Youjo Senki - Volume 7 - Chapter 1

[chapter] I Disarray 

APRIL 20, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, UNCERTAIN COORDINATES ON THE EASTERN FRONT 

From the perspective of someone looking down on the world below—a bird’s-eye view—taking in the scenery from a great height reveals how endlessly monochromatic it is. And more geometric than mediocre avant-garde art to boot. 

But a single glance through some binoculars makes it clear that the only thing to be found on the ground is a chaotic, intractable swamp. Shell holes, mud, the carcasses of collapsed warhorses, mud, injured soldiers, and mud as far as the eye can see. 

Looking from the sky, even the unwilling are forced to learn what a menace the mud poses. 

A listlessness still grips the earth and the coming of spring is far indeed. Lacking any definition, the land truly seems like a mirage. There’s no obvious sign of the road that should be directly below, according to the map. No one would be able to read this location accurately. 

“Hmph,” murmurs the commander Tanya, who shakes her head slightly. 

What happened to the mission that was supposed to be nothing more than flying along the road? 

“It’s a simple order to advance along the main highway,” they said! “You’re simply going up to the forward-most line,” they said. 

So why the hell are we out here guesstimating our location using celestial navigation? 

Tanya sighs. Her current position can’t be clarified any further than “somewhere in the vicinity of the front line.” 

Her group doesn’t consist of any old hands who have a knack for pathfinding, nor does it include guides or local troops who can instruct them. 

At the same time, they’re the stalwarts of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion who pulled off a search and destroy with the air fleet over the notoriously stormy Northern Sea. She can trust them to have a rough idea of their current location wherever they go. There’s no reason they should have too much trouble figuring out where things are. 

Nevertheless, Tanya is astonished. 

The friendly position that should be nearby is nowhere to be seen. The highway that is clearly marked on the map has sunken into the mud, and enemy soldiers are milling around where they don’t belong! 

It certainly wasn’t without reason that she nearly agreed to her subordinate’s earlier suggestion of turning around after they first encountered enemies on their path. 

Ultimately, after recalling their orders, she rejected the proposal; according to reports from the home country, their comrades were still holding the line out here. 

How much easier it would have been to abandon them! In the end, she dismissed that attractive option and their unit continued to advance out of a sense of duty. 

And this is what we get. Tanya can’t hide her disappointment. 

“What the hell is going on here?” She glares at the enemy soldiers infesting the ground below. 

This isn’t even close to what the intel claimed. The area we’re flying over should be the location of the friendly picket line! 

And yet! A glance below reveals a revoltingly dense enemy anti-air position. 

There was zero mention of this on what was supposed to be the latest map available. 

“Fucking hell. Are our troops amateurs?” 

The contrast is infuriating. 

“The enemy’s field engineers seem to be pros. They’ve done good, competent work.” 

“…This must have been set up after our line crumbled. The enemy seems very committed to their counterattack.” 

“You’re not wrong, Lieutenant Serebryakov.” 

All we can do in response is toss our plan in the trash. 

I’m loath to even take the time to lament it. 

“…The General Staff must not have anticipated this,” Tanya adds with a tongue click under her breath before she sighs. 

Her annoyance mounts rapidly at the unacceptable situation they’ve found themselves in. That’s only natural when most of the intelligence provided during the pre-mission briefing turns out to be completely useless. 

She had no issue with being abruptly transferred to the eastern front. 

That’s simply following orders. 

If the General Staff says “Jump,” the only proper response is “How high?” And being told to reach these coordinates was no problem, either. I’ve accepted that we’re supposed to serve as the General Staff’s eyes. 

“…I know. I know all that.” 

But the words that follow are lamentations, complaints, and even curses. 

“What is the Eastern Army doing?” 

Refraining from outright calling them idiots is already a test of self-control. 

As a frontline aerial magic officer who has been through officer training at the war college, Tanya is aware of what the General Staff is after. The generals, especially high-ranking ones, want information. The education of high-ranking commanders imparts a gut-wrenching fear of making even the slightest mistake, so they impulsively seek out ever fresher nuggets of intelligence. 

It’s also wise for the commanders in the rear to be curious about the current situation out in the field. To take an interest in the front and dispatch teams to conduct surveys is model behavior for the military. The only complaint I have is that despite everything, our leaders have failed to get even a basic handle on what is happening out here. 

This is what most people would call a “critical error.” 

“Under the circumstances, I’m not even sure if we can act on our own authority. How are we supposed to know what the government wants to achieve here? It feels a little unfair to not get even one hint. Pretty soon, I won’t be able to do much but laugh.” 

Even if the Eastern Army Group really has collapsed, what happened to enacting plan B, which was supposed to deal with that exact situation? In merely approaching the designated coordinates, the elite Salamander Kampfgruppe has already been forced to fight three encounter battles with enemy aerial mage units. 

If friendly troops are still around…even if they gave their all to prevent anyone from suspecting them of making an unauthorized retreat, it clearly didn’t accomplish much. 

At that point, Tanya thinks of something that makes everything feel all the more pointless. “All pain, no gain” has a horrible effect on the mental health of anyone who is anti-Communist. 

“What am I going to do for dinner now?” The futile lament dribbled out quietly. 

You can resupply once you reach the objective. That was the happy-go-lucky order we received. To hell with last-minute deployments. Unless a unit that has access to the army supply line welcomes us, we won’t be getting a hot meal tonight. 

Since everyone knew it would be a long-distance mission, the troops probably snuck a few chocolate bars into their packs, but there’s a limit to how long those will last us. 

“Fate sure is a nasty bastard. How wonderful. Really impressive stuff here. I wanna hit the General Staff with some quality 37-mil tungsten shells.” 

But Tanya doesn’t even have time to curse the heavens. Directly below is an enemy strongpoint. Only someone with a death wish can afford to get distracted while bad-mouthing people in a spot like this. 

Time is never distributed evenly. When you’re bored, you have more time than you know what to do with, but in moments like this, every second is precious. 

Tanya clicks her tongue regarding another mistake. Since the actual combat mission was to take place after arrival, the whole unit is carrying more gear than usual. 

Despite keeping the load to a minimum, a full complement of gear is still a serious burden. Since flying over enemy territory was unexpected, dumping anything they don’t need for combat is an option. 

But Tanya gives up and resigns herself to accepting the dead weight. Only an amateur would consider throwing away their gear for even a second. 

The eastern front is the Empire’s most thinly stretched position. Logistics are in rough shape, and supplies are liable to be cut off at any time, which is why the lines are in such confusion—we’re one slip away from a real shit landslide. 

If we dump our packs now, there’s no telling when we’ll get resupplied. This is nothing like dropping your stuff on an exercise field back home to move easier in hand-to-hand combat. 

“Battalion commander to all units. I don’t think any of you is a quick shooter, but just to make sure, there aren’t any idiots who dropped their packs, right?” 

Ha-ha-ha. The laughter filling the radio channel is a good sign. It’s proof that the troops are prepared to respond to whatever comes our way. A workplace overflowing with cheerful laughter has a very low accident rate. 

“Enemy mages climbing!” 

By the time my adjutant gives the warning, the battalion is fanned out and ready for combat. It’s the prompt response you’d expect from a team of vets. Pride fills Tanya when she sees that no one needed orders to take their positions. That said, anyone who pins all their hopes on the morale of the workplace is a failure as a manager. 

If we’re entering combat fatigued due to our lengthy advance, then the probability of an accident occurring must be taken into account. Working to anticipate mistakes and prevent them is part of what Tanya gets paid to do. 

“…We’re outnumbered, huh?” she murmurs and immediately reevaluates the power disparity. The 203rd’s ability to bring firepower to bear when intercepting is clearly inferior. 

The numerical disadvantage is obvious. Even a quick estimate shows we’re up against more than three times our numbers. 

I don’t like it. This reminds me too much of the time we took heavy losses over the Northern Sea. 

When I weigh my love for rationality and freedom against the need for emergency evacuation, my thirst for safety wins out. 

“I guess we have no choice… What a shit show.” 

“Colonel?” 

“01 to all units. I’m gonna hit ’em with something big. Watch out.” Tanya warns her troops, refrains from clicking her tongue, and readies herself. 

What justifies it all is the unalterable truth of what reality demands. 

It has to be done, I tell myself as I spool up the orb I rarely use, the Elinium Type 95. 

An instant later, Tanya feels disgustingly refreshed. It’s as if the fog in her brain has dissipated; a sense of clarity and omnipotence fills every fiber of her being. 

“O Lord, declare balance and order good. May peace and the promised kingdom await!” 

“Haaah…” Even her sigh seems to overflow with energy, and her fear is both unbearably awful and exhilarating at the same time. 

“Stubborn reactionaries! I’ll sweep you from the skies!” 

Cries are coming over the wireless—actually, maybe it’s just the agitated shouts of the enemies who’ve gotten within earshot? It’s terrifying how my consciousness isn’t quite steady. 

“Scream for me, Commies!” Tanya raises her voice, trying to keep a handle on her sense of self with a yell. “You Commie scum go against the laws of nature! I’m going to teach you a lesson! You need to understand that reality won’t be warped by ideology!” 

“Blather on all you want! No one’s gonna listen to the enemy of our motherland and the party! Get ready to taste the iron hammer of the people, you witch!” 

It seems like Tanya’s comments were rather provocative. A number of what appear to be enemy officers are polite enough to yell back at her in the language of the Empire. Come on, if they’re mages and speak the language to boot, they should just defect from the Federation already. 

In general, I’m not a fan of Communists. And nationalists also tend to have some values that I find hard to understand. 

Having an attachment to your home is fine, but why value the imaginary entity of the fatherland over your own life? 

Tanya stops there. 

Objectively speaking, these Communist nationalists—the Federation Army—are the devil, and while they may be a sort of cult, as long as they are the devil, they are the enemy of gods or similar beings. 

Gods don’t actually exist, but the stance of not accepting that sort of being is important. 

It’s not fair to ignore the points where we can come to a mutual understanding just because we have certain issues that we’ll never agree on. 

I was taught to always look for the good in others. That’s what I try my best to do. That’s why I’ll acknowledge them. 

Even Communists can be praised when it comes to bullying and atheism. If I don’t assess that fairly, my perspective will be undeniably biased. To put it in extreme terms, I would be extraordinarily lacking in modern intellectual integrity. 

Anyone who wishes to be impartial needs to observe intellectual honesty. 

