente Alliance is dramatically less capable than the Empire when it comes to the national strength that can be devoted toward total war; Entente Alliance mages alone shouldn’t be able to put up such stiff resistance. Its troops’ ability to fend off the Great Army while holding steady against the pressure of the regional Imperial Army group speaks volumes to the amount of aid they must be receiving. That’s the reason why even Tanya’s battalion is stuck going on a picnic despite the Dacia situation not being quite settled yet. 

“So there has to be something going on—in other words, someone is poking their nose where it doesn’t belong.” 

“Commander?!” 

Lieutenant Weiss was on his way out of the room when he changed color. He must have had some idea what she was saying. It annoys me, but he’s right that there are things that can be said aloud and some that can’t. But considering the situation, it’s better to have Tanya’s subordinates in on this from the beginning. 

“Lieutenant Weiss, this is just my guess. A personal take on things.” 

Well, for now, I’ll stay quiet about the supposedly neutral Federation. I don’t mean to stir up unnecessary trouble. It could affect my career, and I wouldn’t want to invite the fatal misunderstanding that I can’t be discreet. Still, the troops are relaxed from their easy win in Dacia, so it feels like Tanya has to brace them for what’s coming. 

“Well, gentlemen, I just mean to say that I don’t know if it’s the Republic, the Commonwealth, or some other nation, but someone is definitely interfering.” 

It really pisses me off that some other party is joining in. It’s faithful enough to the principle of raison d’état that it makes me sick—simply put, it’s actually a very rational decision. From the point of view of the other powers, it’s a standard move to protect their national interests. Surely the people of the Commonwealth and the Republic can rest easy knowing they have heads of state who take security seriously. So compared to the Commonwealth and the Republic, which conduct themselves as proper political animals, the Entente Alliance, which starts a war on an impulse, is even more irritating. What in the world is so fun about picking a fight with the Empire? 

Are its leaders just addicted to war and love it soooo much that they can’t help it? Well, if that’s the case, maybe that’s why the Republic has to help out its game dog after pitting it against the Empire. 

Still, it’s a surprise world-class players even pay attention to such a remote nation. Usually territories short on resources and potential concessions don’t even show up as blips on the radar of powerful leaders. 

“In other words, we’re going on a nice hiking trip with the whole world watching.” 

It’s significant that we’re heading to a battlefield that has every nation’s attention. The General Staff are wagering the nation’s dignity on a swift victory, so they must want a win badly. We also have to bear in mind Supreme Command’s desire for an outcome that demonstrates the Empire’s superiority as much as possible. 

In any case, failure will not be tolerated in the slightest. We can probably expect some sort of disciplinary reprisal if that happens. In order to avoid falling into ruin, we have to be model imperial mages. 

So despite my deep reluctance, to the battlefield I must merrily go. Otherwise it’ll be interpreted as lacking the will to fight. In reality, I have no love whatsoever for war, so I have to do everything in my power not to be suspect. 

“So? Great news, right?” 

You guys get it, too, don’t you? They seem to pick up on my look. 

“This is the best. To think the General Staff would provide us with an opportunity to shine so soon.” 

“I was just feeling like a skiing trip. What thoughtful orders!” 

“I thought the General Staff only asked for the impossible. Are the orders really from them?” 

Luckily, everyone goes along. These guys have more tact than I expected. 

They understand both respect for a superior officer and what is being asked of them. Maybe I don’t have to worry too much. 

“Good. Well, that’s where we’re at, troops. We’ve been given the opportunity, so we’re off on a trip up north.” 

Am I pulling off the I can’t wait for combat look? I manage to avoid spewing expletives by smiling. 

“You’re excused.” 

NOVEMBER 6, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, NORTHERN DISTRICT, KRAGGANA DEPOT, ADVANCE GUARD 

For the Imperial Viper Battalion, the words the worst described everything about their day. Certainly, there was no other way to explain the circumstances after they sortied. 

The bulk of the Empire’s proudest force, the Great Army, had been abruptly redeployed, which caused massive confusion. By the time the Imperial Army’s Northern Command managed to get everything under control again, the Entente Alliance had taken the chance to recuperate and rebuilt their lines. As a result, the imperial units that had been sent out to pursue and mop up the enemy had to be reorganized, and the Northern Army Group’s logistical network was overextended. 

That meant opportunities for continuous Entente Alliance Army strikes on imperial supply depots. Once the Northern Army Group had been forced to spread their manpower thin to fend off the Entente Alliance commando attacks, the enemy aerial mages would strike. 

The Northern Army Group had already been hit with this tactic twice. They were just barely managing to keep the front supplied, but they couldn’t afford another major disruption. The depot raids had to be stopped. That was the gist of the Viper Battalion’s mission to guard the supply lines. 

The brass had made it sound simple, but for those actually tasked with the assignment, it might as well have been impossible. Although the Entente Alliance’s total mage strength was less in absolute terms, it had total freedom in deciding when and where to attack. Meanwhile, the Viper Battalion had to allot troops to multiple points and communication lines because they were committed to defense. 

It was a huge bother that the enemy had made remarkable qualitative improvements. Most of the remaining Entente Alliance mages in this commando unit had been in service since the war started. Furthermore, these tenacious soldiers had been equipped with the latest model of orbs that, though officially unmarked, were actually supplied by interested world powers such as the Republic, the Commonwealth, the Unified States, and the Federation. With this, the quality of their gear and combat capabilities rose dramatically. The Entente Alliance mage commando unit had transformed into a threat even imperial mages couldn’t take lightly. 

On top of all that, the fact that imperial forces couldn’t let their guard down against even new units on the front made it difficult for imperial commanders to station troops. Sometimes the Entente Alliance sent in fresh soldiers. If they were new mages rushed through training, they could be immediately slaughtered, but sometimes there were “voluntary mages” of unknown nationality mixed in; it was hard to know how to deal with those. 

“Fucking hell. Entente Alliance mages again?!” 

As a result, despite outnumbering their opponents on paper, the imperial mage units on the defensive were suffering from local numerical inferiority. 

The Viper Battalion’s skill was fairly standard for an Imperial Army unit. Compared to others in the district, they were veterans with a good amount of combat experience, and as usual in the Imperial Army, they were well trained. There was no reason not to label them as a first-rate combat unit. 

So the fact that they were outnumbered by a fearsomely powerful enemy unit could only mean the situation was terrible. 

“This is sooner than we thought! Why did Intel say we had nothing to worry about?!” 

Information regarding the skill level and equipment possessed by the average Entente Alliance mage had been passed on to Viper Battalion so they were ready for the qualitative improvements, the disciplined fire, and other tactical measures their opponents had taken that made them a greater threat than before. But despite the force’s upgrades, according to their data, the imperial mages should still have been superior on an individual level. 

That’s why they were confident they could defend to some extent, even if they were outnumbered. They figured with Airspace Control holding the sky they could overwhelm the enemy with their individual abilities; a little numerical disadvantage wouldn’t beat them. 

So they wanted to curse Intelligence as the ones responsible for the phoned-in report. They could explain it away as the fog of war, but the ones who suffer are always the troops on the front lines. When everything was predicated on different information, it made them want to be mean. 

“—Commander!” 

He blossomed red upon shielding a subordinate who had carelessly maneuvered into the enemy line of fire. 

