Youjo Senki - Volume 6 - Chapter 4

[chapter] IV Diplomatic Deal 

EARLY FEBRUARY, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, NORTHERN ILDOA 

Upon heading to visit the Kingdom of Ildoa, Colonel von Lergen was given three missions by the General Staff. 

The first was to see how well the Ildoan Army was trained. 

Whether they were enemies or allies, the more information the General Staff could acquire about them, the better. For a staff officer, the task of reporting their observations was a natural duty that didn’t even need to be discussed. Even with the situation as tense as it was, that was a relatively simple task. 

The second was an order to get a feel for the military geography with mountain battles in mind. Lieutenant General von Rudersdorf, who was leading Operations, gave this task to him personally. As far as Lergen could guess…the idea was to be prepared for potential combat with Ildoa. 

Of course, merely studying the lay of the land didn’t automatically put them on the road to war. That said, it was significant that they were considering it, even as a potential plan. Adding in the commander’s determination and resolve, it seemed like it could be an important indication. 

The final task, it has to be said, was an incredibly unusual order compared to the other two. 

His third mission was extremely simple. Lieutenant General von Zettour, in charge of the Service Corps in the General Staff, wanted him to find out as much as possible about General Gassman. 

Lergen remembered staring—in spite of himself—at the orders, rereading. That wasn’t the sort of mission a colonel would usually be asked to do. 

It was a routine job for a lower-ranking officer. 

And Lergen didn’t have espionage experience in the first place. As a colonel in the Imperial Army General Staff, he had been cultivated to be an operations man who could manage logistics and organization in the rear. 

Even he wasn’t confident he would be successful aping the duties of an Intelligence agent. 

When Zettour had told him he would be great precisely because his background was in Personnel, his only reaction was bewilderment. Though he was the eager type to put forth every effort to fulfill orders, he couldn’t deny that this was out of his wheelhouse. How did he expect him to compare Personnel domestically in the Empire and the personnel affairs of senior officers in a foreign country? 

That said, if Lergen let every emotion he had show on his face, he would be disqualified as a high-ranking soldier. 

Having entered the Kingdom of Ildoa, he interacted cheerfully with his reception, exchanging polite remarks like the model of a perfectly serious officer. 

“I’m Colonel Virginio Calandro. I’ll be guiding you all on behalf of General Igor Gassman.” 

The man who met Lergen and the others from the Empire was a similarly courteous officer of the Royal Ildoan Army, a man with an amiable smile. Just as Lergen was about to salute, he was surprised to find the man holding out a hand to shake. 

He was the type to try and cozy up to people. 

“Now then, you’re Colonel von Lergen, correct?” 

“It’s an honor, Colonel Calandro.” 

Still, the hand as he shook it had the extremely firm grip of a soldier. 

His hands were awfully hard for a soldier-politician. He was the sort who made others realize right away that he knew when to be hard and when to be soft—the most formidable type to have monitoring you. 

For Lergen, who had been asked by the home country to dig into this and that during his trip, this guy would be a pain. 

All he could do was accept the same truth all soldiers had to live with: You can’t choose your enemies. Lergen took up the challenge Calandro’s smile presented and nodded with a warm smile of his own. 

“Right this way. It isn’t much, but we’ve prepared some refreshments.” 

The remark was enough to make him think, This is what getting a jab in to score the first point means. The spread was all luxury items that had disappeared from the Empire due to the Commonwealth’s naval blockade. 

“Allow us to treat you to some real coffee.” 

“Oh, the kindness of a neutral nation, hmm?” 

At the facility for receiving guests near the location where the exercises would take place, they served all variety of goods from the southern seas that hadn’t been seen on the imperial mainland in some time due to the embargo—including, above all, fragrant coffee. 

To rub it in, they even had piles of brown sugar. 

“Yes, I’m so happy we’re able to show our allies some hospitality.” 

An exaggerated remark, an earnest tone, and, to top it off, a suspicious smile. 

Lergen didn’t feel like he could do a very good impression of a diplomat, but he found himself in the position of having to fight snark with snark as a representative of his country. 

“We’re so lucky to be counted as friends.” On paper the words would have been impossibly mortifying, but even Lergen himself was aware how hollow his tone was. “We were just so busy with our duties on the battlefield…I’m afraid we’ve been out of touch. Ah, but it’s so embarrassing to make excuses.” 

“I don’t think it’s an excuse at all. I certainly don’t want to be such a small-minded person as to blame you when you must have valid reasons.” 

The conversation was stereotypical: patronizing Ildoa, evasively cynical Empire. Nevertheless, they exchanged their snide comments with the proper feigned politesse. 

Perhaps it could be called a verbal preliminary skirmish as reconnaissance-in-force? 

Nearly satisfied at having gotten one in, Lergen was forced to show his hand. 

Setting down the teacup after savoring his coffee, Calandro smiled and casually dropped a bomb. 

“I’ll be frank. I’m General Gassman’s special envoy.” 

It was so unexpected that for a moment, Lergen was speechless. 

“There’s something that I simply must speak candidly about with our friends from the Empire.” 

“…A special envoy? What is it you want to discuss?” 

Lergen’s intention had been recon-in-force, but he had encountered the enemies’ main forces. Since it wasn’t entirely unexpected, he had the slight benefit of preparedness…but he was undeniably taken by surprise. 

A sneak attack was more powerful than he understood in theory. Lergen was forced to learn what could be termed a lesson of battle in the field. He was practically holding his breath when Calandro spoke quick and rough, almost as if to steal the Empire’s thunder. 

“The Kingdom of Ildoa is terribly anxious about the present situation.” 

“…Which means?” 

“This prolonging of the war isn’t good for anyone.” 

He took the bait without hesitating. Those words were too significant. “For anyone?” 

Colonel Lergen of the Imperial Army General Staff knew it was rude to answer a question with a question. But he had to know the answer. 

It was one thing if the side making sacrifices in the war said such a thing, but it wasn’t the type of thing a party that flitted like a bat to wherever the profits were found could comment on so smugly. All we have to do is fire back when fired upon. It’s not so extreme, is it? In any case, it didn’t feel right for this guy from the opportunist Ildoan Army to bring up the topic. 

“I apologize if I’ve offended.” 

“Excuse me, Colonel Calandro, but the situation is—” 

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Calandro interrupted with a smile. “We’re also quite concerned about the way things are going. We’re prepared to act in good faith as a mediator for peace.” 

This was what it meant to fail to secure the initiative. All Lergen could do was let each of Calandro’s words pound into his brain as he stared into his counterpart’s eyes, dumbfounded. 

“Do you understand? In other words, peace talks. We, the Kingdom of Ildoa, are willing to be the middleman for our friends.” 

Though Lergen knew it wouldn’t do to be thrown off by this, he was nonetheless hard-pressed to find any immediate comment, and his silence betrayed his confusion. He was at the mercy of Calandro’s choice of conversation topic. 

That he hadn’t shouted, Of all the ridiculous—! was surely due to his last reserves of restraint. He was positive the other man had been observing his expression with periodic glances this whole time. 

If he didn’t reflect on the meaning of Calandro’s words and understand them, he wouldn’t be able to respond effectively. Lergen lacked the decisiveness that field battles required. 

At that moment, he had to recognize, whether he wanted to or not, that he was inexperienced. 

“…I beg your pardon, but you’re saying Ildoa wants to mediate peace talks?” 

The reason he replied in a question was simply that he couldn’t think of anything nice to say. 

The principal figures of the Imperial Army General Staff, with only a handful of exceptions, hadn’t dreamed such an offer would be suggested. As far as sneak attacks went, the Kingdom of Ildoa’s proposal was a bolt from the blue. 

In Lergen’s shock…what crossed his mind was a magic officer he knew well. As a commander in the field, Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff often made strange calls. In the rear, he had been astonished by her unusual decisiveness, but if she were here…what would she do? 

“Speaking as an allied nation, I caution that any more war will be a strain too great on the Empire’s economy. Allow us to propose peace talks.” Ever-smiling Calandro politely ignored Lergen’s bewilderment and added, “I realize it’s presumptuous, but don’t you think it’s time to find a way to settle things? If we call it a stalemate and volunteer to arbitrate, would you consider accepting?” 

It was precisely because Lergen was a key member of the Imperial Army that he had to swallow hard. 

The burden of continuing the fight was enormous—unbelievably so. The costs to the Empire had ballooned into a massive sum. 

The lines in the east were turning into a quagmire. The futile war of attrition with the Commonwealth and the Free Republic was an everlasting draw. The flip side of the General Staff’s thirst for a decisive victory was the hemorrhaging of the Imperial Army, which was already growing anemic. 

…But why should he have to reveal his anxiety externally? 

“Forgive me for saying this after hearing your thoughts, but…that’s a matter for Supreme Command to decide. A mere colonel has no idea what Supreme Command would think.” 

“Not even a genius from Operations such as yourself? Your reputation precedes you. I understand you have the confidence of both Lieutenant General von Zettour and Lieutenant General von Rudersdorf.” 

Calandro’s remark delivered so nonchalantly was significant. It went far beyond lip service or a joke. 

…When they said the Ildoans were passionate, they really knew what they were talking about! 

“Excessive modesty can be offensive, don’t you think?” 

Calandro’s words implied that he was very well-informed. 

When Lergen finally regained some composure, he took another good look at Calandro. A glance at the colonel’s uniform made it seem like he belonged to an alpine regiment, but… Well, well. As Lergen’s brain got up to speed, he began to get an idea of the man’s true identity. 

As far as he could recall, the alpine regiments all reported directly to the Royal Ildoan Army General Staff. 

If an Intelligence officer was going to disguise himself as someone serving in the field, an alpine unit with a good reputation for combat would be fine cover. 

But Lergen felt Calandro had far more field experience than him, given his dexterity. So perhaps the correct way to view him was as a veteran elite who had served in cross-border and other legally gray operations? Either way, he was surely a tough soldier who had come through quite a few fierce battles. 

“Either way, I’m very fortunate to meet you here.” 

“It would have been great to celebrate our countries’ friendship unconditionally…” 

“As you know, a slight misunderstanding can cause complications. That’s why I’m so glad we have a chance to discuss things frankly.” 

Calandro proceeded on his own with a face like he knew everything— he must really have been a special envoy. And it’s obvious why he’s chosen me to contact. 

Lergen must have been selected as someone who would be sure to deliver the message to Operations and the Service Corps. 

“Allow me to first clarify our position. We—that is, the Kingdom of Ildoa—are not actively hoping for the collapse of the Empire.” 

“So why are you passively hoping for it?” 

“How biting. I was sure you knew: the issue of Unredeemed Ildoa.” 

Ahhh. Lergen understood immediately. Whether expressed as territory, homeland, sovereignty, or any number of other words, the emotions involved were always genuine. Meanwhile, vexingly enough, it should probably be said…an active officer in the imperial military was absolutely not permitted to publicly acknowledge such an issue. 

This territorial conflict had absurdly deep roots. The problem of Unredeemed Ildoa was a dispute over the ownership of an Ildoan-speaking region taken by the Reich when the Empire was formed. 

The Reich wasn’t about to extend its understanding to someone arguing that just because some residents of an area spoke Ildoan, the land should belong to Ildoa. 

The Empire’s official stance was that the issue was not even worthy of debate. It had always flatly refused to “consider” abandoning territory inherent to its makeup. 

On the other hand, Ildoa couldn’t accept the logic of not unifying Ildoan-speaking lands. 

This was a territorial dispute that had always been smoldering between the Empire and Ildoa. 

“Hmm? The issue of Unredeemed Ildoa? I’m not sure I recall an issue like that.” 

“In other words?” 

“Officially, this is my first time hearing of such a problem. Perhaps I’ve heard of it in private before?” 