With her mind full of such sickeningly pure and bright ideals, Tanya chuckles at the tidbit of irony she’s discovered. Perhaps it should be said that she noticed it thanks to her dutiful commitment to intellectualism that she practiced every single day. Having discovered this opportunity to overcome the gap between herself and others in the midst of battle, Tanya even feels her heart warming up. 

“Yes! Good! Very good! This deserves a round of cheers!” 

It’s hard to call it enjoyable, but it is exhilarating. 

That’s why, with great reverence and while tolerating the psychological contamination of the corrupting Type 95, I find it deeply gratifying to fulfill my duty as efficiently as possible. 

Cast numerous overlapping explosion formulas to achieve area suppression. 

In theory, that’s the optimal solution. 

Even for aerial mages, it’s nigh impossible to dodge when the entire area around them is blowing up. Talented enemies should never be underestimated. Especially not when they’re atheists deserving of some praise. We need to have good manners and make sure to kill them carefully. 

“Warning! I’m gonna nail them with explosive saturation fire! Battalion, pull out of this airspace on the double!” 

While warning her troops once again, she sets the manifestation area of her spell. 

Finalizing her aim, she makes sure to take into account the flight path of the enemy mages still climbing to intercept. It’s out of respect for her opponents that she’s readying such a dense array of formulas. 

Capable enemies are the worst enemies. This is the moment where Tanya should take out as many of them as she can. 

Yes, it’s time to use the Elinium Type 95 or whatever other cursed object of power the situation calls for. A job is a job. Sometimes duty demands wholesale slaughter. A sad thing for sure, but this is war. 

“O, you who guide us. O, you who know serenity.” 

This violation of my consciousness, my very dignity as a person, encroached upon by something that shouldn’t exist… 

It’s an atrocity that begs the questions What is morality? What is justice? Tanya has no choice but to experience the horror of her mouth moving of its own accord as the seconds pass. 

How humiliating it is for the words coming out of your mouth to betray your mind. Still, it is a sacrifice willingly offered up in exchange for victory. 

“And so we muster our courage, and though the path is thorny, we shall overcome.” 

The spell is four layers of explosion formulas cast in parallel. That means the mana required and the speed at which the effects will manifest are four times greater than usual. With one casting, Tanya has the ability to lay down suppressive fire equal to an augmented company. 

This must be what people mean when they say their brains are fried from overexertion. 

“There are the promised laurels—house of glory, a world peaceful and pure.” 

Despite the fact that it feels like her consciousness is one false move from slipping away…Tanya’s attack manages to engulf the ascending enemy mages in a ball of fire and instantly knock several out of the sky. 

More than enough for an opening salvo. 

Even the Federation Army, notorious for its disregard of casualties, is nothing more than a collection of human beings. They flinch when they get shot, and when their pals get roasted medium well right in front of them, they’re bound to shrink away, even if they don’t realize it. 

“Follow the battalion commander!” 

Right as the enemy is wasting their precious momentum by hesitating, Major Weiss makes his move. 

“Permission for my unit to close with the enemy?” 

“May the Lord protect you…! Do it!” 

As soon as Tanya nods in response to his succinct suggestion, her soldiers set off. The company responds with tremendous speed, assuming strike formation. Their impressive maneuvers are pulled off with the practiced ease of professionals, their technique fit for print in textbooks. 

Tanya’s unit is brimming with Named mages, veterans of the eastern front. Or perhaps they should simply be called “warmongers”? These soldiers have enough combat experience to easily seize the initiative from the enemy, making a mockery of their opponents for faltering on the battlefield. 

Weiss’s single company, scattering optical decoys as they go, plunges with great ferocity toward what must be close to a regiment of enemy aerial mages. 

At first glance, it looks like they’re throwing away their advantage in altitude. Really, though, they’re simply going with the best option available. The probability of scoring a fatal hit on a mage moving at high speed is miniscule. Not to mention that humans freeze up when confronted with the unexpected. It’s a simple matter to trap the Federation mages who thought they were coming to pursue us as we fled. 

When the targets are sitting ducks who have stopped moving, success is all but certain. It’s times like this that exemplify how dogs of war are excellent hunting hounds. They can sniff out an enemy’s weakness and bite down hard. 

A unit’s morale is a finicky thing. Suddenly ending up on the receiving end when you’re supposed to be attacking is especially bad for it. 

Any flagging can make even the most powerful army fragile. 

But then again, in an organization as unbalanced as the Federation Army, maybe the number of veterans is low. 

“That Godless rabble… Ah shit, is the language region of my brain contaminated again?” Tanya quietly laments the glitch. The battlefield has no intention of affording her even that modest luxury. 

“Rusted Silver!” 

“Shit! Shit!” 

“Today, you die! If nothing else, I’m taking you down!” 

Multiple sights are trained on me. There are even some optical sights mixed in with the targeting sights. It shows just how eager the Federation mages are to kill a notorious enemy. 

Their decision to pick off the commander first is a sound one. Cut off the head and the body will die. Only an ignorant fool with a bizarre sense of romanticism would curse them as cowards. 

After taking a moment to consider the opposing forces, Tanya can’t help but bark a dry laugh. The Federation Army has really honed its skills. 

“Man, these guys are really a handful. They should just be ground down in the lageri by some other Commies instead of bothering us.” 

Switching to the Type 95 often makes it hard to avoid processor overload. With little other choice, I take full advantage of the device’s four cores and promptly open fire. 

“May Good News reach every corner of every land.” 

Who would spontaneously burst into praises for the world and want to fill it with the glory of the Lord? There’s a saying that goes, “You can’t fight a war without losing your sanity,” and it’s absolutely correct. 

So many formulas manifest that it almost seems like I’m taking my frustrations out on the enemy. On the opposite end of my aim are hunks of meat shrieking at the top of their lungs. 

That’s when a sudden thought crosses Tanya’s mind. 

“I’ll hammer the glory of the Lord directly into them!” 

Tanya’s adrenaline-addled mind, purified by the creepy holy relic, goes berserk as she follows after Weiss’s unit. 

“Company, on me! I’m not about to let Weiss beat my score!” 

She charges headlong into the engagement. 

By the time the wisdom of her actions comes into question, it’s safer to follow through without hesitation now that the course has been decided. 

The enemy is trying their best to deal with Weiss’s company. Their effort is commendable, but what will happen when another company appears at their flank? 

“Damn, it’s the curse of the witch hag!” 

Cries of an enemy caught by surprise and the clashing of mages engaging in hand-to-hand combat—nothing could sound sweeter. 

“Hmm?” 

At the same time, there’s an unmistakable sense that something is off. 

“Is it just me or are they absolute shit at close-quarters combat?” 

The enemy response is…well, to put it bluntly, they’re weak. The Federation mages who had been weathering attacks as a cohesive group up until moments ago have completely abandoned discipline and organization. 

Unless their will to fight is completely devastated, units don’t usually fall apart so quickly. But these guys came charging even when we were right on top of them. It’s hard to imagine them folding like this. 

“Compared to when we were fighting at a distance, the difference in skill feels rather stark… No, wait a minute… Could it be?” Tanya grins in satisfaction. “Were these soldiers grown too hastily? I get it now!” 

Yes, relatively speaking, most aerial mage battles are medium-to long-range shoot-outs. Given that, it’s understandable if the focus training becomes lopsided. Especially if time is limited. 

Even the Federation can’t raise head counts without resorting to drastic measures, leaving them few chances to teach their recruits how to fight as a unit in hand-to-hand combat. 

“Ha-ha-ha! This is great! It’s an all-you-can-kill buffet!” 

Have the courage to be disliked. 

A good rule to live by, no? Pretty soon we won’t be able to make fun of compulsory moral education anymore. 

“Virtues should be taken seriously! Let’s cut them down!” 

Armchair theorists say that close-quarters combat in a battle between aerial mages is “absurd.” On that point, Tanya agrees that it’s so high-risk as to be irrational. 

But even back in the days when artillery reigned supreme, soldiers still expected to fight hand to hand with shovels more often than not. Whatever the reason for the Federation Army’s miscalculation that there would be zero close-quarters engagements, Tanya is happy. 

“How is this happening?!” 

The Federation mages’ shrieks are incomprehensible, but simply looking at their faces makes it clear what they’re thinking. Hooray for nonverbal communication, I guess. 

With a sneer big enough for her opponents to see, Tanya concisely sums up the cause of their defeat. “We’re more devout and more experienced. On what basis did you think you could win?” 

Only an amateur would believe it’s enough to simply swing wildly and hope that they land a hit. The basic principle of close-quarters combat is simple. Cut the enemy away one at a time and beat them down with an advantage in kinetic energy. 

Essentially: You believe in what’s certain, prepare for the worst, and then pray you hit… Pray? No, you don’t need to pray. I wouldn’t consider it healthy to put all your efforts into something as unproductive as praying. 

This is no good. Tanya shakes her head again and carves into the enemy soldiers as they buckle in despair. 

It’s the same as the difference between kendo and kenjutsu. Unlike a bamboo practice sword, a magic blade cuts when it makes contact. These mages, barely better than the rawest recruits, can’t seem to understand that. 

Most humans can’t remain calm after sustaining injuries. The timid who try to avoid getting hurt at all instead of focusing on preventing only fatal wounds are nothing more than easy prey. 

Cowardice is a good thing. Especially for soldiers. It’s far better to be cowardly than recklessly brave. Of course, there’s no saving anyone who forgets the caveat of “as long as you can still move when facing the enemy.” 

“It’s like sheep to the slaughter. If only every battlefield could be this considerate.” 

In such a target-rich environment where I can easily raise my score, it’s a fine thing to devote myself to work. The time off and bonuses that come with a high number of aerial victories are plenty attractive. 

“Ha-ha-ha-ha! What will you cling to, atheists? Your party? Your ideology?” 

Even the Type 95’s contamination of my mind is a negligible risk when weighed against the prospect of glorious leave. Well, maybe I’m underestimating it a little bit. 

Still, in a juicy situation like this where I have a good shot at earning a just reward for my labors, a chance to crush totalitarians, and an opportunity to easily rack up military achievements, it’s practically impossible to come up with a sensible argument against not indulging. After all, I can satisfy the capitalist and liberal in me while simultaneously meeting my need for self-preservation all at once. 

Accordingly, Tanya continues ripping through the enemy forces with high spirits that border on intoxication. 

