[chapter VI] Hans von Zettour
JUNE 18, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
The Federation Army units dealt with the charging imperial armored units according to regulations. The reserve forces were assigned rapid-response duty and intercepted the imperial rescue units trying to make a breakthrough.
Though Federation doctrine emphasized numerical superiority, they didn’t necessarily have it on the receiving end of Lieutenant General von Zettour’s charge. Still, what they lacked in numbers, they made up for with ability.
The Federation Army’s handling of the situation, on battle lines ruled by the fog of war, was exceedingly close to perfect. The carefully prepared plan was enacted without a hitch, and the pet they had kept safely in their pocket for just such an occasion—a full armored division—was decisively rushed over.
Even the Imperial Army General Staff was forced to recognize their enemy’s organized resistance as something worth imitating.
Without excessive interference by political officers, plus their burgeoning pursuit of military logic, the Federation military organization had built itself a reliable defense. Perhaps it was by the book, but when you have the ability and opportunity, there is nothing more solid than a frontal attack.
If the imperial relief unit had been short on nerves, the Federation surely would have won. Their counter-advance would have shattered the imperial will to fight along with everything else; they probably could have even made a long-range march of it.
If there was one fatal miscalculation the intercepting Federation troops made, it was this: They didn’t anticipate wild animals escaping the supposedly surrounded enemy position, baring their fangs, and chomping down hard from behind.
In a struggle for supremacy, a stab in the back can trigger the collapse of even the most powerful of armies.
Because the Federation Army had unwisely committed its reserve forces and continued choosing the right answers according to the textbook, a single action outside its paradigm froze its brain.
The blessing within the curse was that a sheepdog had been pursuing the animals.
Lieutenant Colonel Drake was forced into the heroic role of saving his fellow troops, which, while not at all what he intended, proved a stroke of luck for the army overall.
Dragged along after rampaging First Lieutenant Sue went rogue, the voluntary mage unit ended up pursuing the enemy, and by slowing down the mage battalion that zoomed out of Soldim 528, the Federation troops just barely managed to contain what would have otherwise been a fatal strike.
But ad hoc tactics would only work for so long.
The Federation Army was aware of the B Group’s dwindling will to fight, so the Imperial Army’s drive to break the encirclement overturned all its expectations; they were pincered by the mage battalion from behind, and all of their reserve troops had already been deployed.
The commander of any army would have their head in their hands.
But it turned out that the damage to the Federation Army at the point where they were broken through was momentarily localized. The real problem was caused by its organizational structure as they faced this challenge—that is, the issue of decision-making.
What do you do when you can no longer maintain the line?
Counter? Retreat? Defend?
Any of those choices would have been one way to proceed. But the Federation commanders failed to make the crucial call. No one was able to secure the time necessary to reorganize the crumbled formations.
It wasn’t that there were no commanders who could make a quick decision.
In fierce battle after fierce battle, Federation commanders were accumulating experience and knowledge, honing their judgment and combat skills at a pace that rivaled their imperial counterparts.
There was only one reason they failed to decide.
Regardless of how outstanding an officer, the Federation Army considered obedience the supreme virtue. Put another way, disobedience was simply not an option on principle. Their organization lacked the culture of acting on one’s own discretion, even in an emergency. Not that it hadn’t ever been done. But doing so was a heroic decision that took something more than bravery.
Most people would simply wait.
For an order.
Or more precisely, for permission.
That’s how they had been disciplined: to fear the party more than the enemy.
Of course, if they realized they weren’t going to make it, they might eventually move.
But they didn’t go far enough.
So Lieutenant General von Zettour’s advance—which went not only far enough but all the way—opened the door.
Was this resolute charge an example of savage valor, recklessness, or a casting away of indecision? No matter how it was described, there was no doubt Zettour had won his wager.
JUNE 19, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE EASTERN LINES, IMPERIAL ARMY UNIT IN PURSUIT
The rewards of victory are many and various, but one that is guaranteed is the right to chase down fleeing enemies. No matter the era or place, there is nothing that feels better than firing at your enemy’s knapsacks.