Luckily, his flight was only momentarily disrupted, and he soared across the sky in an evasive maneuver; he must have managed not to black out. There was no immediate threat to his life, but as far as the soldier could tell, it was a serious wound. 

As his buddies covered for him, maintaining coordination, what crossed their minds was the notion that output strong enough to penetrate an imperial mage’s defensive shell didn’t come from standard Entente Alliance equipment. In spite of their grim suspicions, they cast formulas one after the other. Even when the Entente Alliance unexpectedly made it a three-way fight, the mages of the Viper Battalion were fulfilling their duty thoroughly. 

“…I messed up. Sorry, 02, the rest is up to you.” 

“Understood, Commander! 07 and 13, you two have reached your limits. Fall back with him!” 

02 had taken command, so he quickly shifted mental gears. Their commander wouldn’t be able to continue fighting, but he needed an escort to retreat, so the only option was to assign soldiers who were exhausted or heavily injured to go with him. They hadn’t expected this to be such a tough fight, but the enemy was also wearing down. All we have to do is defend, he encouraged himself, but it pained him that their battalion was down to half its original strength. A company’s worth of mages had already retreated. Another half a company’s worth had been shot down and were still lying on the ground below. Down to half strength, and their enemy was still raiding their supply depots, though the fight should have been wearing them down, too. Their determination was extraordinary. 

“CP, 7 do you read me? This is 01. Command of the Viper Battalion has changed hands.” 

“CP, roger. Viper 02, do you read me?” 

Of course, there was tension in the CP radio operator’s voice. The company they’d sent ahead was already combat ineffective. Almost all their anti–air gunners who were supposed to be a powerful deterrent against mages had already been evaded. Behind those, the only defense the supply depot had was the temporary anti–air gun emplacements established to provide direct support fire. Maybe they could do a little intercepting, but there was no way they could handle a large-scale assault. 

“No problem. This is Viper 02. The commander has been seriously wounded, so I’m taking over.” 

Agh, what should I do? I want to take my time to think of a way to handle this. If God exists, he’s a real asshole. 

“CP, roger… Got some bad news for you. The surface observer squad spotted two company-sized groups approaching from the northeast. Seems like they’re definitely headed your way.” 

“Reinforcements? How the hell do they have any left?” Viper 02 took off his receiver and screamed. They’re chipping away at my friends in this bloody battle, but we’ve downed way more than a company’s worth of these bastards. And yet, two more companies were closing in on them. A little math was all it took to see that the Entente Alliance was pitting a regiment’s worth of mages against a single supply depot. Why? 

This is a bigger problem than our intelligence agency being incompetent. The Entente Alliance obviously has way more troops than we thought. 

“Viper 02 to CP. If I may share my thoughts on the matter…” 

We won’t be able to continue interception missions like this. Our only choice is to use the supply depot we’re supposed to protect as a shield, even if it sustains some damage, and commit to a defensive battle. If we take any more casualties, our unit will be wiped out, and the supply depot will be overrun. Having made his decision, 02 had to tell CP. 

“This is an emergency. Please make handling this top priority. The battalion has sustained serious casualties. I don’t think we can take much more. Requesting immediate permission to retreat. I want to take us back to the depot.” 

Even the exhausted Viper Battalion could fight their hardest in a tough battle if they joined up with the depot’s defenses and the mages who had retreated. It would increase the likelihood of the depot getting damaged, but there was no other way to intercept at this point. 

If the battalion fought with only the remaining mages, they would just be picked off one by one. It would be better to at least join up with the remnants of the units that could still fight and get support. They might get cut, but they would be able to put up a better resistance that way than with broken bones. 

“CP, roger. I hear what you’re saying. I’ll consider it with high command. Wait five minutes.” 

Under normal circumstances, five minutes would be wonderfully efficient. It was proof that the bureaucratic CP understood the gravity of the situation. But even if he should have been happy for the prompt assistance, as someone on the front lines, he had to think, Five whole minutes? 

Three hundred seconds. How many times would they have to evade and counter while waiting them out? 

“Please respond as fast as you can. The vanguard is already beat up!” 

In a brawl like this, the vanguard always had to face the enemy the longest. They were already so worn down they could barely fend for themselves as individuals, much less perform as a unit. Even if they set up for a protracted defense, they wouldn’t last long. Just staying in the air was a huge burden for them now. Only someone who had experience knew how hard it was to dodge formulas. Anyhow, they had no choice but to hold out until they got permission to retreat. 

…That was the right mind-set, but it wouldn’t be that easy. 

“Lieutenant, multiple aircraft at two o’clock—bombers,” came the half-screamed report from his subordinate on guard. Agh, the worst guys show up at the worst times. Mechanical birds that were comfortable flying at high altitudes and could carry a huge amount of explosives a human could never manage. They had almost never been spotted on the northern front: bombers. 

“H-how high?!” 

“They’re at 9,500.” 

His question contained a sliver of hope, but the response was cruel. It sent a chill up his spine. 

Nine thousand five hundred feet. That was too high for a mage but low for a bomber. At that altitude, they could also bomb targets to some extent. 

Naturally, they had sturdy armor. And a bomber unit under pursuit from mages could shake them off with no trouble by leisurely climbing to a higher altitude. Between the huge altitude gap and their armor, intercepting bombers was too hard a mission for mages. That was why the aerial units that specialized in interception always fought the air supremacy battles. 

But with a mere mage battalion, they didn’t know what to do. Intercept the bombers while fighting two battalions? That was the definition of an impossible order. 

“Viper 02 to CP! It’s urgent!” 

“This is CP. Viper Battalion, what is—?” 

“We’ve spotted multiple bombers! Altitude is just an eyeball estimate, but they’re at 9,500 feet! Intercepting is impossible. Deploy all the marshaled troops immediately.” 

What the heck? CP was taking too long asking the question, and he furiously interrupted. 

Bombers don’t have great mobility, but they are fast. If fighters go around 250, then bombers go 200 to 210. Mages usually go around 230. If they really worked, they could tolerate 250, but at that point they could only really fly in a straight line. 

The enemy was going for a one-two punch of bombs and mages. The methods to deal with that were certainly limited. This enemy was awfully crafty and capable. 

“Bombers? Tell me how many and what direction.” 

“Two o’clock from our perspective. About twenty.” 

It was only twenty planes, but getting bombed in this state would entail more than a little damage. It would be a disaster if they lost the winter fuel stockpile. The troops on the front would have a cold time. 

Surely their opponent knew that. That’s why they’d brought out not only mages but bombers as well. This was what it meant for worse to come to worst. 

“CP, roger. Can you intercept them?” 

He suppressed the urge to shout, How?! “They’re too high, and we still haven’t eliminated the enemy mages. We can’t really use long-range sniping formulas right now.” 

Basically, It’s obviously impossible. It would be difficult even under normal circumstances to eliminate bombers with a 3,500-foot gap in altitudes. If they were operating fully manned and employed disciplined fire, maybe, but that was about as much of a chance as they had. Intercepting them while dogfighting enemy mages was unfeasible. 

“…We definitely want to avoid Kraggana Depot getting bombed.” 

“We can’t put up a fight if we’re all dead.” 

CP seems to want to rely on us, but the impossible is impossible. There are things that can and can’t be done, and we are doing our absolute utmost. The voice of the Viper Battalion leader couldn’t help but become sarcastic and even a bit resigned as he replied with pride. It seemed like no matter what they did, they would be wiped out. 