“God is with us! To think that I would live to see the day I make such fools out of Communists! Come, then! Show me how you squirm!” 

This extremely close-quarters combat is basically a dogfight. We keep chasing one another’s tails. In this delightful pseudo-pincer, sometimes Tanya gets to pounce on an enemy from the rear, while other times she gets to skewer the idiots distracted by Weiss and his unit; every now and then, she opens up at point-blank range to blow away the guys taking the time to aim at her men. 

Just as things start heating up, her wonderful parade gets rained on—by a short phrase uttered by an enemy soldier. 

“Oh God…” 

Tanya may have mastered only the most basic parts of the Federation language during her officer training, but there’s no mistaking those words. 

Is it the curse of the Elinium Type 95? 

I can hear that prayer awfully clearly. 

“Ahhh, shit.” 

Well, it’s ruined. 

Those three words say it all. 

“A Communist looking to God of all things?!” 

Is the Communist Party badge that you wear even on your army uniform nothing but a decoration?! The urge to scream is overwhelming. 

It’s treachery. 

This is as good as betraying the values of their revolution. Frowning in open disappointment, Tanya barks, “A bit late for that, isn’t it, atheist?” 

Is the intensity of the glare that soldier shoots back just for show? Must they cling to something that doesn’t even exist? 

The letdown is unbearable. 

“Gott mit uns!” 

I joke right as I’m about to blow the enemy’s head off, thinking idly that maybe I should have readied a pickelhaube as a prop for my obscure gag. 

“All right, Rusted Silver. I’ll admit you’re strong…but I swore loyalty to my motherland, too! Even if it’s the last thing I do, I’m taking you with me!” 

The Federation mage, who approaches while yelling something or other, makes the sign of the cross as Tanya looks on. The moment’s been ruined. 

I came here expecting Commies, but they’re not even proper Commies. 

Liars. 

Traitors. 

“Wake up and smell the logic. Sins must be atoned for!” 

As she vents her utter disappointment, Tanya soon realizes that the sounds of combat have stopped. 

In the end, war is governed by an impartial equation. Some may call it cruel, but that’s mostly a matter of personal opinion. 

The strong are the ones who win. Even the Fair Trade Commission, which forbids monopolies, doesn’t regulate combat. 

Hooray for free markets, Tanya nearly grumbles, only to put a hand to her head instead. 

“…Ow. That really hurts…” 

I guess I can’t overuse the Type 95 while upholding my will and expect zero side effects. Apparently, Being X has never heard of safety standards. 

No wonder he has believers who would sincerely follow the saying “If your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out and throw it away.” 

That’s heartbreaking for a learned individualist like me. As a civilized person, I’d very much like to find a civilized solution. 

“02 to 01, we’ve got almost complete control of the airspace.” 

“01, copy that. Well done.” 

Oh right. She remembers to add something. 

“Your attack was brilliant.” 

“…They were much weaker in close-quarters combat than expected. I thought it would take a bit more effort than that.” 

“Indeed. I’m sure the Federation Army has their own struggles. They must be working a lot harder than they expected.” 

War is also about balance. That said, there’s a limit to how long both sides can keep ignoring the screams and betting in the face of such losses. It would be stranger if no one went out of business. 

Tanya shakes her head. Though they’ve defeated the enemy, that was merely the most immediate threat. The problem is what comes next. 

“We may be tired, but our losses are within acceptable range. That said, I do wonder if there is any point to defending this airspace.” 

“I believe that’s spot-on, but it doesn’t do much for our motivation.” 

“True. Still, even if it’s a pointless thing for you to hear, how can I help it?” 

The only time a commander fills their officers’ heads with propaganda is when the end draws near. Having nothing but blind faith that there must be a way forward is proof of incompetence. 

“A tactical victory is utterly meaningless on its own. At best, we’ll get medals. From the perspective of the individual worker, maybe that’s not such a bad thing…” 

If work isn’t incentivized, efficiency plummets. Some people try to use the magic word rewarding, but all they’ll end up with is not much different from a pointlessly inflated balloon. 

The slightest disturbance will cause it to pop, which is useless. 

As long as you’re a cog in an organization, using others and being used as a cog yourself makes sense. But even if cogs are replaceable, anyone who neglects to perform maintenance is a half-wit who lacks cost awareness. 

For Tanya, who boasts extremely good sense, it’s obvious that she should supply her subordinates with natural motivation by keeping them informed of the significance and results of their work. 

This is the essence of a manager’s reason to exist. Human resources must be used with care and wasting resources is unconditionally bad. 

“02, our present status is meaningless. We’re withdrawing!” 

“02, roger. Are you sure?” 

“The premise that the General Staff based our deployment on has fallen apart. They have bigger issues than worrying about us acting on our own discretion.” 

…That’s the truth. 

“There’s nothing else for us to do here.” 

With a fed-up expression, Tanya strengthens her defensive shell. The moment we reduce our altitude the slightest bit, an obnoxiously dense curtain of anti–air fire will strafe at us from the ground. 

If caught by surprise, even an aerial mage isn’t safe from getting shot down. 

Maintaining current altitude is an option, but the difficulty of performing recon over an enemy position became clear during deployments on the Rhine. While our losses have been minimal, once fatigue accumulates, accidents only get more and more likely. And the point on the map that a few days ago was supposedly the Imperial Army’s front line is now this mess. 

Better to pull out before we get burned. 

“All units, urgent from 01.” Tanya swallows her sigh and relays her orders over the radio. “I’m suspending the recon-in-force mission the General Staff assigned to us. We’re moving out immediately. Once we’re clear of this airspace, I want the commanders of each unit to gather for a midair meeting.” 

Amid a chorus of Yes, ma’ams, the unit circles above the enemy hard point in a perfect display of synchronization meant to provoke the onlookers below before flying away in splendid formation. 

Now, then… Tanya waves to her vice commander flying nearby. “Major Weiss, where’s the nearest bakery company?” 

“Somewhere within a few kilometers, but I don’t know for sure.” 

The emergency midair meeting of imperial magic officers held near the front lines is to discuss bread. In response to her vice commander’s expression that seems to ask, How should we proceed? Tanya responds with a knowing look on her face. 

“At the moment, I don’t care where we go. Our highest priority is to locate a hot meal. Let’s link up with a logistics unit retreating alongside a load of high-calorie food.” 

“Then, according to the map, shouldn’t we follow the highway?” 

“That was my plan as well, but I think that’ll be difficult, seeing as it’s hard to tell where the highway is exactly.” 

Plus, there’s no guarantee that our troops are even retreating along that route. And it won’t be easy to tell what branch they’re from, either. What should we do? Tanya mulls it over for a bit before deciding to call First Lieutenant Grantz, who is flying nearby. 

“Lieutenant Grantz, I’m detaching your unit.” 

If we don’t know, we’ll just have to find out, obviously. 

“Ma’am! What are my orders?” 

“Go ahead of us and get in touch with the friendly rear guard. Even if they accidentally start shooting, whatever you do, don’t lose your cool and return fire.” 

“Understood.” 

The way he smiles wryly as he nods—he knows what he’s about. He may not compare to Weiss yet, but Grantz is on his way to becoming quite reliable. 

The way he quickly rounds up his subordinates and flies off—prompt and effective, the way a junior officer should be. The ambition and assertiveness he displays are admirable. The precious trust that allows me to send him and his unit off without worrying is something he’s earned himself. 

“Lieutenant Grantz has certainly become dependable.” 

“Colonel?” 

“Back on the Rhine, he would’ve been too scared for me to feel comfortable sending him off on his own.” 

Maybe I have a talent for cultivating subordinates. Considering the rising value of the human capital under my command, I think it’s safe to pat myself on the back. The thought brings on a private cringe, but the feeling of pride is undeniable. It isn’t a bad thing to confirm an ability to foster growth no matter the circumstances. 

The opportunity to bask in triumph lasts for only a moment. 

“Speaking of the Rhine… Back then, the situation on the ground was the opposite of what we have now. A retreat this disorderly would have been unthinkable over there. What a time.” 

Tanya nods in agreement with the comment Weiss utters while flying at her side. 

“We have the supplies, but we end up abandoning them… This is why lapses in discipline are such a terror.” 

On the Rhine front, Grantz (a second lieutenant at the time) wasn’t reliable, but the army as a whole could be counted on. 

How about now? 

“Colonel, Major, look over there.” 

I turn my binoculars in the direction my adjutant points. 

Agh, what a waste! 

Those charred wrecks used to be imperial vehicles! 

“…I guess those trucks were abandoned along the highway? If the Service Corps back home saw that, they’d faint.” 

“I can’t show Colonel Uger this disgrace.” 

To the guys in charge of handling the already strained vehicle situation, this would be a sight too cruel. War really is nothing but a colossal waste. Heavy sighs are a tradition now. There’s no telling how many I’ve heaved on the eastern front. 

“Hmm?” 

“What is it, Lieutenant Serebryakov?” 

She seems to have found something, and sure enough, when I look where she’s pointing, there’s a strange pattern in the mud on the ground. 

Any trained soldier would know what it is at a glance: the tracks left by a large unit on the move. 

“A division of mechanized infantry? And by the looks of it, it isn’t one of ours …” 

“What makes you say that? I can’t see enough evidence to identify them as an enemy unit.” 

For better or worse, the puzzled adjutant must be a stranger to routs. After that initial thought, Tanya reconsiders. Come to think of it, the Imperial Army is an entity that wrests victory from the jaws of defeat with the power of logic. 

My subordinate’s only experience with what happens when an army breaks down and flees in a panic is probably limited to reading about it. After all, humans are creatures who draw on their experience first. 

“Visha, more people should take after you and learn to be a student of history instead of their gut.” 

She responds with an affirmative “Yes, ma’am…” My adjutant is incredibly attentive. There’s never a need to repeat anything for her. She shows such promise. 

The lesson continues. “Remember this. A routed army will always escape along the path of least resistance. Not even the Imperial Army’s mechanized infantry is an exception. But you’ve seen what it’s like down there. Our abandoned vehicles are so covered in mud, it’s hard to tell they’re ours, but they were mainly dotted along the highway.” 

What a mess. Tanya sighs. She can’t help it if they tried to choose the easy route and all got mowed down. 

“So because this unit chose to go through the boggy terrain, it must be the Federation Army?” 

“No doubt about it,” spits Tanya. “It looks like their priority is continuing the advance. And they seem to be moving pretty quickly.” 