I mean, you get to attack their backs, you know?
Once a general pursuit is ordered, everyone has to go whether they want to or not.
Among the bravely charging units ordered to hunt down the enemy are Tanya and the rest of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. It’s full speed ahead in aerial strike formation aiming straight for the enemy’s backs as the Empire’s hunting dogs.
But the face of the commander Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff, leading the troops, darkens for a moment, and she signals nonchalantly with her eyes to her vice commander flying nearby.
He looks worried, too, as he approaches casually. He’s a trained officer as well—he gets full marks for considering the watchful eyes of their subordinates.
“My, what a view. Who could have expected a pursuit battle?”
“You said it. The breakthrough is a success. So there was a point to defending Soldim 528.”
“Ha-ha-ha.” What a cheerful chat as commander and deputy commander laugh together. The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion may train from scratch, but at least it has commanders it can count on.
So yes, Weiss and Tanya are doing a good job. Probably the only one who catches the cryptic air between them is Tanya’s adjutant.
“We’re supposed to mop up the rest of the enemies while giving chase in order to secure the area, but…Colonel?”
“Weiss, I’ll ask you point-blank…do you really think pursuit is possible, given the circumstances?” Tanya glances at her vice commander with a bitter look.
“We’ve been ordered to pursue…but it’s not what you want? It’s true that the unit is tired, but we’re still mission-capable.”
“Major Weiss, even we’re exhausted, and we certainly didn’t have it the worst.”
Of all the units that participated in the breakthrough operation, the 203rd is probably in the best shape. Yet, Tanya hesitates to take the opportunity to expand their gains via pursuit.
If it were only her own unit, she might have forced them to keep pace with the rest of the troops. Sadly, those other troops, who would be their last hope, may or may not be in any position to move.
Considering B Group’s current status, by the time they achieved the breakthrough…the troops were already at their limits.
“So there’s no way?”
Tanya gives a small nod in response to Weiss’s pained comment. She doesn’t have to ask what he’s referring to.
It’s frustrating to not be able to follow up one success with full force, but neither is there any way to gloss over the complete lack of reserves.
“It’s too big a risk to press on with the battalion alone. The best we can do is provide support alongside the air fleet. I’ll approve a slight advance as a tactical measure, but I want to avoid incurring any further fatigue.”
“If those are your orders…”
“Let’s make them strict orders. I don’t want to exhaust units that have already been through a hard fight. We had that multinational unit hounding us, too. I can’t let this drag on.”
“So we should call it off entirely?”
Tanya signals that she wants to consider it and goes over the issues on her mind.
When we met up with General Zettour, he was definitely giving off vibes that implied he wanted to mop up the enemy. He was so amped that he had been personally at the front, gun in hand.
And along with the tea plans, he had made a request: “Colonel, after the pursuit battle, I want you to report in and tell me how it went.”
Remembering that, Tanya sighs.
The higher-ups always talk like it’s so easy. He said to report in, but does that mean he expects a souvenir? Does she dare to return empty-handed?
I don’t want to be the sort of boss who merely hands down her superior’s contradictory orders.
“I don’t want to be like that, but”—Tanya spots a cluster of enemy mages like tiny floating specks and grumbles—“it also feels like a waste.”
If I want to heed warnings from history, then the only practical option is to withdraw. But I also understand feeling, like Cao Cao, that we’re squandering an opportunity.
If I could just lay into the Federation and Commonwealth mages who have been following us and causing trouble… Well, it’s not something I wish for no reason.
“Colonel?”
“Nothing. I’d like to withdraw, but I also feel like settling the score, since they’re right in front of us—two actions that are mutually exclusive. So the only thing to do is to probe them.”
Tanya laughs at herself for acting out of character. But this is what happens when you’re stuck in a situation with no good choices.
It’s awful, but then so much of life is.