So are they going to tell us to brace for annihilation and resist? My interest is purely sarcastic, but boy, even I’m getting pretty philosophical. Maybe I should get ready to die. 

It happened just as he thought that. 

“Roger… What? Really?” 

A whisper, then a shout. Then a flurry of voices. Something was happening at the command post. 

“CP? What’s going on, CP?” 

“CP to Viper Battalion. Fall back immediately.” 

The awaited retreat orders came down in a tone that brooked no argument, but he never imagined they’d get them like this. What the hell happened? 

“We have permission to retreat? I appreciate it, but is everything all right?” 

“Rejoice—you have reinforcements. A battalion is rushing over from Sector B-3. Once you join up with them, you’ll be under their command.” 

Reinforcements? What woodwork did they suddenly come out of this late in the game? If we had reserves, why did we end up in this struggle? 

“Reinforcements? That’s news to me. If we had extra troops, what were we waiting for?” 

“They were dispatched from Central. Call sign Pixie.” 

The operator ignored his attitude and simply conveyed the information. If it was a unit from the central forces, they must be getting caught up in the fighting as soon as they arrived. It was likely they had shown up ahead of schedule and Command thought, Great! before throwing them right in. 

“And you should be happy. Their commander is Named.” 

He forgot his grudge in spite of himself and nearly whistled in amazement. 

Wonderful. That’s absolutely fantastic. A battalion of reinforcements and a Named. It’s like the harvest festival and Christmas both arrived at once, and we got this terrific present. If I could, I’d open a bottle of champagne and welcome them with a toast. 

“Viper 02, roger. Those are some fancy reinforcements.” 

If we’re getting that kind of quality backup, then…yes, I see why we were granted permission to retreat. I want to shout hooray, but I do wish they could have come a little sooner. 

At that last thought, he realized humans rescued from hopeless situations tend to expect an awful lot, and he winced. Well, he knew it was completely unreasonable, but he still had the nerve to think that if the reinforcements had come earlier, his battalion wouldn’t have had to suffer so much. 

Add some fighters, and it’ll be perfect. There probably wouldn’t be many, but he was sure they would scramble some to intercept before too long. His mouth naturally relaxed into a grin at the prospect. It was such a load off to know that the enemy would be crushed one way or another. 

“When will the fighters be taking off?” 

“…They were judged to be unnecessary.” 

The unexpected response stunned him. 

Fighters? Unnecessary? 

“Huh?” He wanted to ask what the radio operator was talking about. 

“Don’t worry about it. Just hurry and meet up with your reinforcements.” 

“…Roger.” 

AT THE SAME TIME, NORTHERN ARMY GROUP HQ 

The staff at Northern Army Group Headquarters were staring at the map of the war at a loss, and that was when they got news they didn’t really want to hear. The deputy director of Operations in the central General Staff had gone out of his way to come and deliver the notice in person. It might have been central interference, but the wording was simple: “We’ve dispatched reinforcements. Don’t touch them.” 

“The damned General Staff. Why do they think they can go around meddling in frontline business?” 

The complaints of the high-ranking officers of the northern forces that it was insulting were unsurprising. After all, they finally thought they were getting support from Central, but the moment they had managed to accommodate the hastily deployed Great Army, most of it was transferred abruptly to the western front, and they were left in disarray. It was only human nature that anyone stuck enduring unnecessary hardships in that chaos would want to give Central a piece or two of their mind. 

According to the report from the observation post, a battalion-sized group of aerial mages was indeed rapidly approaching. 

Aha, well that certainly is a nice batch of reinforcements. Seeing as they were sent immediately after we requested them, they’re apparently serious about being a response team. But Central giving us reinforcements and then telling us not to touch them is overstepping their bounds. 

“Well, maybe they gave us really elite troops?” 

Even so, from another perspective, this is an opportunity for the Central Army to pay us back. It pulled out the Great Army before the battle was completely decided. Those guys are proud—they won’t come bowing in apology. Although he wouldn’t go as far as to accuse them of taking advantage of Northern Command’s current issues, they were probably thinking to cancel out the debt. 

“Are they trying to make us feel indebted to them…?” 

“But ‘Don’t touch them’? That takes some nerve.” 

Yeah, I can’t believe they said that. And if they were trying to make us feel indebted…the northern supply depots are in trouble! Do they realize that the already poor logistics framework for the Northern Army Group could completely collapse? 

“They’re talking pretty big considering the northern supply lines are in crisis. I wish I were that confident.” You could even call that warning arrogant. He made his spiteful remarks without thinking, but from someone in the thick of it, it was the natural response. Then came even more dumbfounding news. 

“We just got a telegram from the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. ‘This is the Pixie Battalion.’ Uhh…” 

A telegram from an incoming battalion of reinforcements? Normally, they would report their call sign, and that would be all, but for some reason the radio operator was hesitating. 

“It’s fine—read it.” 

A suspicious staff officer urged him on, and he finally continued. 

“It says, ‘We don’t require assistance. Have the Viper Battalion retreat immediately.’” 

“We don’t require assistance”? The Viper Battalion has been intercepting up until now, but they want it to fall back? This went past impressively confident to overly confident. 

There were two mage battalions and bombers out there reinforcing the enemy side. It definitely didn’t seem like an attacking battalion fresh off a forced march could handle it on their own. 

They were supposed to put their units under a commander who didn’t understand that? That was simply out of the question. 

“…We can scramble fighters to intercept at any time, right?” 

“Every hangar is on standby. One word and we can send them out.” 

A few staff officers began quickly developing their own interception plans. Even if the time they had to climb was limited, fighters scrambled from the surface should be able to contain the bombers. 

Originally, they were outnumbered and needed a way to deal with the mages, so they were grateful for reinforcements, but…perhaps it would be smart to stop the bombers on their own? 

“Shouldn’t we use them? This situation is plain bad.” 

“Well, it’s an order, though. Doing anything more would be…” He swallowed the words acting without permission, but they embodied the worried staff officer’s fears. 

Staff members’ authority did not extend to acting without orders. Their job was to plan operations, not make decisions. That was one of the hard things about being a staffer. What freed them from that agony was ironically the source of their current headache, the Pixies. 

“The control unit got a read on the Pixies. Forty-eight signals. Speed 250, altitude…” The control unit on watch detected the incoming Pixie Battalion. 

The reported speed of 250 kilometers per hour was virtually the maximum. If they could fly that fast and still maintain formation, it indicated they were highly trained. 

“That’s awfully fast. Hmm? What about the altitude?” 

The staff officers were starting to feel like maybe they could count on this backup and asked for the altitude data. 

“They’re at…7,500? No…they’re still climbing.” 

“What?” 

“Are you sure? They aren’t fighter planes, you know.” 

Lessons learned in combat made six thousand feet the commonsense limit. Maybe the data said the record was eight thousand, but it was hard to trust that until they saw it in an actual battle. 

The theoretical values the engineers talked about and the values a frontline unit could achieve were of completely different importance. The members of the class known as soldiers were always suspicious of new frameworks, weapons, and technology. It was healthy skepticism given their lives depended on whether the things were usable or not. 

And that was why, in one sense, they had no choice but to be humbled by what they were witnessing now. That was the weight of proof in combat. 

“No mistakes. The Pixie Battalion is currently at eight thousand feet!” 

“They’re accelerating! Three hundred?!” 

Just as unbelievable was the jump in speed. 