“Do you think there’s a chance they’ll catch up with the rest of the army by the time we rejoin?” 

“…Well, our mission is clear. Assisting friendly troops as they retreat until we can link back up with the rest of the Kampfgruppe doesn’t sound so bad.” 

“Understood.” 

“Good.” Tanya nods and they continue flying for a time. 

Looking at the markings left on the ground and given the lack of a large armored unit or any mechanized infantry in general, the location of the enemy force seems to creep into view. 

…That must be the Federation’s spearhead. 

Seeing evidence that friendly troops were chased down is deeply horrifying. If at all possible, I would prefer for the enemy to not be directly in our path of retreat. 

I mentioned to Weiss the possibility of assisting our fellow troops, but…frankly, we don’t have the numbers to take on an opponent of this size. 

“Colonel?” 

Tanya pulls her attention away from the ground back to the sky. Her adjutant next to her is handling the long-range-communications kit. 

“Do you have a moment?” 

When she nods, she’s offered a wireless receiver. 

“It’s Lieutenant Grantz. He’s joined up with a supply unit.” 

Tanya changes gears and stops her musings to assume command. Then she grabs the receiver and questions Grantz. 

“Give me a sitrep.” 

“Please wait a moment.” 

She hears Grantz talking with friendly troops in the background. To be frank, that initial reaction doesn’t inspire confidence. 

“…It looks like no one knows for sure what’s happening on the battlefield as a whole. Even the general info we’re getting is garbled and confused, so I’m not sure if it’ll be much use…” 

“Don’t worry about it, Lieutenant. You’re not to blame.” 

Grantz’s tone is apologetic, but it’s obviously not his fault. Knowing who bears what responsibility is one of the bare-minimum requirements of a leader. Taking out your frustration on your subordinates is the worst thing you can do. 

“For now, we’ll prioritize linking up. Send over the coordinates. Make whatever accommodations are necessary to receive us.” 

“Understood.” 

“Good.” She hangs up and lightly shakes her head. 

I know that I know nothing. You could call it an achievement, but all we’ve really done is accept our unpleasant state of affairs. Well, misery does love company. Time to share with Weiss. 

“Vice Commander, we’ve made contact with friendly troops, but”—Tanya shrugs and grumbles—“we learned nothing.” It’s a simple matter to convey how dire the situation is. Weiss clearly understands as he responds with a grim expression. 

It’s probably not only him. Tanya’s face is very likely all twisted up in frustration as well. 

“Is the Eastern Army Group a collection of babies?” 

“Major Weiss, be fair with your criticism. We’ve been pretty out of it ourselves ever since Norden. We can’t really talk when it comes to performance.” 

Security is the greatest enemy. Corpses galore. That’s just how it is. 

“This is war. Everyone gets a turn on the receiving end.” 

“…It reminds me of the Rhine,” Serebryakov chimes in, sounding tired, and Tanya agrees with a nod. Thinking back on it, we did have quite a bit of trouble thanks to a mistake on HQ’s part. 

The fact that the ones who pay for those mistakes are the people in the field will be an eternal structural issue. 

“If experience is anything to go by, we’ll have to pick up shovels for trench combat soon.” 

“Ha-ha. How nostalgic.” 

Perhaps he’s taken Tanya’s grievance as a joke. Weiss clowns around, missing her point in a fundamental way. 

“Down there should be supplies that were left behind, so scrounge some up.” 

“Huh?” 

“I’m serious, Major. Grab enough for everyone.” There’s no smile on Tanya’s face as she gives the order, not bothering to hide the displeasure in her tone. He must have realized she meant it. He stiffens up and replies in a slightly hoarse voice. 

“…Understood. I’ll take a company down. Please cover us.” 

“You got it.” 

Staying alert while riffling through abandoned gear with backup nearby is not such a hard job. It’s just depressing. 

It takes hardly any time at all for Weiss’s group to collect a good amount before getting ready to move on again. For Tanya, who was on the lookout for enemies, the whole venture goes so smoothly, it feels anticlimactic. 

“…That’s strange.” 

The battlefield hasn’t been swept clean yet, sure, but it hasn’t even been looted? Really? Some theories are beginning to feel more certain. 

Not much later, we meet up with the troops Grantz managed to contact. We find them sooner than expected. 

Best-case scenario, the imperial lines haven’t been pushed back that much…and the worst case is that the retreat is delayed. 

After a brief examination of the troops we’ve just met up with, what stands out the most is how orderly they are. Yes, normally an orderly retreat is ideal. 

But…under these circumstances, it’s horrible news. 

Despite the utter chaos and confusion on the front, this calm, organized unit is retreating far too slowly. In other words, it’s proof that the Eastern Army Group’s orders are not keeping pace with the developments on the battlefield. 

…They can’t even smoothly withdraw as a cohesive whole! 

Well, this is a problem, A grim expression still on her face, Tanya calls out to the most senior officer nearby. “I’m Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff of the Salamander Kampfgruppe. What HQ or Command are you attached to?” 

“Eastern Army, Twenty-Third Division, Fifty-Fourth Regiment. And you? You’re clearly aerial mages…” 

The exchange is to the point. Everyone takes a moment to confirm the collection of ribbon bars and rank insignia of those present. 

The outcome is rather expected… In terms of medals awarded, this fellow is a notch lower than Tanya, who wears the Silver Wings. But on the battlefield, an officer one notch lower than the Silver Wings recipient is basically a few steps short of a god. 

“We’re here on emergency deployment orders. I’d like to consult with you about the situation.” 

“You’re welcome to, Colonel.” 

“Sorry, but who are you?” 

“Ah right.” The older officer smiles wryly. “I’m Colonel Dirichlet, commander of this regiment.” 

The manly commander’s smile acknowledges that they’ve both gotten the short end of the stick. 

“From the top, I’m Lieutenant Colonel von Degurechaff of the Salamander Kampfgruppe. This is my second-in-command, Major Weiss.” 

“You’ve got multiple Named, huh? That’s awfully reassuring—if you’ll be escorting us, that is.” 

Tanya finds some hope in the fact that he seems like a pro who has a firm grasp on the situation and understands his duty. It’s especially wonderful how his first impressions of her height and appearance don’t show on his face. 

If you want to do good work, you’ll obviously need good coworkers. Knowing you won’t be tripped from behind means there’s one less direction you have to worry about—which is great. The good thing about the medal system is that you can usually expect people to live up to the ribbon bars decorating their chest. 

“I think we can help you out. We’re operating independently from the rest of our Kampfgruppe. Until we receive new orders from the General Staff, we can support your rear guard.” 

“Well, I can’t ask you to come under my command, but having your assistance will definitely make things easier for us.” 

Plus, he understands the chain of command. You don’t see this type of commander every day. 

“Though we’re a Kampfgruppe on paper, at the moment, we’re deployed as just an aerial mage battalion. Setting aside issues of command authority, we’re quite agile. I’m sure it won’t be a problem for us to support you guys for a few days.” 

“We’d appreciate it.” 

Then shall we? 

He picks up on Tanya’s meaningful glance. “I’ll take you to our temporary headquarters… There’s some pressing business to attend to.” 

“Thanks. Lieutenant Serebryakov, come with us. Major Weiss, the unit is in your hands. Coordinate with the deputy commander of the 54th Regiment as soon as possible.” 

After leaving an undefined jumble of tasks to the vice commander, Tanya runs after Dirichlet. His broad shoulders project a sense of reliability. 

Yes, we’re running. 

The jaunt to the regimental headquarters happens at a jog. This is rather impressive. At his age, Dirichlet must be in great shape if he can run down this road in such horrible conditions. 

And he appears only even more impressive once we reach our destination. 

“We may be some distance away from the front lines, but I’m surprised such a nice house is still standing. Honestly, I assumed you were leading us to a campsite.” 

Maybe the Council for Self-Government secured it for them? Either way, a building that hasn’t been scorched or riddled with bullet holes is noteworthy. It’s a proper place to sleep! Tanya smiles, admiring yet again how capable Dirichlet has turned out to be. 

“Yes, we were lucky a building was still standing…especially in this weather.” 

“I must agree about the cold, but what about booby traps?” 

“This is the east, Colonel! I wouldn’t have moved the HQ in here without having the field engineers examine it first.” 

A houseful of competent officers—gone in an instant. Even the heartless would be devastated by such a loss. And what a disgraceful error to make. After seeing that blunder happen again and again, it starts becoming reasonable to be paranoid about cleaning out buildings. 

“Ha-ha-ha. Do excuse me.” 

“No, please, it’s a legitimate worry if you’ve heard about whole command posts getting blown to kingdom come.” 

The cold-blooded conversation we’re having in this toasty house really highlights how impermanent our world is. 

“Now then, I’ll be straight with you. The situation is not ideal.” 

“While I do want to discuss the wider situation as we go along, perhaps we should begin by exchanging information. Would you like to hear what my unit witnessed on our way here?” 

After Dirichlet responds with a “Sure thing,” Tanya gives him a brief report. The General Staff may have ordered a general advance, but the friendly positions at the designated coordinates have already fallen. The various traces of an enemy force we saw along the way line up with the fighting retreat Dirichlet’s troops have been engaged in. 

“On top of that,” Dirichlet continues with a pained expression, “it’s unconfirmed, but we have reports that some of our troops got nailed with heavy artillery.” 

“Heavy artillery? You must mean a unit bringing up the rear got hit while lingering near the forward-most line, right?” 

“…Apparently not. It was the regiment right next to ours.” 

That’s incredibly strange. Big guns are slow. Deploying artillery in a hurry is practically impossible. We received a thorough education on the Rhine front that artillery is slower by far when compared to infantry. 

That’s why I figured if a unit got hit by heavy artillery, they had to be on the forward-most line. 

“The enemy troops are advancing with considerable speed. We should probably assume they have a unit with a powerful artillery division coming along.” 

Tanya is about to shake her head and say, You must be kidding. But no imperial soldier would joke around at a time like this. 

“…I’m jealous. An entire artillery division…” 

“I couldn’t agree more. But as you know, it’d be asking for the impossible, Colonel von Degurechaff.” 

Tanya nods readily in response. “Indeed.” 

Human lives are expensive, but shells are cheap. The Federation is already blessed with human resources, and now they’re calling up artillery divisions? 

It would be difficult to call this a fair playing field. Ultimately, the existence of the invisible hand of God that Adam Smith 1 was talking about means the world is unfair by design. 