Reality is full of absurdity—from Being X, to the sorrows of middle management, or the fool who pushed me in front of the train. Thus do I wish that all those evils rot.
Let’s brace ourselves.
Let’s stand up against absurdity.
We’ll hold our ground and act with tenacity.
“01 to all units! We’re going to destroy those enemy mages! Prepare to strike!”
If you’re going to do it, abandon all hesitation.
Ordering the charge, Tanya leads her battalion as they swiftly close in on the multinational unit led by Lieutenant Colonel Drake and Colonel Mikel.
THE SAME DAY, THE MULTINATIONAL UNIT’S REAR GUARD
Meanwhile, Lieutenant Colonel Drake, on the pursued side, had problems of his own. Or perhaps one could say the thoughts of any member of an organization on a battlefield start to resemble one another. It doesn’t matter if you’re victorious and transitioning to pursuit or defeated and retreating, your worries will be more similar than some might imagine.
Will it be all right to return empty-handed? It’s the first time Drake, magic marine of the Commonwealth and seasoned hero, has had to face the conflict of wondering that while being pursued.
If he had to describe this novel experience in a nutshell: the taste of vomit. It was the sort of dilemma he never wanted to go through again.
“The enemy is after us. But I’m not sure what to do. Honestly, what a…”
No, he would hold his tongue, but it absolutely was a shit show. How could he hesitate between counterattacking and fleeing?
Strictly speaking, there was no problem with his own hands being empty, but he had to consider Colonel Mikel and his standing with the Federation Communist Party.
If the multinational unit retreated empty-handed, would Mikel’s physical safety be guaranteed or not? Being defeated was already complicated enough.
It was easy to imagine this as a concern shared by all Federation officers—to the point that Drake was forced to realize: That’s why the Federation Army is so fragile. If he could believe the rumors he was hearing, they were starting to value military logic. But the divergence from a Commonwealth soldier view was still as substantial as ever.
“…So what should I do?” Drake murmured and turned his mind to organizational theory and the Federation’s internal logic. If it were only about clobbering the enemy in front of them, things would be much simpler…
But as it was, they were basically being pincered.
“Does it bother you so much to bring up the rear of a fighting retreat?”
“…No, it isn’t that. I’m worried about what excuse to make…”
“Colonel Drake?”
He was having a frank conversation with Mikel, who gave him a puzzled look—minus the usual interpreter. It was a risky move, but if neither the political officer nor loose-lipped First Lieutenant Sue was around, he didn’t have time to waste on useless formalities.
Risk, risk, risk.
They were only waging war alongside the Federation, so why was there so much to take into account?
“Please allow me to ask you plainly. Are we allowed to retreat without achieving anything significant? I’m especially concerned about any difficulty you might experience in your position. Do you think you’ll be let off the hook without punishment?”
“I’m making it a point of not discussing politics. Could you do me a favor and not make me leak confidential intel?”
In other words, politics were involved. If politics were involved, he wouldn’t get off easy. Drake responded to Mikel’s implicit answer with a hollow laugh at the sky. “…Got it. I understand the Federation’s culture and wish to respect it.”
They needed to return with a souvenir as a matter of political necessity.
He had always believed that politics was a nasty business, but with this, he confirmed anew how truly, hopelessly rotten it was.
“So we need something to show for all our effort, but we’re the rear guard fighting fiercely as we retreat. I hate to admit that Lieutenant Sue’s rampage saved us this time, but in retrospect, we were able to provide effective support for our fellow troops as a result of her actions.”
They had been able to avoid the collapse of the army when the imperial pincer attack threatened to destroy them completely.
“Let’s hold out at the back of the pack. We’ll stay with you and fight.”
Mikel’s apologetic thanks was lost to the wind.
Drake didn’t hear what he said. It wasn’t the sort of thing that should be said between brothers-in-arms. A man doesn’t need a reason to stand firm beside a fellow soldier.
There’s my friend.
And there’s me.