A unit flying in formation toward combat on the front lines was at virtually the same speed and altitude that the tech tests had achieved. If the data was real, it would indicate skills on a whole new level. 

Is it true? If it was, this battalion’s performance was in such a realm of its own that it would render all the existing units obsolete. 

“Are those control unit readings accurate?” 

“I don’t see any other abnormalities… Everything’s operating normally.” 

The same unbelieving expression rose to all the staff officers’ faces. 

“It seems the central General Staff has a deviation as their trump card.” 

“Seriously. Deviation is right.” 

The only thing they could say was that they were glad this battalion was on their side. 

COMMONWEALTH VOLUNTARY ARMY FRONTLINE COMMAND 

“It’s Named! It’s a Named who was spotted in the west! We’ve got an individual match—it’s the Devil of the Rhine!” the observer cried out in surprise, and the entire HQ focused on him for a moment. The Named they weren’t even sure existed had appeared. 

The one who flew casually through the death zone. 

The one who single-handedly slaughtered a company. 

The one could use interference formulas so powerful they distort space. 

When their contact in the Republican Army had given them the intelligence, they’d laughed it off thinking it was too early for April Fool’s, plus he’d been drinking. 

It was true the Empire had superior technology and tactics, but they’d thought this was beyond impossible. Their analysts had said she was a sort of battlefield legend. Though they respected the Republicans and wanted to avoid outright denying the claim, they figured she was at most a phantom generated by the chaos of the battlefield. The gossipy officers had whispered that sort of thing, questioning whether this Named even existed. 

But now if their own observer was detecting her in real time, they needed to reevaluate the data they had tried to forget like a bad joke over a nice cup of tea. 

“She’s real? I thought the Republicans were just daydreaming.” 

Misunderstandings weren’t uncommon. If you took every confused soldier’s report at face value, you’d join the ranks of the insane from the paranoia. Thus, the Commonwealth officers who had realistically deemed her either a false report or, at worst, some kind of mass hallucination had to leap for their machines. 

Some jumped for receivers to wake up the analyst squad. Others promptly notified high command. 

“We’ve identified the signature. There’s no mistake. She’s heading this way.” 

Then multiple observers succeeded in identifying her. They had input the pattern half wondering if it was even real, but now they had a match. An individual might misreport, but the conclusion reached by multiple precise observations made by several observers wasn’t likely to be wrong. At this point, they had to acknowledge that she was real. 

“The enemy reinforcements are a battalion-sized group. We have no record of this unit.” 

Add to that the signal of a group containing numerous unknown signals. Judging from the scale, it had to be a battalion—maybe even an augmented battalion. If the mana inclination didn’t resemble any existing records, that meant the Empire had deployed new mages. 

The fact that there was almost no overlap with the Republic’s library from the Rhine front had to indicate that the Empire had as many reserves as ever. Apparently, despite the muddle, they could still produce a new unit led by a Named. 

“…I’m surprised they’re sending out a new unit when they already have so much pressure on the Entente Alliance.” 

“You think it’s the unit from Dacia? Most of the fighting is over there, so they could probably afford to transfer them.” 

Aha. He didn’t know who, but someone had said the Dacians couldn’t even stand up to Boy Scouts, so certainly an Imperial Army Named would have no trouble blowing them away. And it made sense to think that if they were free, they would be sent to take care of the impudent Entente Alliance command team and its rampage. 

“We’ll take data. You got the recorders running?” 

“If it’s true, he’s a monster who can take out a whole company on his own. Don’t miss a thing.” 

The intelligence officer may have been chatting, but he was staring at the data the whole time. This unit had a mana inclination he’d never seen before. And more than anything, he couldn’t ignore the actual existence of the rumored Named from the unconfirmed reports in the west. If they had so little info on a battalion led by a monster of that caliber, it had to be a failure of their espionage in the Empire. So he realized, even if he didn’t want to, how important objective observation of this new enemy was. 

“Picking up any transmissions?” 

“It’s no good. They’re using an unknown code and protocol. At least, it’s not in the library.” 

That was the answer he had expected. Even if they couldn’t decipher them, by intercepting and recording wavelengths, they would be able to grasp enemy unit hierarchy and movement. 

But if all the records they had didn’t contain this code or protocol, who was this new enemy? He was keenly disappointed that Dacia had fallen so quickly. They had gone so fast it was no wonder they weren’t able to get any data out of the conflict, but he still wished for the impossible. 

“Commander, it’s nearly certain they’re a new unit with the Empire. There are almost no similarities with existing records of the Northern and Western Army Groups.” 

“All right. Well, gosh, I’d really like to send up a control unit.” 

Everyone grinned. Even deployed in the frozen north, they hadn’t lost their sacred sense of black humor. All of them understood. They didn’t need to be told that they were under too much pressure in this war. It was evident that the Commonwealth was wrestling with political restraints at home, which limited its military in ways individual soldiers could do nothing about. God and the devil seemed to be involved somehow, so after a round of curses for each, the officers on-site reluctantly accepted their circumstances, resigning themselves to their fate. 

“Yeah, we can’t send a plane in.” 

“Right… We should probably be more worried about whether we’ll be able to withdraw with our gear in one piece.” 

Pressure on the Entente Alliance Army was gradually increasing. They weren’t completely falling apart yet, but that was just it—the only way to describe the current situation was not fallen apart yet. 

The calmer third-party observer could see that the Empire, without even making this front its main focus, was driving the Entente Alliance to collapse. The Entente Alliance was like a bedridden patient with a serious illness, just barely hanging on. If the situation changed even slightly, it would have a seizure and breathe its last. 

“Ngh. Well, for now, alert the front lines.” 

“Roger.” 

But the CP officers consciously cleared those thoughts from their minds and focused on the tasks before them, shouting instructions into receivers. 

Determining the enemy’s status was a task that involved many difficult elements, but at least the team on the scene was a group of intelligence-gathering veterans. They had been sent out with an eye on future fighting with the Empire. 

Since the Commonwealth hoped they would gain all sorts of experience and learn a lot in combat, from a national defense standpoint, it was very considerate toward its personnel and had outfitted them well. 

“But I’m surprised. Who’d have thought a battalion could come flying over at three hundred kilometers per hour?” 

“That’s far from what you’d expect. Maybe the apparatus needs tuning after all?” 

So these men chosen from across the Commonwealth’s armies were expected to learn from the Imperial Army and master their tactics. But even these most promising soldiers hadn’t had much combat experience, and on top of that, the assumptions that had been pounded into them were all prewar doctrine. The reality of the battlefield was far removed from the experiences and techniques they had accumulated during peacetime. 

Thus, if they didn’t learn a thing or two before their country was enveloped in war, they would pay for it with their own flesh and blood. 

Most of the staff officers had thought this Named couldn’t exist, but she did. In other words, she wasn’t an illusion of the battlefield but a real nightmare. It was no laughing matter, but the predictions made far from the actual fighting had already missed their mark. 

Ironically, the fruit of the Commonwealth’s diplomatic victories was a vexing dearth of combat experience. Only specialists can do the analysis necessary to distinguish subtle changes in the war situation. Their failure to read the situation was irritating. 

In intelligence work, there wasn’t anyone who could teach that essential sense—you had to develop it through your own experience. Of course, there were no specialist textbooks, and even if there were, they wouldn’t be of much use. 