“Lieutenant Serebryakov, review our encounters with enemy troops on the way here. I want to know where that artillery division is. If need be, send out a unit to perform recon-in-force.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Right away.” 

Serebryakov is already drafting the order even before her mouth stops moving. She’s an excellent adjutant. Someone who will do what they’re told as they’re told! Truly a blessing, especially considering the times. 

“Now then, what’s our defense plan? From what I’ve seen, we can’t even establish an integrated defense on a division level.” 

“That’s correct. We can maintain only intermittent contact with division HQ at best.” 

So? Tanya raises the question of their grim future with her eyes alone, drawing a wince from Dirichlet. 

“I suppose you can say we just barely received the brief for a fighting retreat, but it’s unclear if the other units are managing to pull out or not.” 

A jumbled retreat? Argh… Everything is coming to a head. Tanya shudders and gazes at the ceiling. 

“And where is division HQ?” 

“Here.” 

Dirichlet rolls out a map on the table with a dry rustle, and after he points out the location…hope flares ever so slightly. Not as bad as I feared. 

“This is close to our railroad… Looks like we have a chance to regroup.” 

“I’m sure we could. The problem is time.” 

Ahhh, time. We meet again. Time, time, time. That is the one thing the free market cannot remedy, I must admit. Finding a way to reliably secure a supply of time would revolutionize global economics. 

“Failing to regroup means we’ll be obliterated.” 

“Exactly. I hate to point out the obvious, but that also means these next few days will decide the battle.” 

Tanya nods to say that the colonel’s comment is spot-on. 

If they can just reorganize their lines, the division could rise from the ashes. All they need is more time. Whoever came up with “Time is money” knew what they were talking about. 

“By the way, while I still want to discuss the regrouping in detail…can you tell me exactly what happened on the front lines?” 

“What do you mean, Colonel?” 

“It seems like your forces were ripped apart before you even got started…” 

Dirichlet’s shoulders slump as if that hit a nerve. After a few moments of silence pass as he carefully chooses his words, Dirichlet takes out a standard-issue cigarette ration. “We had just repelled a probing attack the enemy conducted along the whole front the other day. Since we had managed to drive them off, the mindset that we’d ‘pushed them back’ must have set in not only in my regiment but throughout the entire division. That hubris came back to bite us. There were faults in our defensive positions.” With a sigh, he begins smoking. 

“Faults?” 

Seeming somewhat tired, he rephrases. “Well, it had less to do with the actual line of defense and more to do with our mentality. I think everyone was overly focused on a spring counteroffensive.” 

“A counteroffensive?” 

“That’s right,” he spits in response to Tanya’s question. “Division’s orders were to prepare for an advance. No one was paid a second thought to defending the ground we were holding.” 

The positions at the front hadn’t been fortified or dug in. The patrol lines must’ve fallen all too quickly. It’s all coming together now. The Imperial Army was already committed to mounting an attack. From the get-go, the plan was to advance farther. In that case, it’s not that surprising no one ordered the troops on the front to diligently construct defensive positions. 

This is especially true on the eastern front, where the average soldier’s main struggle is against the cold and the mud, not incoming fire. Apparently, these troops forgot that supply-route maintenance, equipment repairs, and more rely on the existence of trench works. 

“…The enemy caught us unprepared.” 

“That’s right, Colonel. I guess the damn Communists have a good grasp of human weakness.” 

Dirichlet’s comment is logical. 

At the very least, it’s an unquestionable truth in Tanya’s experience. Her demeanor seems to say, Well, they’re Communists. “They’ve certainly broken a lot of people. They must have a solid understanding of how to go about that, finding weak points and revealing just how vulnerable people can be. Boy, sure is a rough bunch for anyone with good sense.” 

“Ha-ha-ha. If even an officer like you is willing to say that, then tell me, where do I find sanity?” 

“We’re at war. Such a thing is a rare luxury.” 

The common sense of war, the nonsense of peace. 

There’s no reason to think it especially strange that the supply of rationality fluctuates so erratically. This is simply the nature of the market. Even so, Tanya firmly believes in the righteousness of market principles. Too many simpletons like Being X obsess over the moral dualism of good and evil as is. That’s more than enough reason to not give up on the market. 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Getting back on topic, we currently lack intel. To remedy this, we’d like your unit to conduct a recon mission for us, Colonel…” 

“Scouting the area and recovering the remnants of our defeated friends while we’re at it, right?” 

“Will you do it?” 

“We got enough practice on the Rhine. Leave it to us.” 

Frankly, it’s rarer to receive a mission we haven’t done before. When Tanya pounds her chest to display her willingness to undertake it, Dirichlet cracks a bitter smile. 

“…It would be tactless to ask at what age you served on the Rhine, huh? All right, Colonel Degurechaff, we’re counting on you.” 

Tanya nods. Their trust is not misplaced. 

From there, all the preparations are made without a hitch. After a short briefing about the rough location of the position, Tanya departs from the provisional HQ ready to begin the reconnaissance mission. 

“Okay, we need to grab Weiss and Grantz.” 

“…Everyone’s here already.” 

“Fantastic.” 

Are aerial magic officers just the sort of people who naturally know how to be in the right place at the right time? Tanya’s subordinates are already waiting by the time she zooms out of there. 

These guys have great timing. War dogs are all about how you use them. Moments like these, they come in handy. 

“Major Weiss, you’re on patrol duty. Split the battalion in three and get a handle on our situation. Reports say the enemy has an artillery division operating nearby. Locating it is our highest priority.” 

That force might be hunting me. Revolting. If nothing else, we have to confirm whether they exist or not. Otherwise, I’ll never sleep. 

Ah, damn, that’s right. Something needs to be done about Tanya’s empty stomach before bedtime. Our terrible foe, hunger, has dulled many a mind throughout history. 

“Before we leave, I’d love to snatch some provisions from the field bakery company.” 

“Understood. But you don’t need to worry about provisions.” 

“What?” 

“Colonel Dirichlet was kind enough to have a supply company from his regiment deliver us calorie-dense meals. Since they’re on active duty in a war zone, they understand that sort of request.” 

What consummate professionals. Tanya nods in satisfaction. When the one in charge has a good head on his shoulders, everything runs smoothly. It’s something to be thankful for. One less thing to worry about. 

“Lucky us. All right, then let’s send out scouting parties starting with the people who’ve already eaten. It’s urgent that we get a full picture of our operational area. First, we’ll check out the riskiest direction…” 

Tanya prepares to further detail the need to check their surroundings, but then her mouth closes. A harsh sound pierces her ears. After the unmistakable whoosh of a flying object is followed by a low rumble, Tanya instantly screams. 

“Incoming!” 

It’s the sound of shells streaming down. 

A familiar roar. 

Ahhh, those bastards got us. 

“Shit!” 

The enemy stole the initiative! 

“Enemy attack! Climb…” 

Lieutenant Grantz is about to take off when she shouts him down reprovingly. 

“No, find shelter! They’ve got us pinned! Take cover in the trenches!” 

After diving into the nearest crude trench, Tanya spits, “Damn it, I can’t believe we’re too late!” 

The guns are practically serenading us to announce our disadvantage. Anyone who’s ever experienced the difference between warning shots and a true bombardment in a trench, their ears will remember even if they prefer not to. Once you learn it, you never forget. 

Hiding in a hole on the receiving end of heavy-artillery fire is far from pleasant. Against the familiar backdrop of the riotous battlefield, Tanya screams in spite of herself. 

“It’s too soon! This is happening way too soon!” 

A full-scale bombardment this quickly? At this point, I’m uneasy about everything. 

We managed to get to cover, but these are the most basic of trenches. If my survival comes down to whether they can withstand a direct hit from a large shell, I’d say it’s extremely unlikely. And even if we want to fortify them now, we don’t really have the materials or the tools. 

So what do we do? 

Surely not pray? 

That’d be ridiculous. 

Most people would call this utter humiliation. 

“Damn! I guess this is what you’d call the worst,” Tanya utters, acknowledging the indignation. 

This is a war on freedom. 

My choices are to either submit to that scum the irritating Commies call God or forge my own destiny, obliterating Being X and those Commies alongside him. 

Fine, let’s do it. 

The answer is simple. 

As a civilized person who loves freedom and modernity, my duty is clear. 

“Officers! Rally your troops!” The impacts, explosions, and the resulting thundering force Tanya to raise her voice. Shouting at a volume that might injure her vocal cords, she cuts through the noise to what’s to be done. “Get ready to counterattack! Battalion, prepare to strike on the double!” 

“What?” 

“It’s a preparatory bombardment— Hello!! Get going before the enemy infantry shows up! Pop ’em in the nose the moment they get here!” 

That’s how it always was on the Rhine front. 

After the shells come the humans. 

There’s no reason it should be different in the east. 

“Major Weiss, rally the battalion! Do we have a line to Colonel Dirichlet? If it’s dead, then send a liaison.” 

“Look over there!” 

When Tanya turns her head dubiously to look where the finger is pointing, she notices that’s the direction of the house serving as provisional headquarters, the building they just left moments ago. Except it isn’t there anymore. 

…Ahhh shit, those fuckers. Now we have to talk about headquarters in past tense! 

“…I get it now.” 

It’s clear why the enemy decided to go all out with their initial salvo, why they could fire for effect immediately—the Federation Army artillery had their target zeroed in from the very beginning. 

Figuring out the scheme took only a little deduction. That lone house hadn’t simply survived. The structure had been left intact on purpose to serve as a target. 

“Regimental headquarters has been wiped out!” 

“I can see that. And the colonel?” 

“…I don’t think he made it.” 

Weiss’s reply is simple and clear. 

My wishful thinking came back to bite me. Tanya fills with regret. For once, it seemed like there’d finally be a capable colleague to hold down the fort. Who could have predicted that he and the rest of HQ would be blown to smithereens? 

I didn’t see it coming. Ahhh, what a wonderful confession of ineptitude. 

I should be shot for not even considering that possibility even though we’re at war. What negligence! Carelessness! Failure! 

This is the kind of incompetence that makes me sick. 

“Fine, we’ll act on our own discretion. Assume Colonel Dirichlet fell in battle and that the chain of command is unclear. We will consider this spot to be headquarters temporarily.” 

“Shouldn’t we find the second-in-command in the Fifty-Fourth Regiment?” 

“It’s a waste of time.” 

My adjutant’s suggestion is fine in most cases but mistaken under the current circumstances. 