So like Horatius, I’ve got to protect what I’ve got to protect. In the name of the homeland, one man makes loyalty his duty. What was there to be afraid of?
“At least tell me this…how many of your subordinates…?”
“Thirteen.”
A company’s worth of people had been lost.
Without Sue’s rampage—no, there was no point in thinking about that.
I killed them—the unit was under my command. I should apologize to their families. I should be punished. It should be my shame to bear.
“…Dear God and fatherland, may you know their glory,” Drake prayed quietly, faintly.
“Colonel, they did die fighting the enemy.”
“By which you mean…?”
“…It’s good that you’re not used to your troops dying. And they were able to die in battle against the enemy. That’s a relatively blessed way to go.”
There was a story Drake had been taught as a boy. A heroic tale of a brave and just knight. He would have to add to it the contributions of his subordinates who made the ultimate sacrifice so far from home.
What we’re doing has meaning.
He wanted to believe that.
At least they had fallen fighting the enemy of the homeland they believed in. There were few times he felt as proud to be a citizen of the Commonwealth as he did now. Oh, beloved Commonwealth, may you delight in our peerless adoration.
Well, that’s enough sentimental musing for now.
For now, just for now, he had to force this unromantic reality to make sense.
“Well, it seems I’ve been comforted by your words, so let’s get down to war, eh? How serious do you think their pursuit will be? That mage battalion is charging after us, but do you think it’ll end there?”
He had to admit that the charging Imperial Army was handling things quite nimbly. The imperial mage unit and the Devil of the Rhine had a lot of fight in them despite giving chase right after flying out of the heavy encirclement and harsh conditions they endured at Soldim 528.
They could have gotten a little tired, but instead they were coming at the multinational unit as if their adrenaline was blasting on full power; it creeped Drake out in the same incomprehensible way Sue did. Why not get worn out like a human being?
“The answer is obvious, Colonel Drake. There are few things as amusing as seeing your enemy’s knapsacks.”
“What?”
“Is this a generational gap or something? Shooting at the packs on the enemies’ backs is good old fun. You could say that it’s an officer’s dream to see the enemies’ knapsacks.”
“I was a little boy with status, so I’ve always preferred chasing foxes.” He held his rifle up as he mimed hunting.
The customs of his hometown. How nostalgic—the scent of peaceful civilization. In warlike style, the tradition of hunting was extolled for making sure men had a gun at the ready in case anything should happen to the home country.
Harkening back to those memories from a battlefield was especially nostalgic. What a clear and simple thing it was to innocently take up your hunting rifle and chase your quarry.
“So it’s a cultural difference, hmm? Anyhow, now then, we’re about to greet the war-loving imperials. We’ve got to prepare a splendid welcome party.”
“Can we expect anything out of the fighter planes? That political officer guaranteed support, but it’s only her guarantee after all. I’d like to hear your opinion, Colonel Mikel.”
“…Colonel, your dislike of the political officer has gone a bit far. I’ve told you repeatedly that she’s one of the better ones.”
“And no matter how many times I hear you say better, I don’t understand what you mean by it.”
He wasn’t unaware that his hatred of politics was growing, but given that he was being forced to fight as a rear guard for the sake of politics alone, he would have appreciated some tolerance of his griping.
“The worst is far beyond what you can imagine. She’s more—how should I say? She’s like a good little lamb pretending to be a wolf.”
“She may be good, but she’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. It’s no wonder good sheep can’t get along with her. That said, I’ll leave off here. It’s time to party.”
He had just lit a fire under his subordinates’ behinds with gruff orders to get into formation so they would be ready to confront the incoming enemy when he received a rare bit of good news.
“Colonel! Lieutenant Sue reports enemies in our path of retreat!”
Good news from his man carrying the communications kit.
While it may have been unfortunate that enemies were sighted, Drake and his troops were being pursued—of course enemies were coming after them. It was as natural as rain falling from rain clouds.