“…We should probably be ready for about half of what we heard.” 

For that reason, most of the officers dispatched were chosen so that they would gain experience. Of course, most of them weren’t told they had been selected for purely educational purposes, but the ones who couldn’t figure it out were forcibly sent home as wastes of time and resources. That being the case, the remainder went about performing well-focused, objective analysis. 

It was precisely for that reason, due to their quick sagacity, that they sensed they were facing a crisis. Even if all the stories had been exaggerated, this was an imperial Named. And the reinforcements consisted of a battalion—very likely an augmented battalion. Even taking the simplest view, it was a battalion-scale attack. There was no cause for optimism. 

“So what if that Named can blow up a whole company instantaneously? There’s no way the bastard can take two battalions, right?” 

Still, a wishful hope existed somewhere in their minds. Let’s just say, hypothetically, that there was a Named who could fight against a company. Even so, numbers can overwhelm strength—so they still had a chance. If she had been alone, she probably wouldn’t have been such a problem. 

“But we can’t ignore the battalion. They must be highly trained if they’re coming in that fast.” 

“Meanwhile, we have numbers, but we’re a composite unit… Could be tough.” 

Purely from a numbers standpoint, the new enemy battalion was a grave threat. There was no doubting the fact that a fresh battalion would be a hard fight for two tired battalions. Conversely, you could say a hard fight was as difficult as it would get. That was what they were thinking. 

“So the Republic, the Commonwealth, and the Entente Alliance all have different combat doctrines, huh?” 

What the Commonwealth men were most worried about was the possibility that even if they all joined forces, they wouldn’t be able to cooperate well. The Republic and the Commonwealth were secretly fighting together, but as long as there was intelligence they couldn’t share, there would be major losses. 

The Republic (to whom the Entente Alliance had cried and who was now asking for help itself) and the Commonwealth (which was gathering intelligence for war with the Empire on its mind) had gotten very out of step. Today they were extra conscious of that fact. 

“If our coordination gets disrupted, we might have to split up.” 

No matter what the Republic and Entente Alliance did, the Commonwealth was loath to give up its neutral status; even when it did join a war, it did so with caution. 

The Republic and Entente Alliance would bad-mouth the Commonwealth, saying it had a tendency to conserve power or that it only fought to test a new weapon in actual combat. But were those really insults? The officers had to wonder. The state wanted to keep casualties to a minimum. 

“It will take some time, but a reorganized battalion might be able to come help.” 

Naturally, the Commonwealth’s voluntary army—full of soldiers who signed themselves up—didn’t want to break through if it meant a high number of casualties. After all, they had to buy the indispensable time for their home country to switch over to the wartime system. Though they had numerical superiority, never for a moment did they want to fight head-to-head on a battlefield where a Named was coming to meet them. 

And when she had an Imperial Army unit as backup, it was time to start considering withdrawal, but they couldn’t ignore the fact that they had sacrificed so much to disrupt enemy logistics. 

“I guess in the worst case, we’ll smash the position using just the bombers?” 

So accomplishing the minimum goal would depend on the bombers. 

They were bombing a fuel depot. Even a small number of successful attacks could get them great results. And if they failed, the planes they were leasing to the Entente Alliance were old models that the Commonwealth wouldn’t use anyway—something they thought but couldn’t say. 

“I’m against that. If fighter planes intercepted, we’re liable to sustain more damage than we can brush off.” 

“Can’t high-speed bombers shake them off?” 

“The Republic already tried it and got burned, so I’m against it.” 

“In that case, we need to eliminate the enemy mages somehow.” 

“We stand a lot to gain from that. I guess we have no choice.” 

They pretended to worry about the bombers for appearances. Really, they just had to make remarks for the record. After all, everyone knew the “high-speed” bombers they had provided moved dirt slow. 

“The issue is the ability of the Named and the unknown battalion. It would be great if the bombers could take care of them…” 

Those were their true feelings on the matter, a boorish hope that the enemy would overexert themselves attending to the bombers. 

At that moment, fate played a trick on them. 

They had taken over a simple, hidden Entente Alliance Army control center used for observing the front line over twenty kilometers ahead and giving direction. But they had forgotten something. They had forgotten that twenty kilometers was not much distance at all to a mage. 

“What? For real?! There’s no mistake?!” 

Suddenly the CP officer on control duty jumped up, turned pale, and shouted into the radio. A moment later, a number of other officers stood with equally bloodless faces. 

“This is ? Battalion! This is urgent! What the—?! Recommend taking shelter!” 

“Kill the power! We’re getting traced!” 

Everyone was shouting at practically the same time. 

“I’m getting a strong mana signal from the Named! She’s rapidly deploying a magic bombardment formula!” Then the controller started shrieking, and the panic escalated. 

We’re getting traced? A warning to take shelter from ? Battalion…? A strong mana signal? 

“What? She can’t hit us from there!” 

“Take shelter! Take shelter!” 

A few of the officers kicked aside the idiots who instinctively denied the necessity of the warning, ran for the dugout, and were blown away a moment later. 

ALTITUDE 9,500, IN THE WAR ZONE AHEAD OF THE SUPPLY DEPOT 

“With his glory like the morning sun, he illuminates the darkness. He is born! Praise the Lord!” 

A converging magic bombardment formula. 

Magic bombardment has the penetration and destructive power of a 28 cm gun. The seven-layer control equation that created it scatters and disappears. For an instant, the battlefield shines with a great light, and then the sound of impact roars through the air. 

“Collapse of surveillance waves confirmed. Elimination of enemy observation unit complete.” At the same time, a noise-heavy report of the effects comes in from her observer, Lieutenant Serebryakov. “Splendid, Major,” she adds, and Tanya has to agree. 

She rarely registers the satisfaction of an attack, but this time she feels it. It goes without saying that she hit her target. And it had to be quite a blow to them. In any case, this fundamental part of any mage battle, eliminating the enemy observation personnel, had gone quite smoothly. 

The victims were either amateurs, or they were awfully confident in their dugouts, but they had been putting out powerful surveillance waves like crazy, so they had been discovered right away. Compared to the Republican Army, which was mainly a passive receiver of waves, they were quite easy to find. 

Apparently, the Entente Alliance’s army continues to be qualitatively inferior. You wouldn’t normally actively emit surveillance waves unless you were at a distance in a control unit where you could easily escape, or at least a surface surveillance train. 

How dumb are they to blithely observe from a fixed position? 

That’s Tanya’s judgment coming from experience. It seems luck is with her. She balls her little hands up and enjoys it. 

“Enemy transmissions dramatically increased. Multiple calls from mages confirmed. You must have hit their Combat Direction Center.” 

The report from her subordinate observer only deepens her belief. She has definitely, without a doubt, blown away the enemy controllers. Knowing the implications of that, she triumphantly raises her rifle and crows. 

Even just looking from a distance, she is satisfied to see the enemy formations begin to waver—an indication of the shock they just received. 

“Okay, we definitely got them, right? Then let’s move in.” 

Normally, engaging the enemy in an airspace of their choosing with a numerically inferior force is out of the question. I would stubbornly refuse. But once the enemy’s head is blown off, that’s a different story. A conservative description of the units fighting in the air would be chaos. The job of maintaining discipline and turning this into organized combat is too big for their frontline commander to handle. 