A handoff of command with no proper meeting would throw everything into disarray. There’s no way we can afford the luxury of devoting pointless labor to something impossible now, when every second counts. 

“B-but—” 

“Lieutenant Serebryakov.” 

“Yes?” 

“Have you forgotten? Time is finite. Extravagance is the enemy.” 

Right as Tanya is about to continue the lecture, she shuts her mouth when it becomes apparent that the artillery fire has halted. On the Rhine front, the end of the bombardment was a signal of what always came next… 

“Enemy attack!” 

Shrieks erupt in all directions and the familiar sound of gunshots begins chattering. The textbook progression of events makes me want to curse our enemies. But something in the air seems off; I have a bad feeling that insists on being heard. When I listen to figure out what’s causing it, the answer is simple. There isn’t enough sound. 

“…I don’t hear enough LMGs!” 

Given the gunshots booming from every direction and the few explosions mixed in, each position must have begun to mount a counterattack according to the defense plan. Did they lose all heavy equipment during the retreat? Our outbound fire sounds miserably weak. 

“There isn’t even a silver lining to find. What the hell is going on?!” 

What should sound like a unified orchestra of imperial firepower is instead warped and jerky, like a broken phonograph. Individual units are putting up valiant resistance, but coordination is clearly lacking. This is the moment when regimental or divisional fire support should be raining down, and its absence is conspicuous. 

The cause is simple to explain. The enemy lopped off the head of our local chain of command with their opening attack. Their damn artillery division or whatever did a real fine job! 

In short, this is the worst-case scenario. 

Considering how we no longer have the means to mount an organized defense, we’re in serious danger of seeing the entire regiment collapse. “We really screwed this one up.” Tanya curses at the heavens. 

Even if she wants to take over, she hardly knows anything about the Fifty-Fourth Regiment’s defense plan, since she was operating under the assumption that Colonel Dirichlet would be handling it. Most importantly, a new chain of command hasn’t been established yet. 

I had assumed we would have time to discuss things in detail after we finished a search of our surroundings! That was so mindless of me! Even I wouldn’t deny that the blunder deserves a firing squad. 

No. Tanya shakes her head. The priority now is assuming command, not self-criticism. In order to get through the crisis, she raises her voice as high as she can manage. 

“Listen up! Officers of the Fifty-Fourth Regiment, gather round! Yes—you guys!” 

She revives the dazed and confused troops by invoking command and rank. It’s a primitive but battle-tested method. Never make fun of the simple, classic approach, especially in emergencies. 

“Colonel Dirichlet and the others are dead. I’ll be taking command temporarily!” 

Convincing the dazed officers of the Fifty-Fourth Regiment that I’m the boss is an easy task. Standing there blankly, the officers would be best described as…cogs that do as they’re told. 

These guys exist to follow orders, so if we give them the appropriate lubrication, there’s still hope. 

“C-Colonel?!” 

“Hurry up and bring me your second-in-command! Get a move on!” 

After lighting a fire under the rumps of the Fifty-Fourth Regiment’s officer corps, Tanya starts scattering sharp words of encouragement. 

“Go to your positions and prepare to intercept! The enemy is coming—you know what to do!” 

These are orders born of defined pledges. 

“Move! Move! Get ready! Officers, do your duty!” 

They’re magical words that light a path for lost troops who don’t know where to start. As long as they understand the purpose of intercepting the enemy, the training that’s been drilled into their heads will overpower their confusion to some degree. 

“Ready up!” 

“Hurry! To your posts! Pick up the pace!” 

This instinctive reaction of those blank-faced troops must be the result of daily training. 

When they first jolt into motion, the speed is sluggish, but the shift to a defensive posture isn’t lethally slow. 

Even at a temporary foothold during a withdrawal, an army will always need at least a bare minimum of preparation. 

“…Probably time to get moving ourselves. Very well. Major Weiss, I believe the possibilities are opening up.” 

With this, things should be okay for the moment. Tanya is finally getting a sense that things are in motion. 

Honestly, it’s a shame that there’s no chance of getting anything close to the near-instantaneous response of the Salamander Kampfgruppe, but this is a moment to make do. 

Once you’re in the game, you have to give it your all for a chance at victory. 

“Tsk! Have we still not found the second-in-command?” Tanya immediately spots the young officer she grabbed just a few moments ago wandering around aimlessly and screams at him. “Hey, you! Where’s the Fifty-Fourth Regiment’s second-in-command?! I’m pretty sure I ordered you to bring him here!” 

“…Who’s in command?!” 

“It’s your unit! You don’t know?!” 

“Ma’am, I, uh… I was only just assigned here—attached to the HQ section. I literally arrived the other day…” 

Still dumbfounded, Tanya realizes her mistake. 

As the rest of the troops yell and run in every direction, Tanya and the other outsiders—the mages of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion—have nothing to do. In that case… She regrets not sending Weiss and the others out to search sooner, but it’s too late. 

“Take cover back where the provisional headquarters used to be! When a high-ranking officer shows up, explain what—No, wait. Just give them this message: ‘The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion has temporarily assumed command. Contact them immediately.’” 

What in the world is happening…? Tanya peers up at the heavens. The last time she looked up, there was a fine ceiling overhead. Now there’s nothing but irritating cloud cover. 

Shouting curses is about all she can do at the moment. 

“How did these complete amateurs become officers?! The hell is going on?!” 

Suppressing the urge to click her tongue, Tanya shakes her head. 

It would have been nice to at least have discussed a plan with the Fifty-Fourth Regiment…but it seems like there’s not enough time. Given the situation, something needs to be done now. Reflection and regret are luxuries only the living get to enjoy. 

The ability to worry is quite a fitting way to prove to ourselves that we’re still alive. 

“…We can’t coordinate with these guys. We shouldn’t even try. Instead of teamwork, we’ll just pile up a heap of individual victories until it becomes something resembling team play. I guess that’s the plan, then.” 

Necessity justifies it. 

“Let’s take advantage of an aerial mage battalion’s mobility.” 

What a nostalgic operation theory. I remember how, back at the war college, I suggested it to General von Zettour during a coincidental meeting. 

A unit specializing in mobility that excels at single strikes and can respond quickly with small numbers—an aerial mage battalion really is the optimal reserve force for tasks that require flexibility. 

They’re the optimal manhunt specialists. Now, turning back to more immediate concerns, it’s time to get Tanya’s thoughts in order. 

The situation is extremely unfavorable. 

Chain of command has collapsed. 

The transfer of command is ineffective. 

And to top it off, enemy numbers are grim. 

But that’s no reason to neglect the things we have to do. On the contrary, we should apply ourselves even more steadily and carefully than usual. 

“Battalion, attention!” 

The order elicits a perfect reaction. 

The members of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion turn to me in a synchronized motion as if an electric current zapped them from their heads to their heels. 

It’s something that was drilled into them countless times in training. 

The way Major Weiss, First Lieutenant Grantz, and First Lieutenant Serebryakov are standing tall at the head of the formation speaks to how perfectly disciplined the troops are. 

They’re pros. I feel nothing but satisfaction seeing them work. Which is why I’m confident I can expect them to perform admirably in the future as well. 

“In brief, our mission is to support our allies! Don’t expect the other units to do anything but defend their positions!” 

“That isn’t too much work for them?” 

The formal beauty of Weiss spouting a joke at the appropriate moment to lighten the mood, the exquisite timing of his interjection… Nothing can replace the peace of mind and confidence of knowing that your vice commander can read the mood. 

“Assume that you’re splitting roles. While they hold ground, flank our numbskull enemies and scatter them.” 

Tanya’s smile is like a silent You know what to do. 

It’s the same job as always. 

“Battalion, this is business as usual. Mop them up the way you always do, turn in reports like normal, and then return to base like any other day.” 

It’s exceedingly easy for aerial mages to cross distances. They’re the ideal reserve force: exceptionally rapid to deploy with the mobility the Imperial Army has been craving. 

The Imperial Army’s forte is running around within established positions to conduct interior lines defense. It’s a tradition that is drilled into every cadet at the academy, and then, as a finishing touch, they carve those concepts into the officer corps’ very flesh and bones at war college. 

In other words, the current conditions are all anticipated scenarios. Protecting a base by using interior lines tactics to fend off encroaching enemies is no exception. 

“Enemy soldiers!” 

“We have enemy contact! Get in there!” 

Even the hand-to-hand combat within the position is performed with no hesitation. 

This is the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, after all. We have plenty of members who have been around since the Rhine. Their proficiency with shovels is beyond excellent. Once you get used to using them, shovels are extraordinarily handy tools. A stab to the privates and then a whack to the head is a surefire way to incapacitate the enemy. 

“Elimination complete, yeah?!” 

“Colonel, over there!” 

When I glance over, I see a group fleeing from the direction of the gunfire. To put it plainly, it’s the sad troops who can be described as the remnants of the defeated army. 

The way they’re retreating in a panic instead of facing the enemy…suggests there’s a hole in our lines now. 

“What the hell? Patch it up!” 

I learned this well at the academy. With defense by interior lines, the defensive lines frequently require repair. You can find as many examples as you can look for of a collapse in one corner leading to a total rout. 

I learned at war college: Ignore a breach in the lines for too long and you’ll be forced to switch to mobile defense, but even mobile defense requires a certain amount of space to be successful. In a trench battle, you can abandon the first line—assuming you have the depth to weather a sustained attack. 

But in the end, defense in depth is another theoretical ideal, one you can’t rely on in a static defense where there isn’t much space to spare. Which is why the instructors kept emphasizing how critical it was to maintain a solid defensive line. 

“Shit, what are the guys on the west side doing?!” 

Is there some vulnerability on that flank? Soldiers fleeing from the direction of the western defensive position is about the worst sight I can think of. 

Tanya needs to go and find out what’s happening there. Right as she’s about to rush over, a sound rings in her ears, alerting her to just how serious the situation is. 

An echoing call of that most vexing “Urá!” 

Agh, damn it all to hell. It’s obvious what’s going on. That’s a cry you get used to hearing when you’re on the eastern front! 

The better you hear it, the more pressure the enemy’s advance puts on our troops. Their morale is peaking while ours is falling apart. 

It’s clear we’re about to be overwhelmed by enemy forces. One glance is enough to tell the cause. I can see it even if I don’t want to. 

The ones running are all pale-faced youngsters and men who look pretty old to be on active duty. An ad hoc unit of newbies and reserves. When it dawns on her, there’s no way to disguise her sigh. 