Lergen’s response was a repetition of the official Empire line. The imperial government refused to even acknowledge the territory was in dispute at all, so there wasn’t much else he could do. Everyone would answer unanimously if asked, It’s Heimat. 

Preservation of Heimat—the homeland—was imperative and there was no room for argument. 

That was how things stood inside the Empire. 

And Calandro understood very well that Lergen was forced to stubbornly deny the question regardless of how he felt about it, so he didn’t get upset about his response. 

Likewise, perhaps it should be said… 

…Lergen could easily guess the reason Ildoa couldn’t give up. 

It took only a little calm thought. Why should someone else think a certain way just because we do? 

Many staff officers including Lergen were worried about just that. 

“If I must explain… But it’s rather ridiculous…” 

Lergen gazed at him with eyes that said, Let’s hear it, and Calandro didn’t mince words. 

“If we can have Unredeemed Ildoa, we’re not averse to fighting alongside the Empire.” 

The man’s persistence was tremendous. 

The longing for territory a people or nation believed to be rightly theirs was a latent torrent of fury. 

“Can that be taken in the sense of boots on the ground as well?” 

“We’re prepared to put up a united front in that sense, conceptually.” 

Ahhh. It occurred to Lergen, who was used to bureaucratic thought and grammar, that Calandro’s comments seemed meaningful but actually guaranteed nothing. 

It was all talk—a model empty promise. 

…No matter how nice they sounded, words that weren’t backed by action were powerless and devoid of meaning. In the world of politics, military matters, and diplomacy, good intentions weren’t security enough. 

They say a drowning man grasps at straws, but it’s unreasonable to think a straw would save a man. He should grasp at a sure thing, like a boat, and if that isn’t possible, the only option is to swim under his own power. A country that can’t make it on its own has no future—because a state has no eternal allies and no perpetual enemies. 

“From a practical standpoint, we are prepared to mediate between the Empire and the countries it is at war with. Between you and me, though, we’re also prepared, jointly with the Unified States, to invite all the warring countries to a cease-fire conference.” 

I see. Lergen nodded, but he couldn’t miss the subtle difference there. 

Calandro had been talking this whole time as a representative of Ildoa, but now Lergen wondered what country he was really representing. 

“Will these peace talks be led by the Ildoan military or the Ildoan government?” 

“It’s basically a plan that was pushed by the army and approved by the government.” 

“That doesn’t add up.” Lergen expressed his doubt candidly. 

The basic relationship between government and military was that of the government presiding over the military. Whether the administration was imperial, republican, or feudal, military power was an extension of political power. 

Ultimately, war itself was a continuation of politics. 

In that sense, the Ildoan military advocating for a specific foreign policy was a strange twist to the natural order. And the fact that they were sounding out Lergen of all people, an imperial soldier, couldn’t be overlooked. 

“I’m a soldier. In other words, I’m merely a member of the armed forces.” 

Lergen knew his place. 

He was only a protector of his country, someone who had sworn loyalty to its flag and emperor. How could he withdraw with the people of his Heimat there, even if the enemies threatening his fatherland were going to cut him down? 

If need be, he would hold his ground. That was a soldier’s duty. 

A wholehearted career soldier who followed regulations, whose training had become a part of their flesh and bone, and who was dedicated to their occupational morality honed by logic and ethics, was quite a troublesome creature. 

Lergen believed that, most critically, a soldier was a person sensible enough to not jump to the words on my own authority in the face of empty promises and wishful thinking. If he was going to end up the kind of fool who wouldn’t hesitate to interfere with his nation’s governing power, then he would at least end himself honorably as an officer. 

By both his nature and talent, Lergen was able to rein in his urge to leap at Ildoa’s offer. 

“The authority to perform diplomatic negotiations and whatnot doesn’t rest with the army. The correct channel for this would be the Empire’s embassy in Ildoa.” When the logic wasn’t following, nothing, no matter how small, could be overlooked. As that classic of the Orient said, The tunnel of a tiny bug can cause a long embankment to collapse. 

There certainly was a lesson to be learned there. 

“I beg your pardon. I just thought it would be faster to settle it between us military men.” 

What Calandro was saying was true, in a way. Lergen couldn’t deny that omitting convoluted procedure and handling things on the ground was beneficial at times. 

But he could deny this instance flat out. 

“I don’t mean to contradict you, but I don’t think it’s possible.” 

“…I’m sure we could make a decision right here. So what do you think, Colonel von Lergen?” 

“If it were in the realm of tactics, a quick judgment would be fine. But as long as it’s a matter of national strategy, isn’t it out of the question for the hands and feet to mistake themselves for the brains? And besides,” Lergen continued, “even if we decided among military authorities, this setup would still be strange. Don’t you have an attaché at the Ildoan Embassy in the Empire? Or you could talk to the attaché we have here in Ildoa.” He pressed on before Calandro could gloss things over. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but sneaking around with unofficial special envoys and whatnot makes me question General Gassman’s judgment.” 

“That’s just how seriously we take confidentiality. We want to keep the number of people involved to a minimum. It’s only natural that we would keep secrecy at the forefront of our minds.” 

“So you want us to do this verbally? Even on the front line, orders come on paper.” 

Lergen could understand probing an enemy’s feelings. Even envoys had their purpose. But getting asked to accept only the “words” from a half-politician emissary was shocking. This man was supposed to communicate, to leave a message, but he didn’t even bring it in writing? 

If he treated this shady dialogue as a meeting with a secret emissary and took it home, he could very well be stripped of his staff braid and kicked out of the General Staff Office. 

“…I see. I understand your position. Still, I beg you not to turn me into some child on an errand.” 

Somehow, Calandro’s courteous attitude rubbed Lergen the wrong way. 

…Perhaps rather than liking or disliking him personally, he was anxious about the man’s methods? 

“Colonel Calandro, I understand your position. I don’t mean to throw your words right back at you, but I’m not a child on an errand, either.” 

“In other words?” 

“Could I get something in writing?” 

“…Words aren’t enough?” 

No, they aren’t. Lergen stared silently at him. 

How long were their eyes fixed on each other? He didn’t think it could be terribly long, but on the other hand, it felt like quite a while—a strange interval. 

It probably wasn’t right to say that Calandro resigned himself. It seemed like he somehow got over it as he looked up to the sky and then nodded before saying, “I’ll prepare a sealed document. I can trust you’ll deliver it to your country’s General Staff Office?” 

“I’m happy to fulfill the request of an allied nation.” Lergen nodded. Calandro’s expression stiffened for a moment, but he immediately plastered a gentle look on his face. 

What a magnificent switch. 

“Well, is that all you wanted to talk about? If you have no objections, I’d like to see the exercises.” 

“…Sure. Since I’m here, why don’t I describe what we’re doing? This way.” Calandro offered to guide him. Nothing about his carriage or explanations struck Lergen as distant. He had been worried there would be lingering bad feelings but was relieved to find it wasn’t the case. He could describe Colonel Calandro only as a sincere soldier rich in experience. The man showed him whatever he wanted to see and explained any details he asked about. 

It goes without saying that two experts will notice different things even if they walk down the same road. 

When it comes to military exercises, whether it’s a demonstration meant for outsiders or not, there is always something to take away. For instance, when Lergen glanced at the gear the Royal Ildoan Army officers were carrying, he saw items that looked exactly like the seized gear he had seen in documentation. 

The main difference was that these were probably official imports. Considering how nice they were and how they had enough to go around, it would be difficult to think that they picked them up off a battlefield. 

At a glance, you could say it indicated a significant fact—that the Kingdom of Ildoa was building close relationships with the countries the Empire was at war with. 

On the other hand, from the point of view of someone well versed in logistics and operations, it could also be interpreted that the Royal Ildoan Army’s equipment situation was a mess. 

“…I seem to have seen a lot of this equipment somewhere before.” 

“It’s all imported. Lately it seems like there are new innovations in military tech every day. It wouldn’t do to fall behind, so we’re working hard to modernize.” 

“I’m so happy to see an allied army keeping up with the times. A hearty congratulations to you.” 

“Well, that’s an honor.” Calandro bowed. He must have grasped the issue, too. Rather than diversifying, it was better to standardize your gear—otherwise logistics would be too complicated in practice. 

An army was a massive organization. 

If they didn’t streamline even a little bit wherever they could, they risked weapon maintenance becoming nonexistent on the front lines. That was just what modern war was like. 

The next part was what truly confused him. 

Lergen couldn’t figure out why the Kingdom of Ildoa was so proud to be using foreign-made gear. 

“By the way, your aerial mage battalion combat doctrine resembles the Commonwealth’s…” 

“That’s because of the instructors. They happened to learn it on an exchange program between Ildoa and the Commonwealth.” 

“…I guess we should be proud that the Imperial Army obliterated the conflict between Ildoa and the other countries on the southern continent.” 

“Of course we’re grateful to our ally.” 

“That’s an honor, indeed. Apparently, we’re coming in handy.” 

Was Ildoa employing props to boast about its diplomatic position? Or was the army forced into using foreign-made gear despite their awareness of how disorderly it was? 

If the latter, then the Royal Ildoan Army was no better than a paper tiger. If the former, then they were tough. He would have to think about what might happen in a counterattack. 

Sheesh. Lergen was about to shake his head when he saw a familiar color scheme out of the corner of his eye, and his brain immediately began sounding the alarm. 

The uniforms of the belligerents were that emblematic. 

“…Who are they?” 

“Hmm, I don’t have a very good memory…,” Calandro joked, but he couldn’t hide the fact that his smile, which had been so natural up until now, had transformed into one that was awfully artificial. 

There was something creepy about the way he was talking that made him sound more like a politician than a soldier. The man from just a moment ago would have spared no effort to introduce him, but now, no. 

It seemed an imperial soldier couldn’t request a friendly introduction complete with handshakes to people in Commonwealth and Federation uniforms. 

“Oh, it’s almost time for the air force to go up. Mages tend to get all the attention, but we’re shoring up our fighter manufacturing, so we have some fairly nice aircraft.” 

He probably felt awkward. Calandro hurried in a way that seemed to say, Can you just pretend you didn’t see that? Lergen followed Calandro as he led him in the opposite direction—“Over there”—and Lergen wondered how he should interpret what had just happened. 

Was this part of the act or a slipup? 

Hmm. After thinking for a bit, he looked at the sky and his eyes rested on the Ildoan military planes flying in dreamy formations. 

They seemed awfully well trained—which meant a lot of flight hours. Lergen smiled inwardly at the thought that their apparent abundance of fuel for training flights could be used as a test of loyalty. 

“You seem to have no shortage of aviation fuel.” 

“As you know, Ildoa is currently one of the major oil importers.” 

Apologies to Colonel Calandro, who wasn’t even going to hide the fact that they’re importing, but I was indeed fully aware of that. 

“…To tell the truth, it’d be great if we could trouble you for some high-octane aircraft fuel on the basis of the agreement between our two countries.” 

“Yes, it’s just as you say. We would love to be able to assist you; however…there are some treaty issues. As you know, as a neutral country, duties and privileges come as a set.” 

“But you would like to help us out as a friend?” 

“Of course.” Calandro nodded dramatically. “It pains my heart. Not a day goes by I don’t wish to help my friends. But I’m surrounded by evil war laws and lawyers. Vexingly, these legal people claim that exporting high-octane fuel to even allied armies would violate our status as a neutral country.” 

If someone’s expression said that they sympathized from the bottom of their heart, Lergen could certainly accept it as sympathy. Of course it would become difficult to push an impossible problem onto such an individual. 

That said, Lergen wasn’t asking as an individual but as a member of an evil organization. 

“…If you’ll excuse another inquiry, then, do you also have reservations about us using motorcycles instead of our feet?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Will our officers visiting to observe not be permitted to use fuel inside our ally country?” 

Lergen had been forced to become an expert in the law of war, so he boasted quite a bit of knowledge in the field. 