No matter how outstanding the commander, once combat devolves into a brawl, it’s impossible to keep an eye on the entire situation. There are limits to how much a commander can monitor their unit while engaged in dogfighting. On that point, Tanya is thankful for the Imperial Army’s combat doctrine. Its mission-oriented beliefs mean that if an officer has good subordinates, they don’t need to hold their hands and show them how to shoot. 

Of course, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion is receiving a minimum of direction, including navigation support, from Norden Control. A war without Control is just a crude dogfight between isolated mages. 

After all, without Control to keep the necessary order, you’re left with individual mages flying around. Power that can’t be harnessed isn’t much of a threat. 

“Pixie 01 to all hands. Enemy Control has been eliminated.” 

We are lucky the linchpin of the enemy command scheme gave away its position. You never know till you try, so she had thrown out the bombardment and blown them away with ease…apparently. 

Now the enemy is no longer units but a mob of individuals. Mages without their CP are like a pack of Don Quixotes each fighting their own battles. 

“Pixie 01 to CP. Send the status of the enemies you spotted.” 

“CP, roger. The remaining enemies are flying at 6,500 feet. Looks like the vanguard is about a reserve regiment’s worth. Two companies guarding them. They also have bombers. No sign of reinforcements.” 

The situation is exactly what it looks like. The only enemies who can engage with us right now are the disheveled troops directly before us. Normally, enemy control would have any number of options how to proceed, like sending the escorts ahead to shore up the disordered vanguard. 

But now none of them know what to do—they’re panicking. Entente Alliance and Republican mages, I’ve noticed, have a tendency to be overly specialized in group combat. 

The mages of our Imperial Army’s pride, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, who somehow cheerfully survived their hellish training, should be able to overpower them. At the very least, they probably won’t hold me back, so I can use them as a shield with no problems. 

And this time we also have the wonderful addition of enemy bombers. If I take them down, I can expect a raise and other perks, according to air force regulations. 

Ah, this really is great. Tanya unconsciously gives her lips a vulgar lick. 

For once, she’s in a situation that is virtually blue ocean. It has to be her efforts day after day that have created such a blessed environment. As in Dacia, fate, or the law of cause and effect or whatever, is finally on my side. I’m willing to stick with the hypothesis that Being X is evil, but I’m in a good enough mood to argue that a benevolent entity might exist. 

“First, Second, and Third Companies, hunt the two enemy vanguard battalions. Fourth Company, with me.” 

We aren’t lacking a necessary cause to act. I’m the commander of the battalion, the one who leads. 

To put it bluntly, my attitude is more or less Maybe I’ll end up fighting myself at some point. I can push the annoying job of dealing with enemy units onto my underlings. 

Or rather, that’s what they’re there for. I want my subordinates to give it their all so I can think about more important things. 

The Imperial Army General Staff has invested a lot in these guys. It’s not my money, but it is taxpayers’ money, so I’ve done my best to put it to wise use. I don’t want to do anything that would make me look inept, and though taxes are a sort of evil, I’d like to atone for it by using the funds in a meaningful way. 

For that reason, I need to show that the investment was worth their while. Most of all, I don’t want to be branded all talk and sent to the front lines as punishment. So I’ll leverage my position and make my subordinates do the tough stuff. 

There’s a right man for every job, you know. Since they like war so much, I’m sure they’ll be happy to do it. I intend to make my way to the rear with a record of discovering and recommending talent. This is the ideal win-win scenario. It’s fair to call it truly wonderful. 

“Fourth Company, we’re going to strike the escorts and the bombers. After that, we’ll go around the back of the other fight and pincer those two battalions.” 

For the time being, I take Fourth Company as my escort and initiate maneuvers to take the rear. I want to avoid any danger spots, so under the pretense of a detour, I put off some fighting. First, I want to see how they do against my subordinates. If the enemy seems stronger than expected, I’ll abort the roundabout sneak attack and head back to assist the rest of the troops. My insurance is all in place. 

“That’s it for the battle plan. That said, gentlemen…” 

The Northern Army Group is watching, so I need to show them this frontline commander’s fighting spirit. 

This’ll make us look like an army. 

A resolute commander with a loud voice and an offensive mind-set will silence any meaningless criticism. 

Just look at the loudmouth Tsuji. He indiscriminately ground down talent, caused a catastrophe, and still got promoted. 

“Though your job is to stop them, you don’t have to wait for me by any means. I don’t mind at all if you defeat them.” 

If things get bad, I’ll use the Tsuji doctrine to protect myself. For better or worse, after World War II, that guy brilliantly managed to avoid war crime prosecution. Even if I can’t imitate his shameless nerve, there are still things I can learn from him. 

He could have been a corporate warrior who would have forever been waging internal company battles with his demonic drive for promotion. Well, I don’t actually want to be that kind of person. This world is rather impossible for good citizens like me—I have shame and a conscience. 

“Also, when we get back, whichever company gets the worst results will have their commander treat the rest of us to a party. I ordered some twenty-five-year-old wine, so fight hard if you don’t want to go bankrupt!” 

Thus, I came up with an elegant way to get around socialization expenditures. Associating with one’s subordinates is part of a boss’s job, but I hate getting my expenses audited for no reason. Take that guy, for example. Tsuji was really picky about inspecting for improper spending. He would find people’s weaknesses that way. 

What you can learn from that is that armies and companies aren’t so different from one another. Improper spending on entertainment will affect your future career. So I’ll use my subordinates’ money—just below the threshold of power harassment. 

Furthermore, though in society it’s generally accepted that children aren’t allowed to drink wine, if one of my brothers-in-arms offered me some, and I can’t refuse, perhaps the army would look the other way. The thought that I might finally get to have wine brings tears to my eyes. 

““““Understood!”””” 

“Good. Now then, gentlemen. Do your duty for the emperor and the fatherland.” 

I don’t have a lick of love or respect for the emperor, and as for the fatherland, I just hope I get benefits commensurate with the taxes I pay. But the state does give me my soldier’s pension and other various allowances. Then again, this place sadly seems to be in the strategic position Germany was in during the First World War… 

Ahh, what a tragedy. I feel like I’m at a company guaranteed to go bankrupt. Or like an employee who is going to be worn down to nothing at an office with abhorrent working conditions. There’s no way to win here. 

I’d like to submit my voluntary resignation and transfer to a better company. In the worst case, I would even be ready to bring a labor suit. 

But betraying the army during a war would come with all sorts of troublesome issues. Who would trust a whistle-blower like that? Even if they promise freedom of belief, nobody would want to take on a hard-core leftist activist in a million years. 

Thinking logically, only an idiot would risk betrayal if the returns aren’t guaranteed to be worth it. What’s more, it would be difficult to protect myself when I’ve already done so much killing in this war. 

My position is somewhat like a sniper’s. If the war ends and I can be safely demobilized, that’s great, but on the off chance I find myself having to surrender, there’s a good chance I’d be shot on the spot. In a word, I’m buying my enemy’s enmity at limit up. 

“Let’s teach those Entente Alliance mopes and the rest of them a lesson. They don’t get it when you only put it in words.” 

Actually, I tried to get them to surrender once, and I couldn’t get through to them at all. Hideously enough, they’re people without a shred of economic sense. If they like war so much, they should just split their country in half and fight among themselves. 

But apparently, the Republic and the Entente Alliance are really into involving others. Talk about a pain in the neck. They’re beyond saving if they ignore the balance between public matters and personal freedom by causing other folks trouble. I’d like them to think a bit about what a nuisance they are to the average person. 