These guys are vulnerable. 

They’re too fragile. 

They’re far below the standards of the powerful Imperial Army Tanya knows. Having been continually fighting on the front line, that’s her honest opinion. 

“…They’re raw recruits.” 

Tanya nods at Weiss in silence. 

“Shall we withdraw to the second line?” 

Nein. She shakes her head. 

A retreat would be difficult. If we could move in an organized way, a withdrawal would at least be a tactical option. It would be more logical than a futile attempt to maintain the crumbling line, which can hardly be called optimal. 

But with the headquarters destroyed, an orderly retreat is impossible. 

It’s nothing but an empty theoretical option that can’t be realized. No, if we’re unlucky, it could be even worse than armchair theories. What would happen if the disarray spread rapidly so that even the points currently holding out ended up peeling off? 

A classic loss of leadership followed by a classic rout. A feigned retreat followed by a counterattack would be impossible to pull off without a solid foundation. 

Troops who believe they’re already defeated are useless in a counterattack. 

I never thought I would have to prioritize the sure thing over the rational. War really forces some horrible choices on people. 

Tanya makes up her mind. 

“Prepare for an assault battle. Major, you’ll command the 203rd.” 

“Huh?” 

Weiss is a veteran, too. If his eyes are asking me Are you serious? that means he understands what I’m trying to do. He’s found the rational in the irrational. 

“I agree wholeheartedly that it’s unwise, but we have to do it.” 

“…Understood.” 

“I’ll command the infantry. Lieutenant Serebryakov, you and your company follow me. The rest of you, go with Weiss. Watch the timing for the counterassault.” 

With a curt “Let’s break it out,” Tanya swiftly hands out instructions and sets off in a deliberately casual jaunt toward the friendly troops who have transformed into shells of a defeated force. 

“Dig your heels in!” You couldn’t call it a terribly loud shout, but she musters all the volume she can. Sadly, despite the fact that an aerial magic officer with her rank clearly visible is screaming at them, none of them returns to their positions. 

Not only that, but they stare at her blankly. Apparently, their understanding of the world has broken down. 

Fine. Tanya frowns a bit. 

Why are officers called officers? Because they do what needs to be done when it needs to be done. 

Hasn’t it been said that soldiers should fear their own officers more than the enemy? 

“Consider this fleeing before the enemy.” 

“Huh?!” 

Her adjutant’s vacant reaction is the expected response. 

Though Serebryakov has worked her way up the ranks, she was originally a draftee. And given her temperament, Tanya can understand why she would hesitate. 

Nevertheless… Tanya gives the order with confidence. 

“Prepare to fire!” 

“Preparing to fire, ma’am!” 

Training and discipline are nothing more than the optimization of conditioned reflexes. 

Her troops respond immediately. 

It’s only twelve people, but they are aerial mages—seeing them lining up to attack is jaw-dropping. And the pressure of a company of aerial mages is especially potent in a war zone. 

Anyone who still has the presence of mind to be frightened on a battlefield can obviously comprehend threats. 

Instincts can be extremely handy when controlled. Saying humans are like beasts is perhaps too strong a comparison, but humans do have instincts. If we brand them with intelligence, the appropriate regulation and management of people under extreme situations can be achieved. 

Urging the troops on has no effect. What a handful. Tanya switches to more provocative language. “What if the people back home found out? It would probably render them speechless. You should be ashamed of yourselves, you utter buffoons!” 

When she scans the terrified faces, all of them are recoiling. Troops who can no longer feel shame are a handful. This is pointless. There’s little reason to keep trying. 

If giving up isn’t an option, then is the only thing left to do to take things up a notch? Probably. Tanya steels her resolve and opens her mouth for the third time. 

“Attention.” Her voice is small, and no one listens. 

At this point, that’s not surprising. By the time soldiers are routing, they’re nothing but a mob of individuals consumed by terror. 

But people being scared isn’t useful. 

And these troops have to be put to use if the Empire wants to win the war. This is total war, i.e., a conflict where the entire population plays an active role in the war effort. The situation has gotten so out of hand that I almost want to laugh. 

Tanya repeats again, with composure, “Attention.” 

Hmph. She sniffs, reaching for the gun at her hip. 

Paying no mind to the fact that her action rattles even the weak-kneed soldiers, she aims horizontally and waits until the last second to lift the pistol into the air to shoot. 

“Attention!” She raises her voice and checks the response, but the outcome is only a commotion… “Arrrgh.” Her patience runs out. “Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is calling you to attention! Shut up and listen!” 

After emptying an entire magazine, she raises her voice again. “What are you doing? What about your posts? Who’s your commander?” 

“C-Captain Ryan’s dead! W-we’re done for!” 

Did the tension break? One of the kids screams that their unit has been wiped out, his face an unnatural pallor. This is a good opportunity. In response to the numbskull panicking over the insurmountable odds, Tanya sighs. 

There’s no denying that it’s going to be a tough fight. 

But so what? 

It’s not as if running away is going to help anyhow. 

People who flee despite the lack of an escape route are lemmings. If you’re just planning on falling into some water and drowning, then fighting to the bitter end seems more promising. 

“Wiped out? Soldiers, are those legs just for decoration?” Tanya laughs at them. “Aren’t you still alive?” Her expression changes in an instant. “Or what? You there, right in front of me. Are you saying you guys aren’t imperial soldiers? Are you Federation soldiers who have kindly come to inform us that our western position has fallen?” 

When she glances at her subordinates, Serebryakov and the others seem to catch her drift—they place their fingers on the triggers of their weapons. 

The one issuing a warning and the ones being warned are all soldiers. Everyone understands what’s going on. 

If she doesn’t need to explain every little thing, that’ll make this go quicker. Fantastic. Tanya continues, feeling quite satisfied. 

“This is simple. There are imperial soldiers, and there’s a position that needs to be held. It’s obvious what needs to happen.” 

This can’t be called a threat. It’s just proof that there really are idiots in the world who can’t regain composure without having a gun pointed at them. 

True idiots are constantly falling short of the lowest expectations of sensible people like Tanya. There’s nothing to guarantee there won’t be a deranged fool mistaking us for enemies and firing. 

“Are you enemies? Or are you Imperial Army, like us?” 

“What do you want from us, ma’am? There was nothing we could do!” 

“If you have complaints, you can tell them to a counselor, if you like—after you survive. Right now, you have a decision to make. Will you take back the position with us? Or will you resist us as an enemy? Give a clear answer. I can’t wait all day.” 

“…Are you serious? Why are you doing this?” 

“That’s obvious. We need to save our position right this instant.” 

It’s good to see some startled faces remaining. It will stay secret that Tanya is incredibly relieved when she surveys the ragged remnants and spots some survivors with faces that are just barely passable for soldiers. 

If we can find more instructors, it’ll make things easier. Leaders take on a lot of responsibility. 

When someone is staggering toward you, you should call out to them. What a human thing to do, right? 

“Lieutenant, you can still fight, yes? Great, round up your men.” 

“I—I…” 

Rank insignia, age, ribbon bars. Even if you can’t actually tell a person’s worth from a badge, it is one criterion that can be used to make decisions. 

“Didn’t you rise through the ranks? Unless you’re a fool who’s just been letting the years go by with your thumb up your ass, do what you need to do. If you can’t, I’ll lay you to eternal rest right here!” When Tanya smiles encouragingly to say, C’mon, you can do it, the effect is immediate. 

“Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha! You’re a monster, huh, Colonel?” 

“The fatherland’s enemies approach. Are you saying I should flash them a loving smile?” 

How rude! She puffs her cheeks out to pout. 

“Yeah, you’re right, Colonel.” 

“Damn straight, Lieutenant.” 

“Understood… All right, fellas, let’s do this.” 

His muttered words are low, heavy, and mixed with a sigh. There’s no mistaking that will. If a soldier still has enough energy to sigh, he passes muster. 

With a satisfied nod, Tanya offers a hand. 

“Good, good. What’s your name, Lieutenant?” 

“Second Lieutenant Barchet at your service, Colonel.” 

“All right, Lieutenant Barchet. Let’s hop to it, shall we?” 

Time to go to work. Tanya smiles faintly. 

Now we have the people. Even if we detach some mages to support the defense after we take back the western position, it won’t need to be that many. If we do it right and get them organized, we might be able to cover most of the flank with them. 

It’s always wonderful to have a reason to feel hopeful. 

And you can’t look down on the powerful desire to work. Being able to expect a bright future is fabulous. All right, then. Tanya smiles. “Follow me! Let’s go!” She waves her pistol to encourage them and then runs off. 

I’m not a big believer in mind over matter, but then again, mindless corporate slaves can only produce empty victories. 

We’ll just have to devote ourselves to our work as members of a proper human society. 

“C’mon! We’re counterattacking!” 

“If you’re going to die, at least die falling forward!” 

“You imbeciles need to be taught how to fight like infantry from aerial mages? Get your asses in gear! Run!” 

Hmph. Tanya slumps her shoulders and even makes a joke to her adjutant when she comes jogging over. 

“Man, we should never act like a blocking unit. Things got a little dicey.” 

“…It was rather intense.” 

What? That was nothing. Tanya shrugs. Sure, it’s a pain in the neck, but it’s the easiest way to “persuade” someone without risking a call from Legal. 

It was a piece of cake, no sweat. 

You could even call it a civilized conversation. 

Rallying troops together, reorganizing them, and reminding the mob of their duties is so human—Tanya rather likes that part. 

Luckily, there are no other disputes at this urgent juncture. 

Relieved that they might be okay after all, Tanya takes direct command of the provisional unit that will reinforce the defensive line. 

As that group is hurrying back to the front, a monster appears out of nowhere, rearing its ugly head. 

Hulking frame. Painted red star. Though they’ve never seen it before, there’s no soldier on the eastern front who could mistake that familiar silhouette. More than a few people are cursing. 

“Tank! Is that a new model?” 

Several aerial mages abruptly cast explosion formulas as they’re conditioned to, which function both as a smoke screen and an attack. Sadly, it doesn’t seem to have any effect besides putting up some concealment. 

“It’s sturdy! Shit, it’s a new model for sure! Aim for the treads! If we can stop it, we can slug it to death!” Barchet yells an appropriate order. “Bring up the anti-aircraft guns! We can use them to pierce the armor!” 