The important point was that Sue, the entirely too willful lieutenant, had carried out her orders properly and reported in.
“The imperials could have taken their time, but oh well. Engage immediately—no, wait. Order her to break through and secure our path.”
“Yes, sir! I’ll order her to secure the path of retreat.”
Even Sue would obey him if the order entailed rescuing her fellow soldiers. Perhaps you could say she had purehearted concern for her allies? But she was still a newly minted first lieutenant.
She wasn’t a bad person at her core; on the contrary, the trouble was that she acted only out of good intentions. But for once, that would work to their advantage.
“And tell her that there are lives depending on her support of the Federation Army! Under no circumstances is she permitted to go charging off into some random imperial troops. Don’t loosen the reins!”
“Understood!”
After giving his old wingmate instructions over the radio for how to handle Sue, Drake emitted a small sigh.
He was glad the wild girl could be somewhat controlled.
After being showered in concentrated imperial mage fire and nearly getting shot down, she seemed to be learning to hold back a little from her reckless charges.
He was glad that the imperial troops had given her an education. Though he was furious that the tuition cost an awful lot of his subordinates.
But perhaps the issue lay more with Sue’s command ability.
“Okay, troops!” Drake shouted in borderline desperation. “We’re getting back alive. And when we arrive, I’m breaking out my entire stash of drinks. The catch is that the dead don’t get any. If you don’t want to be robbed, fight with all your might!”
THE SAME TIME, THE IMPERIAL ARMY’S 203RD AERIAL MAGE BATTALION
“Enemies spotted—two battalions’ worth of mages.”
“Yeah, I see them.”
It’s too bad that the number of mages her adjutant counted is correct.
“…Once again, the response is awfully fast for a Federation-Commonwealth composite unit. I guess I just can’t describe them with ‘for a’ anymore.”
It would be great if the two-headed organization would get confused about who’s in charge, but somehow they either unified the chain of command or the commander of the Commonwealth troops is a Commie—however they did it, a Communist army and a capitalist army were marching in step.
“What an unpleasant thing to see. Really horrifying.”
“Then leave it to us. You can watch as we attack and scatter them.”
First Lieutenant Grantz’s eagerness as he reacts honestly to her complaint sure is something to behold. He looks delighted to be liberated from his position as Lieutenant General von Zettour’s bodyguard.
Well, I understand that between accompanying a VIP and doing your own work at your own pace, the latter is easier, but…that said, determination needs to be used judiciously. Grantz is getting a bit carried away at the moment.
“We can’t assume that the enemy is poorly disciplined. So no, rejected.”
Any normal day, her subordinates would stand down after a declaration like that. But—if he isn’t looking back at her with eyes that say, We really can’t?—today she’s astonished.
She wants to scream at him to ask if he’s a child.
“Lieutenant Grantz, a no is a no. Are you really going to make me repeat myself?”
“N-no, ma’am. Understood!”
When Tanya hardens her eyes and demands he understand where she’s coming from, he’s quick to consent. While on the one hand, she wants her people to be bold, it’s also important for them to listen to reason.
Though if the enemy camp were to fall into disarray, she wouldn’t object to guaranteed gains.
“What a pain these enemies are who won’t fall to pieces.”
Before them, enemy mages adjust their formation as if they’re about to engage. They’ve been called two battalions, but they’re too tightly coordinated to really resemble survivors fleeing a lost battle.
Strange. This was supposed to be a pursuit battle, so what’s going on?
Pursuit means shooting at the enemies’ backsides. If the enemy has this much fight in them, it’s more like an encounter battle. Talk about bad luck.
Here! This is where an indirect approach can be handy.
“Split into two groups and target their path of retreat. If their way back is threatened, they should…”
“They’re coming this way!”
In response to her adjutant’s yell, Tanya shouts in frustration. “This ploy again?! What do they take us for?!”
This was supposed to be a pursuit battle, but they’re turning around? That takes guts, but it’s also an awful lot of screwing around. We’ve already been on the receiving end of a coordinated feint attack like that once before. It’s terribly upsetting that they think we’d fall for the same trick twice.