You could also say he had no choice but to learn it all because of Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff. 

“Hrm, that call’s a bit hard for me to make. I doubt there’s any problem with it, but…” 

“So if that’s the extent of it, then there’s no issue, correct?” 

“There probably isn’t a law that prohibits using fuel in this country.” 

“…Then could our army participate in these exercises?” 

“That would be…” Calandro was lost for words, but then he must have understood what Lergen really meant. His face tensed slightly. 

“As long as you’re paid, it won’t be a problem, right? I realize there are technological hurdles, but if you could help us out with flight training, that would be wonderful.” 

“Colonel von Lergen, as a neutral country, I’m sure that’s…” 

“Ohhh, so it’s military use that’s the problem?” He nodded exaggeratedly as if to say, I get it now. 

I can’t get myself to like imitating Degurechaff, but when you give it a shot, it’s actually pretty fun to sarcastically pounce on someone’s imprecision like this. 

“So then, would we be able to get some for civilian use?” 

“C-civilian use?” 

“As you know, there are many uses for high-octane fuel.” 

“Isn’t it against the law of war?” 

“Well, that’s unexpected. Is there a law prohibiting civilian use of high-octane fuel? I’d just like to request fuel for civilian pilot training and the civilian aviation industry.” 

Technically he was talking about soldiers flying civilian planes, but…in theory, that wasn’t against the law of war. It was certainly a gray area, and what’s more, it wasn’t even out of the question going by the “spirit of the law.” There was no reason to punish someone for doing something no rule prohibited. 

The law of war was full of holes, and Lergen had studied it to death in his time at the General Staff. 

The world of statutory interpretation was a profoundly mysterious one where potatoes counted as “war supplies” and small arms turned into “tools for civilian self-defense.” 

“Is that a request based on the premise that I’m a special envoy?” 

“That’s right. I hope you’ll consider it.” 

“…I’ll be sure to bring it up with General Gassman.” 

AROUND THE SAME TIME, SOMEWHERE ON THE COMMONWEALTH MAINLAND, INTELLIGENCE AGENCY HEADQUARTERS 

“This is a report from the officers we sent to Ildoa. It’s awfully intriguing, gentlemen.” 

The pragmatists trying to reach their own conclusions let Major General Habergram’s prefacing remarks go in one ear and out the other, but even they perked up upon reading the latest typewritten report. 

“…Lergen? Is this Colonel von Lergen from the Empire’s General Staff?” 

“That’s quite a big name for the two ravens to be using as a messenger pigeon.” 

Habergram waited for the right moment to pointedly ask the specialists on the Ildoa situation, “What faction is Colonel Calandro? That’s his contact there.” 

“He’s in General Gassman’s center faction. They don’t stand out much, but they’re top figures in the Royal Ildoan Army administration.” 

“Hmm.” Habergram pondered a moment before bringing up another question. “Give me your opinion, gentlemen. Should we interpret this as working-level discussions?” 

It wasn’t particularly strange for people in charge of practical matters in the Imperial Army and Royal Ildoan Army to meet. Though the countries’ relationship had chilled somewhat, they were still officially allies. 

“I don’t mean to disagree, but wouldn’t that mean the leak on the Ildoan side is gigantic?” 

“Isn’t it too obvious?” 

Their analysis offered much to agree with. He didn’t think his subordinates would be wrong. Still, Habergram wanted to know not what it seemed like but what it was. A hundred percent and 99 percent meant different things. 

“…Gentlemen, I don’t want guesses. I want evidence on which we can make a call.” 

“Even if it’s not unnatural for colonels of the two allied countries to be chatting during exercises that we were also invited to observe, we can’t rule out that they’re trying to send a message.” 

“I know that.” 

This sort of thing happened all the time. And when both parties were in the same business, there was a sort of formal beauty about the way they could guess each other’s hands. The other side was well aware they were being read. 

Which is why… Habergram was so frustrated, he didn’t have a confident answer. 

“Makes me think it’s time for a craniotomy.” 

Just seeing what Ildoa wanted them to see wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Ultimately, they would have to slice right into their scheming brains to see what was inside. If they didn’t poke around in there, they would never be sure of the truth. 

“In any case, keep sounding Ildoa out. We can leave being tricked by posing and signaling to the morons. I would hope you gentlemen are not morons.” 

“Yes, sir.” And it wasn’t as if they were incapable. If they were fools who would betray his trust when he told them to finish the job, he would simply dismiss them. 

It might be hard to find replacements, but having talentless idiots in seats where they didn’t belong was more harmful. 

Oh. Habergram switched gears at that point. “So? What else do we know about the situation in Ildoa?” 

“We’ve confirmed that it has violated its neutrality. Ultra said they were supplying the Empire with high-octane fuel. There’s a good chance that a new route between the two countries has been opened.” 

“It’s intel from Ultra…?” 

That meant it was from a reputable source, then. Habergram stifled a groan. He had to accept that the situation had evolved. 

“The Royal Ildoan Army is tougher than we thought… They must be having it both ways.” 

“It’s as you say, sir. Shall we…crush their supply route?” 

Habergram swallowed his doubts—That would be pretty difficult—for the moment and began considering it with a sigh. 

Personally, he wanted to conduct a strike. It would probably feel great to teach those opportunists a lesson. But the cost of getting swept up in a momentary emotion and attacking would be sizable. 

After all, Imperial Army Intelligence were no slouches. 

If they were smuggling high-octane fuel, they had no doubt kept the people involved to the bare minimum. It was probably best to assume they were taking all possible measures against leaks. 

He couldn’t let Ultra’s presence be discovered, either. They could paint the intel as a leak from the Ildoan side, but there were too many variables to be able to predict the outcome. It wasn’t clear if it was worth forcing it. 

If we’re going to do it…, Habergram was thinking when he realized that carelessly enough, he was getting ahead of himself. He had assumed that they could do it. 

“How many units do we have available?” 

“There are two commando units available immediately. If need be, we can send more over, but that will take a little time.” 

“…Never mind, we won’t do it.” 

It would take too much time and effort, and on top of that, it was an awkward time to add people. Not that he didn’t wish they could do it, but as the specialist he was, he had to choose the safest option. 

“General, are you sure? It’s a chance to catch Ildoa breaking their neutrality.” 

“Retaining Ultra is more important.” 

“You think something would happen to Ultra? With all due respect, I think it would be awfully difficult for the Imperial Army to pinpoint who was involved in a strike like this even if they did conduct an internal investigation.” 

Even Ultra’s contact officer didn’t know the details about the agent. Their identity was top secret, and even those in the intelligence agency were told only that they were a general-rank officer in the Imperial Army General Staff. 

In reality, Ultra was the code of the Imperial Army, which had been cracked… The only ones besides Habergram and the code-breaking team who knew was a limited group of departments in the government and military. 

Well, it made sense. Ultra was that big of a secret. They needed to avoid the Empire even suspecting that they might have Ultra intel. 

“Wouldn’t they assume it was a leak on the Ildoan side? I don’t really think we have anything to worry about where espionage is concerned.” 

“Is that about it for your opinions?” 

This wasn’t in the same dimension as someone’s identity being revealed. 

If the Empire started to doubt its code, it would get much harder to decipher. Even a change to the code would be a pain, but the worst possibility would be if there was simply less signaling altogether. If the Empire questioned the strength of its code, Ultra’s supernatural powers would be hamstrung. 

If it meant losing strategic benefits, then it was better to let a tactical opportunity go by. 

“Then my conclusion remains the same: No.” 

When he asked if there were any other matters to discuss… 

“Given the strong ties between Ildoa and the Empire, from an intelligence security perspective, I think we should put the brakes on weapons exports.” It was the duty of the officer concerned about intelligence security to say that. “If their alliance runs that deep, Ildoa could take weapons we exported to them and hand them to the Empire.” 

“We already took that into account. We were only ever exporting old models. Furthermore,” Habergram added, “we’re already only exporting weapons seized from the Imperial Army. So even if Ildoa takes them to the Empire, the chance of an intelligence leak should be quite low.” 

By the power of Ultra, the Imperial Army’s wireless communications were laid bare. Though the Empire was trying to hide their scheming brains, it was an all-you-can-poke buffet. 

The contributions of the code-breaking team to their nation could only be described as enormous and unparalleled. 

Of course, that meant that if people were pulled from that team, the Intelligence Agency would effectively cease to function. 

What can I do? Habergram was forced to lament. 

Manpower, manpower, manpower. 

There simply weren’t enough accomplished people. Can’t some of these noblesse oblige fellows volunteering for frontline service take an interest in working in the rear? 

“Ah, sorry. Back to what we were talking about. If it’s only a few lots, I think we can keep exporting to Ildoa. We can be happy about profiting from their foreign cash reserves.” 

“About the source of that foreign capital…you’re all right with it?” 

“Did you find out some fascinating new detail?” 

“Yes.” The officer nodded, full of confidence and conviction. “We strongly suspect it’s sourced from the Empire.” 

“…The Kingdom of Ildoa claims its capital from various companies was all gained in prewar trade. So can you…back up that allegation of yours?” 

“The navy’s done it. Upon capturing and inspecting cargo-passenger ships of both nationalities, we have physical evidence.” 

“Ohhh?” Habergram unconsciously leaned in. Having evidence besides Ultra could come in handy. 

Especially in the propaganda war. Something eminently tangible they could employ without worrying about protecting the source was a precious asset. 

“Give me the details.” 

“An employee of the former Republican Central Bank taking refuge in the Free Republic confirmed the serial numbers on the ingots. Numbers that should have been in the Republican Central Bank’s vaults are flowing into Ildoa.” 

“Very good.” Habergram nodded and clenched a fist. It didn’t feel half bad to have acquired some solid intel. 

“Then it’s certain.” 

Anyone who understood the significance of that information could also grasp the situation occurring behind the scenes. 

“The Empire’s finances are finally falling apart.” 

“If they’re settling accounts in gold bullion instead of credit…it must be bad. I’m sure Ildoa is prepared to take advantage of it as well.” 

“Definitely.” 

It could probably be termed good news. Hearing proof that the Empire’s economy was in its death throes made him want to cheer. 

Even if he had known that it was happening to some extent, having physical evidence made it official. 

“It seems like the Kingdom of Ildoa still intends to weigh its options… We can’t rule out the possibility that they’re only in it for the money.” 

“True.” Habergram smiled and urged him to continue. 

“The compensation Ildoa’s receiving from the Empire seems to be coming from the gold reserves of occupied states. Basically, the Empire is a parasite.” 

“You’re sure about that?” 

“Ildoa is definitely settling foreign accounts with lumps of gold the Empire seized from occupied territory. We also found ingots that seemed to be the same type on ships that broke through the naval blockade.” 

The Empire and Ildoa are awfully impatient if money they stole is burning a hole in their pockets like that. Apparently, being out of resources can lead to these sorts of indignities. 

Ahhh… There, Habergram discovered something pleasant. In other words, this was a sign that Ildoa’s economy was also in bad shape. 

…It was unexpected, but perhaps Ildoa was not choosing to double deal but rather had no choice. 

“Oh, right. One thing about that. The Free Republic and the Entente Alliance are requesting the return of the ingots the navy seized…” 

“That’s a thorny issue given the naval prize law.” 

The debate among his subordinates over what to do was very interesting. But Habergram, who was very well-informed, had to smile wryly and tell them to forget about it. 

“Even in a secret operation, there are some complex subtleties, but…” 

“If we try to lay a hand on that gold, shells will roll.” 

“Sh-shells will roll, sir?” 

“Listen…” Habergram gave the younger officers some classics education. Every sailor knew this old story. “It’s a navy legend. What it means for shells to roll is… Oh, it’s terrible. It’s what happens right before a mutiny.” Discontent people were the ones who rolled shells. “The treasury could be blown up in a tragic ‘accident.’” 