I take that back. He seems to be fighting this war with nothing but an infantry mindset. 

“Sheesh, Lieutenant. I can’t have you forgetting us. Mages, follow me! We’ll pry their lids off and heat them up like canned rations!” 

“Yes, ma’am!” 

The reason aerial mages reign in urban areas is their ability to conduct combat in three dimensions. We’re more flexible than helicopters and smaller and nimbler than the humanoid weapon platforms you see in science fiction. 

Well, blasting through the canopy of a tank is easy enough. That doesn’t change even in an encounter battle in a village. 

“Major Weiss! Leave some intact so it can be used as cover.” 

“You can leave it all to me!” 

“The enemy is running scared! This is where we start our counterattack! Charge!” 

Let’s clean them up! Leading from the front, Tanya’s time serving as a sort of blocking unit ends almost the moment it begins. 

The counterattack drives off pretty much all the enemies, and once Tanya can sit back and admire their handiwork, she sighs as if to say, Finally. 

Even if the enemy strikes with artillery support, as long as they don’t have aerial mages, too, they won’t get anywhere. 

On that point, perhaps the Reich should give an award to the Federation “comrades” who sent all their mages to the lageri. It sure makes our battles easier. 

“Hmph, I guess that’s that?” 

“Magnificent work, Colonel.” 

“Lieutenant Barchet? It’s all thanks to your support.” 

Without the different branches cooperating, there is no chance of victory. An army that does the obvious as a matter of course is best. You can say that an organization’s performance depends on how well it can stick to basic principles. 

“So can we leave this up to you now?” 

“Of course. When this is over, I hope you’ll let me treat you to a drink.” 

“As you can see, I’m not allowed to imbibe. Make it a cup of your finest coffee.” 

If Tanya drinks at her age, neither military nor civil laws will protect her. The Empire is rather unforgiving when it comes to minors drinking or smoking. 

“Oh, how thoughtless of me. Would some milk or meat from the east be all right?” 

“Let’s make it a can of pineapple. Now then, if you’ll excuse me.” 

Ha-ha-ha. Time to leave the rest to Barchet and swiftly switch gears to the next task. 

“02, what’s our status?” 

“No losses, three light wounds. Nothing that will knock us out of the fight.” 

“Very good. Then we’ll move around the outside of our troops’ defensive line. Let’s treat ourselves to the fun of kicking the Federation Army in the flank,” Tanya barks. To her, it’s an easy job. No, strictly speaking, it’s probably better to say that it’s more easygoing, since the outcome is clear. 

As long as there are no mages mixed in with the Federation troops, the imperial aerial mages can run wild. That artillery division is the only enemy worth fearing in the vicinity, but given that there haven’t been any incoming shells since the initial bombardment, they’re probably either out of ammo or building a position and thus left out of the equation. 

So far, nothing’s happened to disprove that theory. 

“…Sheesh, I guess that’s it for now?” 

The enemy attack has been repelled. The infiltrating enemy unit has been eliminated. Tanya nods in satisfaction at these results, which on the whole can be termed a successful instance of ideal interior lines defense. 

“Colonel, I found the second-in-command of the Fifty-Fourth Regiment.” 

“Lieutenant Colonel Kreisler, at your service. Thanks for the helping hand.” 

“Likewise. I’m Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff.” 

Filling each other in, as if they had agreed to ahead of time, the discussion about everything that had been neglected during the panic is incredibly smooth. As expected, sending Weiss in to negotiate really helps move things along. 

Things would have gone more smoothly if I hadn’t sent a useless greenhorn officer with the message. 

Is that why? She finds herself, in the natural course of things, praising the capable one with a good recommendation. 

“Your Second Lieutenant Barchet did a fine job. We met him partway through this ordeal, and I must say that officers who are promoted from the enlisted like him are a precious resource. I realize you’re short on people, but I’d even like to have him if I can.” 

“Oh, you knew him? He was from my battalion.” 

“Oh my. Well…” Tanya apologizes and bows her head. She can’t help but notice the past-tense nature of his reply. 

“I’m sure he would have been happy to know someone with the Silver Wings Assault Badge thought highly of him.” 

“…You mean?” 

“At the height of the counterattack, he got hit with a Federation grenade. He was groaning until just a short while ago, but the surgeon told me…” 

There’s no need to add We couldn’t save him. If anyone on the eastern front shakes their head with such mourning, the meaning is clear. 

“I had a comrade. He sleeps; I walk. Oh Lord, please have mercy on his soul.” 

“Couldn’t have said it better. Well, my unit is withdrawing. If we go now, I think we can make it to the next marshaling point. What are you going to do?” 

He must be inviting us to go with him. Give and take. It’s a mindset I appreciate. But Tanya shakes her head. 

No aerial mage unit should travel the same road as an infantry unit. 

“My troops are nimble aerial mages. We’re used to being the rear guard. We’ll stick around here for a few hours after you’ve left and then head to the marshaling point at our own pace.” 

“I really appreciate it…but are you sure?” 

“Of course.” 

Tanya responds with a broad smile. 

In contrast to slow-moving infantry, aerial mage units are made for mobility. To put it another way, their ability to shoot and scoot is their chief feature. If there’s no need to hold a position, they can simply fly away. That’s a strategy that works well on the eastern front, where the usual order of the day is defense in depth—though the static defensive battle the unit just fought in is not a great example. 

Anyway, outside of times when operating as a Kampfgruppe, there’s not much appeal in sharing the fate of another unit. 

“Oh, we’ll just throw a wild party with the jettisoned supplies of the Fifty-Fourth Regiment—if you don’t mind forgetting some choice rations.” 

“…So your Silver Wings aren’t just for show, huh?” 

“Oh, they definitely are. All right, Colonel Kreisler, I hope we both have good luck.” 

“Yes, stay safe out there.” 

The good-bye ends with salutes and well wishes. Tanya and the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion members watch as the others leave the crumbling building. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to withdraw with those friendly troops?” 

Tanya nods at her vice commander with absolute certainty. “Major, we and the infantry move at different speeds, as I’m sure you know.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Honestly, considering how we can consistently outrun the Federation aerial mages, if all we want to do on the eastern front is escape, it’s extremely easy. Not to mention that the huge group of foot soldiers making up the Fifty-Fourth Regiment serves as a great decoy. Our retreat should go quite smoothly. 

“We have the leeway to take it slowly. I see no problem with staying here until we have cover of night. Sleep in shifts now, while you can.” 

“The beds were all blown away…” 

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find enough for half an aerial mage battalion. The troops who aren’t getting some shut-eye should have some tea and high-calorie chocolate.” 

“That’s quite the leisurely shift.” 

You’re not wrong. Tanya agrees with her vice commander’s grumble but doesn’t forget to tack on a warning. “If there’s no enemy attack, that is.” 

“Certainly. Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go first.” 

“Yes, switch up in two hours. I’ll wake you, so get some shut-eye.” 

“Understood.” Weiss salutes, and as she watches him go, Tanya realizes the first lieutenants are standing next to her. 

“Lieutenant Serebryakov, you too. Get to bed. Lieutenant Grantz, you’re with me. Go look for some coffee beans or something.” 

“Coffee beans, ma’am?” 

“Sort through the remains of the Fifty-Fourth’s regimental HQ. I’m sure you’ll find at least one bean. If that doesn’t work out, grab some of the troops’ tags and we’ll trade them in for luxury goods when we return to the rear.” 

“Got it. I’ll task a few people.” 

As the mages set off with their shovels, Tanya makes good on her words and chomps into some chocolate. 

In any case, we’ve earned a breather. All that’s left is to make our way back to the rallying point and join up with the rest of the Salamander Kampfgruppe. 

To be frank, when coordination is doubtful, cooperating with another unit is an absolutely terrifying prospect. 

It was hard to not let it show on Tanya’s face. Synchronizing on the fly is hard to pull off even for pros. To cooperate with amateurs who are fuzzy on even the basics is sheer horror. 

A ragtag crew is basically a walking nightmare. 

If someone makes a mistake and ruins themselves, that’s their own fault. Sadly, the fundamental principle of war is collective responsibility. And your life is what’s at stake. 

I’m not about to entrust that to someone I can’t believe in. 

How would that be any different from getting treated by some quack doctor who doesn’t have a license to practice medicine. 

Even in cases of disease or injury, I’m extremely reluctant to leave my fate in the hands of a doctor. But it must be done. As long as they guarantee professional standards, they deserve my respect. 

Quacks and other fakes, however, should be shot. There’s no waste more toxic than an incompetent fool who thinks they’re an expert. That goes the same for soldiers at war. If you’re receiving payment and putting your life on the line to fight, there are no compromises allowed. Troops who can’t be put to good use are nothing but dead weight, not even usable as meat shields. 

If you’re not a pro, don’t even speak to me. Don’t bother me. If at all possible, make yourself useful and cause some damage to the enemy. While it’s incredibly self-centered, Tanya is confident that these sentiments are utterly human and normal. That’s what a human is to Tanya von Degurechaff. 

Being taught that humans are political animals who construct society to serve their own interests is one of my earliest memories from Japan, my onetime schoolhouse. 

Back then, I probably didn’t fully comprehend it. 

“Sheesh, you can’t sniff at lifelong learning, can you?” 

There’s no limit to the amount that can be invested in human capital. It’s a virtue to learn whenever the opportunity presents itself. Ultimately, there’s no such thing as a professional who stops learning. 

“I guess that’s a pro’s job, huh?” 

In that respect, the members of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion and the Salamander Kampfgruppe are model, certifiable experts. 

They enjoy combat just a bit too much, but, considering the current situation, Tanya can only rate them highly. Personality, education, and taste are all secondary factors when it comes to evaluations. The main criterion is whether or not they can properly fulfill their duties. 

In other words, people who can’t do their jobs well are garbage. In private life, I’ll be respectful. But working with them is impossible. If it’s a choice between war maniacs who can fight a war or good-natured people who can’t do anything useful, I want the former beside me when I’m on the front line… 

Then Tanya is suddenly struck by something. 

“…Why am I assuming that I’ll be fighting in a war?” 

If you say it’s because she’s currently at war, then there’s nothing else to it. 

But for a peaceful peace-loving liberal democrat like Tanya, the state of war should be an exception. Not a natural state of being. 

War shouldn’t be used as a justification for anything. 

“Fucking hell.” 

This war needs to end. 

Tanya swallows the words instead of saying them and turns on her heel, a glum look on her face.