“Watch out for enemy planes and…ngh! Aircraft spotted at three o’clock! Identify it!”
“Seems to be the enemy, ma’am. More than one headed this way!”
“Good work, Weiss!”
It’s as if all has been revealed. Aerial tactics that combine mages and air forces are interesting, but once you know the trick, it’s mere prestidigitation.
We have the ability to learn. We’ll show them that rehashing and trying to reproduce the same success over again are clichés we understand!
“Maintain distance between formations and shower each one in bullets!”
Preventing erratic evasive maneuvers and the scattering of formations, Tanya orders defensive barrages in the form of interdiction fire. The battalion’s rapid response is nearly perfect as it works to turn the enemy planes into expensive scrap metal.
But their fight ends anticlimactically.
“Huh? Where are they going…? Crap!”
Having interpreted the enemy flight path as a charge, the battalion was ready to counterattack, but right in front of us, the enemy leisurely turns away.
It’s not even a hit-and-run, more like “no hit.”
Having been faked out, the battalion fires a splendid barrage at the air. And to make matters worse, enemy mages basically begin bullying us with long-range sniping fire in the spaces between the formations we’d split up to counterattack.
Good sense really does hold back a good modern citizen like myself. Limeys and Commies, is it something about that mee sound that imparts the powers of an evil deity? Should I be proud of myself for not being as adept at becoming the object of hate as these two great evils of the world, the Commonwealth and the Federation?
Or should I lament that they got me?
“The enemy mages are turning around!”
At First Lieutenant Serebryakov’s report, Tanya lets a tongue click slip out.
Vexingly, the enemy’s conduct is clever enough to be put in a textbook. When I look, the supposedly charging enemy mages have already gotten away. They gave up so fast, it’s a letdown.
“So it was just a feint…? They tricked us again. The enemy isn’t performing half-bad, no, sir.”
At this point, the idea of all firing at once, swooping in, and finishing the pursuit battle in one go might as well be a fantasy. Even if the damage is negligible, my will to pursue has been largely drained. Frankly, going after an enemy with that much organized energy left on our own is out of the question.
Enemy mages who flaunt their ability at us and then make a flashy retreat are a dangerous threat, which is why I want to have nothing to do with them.
“We could get additional pay, and it still wouldn’t be enough for this…”
The labor union, where’s the labor union? No, military officers are public servants, so…we probably don’t have collective bargaining rights. I guess we’ll have to hope the labor standards supervisor will do something.
The labor standards supervisor, where, oh where is the labor standards supervisor? Commissioned officers around the world eagerly await your arrival…
“Take out the fighter plane unit! Spatial area suppression with explosion formulas! Let’s at least get rid of those guys!”
“No, Grantz!”
“Huh?”
Suppressing the urge to cradle her head and sigh, Tanya checks her subordinate.
It’s not as if we get paid enough for this, and more than anything, performing anti-aircraft combat as mages will throw our formations into disarray.
The enemy mages may be keeping their distance, but we don’t need those speedy fellows to linger right outside of engagement range. I’m not saying it’s the same as a fleet in being, but having a threatening presence that nearby severely curtails our freedom of movement.
“Ignore them. That Federation mage unit is too close. And in the first place, even using the Type 97, you’ll wear yourself out accelerating to a speed that matches the fighter planes.”
The enemy may be harassing us with long-range fire on their way out, but they are leaving of their own accord. And we engaged enough to call it a proper attempt to pursue them. We can say we met our minimal obligations. Now if we just support the ground troops and mop up the rest of the stragglers, those achievements should make a nice souvenir for Zettour.
All that being said…take the initiative to do things people hate.
We were taught in compulsory education that that’s the way people are. Having learned the same in Japanese schools, in the Empire’s staff officer curriculum, and in my experiences on the battlefield, perhaps I should consider it a universal law.