“Oh…” The younger officers with somewhat confused faces didn’t understand navy tradition. But it wasn’t as if it applied only to the navy: The power of people who valued tradition was nothing to be sniffed at. 

Just then, Habergram realized it was nearly the hour for tea. 

“Oh, it’s time.” 

“General?” 

“For my report to our dear prime minister.” 

Paying a visit to the prime minister for tea had become a part of Habergram’s daily schedule. Apparently, people from the intelligence agency weren’t allowed to take their tea where they pleased. 

Standing up with a sigh, Habergram confirmed there were no other serious issues and ended the meeting. 

Thus, one report was thrown into the briefcase Habergram took to visit Prime Minister Churbull. 

He hurried as fast as he could without jogging. Leaving the heavily guarded intelligence agency, he got into the designated car and was taken down the now familiar road to the prime minister’s residence. 

He organized an outline on the way and by the time he was shown into the PM’s office, he had the main points all noted down. 

“Prime Minister, I’ve come as ordered. Is now all right with you?” 

“Oh, Habergram. Well, take a seat. How about a cigar?” 

“Thank you, sir. Oh? Are these imported?” 

It was a type he didn’t recognize. Habergram was sharp enough to notice it was different from the wartime ersatz products. 

“Yes, our pals in Ildoa sent them. As a token of friendship, apparently. They’re a bit smelly for my liking, though.” 

“It’s probably not a problem of quality. I’m happy to partake.” 

Even if it was tainted with ulterior motives, a cigar was a cigar. Since imperial subs were wreaking havoc on the Commonwealth’s prided merchant navy, it was even more precious. 

Habergram wanted to express his genuine gratitude—as an individual, that is. 

“So? What are our pals in Ildoa up to?” 

“Our friends in the south are quite amorous.” 

“They’re two-timing us?” 

“Yes.” Habergram nodded and elaborated a bit. “But rather than being unsure what to do, it seems as though…they have no other choice.” 

“Go on…” 

“This is just my personal speculation, but it’s possible that the Kingdom of Ildoa is much weaker than we imagined. It might be better to understand their utilitarian double-dealing as stemming from environmental limitations rather than a voluntary plot.” 

Habergram understood the feelings of the prime minister, who frowned in frustration and lowered his eyes for a moment to his teacup, quite well. To someone suffering through the war in present tense, Ildoa’s position was utterly selfish. 

But while he was speculating as a strategist, he knew that Ildoa’s position could be something he theoretically sympathized with. 

“They may not have the national strength to enter the war. They may even admit among themselves that the Royal Ildoan Army has a number of critical flaws and that they can’t go charging into battle immediately.” 

“But that’s speculation, right? What’s it based on?” 

In response to that natural question, Habergram produced some of the intelligence he had just gotten and explained the reports and his interpretations in turn. 

What sort of picture got painted with the materials on hand was up to the painter. He may not have been as good an artist as the prime minister, but he felt like he could probably come close in the realm of analysis. 

“…So it’s a paper tiger?” 

“The difference from Dacia is that the Ildoan military brass is well aware of their army’s capabilities.” 

Driving off the Imperial Army’s Southern Continent Expeditionary Army Corps and occupying the imperial mainland from the south with that momentum and creating a second front…would probably remain an unfulfilled dream. 

“At least,” Habergram continued. “Objectively, there’s a good chance that if we suggest they clash with the Imperial Army, they won’t do it.” 

“So they know how to calculate their interests. But, General, even you seem to be forgetting something.” 

“Huh?” 

“You’ll understand once we get to the next topic at hand, but sometimes calculating interests compels one into unpleasant cooperative relationships. Sorry we have to do this sober, but would you come with me?” 

Thus, Habergram ended up following the prime minister to the meeting room in his residence and was given the opportunity to observe something very interesting. 

“Those irritating Communists have made a proposal. Surprisingly enough, it looks terribly sensible at a glance. Apparently, they want to carry out a joint operation.” 

The bleak looks on the eminent gentlemen’s faces told Habergram their expressions were about to scrunch up. 

Well, it was no wonder. 

Anyone who heard the prime minister’s next words—So, he began in a calm tone—would be sure to think the same. 

“Gentlemen, I think we should take them up on it… How about you?” 

A huge anti-Communist was saying they should do a joint operation with Communists? 

Churbull’s remark gave the common sense of all those in attendance a thorough beating. It was as if he had dropped a bomb in the middle of the room. 

The first one to regain some composure and counter was the Chancellor of the Exchequer. He shook his head that there was no way and stood to make his argument. “If you’ll excuse me, Prime Minister. Don’t you think this calls for some caution?” 

What followed that politely snarky euphemism was the frank protest of the foreign secretary, who was formally Habergram’s boss. “…I’m sure international cooperation is important and all, but you’re saying the Communists came up with something sensible? That sounds to me like you’re saying you believe in miracles. Maybe we should limit our faith to God.” 

Though his background was that of a courteous diplomat, he couldn’t quite keep the acid from his tongue when it came to the Communists. Or perhaps things were so bad that he felt it was futile to feign politeness. And Habergram knew that given his job, he had reason to think so. 

“Why don’t we try thinking about whether we can trust them?” 

“It’s not worth the effort!” someone shouted. 

“A waste of time!” shouted someone else. 

“Animals aren’t loyal.” 

The comment someone spat was the opinion of all present. Or at least, it was the true feeling of a definite majority. 

Communists employ pretty words and dirty tricks. It was precisely because they had something in common with them that the members of the Communist Party became the targets of their loathing. 

Was any method justified as long as it led to a bright future? 

Sane people called that madness. 

Even Habergram, who was sitting there quietly listening, would have rather smiled for a photograph with a con man than shake hands with a Communist. 

The prime minister who stood against the counterarguments must have known. 

“I won’t deny that. Go ahead and call them beasts, wild animals, barbarians.” 

These fellows impairing their judgment in the moonlight seeking the dawn of Communism… In the end, they wouldn’t even acknowledge how monstrous the frantic madness of revolution was. 

As far as Habergram could hear, the prime minister’s policy of hating Communists hadn’t changed one bit. 

“You could even say it’s like shaking hands with the devil. But,” he continued, “their fighting power is invaluable.” 

Was he this reverent when he read a verse from the Bible? 

This solemnly delivered line conveyed a fact these realists dedicated to the logic of the balance of power were forced to acknowledge. 

To the Commonwealth, to these men who were proud to represent the Commonwealth, the truth was not to be twisted. 

“For that reason, their suggestion is welcome. Gentlemen, in order to assist our ally fighting on the lines in the east, I think we should at least pretend to put our all into a seaborne feint.” 

As far as Habergram could tell, it was a de facto order. The prime minister’s words that clearly stated, Send out the fleet! were brimming with a tenacious will. 

But the navy was no less obstinate and thoroughly demonstrated that they were a crew who adhered to the traditions that produced Lord Churbull. 

“I object to committing the navy fleet.” 

“…The air force’s Strategic Bomber Command has run so many missions probing the imperial mainland’s air defenses, they’re sick of it. I should think that’s distraction enough.” 

There’s no way, said all the navy admirals, and they seemed serious about it. 

“Even if the navy were to merely strike a position that seemed good for an amphibious landing and implied that we were going to send in commandos, that would already have an impact. Don’t you think it would be shocking on a whole different level if we sent in a carrier strike group and faked a raid plus a landing?” 

Even when the prime minister glared at them, the navy’s resistance continued, unwavering. 

It was impossible to tell whether they were being arrogant or competent, but that said, the Commonwealth—a naval power—had admirals known for their skill in coolheaded calculations of profits and losses. 

“It will lead to the Empire strengthening its defenses in the long term.” The comments spat by the admirals as if to say, You know it’s true, were full of significance. 

“As a result, we’ll have one more problem to deal with when it comes time for our real counteroffensive. If the coast is fortified, His Majesty’s troops will have to pay for each yard with their young blood. How dreadful.” The navy representatives spoke in a trivial tone as they puffed their cigars, intensely sarcastic. 

“I believe you know this already, but the navy isn’t planning on approving any such folly. We’re not a bunch of sadists.” 

Even after getting these remarks dripping with snark hurled at him by seasoned seamen…Churbull’s will to fight blazed brightly—and not only against the Empire. 

“The Federation’s objective to draw imperial units away from the lines in the east is a sound strategic way of thinking about it.” Not to be beaten at arrogance by anyone, Churbull puffed his cigar and blew violet smoke before continuing, as if he was speaking the obvious truth. “War is pointless if you lose. Helping out the Federation Army is a necessary expense to make sure we don’t get any tactless visitors calling on our coastline in the future… It’s fine to consider the needs of the coming counteroffensive, but in order to make that a reality, there are steps that need to be taken first. Am I wrong?” 

When the prime minister glared at them…several of the naval officers looked away with a frown that said, I see the logic, but… 

As far as Habergram could tell, it made sense for the admirals to be reluctant. 

The Commonwealth Navy’s main fleet had already committed some of its fleet destroyers to protect the trade route. They probably didn’t want to be ordered to conduct harassment attacks that had nothing to do with the type of decisive naval battles they were interested in. 

Ultimately, it would risk their ability to make use of the power of the full fleet. They were probably serious when they said they couldn’t agree with such a plan. 

“…But if we could at least strike the port where the enemy fleet is anchored.” 

The grudgingly offered alternative must have been one the navy had already carefully considered. And given how unwillingly he suggested it, it wasn’t what they really wanted anyhow. 

“Wouldn’t a coastal strike be the optimal way to rouse the enemy’s ground forces?” 

“It’s hard to evacuate troops after even a small-scale landing. Even a short operation would entail a large number of casualties. It’s not easy to train commandos, you know.” 

“Considering the aerial strength of the imperial coastal forces, a sneak attack would be tricky. If we’re going to choose such a high-risk, low-return option, wouldn’t something high-risk, high-return make more sense?” One of the admirals pointed out that fact, apparently omitting the set phrase, With all due respect, Prime Minister, without thinking, but Churbull laughed it off from the get-go. 

The navy faction remained, nevertheless, politely silent, and its attitude could be summed up in one word: unyielding. Whether it was due to an inclination toward risk avoidance or whatever it was, there had to be some reason they couldn’t passively accept the proposal. 

Hmm… Habergram was lost in thought when he noticed the navy representatives staring at him. 

Shite. When he realized, it was already too late. 

“It would be tricky without the cooperation of the intelligence agency. What do you think about it?” 

You’re dropping this in my lap now? he thought as he looked, as a formality, to the prime minister seated at the head of the table for permission to speak. 

“Habergram.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“It’s as he said. I’d like Intelligence to support the navy. You can make full use of Ultra intel.” 

Dizzied by this development that didn’t even permit him to complain about confidentiality, Habergram just barely managed to get some actual words to come out of his mouth. “…We’ll do our best, sir. May we have a few days?” 

“As long as the navy doesn’t mind, that’s fine with me.” 

To cut to the chase, the political request was prioritized in the end. 

Based on an agreement made in Londinium, the Federation and Commonwealth decided to further their “international cooperation.” 

After worrying so much about protecting secrets versus what actions could be taken during operations, Habergram was stuck putting together a plan with the navy while making use of Ultra and all their other sources of intelligence. 

Though there were slight complications, an operation using a carrier strike group in the west took shape. The core of the plan was assaults on military ports by the carrier planes, but it would also feature a capital ship bombardment. The objective was to threaten the Empire’s western coast, thereby implying the opening of a second front and hopefully taking some imperial pressure off the east. 

The name of the distraction was Operation Tea Party. 

It was rumored that someone called it that in a bid to liven things up. 

Meanwhile, the Federation and Commonwealth agreed to plan a future joint operation in former Entente Alliance territory based on a firm request from the army and navy. 