“We’re gonna bring an iron hammer down on them from the heavens. They’re about to learn how powerless they really are.” If we can’t leisurely attack them from high in the sky, I won’t be able to take this. 

For now, we have the bandwidth to spare, but this really isn’t good for my heart. 

The only time I’m thankful for this little body is when the enemy is aiming at it and having trouble hitting. A wise man once said, “They call bullets slugs because they pack a punch.” Well, I don’t want to get shot. 

“First, Second, and Third Companies, go on ahead. We’ll go around and strike from behind.” 

That’s why into the most risky situations—with the greatest potential for achievement—I send the volunteers. 

“““Roger! Glory to the fatherland and our commander!””” 

“I wish you all luck.” 

Well! It seems my subordinates are really starved for war since we walloped the Dacians. They’re more fired up than I imagined they would be—it’s a bit moving. They have a consummate service spirit. 

They’re so wonderful that if they weren’t so dedicated to the pursuit of the unproductive enterprise of war, I would definitely want to recruit them. It’s really too bad. It’s this kind of thing that proves the devil’s existence. 

If God existed, resources wouldn’t be allotted so improperly. The market principle is the one truth path. Only the market has an invisible hand. 

Honestly, it’s so unfortunate. The world really is made to be difficult. It seems like it’ll be a long time before economics works everything out. 

“Fourth Company, we’re climbing. We’re going to go around and attack those two companies that seem like reinforcements.” 

Anyhow, this job is fine—I’ll just do what needs to be done. We’re an augmented battalion—four companies. What that means is we’re a battalion plus an extra company. Our battalion will intercept the two battalions, and the extra company will take on the two companies. What simple proportions. As for where to employ my personal strength, the latter situation is easier. And I want to make it easy on myself, so I’m going with the latter group. 

There is no greater aim on the battlefield than to defeat the enemy with as little effort as possible. It’s all about how comfortable you can make your life. 

The idea that struggling while you’re young builds character must have as much truth to it as a hedge fund advertisement. I think I’ll go ahead and build other people’s character. 

“Understood. What will you do about the bombers?” 

“They’re mine. Don’t hate me! I’d just like to be an air force ace as well as an army one.” 

“Ha-ha-ha. Good one.” 

He asked something important, so I made myself clear. I replied casually enough, but I meant it. Though it was a sort of snobby motivation, I read somewhere that it’s not bad to show a human side once in a while. Of course, I also read that if you’re too snobby, people won’t like you. Why is a good person like me so unreasonably tormented by Being X and made to fight in this war in the first place? I can’t help but lament my fate. 

But now my subordinates have started to laugh like they’ve heard a great joke. Finding that suspect, I glare at them and ask what in the world is so funny. 

“You know you have to do it with fighter planes, right?” 

But the answer is simple. Vexingly enough, it seems I’ve misunderstood the rules. How regrettable that I should expose my ignorance in front of my men like this. What indescribable shame. 

“Really? That’s too bad. We should have borrowed fighter planes. I’d almost like to go back and get them.” 

“Why don’t you? Although, if I go with you, I think I’ll end up having to treat the battalion.” 

They must be having a great laugh at my expense. Going back to borrow fighter planes from the air force? I can’t do that. 

If I did, it’d be treated as fleeing before the enemy. Death by firing squad! Death by firing squad would be waiting for me. And on top of that, it’s not like I can pilot a fighter plane anyhow, so I wouldn’t even have an excuse. I have no doubt this bureaucratic system would execute even a young child like me. Isn’t there some kind of interest or rights group, or even a group with vested interests, that would protect me? 

“I couldn’t possibly turn my back on the enemy.” 

“Well, that’s that, I suppose. Let’s just finish this up as fast as we can.” 

And then messages from the other units come in. There’s nothing better than good timing. 

I love that my men can read a situation. I’m sure they’ll be a great help in getting promoted. This is very good. 

“Sorry, you’re definitely going to be treating us. Engage!” 

“Twenty-five years… I’ll be drinking my fill. Company, forward!” 

“Nothing better than having good brothers-in-arms. Well then, ’scuse us, Commander.” 

“A-argh! Those guys! My apologies, Commander.” 

The atmosphere had completely changed. They were great backup. 

Even though I had been in human resources, where I didn’t have to deal with too many nights out drinking or entertaining clients, when someone is this good, I know in a glance. These guys are definitely cut out to be in sales. I’m sure they have what it takes to handle strategy. 

What a waste. It really is a shame. The fact that they love war instead of business is just too bad. I have to respect their free will, yet I still find it unfortunate. 

“Okay. Don’t worry about me. Go on ahead.” 

“Thank you. Fourth Company, we’re going out in front!” 

Apparently, all my company commanders are full of fight. They’re raring to go like Dobermans before their prey, so when I let go of their leashes, they’re off. 

They immediately get into a spindle-shaped assault formation and zoom out of the sky to put pressure on the enemy from above. It’s a truly beautiful maneuver. The instantaneous charge is performed in perfect unity, but their desire for battle is so intense they get a bit too daring. 

Really, I had intended to have Fourth Company be my direct support, but if they like fighting so much, maybe it’s safer to keep my distance. They might be too aggressive to use as my shield; enemies might actually be attracted to them. 

“Sheesh, so I’m up against the slowpoke bombers? Doesn’t seem like we’ll be able to dance.” 

My own lonely interception battle. Against bombers, I probably won’t get to perform any elegant maneuvers. It’ll be the simple labor of turning into a fixed battery and blasting them out of the sky. If I miss, I’ll just be a laughingstock, so although it’s a safe job, I can’t take it too easy. 

“I’m not really in the mood, but this is work. Let’s just get it done one step at a time.” 

Maybe it’s good not to stick out, but you can’t show people what you can do that way. Besides, I’m up against bombers. I have to aim very precisely to take them out. 

Since I can’t sense magic and use that for guidance, I have to employ either heat detection or radar. I may be a mage, but I don’t come with radar, and building in a heat detection formula is a pain. Considering it’s going to basically be a sniper attack in the end, it doesn’t seem worth the time and effort. 

Frankly, it’s no wonder that puts me in a foul mood. At least if I down the things my score will go up. 

“Major von Degurechaff, how copy?” 

“This is Pixie 01, solid copy. Since when have you forgotten we use call signs?” 

And that’s why I gave a cranky response to the message that suddenly came in. 

Perhaps not being able to control my emotions disqualifies me as an adult member of society, but nobody would be happy to have a difficult job interrupted with a flagrant violation of regulations. Honestly what does everyone think rules and regulations are for? There are too many careless people in the world. 

“M-my apologies.” 

“What do you think the military discipline and regulations are for?” 

You can’t just fix this kind of thing by saying sorry. Regulation violations lead to accidents. Don’t you know Heinrich’s Law, the rule of thumb an insurance worker discovered taking statistics? Accumulating small mistakes is the first step to a serious accident. Mistakes must be eradicated. 

“Please leave it at that. This is Hotel 03, Hotel 03. Do you copy?” 

Someone who sounds important got on the line, so I decide to adjust my attitude. Sometimes swallowing your pride is the right choice. As a member of an organization, what you need to do is simple: Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. 

“This is Pixie 01. Loud and clear. What can I do for you?” 

“The reorganization of the Viper Battalion and the units that retreated is complete. Shall we have them act as a rear guard?” 