“Still, there’s no reason we have to let them escape unscathed!”
Apologies to my eager subordinates, but there will be no swooping.
Unlike more dynamic officers like Grantz, Weiss, and Serebryakov, Tanya isn’t a fan of bothersome things.
Labor is a product. Selling yourself short amounts to dumping founded on sincerity. Honestly, it’s criminal.
“Ready formula bullets! We’re casting long-range optical sniping formulas! Hit ’em in the ass as they go! We’ll give them something to remember us by!”
Instead of giving our enemy a helping hand, we’ll give them a helping of lead. The ground is the perfect partner for them. I would be delighted for some of them to take a precipitous turn and share a passionate embrace with it.
But unfortunately, it seems that neither the Federation nor Commonwealth mages feel like deepening their loving relationship with the ground. The Ildoans are legendary for their amicability, so perhaps we should try to persuade them into that tender hold if the chance ever arises. Thankfully, our allotment of peace means we shouldn’t have that opportunity for a while.
Either way, launching formula bullets at speck-like enemies at long range doesn’t achieve very much at all. After a few dozen volleys, the enemy aerial mages exit our range in an orderly fashion and continue their leisurely withdrawal.
It should have been a simple pursuit battle consisting of firing at the enemy as they retreated, but the results are poor.
“This is enough, though.” Tanya indicates to her troops that the fight is over by leaning her rifle back on her shoulder. “We can’t catch them. Any farther than this, and the risk is too great. Weiss, Grantz, we’re pulling out!”
“But if we act now—!”
Grantz is such a lover of knapsacks that she’s used to him pointing at the enemies’ backs and pleading impatiently with his eyes for pursuit.
“Lieutenant Grantz, are you really doing this again?!”
“The ground troops fought so hard to catch them! Please!”
“…We can’t.”
She knows that their fellow troops made sacrifices. From a cost-effectiveness perspective, it’s clear that their kill ratio needs to be improved.
But Tanya hates gambling. When investing, she prefers steady trust funds and building wealth over a lifetime to day trading, or even better, investing in her own human capital.
Pursuing the enemy isn’t a bad choice, but…the divide between profit and loss has long been crossed. Continuing any further carries too high a risk. What the idiots who mock turning back as defeatist need is intelligence. According to Tanya’s self-analysis, she shouldn’t be desperately short of that.
“If we leave now, we still have the strength to make it back.”
What’s important is safety.
Safety, peace, and certainty.
Based on her clear policy, Tanya declares, “As long as I’m in command, I won’t ever back down from this. I won’t let my troops be exposed to pointless risk. Do your part to remember that.”
“…Understood.”
It’s a rather quiet reply but clear, so Tanya nods in satisfaction. She’d like responses to be a bit snappier, but she has discovered as an educator that as long as humans have emotions, asking for 70 percent is a surer thing than trying to get 100 percent.
According to my keenly observant eye, Grantz seems to have recognized his inadequacies when confronted with Tanya’s confident declaration. It may well be that after facing her sound argument, he’s feeling ashamed of himself.
That’s not surprising.
Tanya expects that he’ll learn from this mistake and put his knowledge to future use. Mistakes are human, and anyone who can learn from them with a calm, open mind is a decent human resource.
“As an educator, I’d like to turn this expertise into a book someday.”
“Is everything all right, Colonel? You seem to be in a strangely buoyant mood.”
“It’s nothing. This is just an interesting experience, even for me. I was thinking I’d like to write a book about education, that’s all.”
Just as she’s about to continue with, It’s about the importance of changing your point of view, she realizes she’s in need of some self-criticism. It won’t do her any good to focus only on her workplace. She nearly misses a major resource that can only be seen from a broad, overhead perspective.
No, rather than miss, perhaps the better verb is overlook regarding things below.
“Look at that, Major.”
“Hmm?”
“Our enemies left all that stuff behind. It’s a mountain of treasure.”