In other words, the Commonwealth said, On the principle of reciprocity, you should sweat and bleed into the sea, too! and the Communists accepted without flinching. 

Thus, the die was cast. 

AROUND THE SAME TIME, ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF IMPERIAL CAPITAL BERUN 

Even a military city not so far from the outskirts of the imperial capital couldn’t really be called a city of the Reich unless it had at least one café. 

Fortunately, this café has enough space for Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff and her officers to chat after placing their dinner orders, newspapers held under their arms to read while they wait. 

Lieutenant Colonel Uger introduced her to the spot, and she feels safe in calling it a good one. She’s really starting to like the atmosphere. 

A café that is comfortable but devoid of civilians who tend to have annoying misunderstandings is the perfect place for an officer back from the battlefield to reach for a newspaper. It’s an officer’s instinct to get a general handle on public opinion, the state of the world, and anything they may have missed. 

I’m glad he introduced me to his place, thinks Tanya as she looks over multiple newspapers as if that’s simply what one does. 

They’re filled with nothing but exaggerated articles written in an energetic tone. It’s all good news and puff pieces. 

As Tanya works her way through the papers, her expression grows ever gloomier. 

She’s smart enough to get it. She doesn’t even try to hide her bitter expression when she looks up from the pages. 

“It’s all coverage about how we repelled the Commonwealth Navy’s sneak attack. ‘Repelled’? Sheesh, I can’t believe we’re getting sneak attacked by carrier-based planes and feeling proud of ourselves for driving them off,” she gripes. She’s disenchanted. 

Air forces, of which carrier-based aircraft are representative, swarm and then pull out—that’s what they do. It’s only a matter of course that they pull out! I can’t believe they’re not ashamed to be like, Ya, we repelled them. It’s about on the wordplay level of saying changing direction when you mean retreating. 

If you read between the lines, it’s easy to see what the imperial authorities are trying to hide. 

“Apparently, we really didn’t achieve much in that fight,” Tanya grumbles and reflects on the weakening of the Empire’s position in the west. 

It would be different if cannons on land had exchanged fire with the naval cannons and repelled the ships themselves, but if we just intercepted the planes and drove them off…that’s the same as saying they got away safely. 

Yet, the military’s really not going to admit that they got one over on us? 

“I heard from a friend in the west that it was utter chaos.” 

“I bet it was,” Tanya responds to First Lieutenant Serebryakov with a nod. They probably weren’t prepared at all—it was a sneak attack. 

In wartime, it’s important to have other sources of information besides the sensationalized official news. 

“We can’t trust the newspapers. So what really happened?” 

“The training mage company my classmate is with got scrambled… It seems the aerial fights in the west are less about attacking and more about defending these days.” 

“Wait a sec. A training company went up for an actual mission?” Tanya asks on a reflex. 

Even if she could guess that the west is short on fighting power, it’s pretty horrible if they are sending troops who are still learning how to fly into combat missions. 

“Yes,” answers Serebryakov, looking pale. “They don’t get deployed elsewhere, but apparently, it’s normal for them to go up to intercept.” 

“Talk about short on manpower.” 

Once you’re at war, you can’t expect to have enough of anything. Even so, this is pretty extreme. 

It’s enough to make me worry. 

“…I’ve heard similar stories.” 

“Really, Lieutenant Wüstemann? I get that we’re short on people, but…what would you say the average flight hours is for newbies before they get stationed somewhere?” 

In the next moment, Tanya regrets asking him so casually. 

“It seems like they’re cutting it at thirty hours of combat-style flight. Including navigation and basic training, it’s probably still only about a hundred hours.” 

He said it like it was no big deal, but the number can be described only as shocking. 

Perhaps Wüstemann is so used to this that it doesn’t seem strange to him. 

But for the veteran magic officers, it’s a different story. They all stare at him in bewilderment. 

“…Are you sure that’s right?” 

“Yes, I’m pretty sure that’s accurate. Is something wrong, Major Weiss?” 

“That’s horrible.” 

“Oh…” 

The contrast between Wüstemann’s uncomprehending look and Weiss’s face like he’d sucked a dozen lemons is emblematic of, I suppose you could say, the gap between pre- and mid-war? 

…I’ve heard that the manpower shortage is so serious that most of magic officer training has been cut out, but this makes it sound like barely any time is being allocated to training mages at all. 

“This gives me a headache. It might be only a matter of time before all the aerial mage battalions are called dodo battalions.” 

“Things are rough for birds that can’t fly. Let’s at least aim to be penguins.” 

Weiss and Grantz try to lighten up the depressed mood with jokes, but it’s not very funny. 

That said, Tanya is encouraged to know that her subordinates have the wherewithal to be so considerate… The Salamander Kampfgruppe, with the 203rd as its nucleus, is blessed in that respect. 

Sadly, the army on the whole isn’t. 

“Yeah, it probably is better if you can swim when you get shot down.” 

“Spoken as one who’s used to being downed.” 

“I wish you’d say ‘used to being shot.’” 

Weiss, who has been shot through the shoulder once; Grantz, who’s teasing him about it; and the other older hands definitely have war-nut tendencies, but that’s not such a big problem for Tanya. 

She thinks of it as what most people would call individuality. 

Individuality must be respected. As long as they’re all competent officers, their individual personalities aren’t something she needs to be concerned with. 

“Lieutenant Wüstemann, asking you this is a bit awkward, but…do you think the new recruits will actually provide us with some fighting power?” 

Wüstemann responds with a sober expression. “Honestly, I think it will be tough. They have their hands full simply flying, and they’re dropping at a rate that would previously have been unimaginable.” 

Everyone had to heave a sigh at that news. 

“And the number of mages who can stay in the air after being hit has been decreasing… We’re seeing more newbies with wounds that would have been treatable die in crashes.” 

We invest in their education and then squander them due to a lack of polish. What a waste. 

Tanya’s opinion would probably strike Weiss, who spoke so emotionally, as a bit off, but that’s also individuality. 

Either way, they can agree it’s not a good policy. This is so tricky, thinks Tanya for the umpteenth time. 

“So the western air fleet that made its name on the Rhine front is a thing of the past now?” First Lieutenant Serebryakov sighs in spite of herself. She used to serve in the west, so it’s only natural that she would feel mournful about the decline of the once powerful western armada. 

“The way they’re drawing off troops to send to the east, it can’t be helped.” 

It’s a sad conclusion. But Tanya has to defend the west. She glances at Weiss and he gets it. 

“Still, it’s pretty bold of them to come out swinging with a naval fleet. I guess it was large-scale recon-in-force?” 

“Must have been.” Tanya nods. Then she adds, “The Commonwealth chaps are raring to fight, so they came to make a move. Their expensive seagoing hotels had been no better than toys, but when they remembered they existed, they must have felt like making them do some work.” 

There are innumerable similar examples of military actions that were taken based purely on the strategic impact they would have. This latest attack must have been something similar. 

It’s quite easy to understand the Commonwealth Navy’s aim of throwing imperial-occupied territories into confusion. It’s basically an expanded application of the Raid on Scarborough. 3 

Or more plainly, it’s like Doolittle’s Tokyo Raid. 

Harassment and propaganda. 

Less like a conventional battle and more just persistence in striking a weak point, but it’s extremely effective, so I recognize the threat it poses. 

“We have to acknowledge the outcome. It’s going to be hard to pull any more troops from the west. We may even have to send reinforcements their way.” Tanya is forced to make a disheartening conclusion. “…The east is going to get the short end of the stick for a while, I suppose. It’s unclear how that will affect us, but it probably won’t be fun.” 

In response to Tanya’s negative, you could say, outlook, Weiss asks, “The fact that the timing lined up with Ildoa’s posturing made me feel like we were being attacked from all sides. It sent a chill up my spine. Do you think they planned it that way?” 

“We can’t easily assume it wasn’t their intention.” 

Weiss is right to be anxious. 

Considering how the enemy might think, it’s clear. They reminded the Empire of the latent threat the sea and Ildoa posed. 

Now that we know what the problem is, we probably need to do something about it. Which means strengthening defenses. We have to do something, even if the means to are scarce. 

“Simply scaring us is already a win for the enemy.” 

Sadly, the Empire doesn’t have an infinite fountain of manpower. 

It has to split up its limited resources. This was a very cost-effective move for the enemy considering that the Imperial Army has to allocate troops to somewhere that isn’t the main front. 

It was a good investment for the states warring against the Empire. 

“The biggest pain is that they’ve proven that it’s possible.” 

It’s not about intention but ability. 

That’s probably what Weiss is worried about, too. 

“Yes, even if it’s merely a possibility…it’s clear that we can’t ignore the threat at our back.” 

“Things will get really hairy if they start making landings.” 

That was what happened after Normandy. Anyone who knows Operation Overlord 4 can tell that the strategic dilemma facing the Empire, with its similar geography, is obvious. 

The burden on the eastern front is too great. 

One thing’s clear, and that’s that we can’t go on like this. 

“Luckily”—Tanya relaxes her expression in a bit of a smile—“the Kingdom of Ildoa is playing it smart. We can probably hold out some hope there.” 

“…Excuse me, ma’am, but do you really think Ildoa is smart?” Weiss asks with his eyes if she’s being sarcastic, but she shakes her head. A player who deserves respect doesn’t necessarily have to have a wonderful personality. 

Look at Talleyrand, Palmerston, or Bismarck. 

You could call them all a fine pack of monster kin…and you would be quite right. It would have been a nightmare to negotiate as a diplomat with any of those guys. 

But if you view them as players, they’re all renowned experts. 

“For an allied country, we sure can’t trust them at all.” 

Both eternal allies and perpetual enemies are impossible for a state. The eternal in diplomacy means valuing the method itself as the purpose. 

But that’s an unforgivable cessation of thought. What’s really admirable is a healthy raison d’état. 

Even a dirty move, if made with a minimum of intelligence and a sense of national purpose…is incredibly smart. 

“Ildoa as a neutral country isn’t an actor we need to be rid of just yet.” On the contrary… Tanya thinks quite highly of Ildoa. “As long as our interests align, we can trust their dirtiness.” 

“You mean you can trust a competent enemy more than an incompetent ally?” 

“Excuse you, Major Weiss. The Kingdom of Ildoa is our wonderful ally. I’m sure having such a competent player on our team will end with good results for the Empire as well. Either way,” she continues, “it’s great to be able to negotiate.” 

“Colonel, you think this development is good?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” She turns to First Lieutenant Grantz, who has chimed in. “The essence of civilization is language.” 

“Language is awfully leisurely. War is more direct.” 

If only this could be ended just by lamenting. 

It makes sense for a mid-ranking officer like Grantz to suggest attacking the enemy…but even if individuality is to be respected, there has to be a limit somewhere. The members of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion like war too much. The thought puts Tanya at a loss. Yet she can’t reprove them for being full of fighting spirit—the awkwardness. 

“We can hardly burn down every country besides our own and send the world back to the Stone Age. So we should be open to talking. Listen,” she continues. “Discussion, troops, discussion. Talking is the first step to making up.” 

“With all due respect…do you think Ildoa will really end up mediating?” 

“No, it’s impossible.” 

“Huh? Then isn’t this a waste of time?” 

“I agree with Lieutenant Grantz. There’s no reason we need to go along with the enemy’s delaying tactics…” 

Grantz isn’t the only one looking stunned. I’m appalled to find even Weiss sympathizing! 

Hence me always wanting to cry, This is the problem with warmongers! 

“Officially, the wonderful ladies and gentlemen of the Kingdom of Ildoa are our allies. Kindly refrain from referring to them as enemies so casually. Look.” She lowers her voice and adds, “Regardless of what Ildoa’s motive is, they didn’t think things through enough here. The Empire has beaten the Republic, the Entente Alliance, and Dacia besides. A peace treaty with those countries might be possible. But”—she pauses to sigh—“if the Kingdom of Ildoa is engaging with the Empire on behalf of the Federation, the Commonwealth, and the Free Republic…its motive is clear.” 