This time instead of scolding, Tanya breaks into a smile at what a well-made address it was. The Viper Battalion is worn down, and she figured they would be more like deadweight than reinforcements, but it seems their reorganization has gone well. Perhaps the Northern Army Group is more efficient than she gave them credit for. 

“Wow, what a speedy reorganization! Very well, please do.” 

Anything useful is welcome. Deadweight that can’t even serve as a shield is annoying, but she is always happy to accept pawns. 

She has more luck than she thought this time. People shouldn’t rely on fortune, but neither should they be too narrow-minded to seize a good chance. 

“What? Oh, understood. I’ll get them on their way.” 

“You have my thanks. Now watch us work. Over.” 

While I’m at it, I want to share the news with my unit. Even for a bunch of war aficionados, there shouldn’t be anything better than getting more friends. Frankly, Tanya is ready to welcome reinforcements right away. 

The truth of the matter is that they were outnumbered, so she couldn’t wait for the reorganized battalion to arrive. 

“Battalion, this is your commander.” 

Yeah, they’ll probably be happy. They’ll be able to fight without worrying about their rear. I live by the creed “safety first,” and even I’m not against realizing a few achievements in this battle. 

“Rejoice. We’re getting backup. Some reinforcements are coming all the way out here to help us.” 

I’m surprised a unit that withdrew could be reorganized so efficiently. Wonderful. That’s the word to express how moved I am. Granted, it’s dangerous to judge a whole situation by looking at only a couple events. Still, even if the radio operator is inept, this shows his superior officer is on point. 

The reinforcements will probably be here any minute. 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

Why don’t we just take our time and wait for our backup? I can’t say that because my will to fight would be suspect, but if I can get them to understand as much indirectly, there would be no problem. Tanya’s real intention as she informs them of the reinforcements is to change the plan in a big way, from an offensive tactical formation to a defensive one, just like in Dragon Quest. 

“““Yes, ma’am!””” 

The clipped reply surely means they grasp her intentions. Tanya nods in satisfaction. 

“Now, let’s do as much work as we get paid for!” 

NOVEMBER 7, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, SOMEWHERE IN THE ENTENTE ALLIANCE… A HOSPITAL OPERATED BY THE COMMONWEALTH HUMANITARIAN ORGANIZATION PEACE WORLD 

“The bombers are done for! No support yet?!” 

“The light—the light!! Uwaaaagh!” 

“We lost the formation leader’s signal?!” 

“Break! They’re fast! Put up a wall of bullets! Don’t get anywhere near them!” 

“Pixie 02 to all companies. Charge!” 

“Ngh! They’re past the vanguard?! Stop shooting and be ready for a close-quarters fight!” 

“Mayday! Mayday! No rescue yet?!” 

“Norland Control to all units. Abort the operation! Abort the operation! As of this moment, abort the operation!” 

“The bomber unit—!” 

“Fucking hell! The vanguard got savaged! Who are those guys?!” 

“The recon company has been wiped out! At this rate, we’ll be surrounded!” 

“They got past our close support?!” 

“Viper 02 to Pixie 01. We’re on our way now.” 

“Roger. No sign of enemy reinforcements. Expect a hot pursuit.” 

“Viper 02, roger.” 

“Detecting enemy reinforcements! They’re the size of a battalion.” 

“Reinforcements? What about ours?!” 

“Norland Control to all units. Retreat immediately to marshaling point two. I say again, retreat immediately to marshaling point two.” 

“It’s no good! I can’t lose them!” 

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” 

“Pixie 01 to all hands. Transition to cleanup.” 

“Viper 02 to Pixie Battalion. We have visual.” 

“We see you, too. Can we leave the pursuit to you? I want my team to mop up the stragglers.” 

“Enemy reinforcements have arrived!” 

“Fucking hell! Don’t stop! Run! Hurry!” 

“Roger. Thanks.” 

“For fuck’s sake, this is hell!” 

“My intestines… Someone pick up my intestines!” 

“They’re your sworn enemy. No need to hold back. Over.” 

What the hell did I drink last night? 

The first question that entered his mind was absurd. 

He could tell someone was shaking him, but it took a long time for his brain to start working. 

First Lieutenant Gunning wondered why his whole body felt so heavy. 

Someone is…calling me? 

“Nn…!” 

His consciousness returned, though it was hazy, and outlines began to appear. 

“Lieutenant! Lieutenant!” 

…Well, this is no good. If they’re not using my name, it’s either my boss or the military police. 

But I’m still out of it. I’m so dizzy I can’t take it. 

Seriously, what did I drink? I’m fit as a fiddle after a bottle of Scotch, so why…? Did someone slip me vodka? 

He only cracked his eyes open, as was his habit. 

A blinding white space. Something was blinking. No, maybe some kind of machine? 

The brightness still bothered him, but a strange sense that his body wasn’t his own confused him. He was so weary that try as he might he couldn’t move. 

As he stared up at the ceiling, his brain finally woke up, and as it got up to speed, he started to grasp his surroundings. At a glance, it didn’t seem to be his room. So what’s going on? 

He had no recollection of this. A pure white field. Hmm? A room? I think I know this place. I have some memory of it. So where am I? 

“…Uhhhgh. Where…?” 

He wasn’t particularly looking for a reply with the groan, but it seemed the person who had been calling out to him had heard. It caught the attention of everyone in the vicinity, apparently, and suddenly he was engulfed in a huge commotion. For whatever reason, he tried to sit up, but he nearly tipped over instead. His body wouldn’t move the way he wanted. It seemed like someone propped him up, and he vaguely understood he was being held. 

“Lieutenant! Okay, you’re conscious, right? Medic! Bring a surgeon, quick!” 

“What…?” 

Just voicing the question exhausted him completely. Something weird is going on. He couldn’t find the words for it, but something was different. What the heck happened to me? 

He wasn’t half-asleep, but though his awareness kept increasing, the foggy light before his eyes failed to dissipate. Not only would his eyes not focus, he couldn’t hold them steady. 

If I were hungover, I’d feel sick and have a headache…and I don’t. As reality slowly returned to him, it started to dawn on him what a strange situation he was in. 

“Relax. How much do you remember?” 

“…What? What are you saying?” 

No. I don’t want to remember any more than that. 

I must not remember. 

I can’t… What? 

“Captain, it’s no good. He’s totally minced.” 

“Here, too. The log’s been destroyed. We recovered it, but I don’t think any of this will be useful.” 

Minced? 

Destroyed? 

My… 

What about my mates…? 

“Welcome to the Empire. Do you have a passport?” 

“Ha-ha-ha, Commander. We didn’t bring a welcome bouquet. Now what?” 

“Oof, what will I do with you guys? But you brought the fireworks, right?” 

“Oh, that’s right. Those look kinda like flowers, right?” 

“Great. Then maybe I’ll sing a welcome song.” 

“Hmm? You know a song?” 

“Yeah, a good one.” 

“Do you need me to sew your mouths closed?” the captain snapped. 

Somewhere, someone hastily shut their mouth, but it was too late. 

Red, red flowers. My brothers. My superiors. My men. 

“…Ahhaahhhhhhhhhhhggghh!” 

“Medic! A sedative! Quick!” 

“You idiots! You can expect disciplinary action for this!” 

They’re meat now. 

Bright red, bloody blossoms. 

Burst. 

Blooming. 

All over.