The other officers don’t seem to see it, so she tells them. 

“Ildoa can only be aiming for none other than peace on all fronts.” 

This isn’t the sort of situation where peace with each country separately could come about. In order to close the curtain on this war, Ildoa needs to talk with everyone. 

Yes, with everyone involved. 

That’s not the kind of meeting that can come together very quickly. 

“And everyone’s too stubborn to agree to overall peace. Neither the Federation nor the Commonwealth will accept an Empire victory. Not unless we make some big concessions…” 

“Colonel, do you think the Empire should make concessions?” 

“That’s a good question, Lieutenant Serebryakov.” Employing some care in choosing her words, Tanya delivers her conclusion. “Honestly, it’s probably not something a soldier on active duty should think about. We’re soldiers—soldiers engaged in the service of our emperor and our fatherland.” 

Peace is a milestone on the path to a world without war. How could anyone be against it? 

“Unless you’re a savage or an idiot, we have no choice but to follow the military’s rules and regulations.” 

When the food arrives, Tanya puts a stop to that conversation. 

“…All right. That’s enough of the super-serious talk. Let’s enjoy this dinner, troops.” 

A meal is always a joy. 

Even with the worsening lack of supplies, distribution in the Empire is still functioning well enough that dining out is possible. 

Honestly, if asked whether she’d like to eat at the General Staff Office, she would promptly refuse—that’s how good the food is. Probably any soldier would choose a café recommended by a friend over that stuffy dining room. 

Palatable food and a decent atmosphere make for a dinner that’s not too shabby. In other words, it’s a great place to discuss vacation. 

“And while we’re at it, let’s talk about what’s up next. For the time being, we’re on standby. We’re not in a war zone. As long as you don’t do anything that requires the MPs to get involved, I don’t mind if you cut loose.” 

“Understood,” says Weiss. Tanya figures he’s fine. She’s a bit more anxious about Serebryakov, Grantz, Wüstemann, and the other lieutenants. 

“Got it, you guys? Take care—yes, extra care—not to get in a fight with the MPs.” As she presses her point, she continues as if she has remembered something. “I imagine it’ll be a short break before we return to the east, but…you can go home for a visit if you want. As long as you’re not on duty, you can do as you please once we get back.” 

“Um, who’s on?” 

The one who asks is Weiss. In other words, he seems dependable. 

“I trust you, Major Weiss! We’ll—you’ll go halves with me.” 

“…Understood.” 

It’s not that she doesn’t feel bad for not being able to give him a full vacation, but work is work. She needs him to simply resign himself to the fact that this is the misfortune that accompanies military service. 

The one responsible exists to take responsibility. 

Granted, another way of doing things is to push responsibility off onto your subordinates…but Tanya doesn’t want to associate with the fools who boast, I’m a waste of space who doesn’t even take care of the stuff I’m responsible for! 

Hmm. Tanya calms her thoughts a bit. 

“But, man, ersatz food sure is awful. As per usual, there’s nothing that whets my appetite less.” 

“Given the situation in the homeland, the front lines must be getting favorable treatment when it comes to food.” 

“That’s probably how it should be, but once your tongue gets a taste of luxury, it takes time to reacclimate.” 

“I’m not sure if you can call frontline life luxurious…” 

Before Tanya realizes it, she’s…stupefied. 

Even once I reboot, it’s so surreal, I’m shocked. I—a person who values a civilized, cultured lifestyle and respects intelligence—have been charmed by the battlefield? 

What an awful thing war is. I must acknowledge this unexpected truth: In a world at war, the harshness of everyday life can warp even human customs and values. 

“…It’s an incorrigible problem.” It’s all Tanya can do to gasp out that one remark. 

When she reaches for the coffee cup that was finally brought over, thinking to calm herself down, she notices something strange. “Sheesh, so the coffee is all ersatz?” 

She doesn’t even have to put it in her mouth—the weak scent is enough to make her sick of it. It’s hard to call drinking odorless muddy water civilized. 

But she knows she has no choice, so she takes a sip, but her expression still makes her look ill. 

“Well, it does taste a little better…” 

Coffee is a luxury item. 

Personally, Tanya would like to object, but coffee isn’t considered a necessity. Yet a nearly fanatical love for coffee is pathological throughout the Empire. 

The Imperial Army without coffee is like Limeys without their rum. It’s nowhere near possible to call that a healthy existence. 

The awful taste of the coffee you can recognize even half-asleep is a barometer that tells you the Empire’s status. If things go on like this, they really will be substituting muddy water for coffee soon. Something has to be done. Of course, we don’t have many choices. 

It has to be peace. 

“We should. We should, right? But…” 

With outside ears around, she swallows the words make peace. 

When she scans the café, she doesn’t spot anyone who seems to be overtly listening, but she has to be careful. Even if the MPs aren’t listening, she doesn’t have any desire to get into a wrangle with good-intentioned patriots, either. 

Tanya knows that civilians in the rear tend to espouse more radical opinions than the soldiers. 

No knowledge, no shame—something like that maybe. 

People who’ve never been on the battlefield tell us to “win” the war like it’s so simple. Apparently, people who don’t know the battlefield also don’t know that nothing is more irritating than their cheerleading. Being able to shoot clueless newbies who are like, I came to help you guys! is my only joy on the front line. 

Most people don’t learn something unless they experience it. 

Tanya doesn’t disagree that the tuition for experience is too high, but neither can she deny how effective the education is. 

“Sheesh. In that sense, this flavor is reality.” 

The bitter flavor of this coffee is the Empire’s truth. How many people, upon experiencing this taste, would think of the nation’s fighting forces? 

Not most of them, and just as she’s ready to be done with that line of thought, she notices a waiter heading her way, and her body stiffens. 

Has running her mouth off caused some kind of trouble? 

“…Excuse me, are you Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff?” 

“That’s right… But wait, sorry, you are…?” 

She doesn’t know why he knows her name. 

Maybe the reason she braces herself—Has he caught me in his web?—is all the time she spent playing with the Federation commandos on the front. 

“Oh, do excuse me. Lieutenant Colonel Uger comes here quite often…” 

“Oh, Colonel Uger? Sure is a small world.” 

It happens just as experience is really making the alarm bells in Tanya’s brain clang. When she finds out he’s someone Uger knows, she lets her hovering hips fall back down to her seat and answers him with an exaggerated smile. 

“…He told me that if a young girl came in today and complained about the coffee, I should give her some of ‘the reserve.’” 

“‘The reserve’?” 

What’s this? She notices something pungent wafting toward her and cocks her head. 

“…Hmm? This smell…” 

“It’s nothing special, but please have a cup.” 

“Ooh!” She inadvertently expresses her delight at the smell of coffee. The cup of liquid being poured describes itself by its transparent blackness and, more than anything, its rich fragrance. 

The smell leaping into her nostrils is indeed the genuine article she has been longing for. 

“It’s the real thing, imported via Ildoa, although we haven’t been getting much lately.” 

“Wonderful.” Her tense expression relaxes and she ends up smiling. 

It’s good news that imports can make it in through a third-party country. It means Ildoa is being useful as a neutral country, at least insofar as letting luxury goods through. 

“It’s the Railroad Department’s vice, right?” 

“To the extent the law permits.” 

“Of course. This is Colonel Uger we’re talking about. He’s so precise— I can just see him making sure he doesn’t bring in more than regulations allow.” 

“Ha-ha-ha. You know him well.” 

What a pleasant conversation with this smiling waiter. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy it.” 

The scent of intelligence, civilization, and culture. 

This is it—a civilized individual’s break time…is how wholeheartedly delighted she was about to be when the nasty voice of one of her self-centered subordinates dampens her mood. 

“I’m honored to partake of my share.” 

“Tch, right, you guys are here.” 

“Colonel, it’s not fair!” 

In response to Tanya’s snarl, her subordinates come back as though their feelings have been hurt; their mental game is tough. 

Is it their thirst for coffee, perhaps? The Imperial Army’s attachment to caffeine is a bad habit. I may not be allowed to voice such thoughts, but thinking so in disgust is my prerogative. 

“I seem to remember you guys drinking up my gift from Colonel Uger, though…” 

“We did it in the war-buddy spirit.” 

That not only the three lieutenants but even Weiss is looking over at her expectantly is a pain. Their insistence is formidable, and she is nothing but irritated by their smooth talking. 

Agh… Tanya gives up on monopolizing the coffee with a sigh. 

Thus, she’s coerced into calling after the waiter who is on his way back to the kitchen. “Sorry, but you can see the predicament I’m in. Do you think I could get some for my officers, as well?” 

Seeing the unwilling look on her face, he must have sympathized with her from the bottom of his heart. “Understood,” he said, and I should add that the look in his eyes as he nodded was terribly courteous. 

Perceiving the deepest essence of hospitality in the way he so tactfully prepared enough for everyone without saying a word, Tanya lifts her cup. 

“All right, troops. Let’s savor this little moment with our coffee.” 

Ready? She looks around at the group, and it hits her. 

Once everyone had received their cup, she had begun giving a toast even though it wasn’t alcohol, and it doesn’t even feel that weird. 

It’s a bizarre experience, this feeling that it’s strange and yet not strange at all…but coffee has been in short supply for some time now. It would be a waste to just gulp it down in one go. 

“To the ally who may or may not submit to us! Cheers!” 

Everyone cracks a smile and enjoys their coffee. She didn’t intend it to be a sort of group ritual, but it’s fun nonetheless. 

She takes a leisurely sip, closes her eyes, and savors the flavor. 

Ahhh, the taste of civilization. 

Her cheeks relax in spite of herself, and she exhales deeply, entranced. 

The food was so-so, and the coffee was the real thing. Tonight she’s also impressed, thinking, Colonel Uger really knows how to choose them. 

A half-assed neutral country is often a bat flitting around. But as long as the bat is useful, it will be welcomed by all sides. 

Surely Ildoa is trying to walk the line as closely as it can. Toward the Empire, it’s being as troublesome as allowed while trying to do favors as major as possible for the Commonwealth and the Federation. 

If you called it being faithful to its raison d’état, that would be the end of it. 

In a word, it’s robust. 

If it wasn’t being faithful to its contract, that would be another story. But when something isn’t written, it’s the same as if it doesn’t exist. Types of ingratitude that don’t appear in the contract should be allowed. 

To Tanya, that’s obvious, since they’re signing a contract, not exchanging ideas. The party that brazenly hurls abuse is merely a numbskull who can’t admit it was their own mistake to not read the contract thoroughly. 

For better or worse, it’s great to know that Ildoa is a player with good sense. 

Formally, it’s an ally, but in practice, it’s neutral. 

But if it then sends us luxury goods…well, one instance of trouble isn’t a bad way to make us understand what sort of player Ildoa is. 

“That said, what will it do, I wonder?” 

The murmured question is everything. 

What will the Kingdom of Ildoa do now? 

It announced itself as a player of the game. So what role do they want in it? 

“Will it be a good-natured mediator? Will it negotiate hard? Or does it simply want to join the war?” 

No matter which route the Kingdom of Ildoa takes, its abilities and determination will be tested. But these guys have expressed their intention to play in a healthy way. 

If there’s a problem, it’s that the game Ildoa is trying to play isn’t single player. 

The key will be how the Empire handles this. 

Sadly, you’d be hard-pressed to call the Empire good at this game. 

“It’s kind of a test to see how well we can follow that elementary tenet of state management, Know the enemy, know yourself. No, this isn’t what someone on the commander level should be thinking about.” She grumbles quietly into her coffee cup. “…There are too many things I have no control over. This really drives it home that people in the field can’t fix strategic-level mistakes.” 

If she were serving in the core of the General Staff, it would be different. 

But although she’s given considerable authority, Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is still just one officer. Her realm is commanding in the field. 

Due to the special organizational structure, she has a lot of freedom. But she’s not in a position to participate when the key members are drawing up the strategy. That makes Tanya incredibly frustrated. 

If she doesn’t accept it, then she’ll just have to do something on her own. 

“We should sow some seeds while it’s still early,” she murmurs, and her mouth relaxes into a smile. 

She’s encouraged to no end that she has someone she can talk to about these subtleties. 

“Change of plans.” 

It pains her to obliterate her subordinates’ vacation. 

She’s fully aware that everyone was looking forward to spending the night in the capital, but given the pressing nature of her business, she needs to make use of her officers. 

If they were privates, it might be different, but these are officers. 

Authority and rank are proportional to responsibility. 

“Major Weiss, you stay back. Lieutenant Serebryakov, sorry, but go back and tell Captain Ahrens or Captain Meybert that I need him on duty tonight.” 

“Understood. Should I report in when I’m done?” 

“No, a chance like this doesn’t come often. Go have a chat with your friend in the west.” 

When it comes to talking about subtleties, Weiss is easier. Furthermore, if we have a connection we can tap for info about the situation in the west, that takes priority. 

After telling her adjutant to pay her friend a visit, Tanya politely calls the waiter to ask him a favor. “Can I borrow the phone?” 

THE SAME DAY, EVENING 

You’d be hard-pressed to say that an officer of the Service Corps in the General Staff is blessed with much spare time. 

And when it comes to those Lieutenant General von Zettour has working on railroad matters, they’re glued to the timetables where every second counts. 

It’s the busiest department in the General Staff. And rail management specialist Lieutenant Colonel Uger doesn’t take his work lightly… 

“It’s been a while, Colonel Uger. I hope your wife and daughter are well?” 

“Yes, quite well. I’m a little worried my daughter is forgetting my face, but…” 

“Sorry to hold you up in the evening when you should be home for family service.” 

“It must be something you don’t want outsiders to hear, right? Are you in a hurry?” 

…Which is why Tanya feels that having the social capital to be able to ask someone inside the General Staff to meet is a bigger advantage than she could have hoped for. 

Who you know, who you can talk to, who you’re connected to… Those elements are often undervalued, but trust is like air. 

When you have it, it’s easier to breathe. 

“…Oh, I just wanted to shoot the breeze about the state of things.” 

“I…see.” He smiles weakly. Perhaps he thinks her excuse insensitive. Tanya finds herself wondering if she should have instead said, talk about old times, but what’s done is done. 

“I believe you’ve met, but I’ll reintroduce you. This is one of my men, Major Weiss.” 

Weiss salutes in silence. After glancing at him, Uger turns to Tanya in confusion and asks, “You want to shoot the breeze? That’s fine, but are you having him come along?” 

“Well, I look so tiny, you know. If I’m out walking at night alone, I get caught by the MPs or public security police and scolded. Wouldn’t you worry about your daughter if she was out alone at this hour, Colonel?” 

“I’m not sure if you’re being serious or using it as a convenient means to your end, but I’ll go with it.” 

At least he’s not objecting to sharing secrets. 

Real coffee fills their cups to the brim. Uger takes a sip and smiles, crinkling his eyes. 

“So?” The first thing he asks is what she’s here for. “Colonel von Degurechaff, cut straight to the chase for me.” 

“The chase?” 

“I haven’t forgotten our time in war college. I was so surprised by the novel points you brought to our debates. It makes me nostalgic thinking about it.” His eyes smile and she can’t sense any tension from him. She begins to worry he’s turned into an old man reminiscing over the past. 

Exhausted eyes, the sharp increase in gray hairs, that tone of voice that makes it sound like he’s in pain—it all makes his actual age difficult to guess. 

Hard work and stress are the main causes, but lack of sleep probably doesn’t help. 

“…It feels like so long ago.” 

“So much has happened.” 

“So true. There really have been so many things going on.” 

Whatever the reason, the officers of the General Staff are aging dramatically. If you didn’t know Uger’s real age, you would probably talk about him as the old lieutenant colonel like he was a character in a story. 

It has to be the poor working conditions. 

As far as Tanya knows, military law requires that staffers take proper vacations and keep their physical strength up, but…in times of war, the law falls silent is apparently a saying. 

“Which is why I want to know what you want to chat for.” 

“…Even I’m a bit hesitant to cut to the chase this time.” 

Both Weiss and Uger flinch, bracing themselves, and Tanya winces inwardly. They don’t need to react so theatrically. 

Well, setting aside overly stressed Uger, at least… 

“I just figured, since it’s you and me.” 

“I’m honored, Colonel… So now what should I say?” 

Tanya emits a sigh—“haah”—and begins to speak. “The Imperial Army is in no position to pursue victory. We at least need to admit that we’re deadlocked.” 

When she inquires with her eyes what he thinks, she sees that he understands. 

“There’s no doubt about that.” Uger nods with a bitter expression on his face. He’s a logistics and railroad specialist. 

The organization that is the Imperial Army is facing various problems. Chief among them, and the one that he is in charge of, is that due to excessive expansion of the lines, the logistics network supporting them has been stretched to its limits. You could say he’s the one in all the General Staff who understands this problem the best. 

Because he is that sort of person, even Tanya, concerned with self-preservation, can say the following: “Allow me to reason from our premise.” She explains the main premise. “The Reich cannot take any further expansion of the lines. We have no reason to expect that our enemies will surrender. We’re deadlocked.” 

At the moment, they’re definitely dealing with the situation—coping. The fact that the Imperial Army, which never envisioned a long war, has hung in here so long is due to miraculously hard work. 

The current state is a quagmire—or a lull, you could say. 

“And the General Staff is concerned about it. I’m not in a position to know General von Zettour’s inner feelings, but I’m sure he’s aware of the problem.” 

“I agree. So having considered the Imperial Army’s situation, located the problem in the strategic realm, and defined that problem—” 

“That’s enough.” 

“Huh?” Tanya cocks her head when Uger stops her, and he speaks frankly. 

“Colonel von Degurechaff, let’s not spin our wheels here. I’m sure neither of us has time to spare.” 

“Then if you insist…” She straightens up and continues, “Colonel Uger, an immediate peace is our only option.” 

“Peace? …Colonel von Degurechaff, I’m surprised you aren’t aware. The Foreign Office and other organizations are actively searching for a way to negotiate. Peace is—” 

No. She stops him with a look and interrupts. “The current situation is a stalemate.” 

She uses a chess metaphor because it describes their circumstances in a straightforward way. 

The Empire can’t find its next move. And how could it? is how Tanya sees things. What can this be called if not a deadlock? 

“We don’t have a move to make. You may find this repetitive, but allow me to say this with that in mind.” 

She takes a deep breath and…can’t quite spit out what comes next. She’s aware that even with an old friend from war college like Uger, in the Empire’s paradigm, it’s a view that she should think twice about expressing. 

Still, she’s not interested in being the type of trash who stays silent when things need to be said. 

“I believe there is no path but to immediately propose a peace with restitutio in integrum.” 

But her determined words don’t seem to make much of an impression. 

Weiss, gaping at her, doesn’t seem to understand. But it’s no wonder. 

Tanya, like all imperial soldiers, is fighting for victory. 

Ever since the Empire’s founding, that has been its unending tale of glory. 

Victory means magnificent expansion. Even if someone understood the need for peace, until it was pointed out to them, they wouldn’t understand the essence of the matter. 

“Thus, we shouldn’t reject restoring the borders back to their prewar locations with no annexations, dropping all demands, and requiring no reparations, and if need be, signing an arms limitation treaty.” Tanya finishes what she has to say. From her perspective, they need to give up. 

Incurring further losses out of regret for the enormous sunken costs is putting the cart before the horse. 

This is one of the mistakes people make constantly. 

It’s a classic pattern of collapse repeated time and again by great corporations, firms obsessed with successful experiences. 

But that’s just her opinion. 

Hence, moderate, sensible Uger’s pained expression. 

“Colonel von Degurechaff, that’s not peace.” 

“Then what is it?” 

“It’s no different from surrender. It certainly can’t be called peace.” The color of his face as he snapped at her, though he’s just barely controlling himself…well, he should probably be praised for the attempt given the intense emotions he’s suppressing. 

“…Do you know how much this war has cost? How many young corpses we’ve piled up?” 

“With all due respect, that’s why I think we should be against any further sacrifices.” 

He’s probably been shocked speechless. 

After a few moments of silence, he addresses Weiss. “Major Weiss, how do you see it?” 

“Huh?” 

“I want to know the opinion of an officer in the field. How do you see it?” 

He’s implying he wants a view that isn’t Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff’s. 

Her subordinate asks with his eyes if it’s all right for him to speak, and Tanya nods. 

“Go ahead, Major. Say whatever’s on your mind.” 

She anticipated this type of question from the start. 

Serebryakov has been her adjutant for too long. Hence she brought Weiss. She’s sure that even if his opinion can’t be called objective, it’ll be useful as a reference. 

“To jump right to the point…if given a choice between sacrifices proportional to our gains or not making any more sacrifices, I’d hope for the latter. But I also think it would be very difficult to give up at this point.” 

“I see. So that’s the feeling on the front lines.” 

“It’s how I feel personally, at least.” 

In the face of Weiss and Uger’s interaction, Tanya stiffens. I have to admit, I thought I had his answer figured out. 

“…Hold up, Major Weiss.” 

…So she has to interrupt. 

“You can’t give up, either?” 

“Actually, I wonder why you can, Colonel.” 

“Because it’s our only choice. Being a frontline commander is about making decisions and focusing.” 

Weiss may be accustomed to war, but he also understands common sense. That’s her honest view of him. 

He can be practical if need be, she thought, and even, He couldn’t not be. And yet… Why?! 

Why is he expressing open confusion?! 

“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but that’s just a theory… It’s an opinion.” 

A soldier who knows the cutthroat world of fighting on the front line should be on board with peace. Tanya believed that unwaveringly. This is the first instant she felt it wobble. 

“All right, Colonel, I hope you’ll leave it at that. Let’s get back to the main topic.” 

“Okay.” She turns back to Uger. 

“…I understand your logic; I do.” 

“Thank you, Colonel Uger.” 

“But Colonel von Degurechaff, it’s like he said.” 

Tanya is forced to reluctantly agree. Nodding in silence is her tiny act of rebellion. 

Her attitude is less due to childishness than being dazed. 

“We can’t give up. Even this one you’ve been training for ages comes back from the front lines and agrees!” 

“I think she’s agreed…” 

“Even though, intellectually, I hate it to death, I nodded, but I feel like I’m stuck resisting to the bitter end in a pillbox. I can’t agree to this gladly.” 

Uger’s face is extremely hard. In the same way, Tanya’s disapproval is probably showing in her voice. 

“You’re fine with more losses?” 

“You’re fine with the losses so far meaning nothing?” 

Ohhh. That’s when Tanya understands. 

It’s the Concorde Effect. 5 

The Concorde Effect, of all things! 

Without a doubt, this war has become an investment that is no longer worth it for the Empire. It has spent massive amounts of money on the war, as well as dumping every last young person—its working population—all over the ground. 

What has it gotten? Large swathes of territory crawling with partisans and guerrillas. 

To say it’s not worth it is a gross understatement. 

If you think about it sensibly and squeeze everywhere you can, you could probably aim to improve revenue, but at the most basic level, it’s still an unprofitable enterprise. The best, if it were possible, would be to wrap up this venture immediately. 

There’s just one problem. 

…After going through so much hardship, there’s that feeling that you must get returns. 

“So even you’ll argue against me?” 

“If it weren’t you, I’d be screaming and kicking my chair over… Colonel von Degurechaff…immediate peace is just too absurd.” 

“The only way to resolve this I can see is the peace you just called absurd.” 

Uger starts arguing back “But that’s nothing but surrender!” sharp and fierce, but Tanya can see where he’s going and gets ahead of him. 

“At least it’s way better than an unconditional surrender once we’re invaded.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“But I’m pretty sure the General Staff hasn’t figured out how to end the war in the near to midterm via victory. So logically, you can’t rule out the enemy forcing peace upon us.” 

For a time, Uger falls quiet before her, and she glares silently back at him. What Tanya is describing is an entirely plausible vision of the future. 

She’s confident that a soldier—precisely because they’re a soldier—should be able to grasp this possibility. And she and Uger were vying for class position in war college. He’s far from foolish; there’s no way he can’t understand it. 

Yet he’s being so insensible. 

And yet…, she repeats in her head and then finally realizes what the root of the problem is. “So you’re saying that even a soldier who is against sacrifices is still stubbornly against peace.” 

She doesn’t even have to look at Uger’s expression as he nods tiredly. “That’s how it is. In the rear, we’ve got the irritating-as-hell, delusional monster known as ‘public opinion’ causing trouble. How much do you know?” 

“I keep getting transferred from battlefield to battlefield, so I don’t hear much about public opinion in the homeland.” 

“Colonel von Degurechaff, take a look at this.” 

What made a slight noise as he laid it gently on the table was a precision pocket watch. From the looks of it, an old model. It isn’t as small as a wristwatch. Still, it’s an exquisite piece; she can gather that the craftsman put a lot of careful work into it. 

“A pocket watch?” 

“This.” 

“The chain? What about it?” 

“Originally, they were silver. But then the order to collect all silver went out.” 

“I see… So your point is…?” 

“In restaurants at home, people are seriously saying that this is the ‘greatest sacrifice.’ That the reason they’re enduring such inconvenience is for victory.” 

If it weren’t her friend Uger saying it, she probably would have dismissed the comments outright as preposterous. 

“Even for something like that, they’re demanding high returns… And the radio shows and newspapers are on board with it.” 

“Isn’t there censorship?” 

“You think this surge of desire to fight can be stopped? The censorship plan is just trial and error. Since there wasn’t a plan in advance, they’re only now finally trying it out.” 

“We’ve got amateurs in control of the media? No wonder our propaganda sucks.” 

Usually foreign news is more objective when you’re the losing country, but the Imperial Army is winning, so it’s pretty bad if our news is experiencing that phenomenon. It’s to the point that embedded foreign reporters’ stories are published in their home countries before the imperial reporters’ stories are even through the censors. 

Tanya had despised the Imperial Army control of the media as an incarnation of ineptitude, but hearing there isn’t even a plan is just frightening. 

“Y-you mean, there’s no way to calm down this war frenzy?” 

When she says it, the realization finally hits me. 

I don’t even need to recall the Hibiya incendiary incident. Even the winning side becomes intoxicated by success. Bismarck just had to take Alsace-Lorraine. Once Napoleon was too victorious, Talleyrand could advise him only so much. 

…Apart from a major defeat, there’s nothing worse than a major victory. That irritating-as-hell saying hits on an eternal truth. 

It’s just like the bubble. 

Until the reigning fanaticism bursts, it will keep growing without end. If you tried to stop it, the reaction would probably be unimaginably fierce. 

“…This is the worst. If we try to dampen their desire to fight, we could end up with bigger problems than the war.” 

“We don’t know if that would happen.” 

“Colonel Uger, you’ll have to excuse me, but I think rather than being optimistic, we need to be prepared as pessimists.” 

Even if it’s annoying, it’s a truth she has to convey. 

The only ones who can avert their eyes from the truth are the fools who say they don’t want to see a failure but then go racing to the bottom. Fools can only be scoffed at. It would be more fun to blow my brain stem out than be friends with them. 

“The situation is unfavorable. The Empire is intoxicated by the delusion of victory, and meanwhile being swallowed whole by the mud on the front lines. The Empire’s precision instrument of violence is decaying.” So she declares, “Military matters are only a continuation of politics. They require a political solution… Could I have you suggest that to the higher-ups via General von Zettour for me?” 

“All right. I’ll talk to him.” 

“Great,” says Tanya eagerly, but Uger continues in a subdued voice. 

“But I’ll say this: Don’t expect much.” 

“May I ask why not?” 

“It’ll be impossible to make a move right away. Or rather, I guess I should say I can’t get them to move.” 

Even without naming names, she catches his drift. Even if Zettour acknowledges the suggestion, it doesn’t mean she’ll get the dramatic change of course that she wants. 

“Colonel Uger, I’m going to ask you straight up. Why are so many things being put off until later? Is it sabotage? Are there rebels inside the organization?” 

“C-Colonel von Degurechaff!” 

“It’s fine… Actually, I finally just realized…” 

Weiss tries to tell Tanya she’s said too much, but Uger stops him with a sad smile. 

“I’ll say this as a member of the General Staff: The General Staff never envisioned embarking on foreign campaigns. The Imperial Army itself was designed only with mobile defense near the borders in mind.” He scoffed. “The Empire didn’t even have a plan ready for invading enemy territory. As a result, the army has been playing it all by ear on the battlefield. You could say that, since we can’t fix it, we’ve simply been coping haphazardly.” 

“You mean we’ve only avoided total collapse due to the strenuous efforts of individuals in the field?” 

“That’s a harsh way to put it but accurate. I mean, the army’s overall direction was so vague to begin with… I see. Once you put it into words, it really hits you how serious the situation is. This is awful…” He gazes up at the ceiling, a far-off look in his eyes. His shoulders appear dusty. Nothing more could make you understand how grave the situation facing the General Staff is. 

As far as Tanya can tell, the Imperial Army and its organizational culture are all about playing it by ear. Or to come at the issue from another direction, they’ve gotten into the bad habit of handling things as they happen. 

Even if it’s a system that allows for incredible tactical flexibility, forgetting about strategy entirely is putting the cart before the horse. There’s no way to win by being so reactionary. 

If even the strategy specialists Lieutenant General von Zettour and Lieutenant General von Rudersdorf are limiting their roles to purely military matters, then the Empire essentially has no national strategy. 

If the General Staff can’t make proper use of its military victories, it’ll end up like Hannibal. 

They’ll continue winning on the battlefield—with the caveat, until that one final battle that can’t be undone. 

Tanya’s about to groan when Uger slings a follow-up attack. “This is a state secret, but I’m sure it’s fine to tell you. It’s about distribution in the east using the rail network. Since the General Staff doesn’t have much experience making attack plans, it took a page from a certain book. Do you know whose?” 

“Come to think of it, if we were doing the fundamental research on that, it’s weird that I didn’t hear about it. It’s not from some cadet’s homework or something, is it?” 

“Close but no cigar. Well, actually you’re right, in a way.” 

“Huh?” 

The answer he gives her as she gapes at him is one she didn’t expect. 

“The fundamentals are from a joint research paper by the Republican Army General Staff and the War History Compilation Division called An Inquiry into the Logistics of Invading the Empire.” 

This fact he explains self-deprecatingly renders Tanya speechless. 

It’s not even from their own country. If the source weren’t Uger, she wouldn’t have believed it. 

“I-is that true?” 

The Imperial Army is so good at playing things by ear because it has done its homework. After all, in staff education at war college, everyone gets how to cope when the bottom falls out of your assumptions drilled into their brains. 

Surely someone, somewhere is researching foreign campaigns. 

…At some point, I’d acquired a bias that overestimated them. 

“We couldn’t use railroad operation theory optimized for interior lines strategy abroad.” The words Uger spoke with a dry smile were shocking. 

Even under suppressive fire by the Republican heavy artillery on the Rhine front, I wasn’t this horrified. 

“It feels like cheating. Of course, when you don’t have the know-how logically, your only option is to use what you can.” 

“Seizing enemy equipment is one thing, but copying their plans is…” 

“It had to be done. That’s all.” 

They were forced to appropriate enemy research… Nothing proves the Imperial Army’s assumption that they wouldn’t need to conduct foreign campaigns more than that. It’s utterly ridiculous, but basically they were an army that forgot about the concept of invading the enemy. 

Horrifically, Tanya can now explain so many of her earlier feelings that something was off. 

The handling of wintering in the Federation as if it had never been considered, the very belated formation of the Council for Self-Government, the reason it took so long for the military police to interpret and interview the prisoners—everything. 

“…Well, I get it, then. So that’s why everything is getting done at the last minute.” 

She never guessed that would be the reason. 

When you think about it, this is like the stupidity of cramming for one night to take a test. It’s a wonder they’ve done it so many times and not failed yet. 

Given the results of their divide-and-conquer efforts in the east, no one would be surprised to hear it was the result of long years of preparation. Who would think a rush job could be so effective? 

“So that means…General von Zettour’s divide-and-conquer plan in the east is ultimately working due to extraordinary individual efforts?” 

She asks because she can’t believe it’s possible. She expects Uger to laugh it off. 

“That’s right.” 

“Huh?” 

His immediate answer sends a chill up her spine. 

“So…so that means there’s no clear plan? He’s just doing it himself?” 

“I understand your concerns… At present, Operations and Supreme Command both approve, but it’s not based on solid strategic research.” 

It’s a plan stemming from a single man’s discretion. 

It’s an individual’s policy, not the organization’s? 

“Depending on how the situation changes, it’s liable to be overturned fairly easily. The policy isn’t very popular in Central.” 

She doesn’t even wait for him to finish. 

Tanya opens her mouth right away to respond. “Speaking from frontline experience, I can say that we absolutely have no other choice.” 

“It may be presumptuous of me to say so, but I think Colonel von Degurechaff is right.” Weiss agrees with her immediately. There is no other solution possible for the east. 

Though it may not be a popular policy, it’s unlikely to change when it keeps the rear areas stable. 

“Please convince the General Staff—by any means necessary.” 

“We’re both just lieutenant colonels. That’s a pretty tall order. If we at least had Colonel von Lergen… If he were here, it would be easier to talk to Operations.” 

“I heard he was sent to Ildoa.” 

“It must just be a coincidence this time, but…I suppose he’ll be busy for a while. Although if I get the chance, I’d like to ask him.” 

“Thank you,” says Tanya with a salute and nods at Weiss that he should leave it to Uger. 

“…Also, I’d like to know what it’s like in the field.” As Tanya and Weiss straighten up, he bows his head to ask the favor. “Candid sentiments that can’t be included with the official reports are extremely valuable. I can’t lose sight of how things feel on the front lines. So please help me out.” 

His tone is sincere. 

This is how a pro should be, not a naked emperor kicking back and relying on his subordinates to handpick intelligence for him. 

His respect for the voices and experience coming from those who work in the field is a vivid expression of the health of the organization. 

“Leave it to me. It’ll be a thank-you for the real coffee. I’ll provide you with the freshest lessons coming hot off the front lines.” 

“Please don’t.” Uger’s supplication, I suppose you could call it, seems to Tanya like a murmur from the bottom of his heart. “What we get in the rear is so awful. The freshest stuff from the front line might be so disorienting, I get food poisoning.” 

“Better to have indigestion than go hungry.” 

“So I guess getting any deliveries is better than getting nothing? I can’t deny that.” 

Uger’s groaned conclusion is a sad truth. Just because someone is in a position to need to know what is happening on the front lines doesn’t mean they have to weep with joy to hear the bad news. But neither can they close their eyes to reality. 

“Whatever happens, let’s do what we need to do.” 

“That’s a crystal clear principle. All right, see you again.” 

In the end, Tanya has to conclude…no matter how much you sugarcoat it, the reality you don’t want to see is still there. 

In the case of the Empire, it’s right before its eyes. 

If fate is inescapable, then don’t we have to embrace it?