The enemy mages’ conduct was exemplary, but the confusion of their ground troops was exemplary in the opposite meaning. If pressed, I’d say it could be used as a textbook example of a rout.
It’s the same scene we saw when we trapped the François Republic’s army in the revolving door. You can only call it the perfect example of how much a company, an army, even a country—probably any human organization—weakens when the person in charge fails to provide a clear direction.
Most of the enemy ground troops, unable to take decisive action in response to the swiftly changing situation, ended up choosing the foolish plan of defending whatever position they found themselves in and rapidly deteriorated into a chaotic mess.
Even if a couple wise, brave officers ordered a retreat, the difference between an organized retreat and individual heroes retreating is huge in terms of the resulting confusion and losses.
As a result, they dropped a lot of things.
“Let the rest of the troops know. Tell them to send out some trucks to seize the abandoned Federation artillery gear. And invoice them for our discoverer’s fee.”
“Enemy artillery gear? Shovels I’ve had Grantz and those guys collect before, but I’m not certain we can even put heavy equipment to use…”
“It’s called diversifying your procurement channels. The supply process is in dire shape, you know.”
The Art of War mentions this, too, but goods procured in enemy territory are cheaper, whether in terms of shipping or price of acquisition, than those from the homeland. In my Japan days, what Sun Tzu said was such a fundamental principle that I couldn’t grasp it, but it can’t be denied that he was cost conscious. Regrettably, current international law prohibits a formal plunder economy…
We can’t break the rules, but thankfully the laws don’t ban seizure. And to come at it from the other end, it’s just a fact that we aren’t able to carry everything from the homeland like the American Empire.
“…What a drag,” she grumbles before she catches herself. “At this rate, we may have to rely on the enemy for rifles, too.”
When Weiss begins to chuckle—“No way…”—Tanya shakes her head slightly.
“Major, right now may be the only time you’re able to snicker like that.”
THE FEDERATION, SOMEWHERE IN MOSKVA, OFFICE OF THE COMMISSARIAT FOR INTERNAL AFFAIRS, WHICH EXISTS TO SERVE THE PEOPLE
In the plain office, the commissar of internal affairs…the devil in the guise of a human, Loria, was cocking his head in surprise.
“We lost?”
Across the desk, a career soldier, with the rank of colonel in a uniform with no wrinkles, flinched as a chill shot up his spine; he broke into a cold sweat as he nodded in silence.
“Against the Imperial Army’s B Group?”
“…Yes.”
There was fear in the voice he had to squeeze out. This colonel had known Loria for some time and was able to speak his mind to a degree…but having witnessed firsthand the commissar’s severe reaction to failure, he was probably having a hard time relaxing.
To put him at ease, Loria gave a casual shrug and put on an intentionally cheerful expression. “…Well, I don’t mind. We managed to win in the critical cities down south.”
“You’re counting this as a victory?”
“Comrade Colonel, I’m surprised. You’re a soldier, yet it seems you lack common sense for a military man. From a military standpoint, we can surely call this a win.”
Even if it’s better to be feared than loved, binding people with fear alone is for fools.
“Comrade, I’ll be frank. Our comrades-in-arms are doing a good job.”
Fear is like a medicine you administer as needed. The right amount keeps the organization functioning smoothly, but the side effects from too much are extreme.
“But…”
The Federation Army officer was still hesitant, and Loria delivered his conclusion matter-of-factly. “We bore the brunt of the imperial attack in the south. The resource-rich regions are unharmed.”
The Imperial Army’s attack had been ferocious, but it eventually ran out of steam. Even the imperials were stopped by the combination of the tyranny of distance and nationalism.
Yes. There, Loria added something in his head. The large role played by the material support they were receiving from the capitalists was indeed material.
Either way, the thwarting of enemy intentions had a decisive psychological effect on the party leadership. Being able to resist the Empire…was better proof than insulting reconciliation struggles that the Federation could forecast bright prospects.
“We not only prevented the enemy from achieving their aim but wore down their armored forces at the same time… One lost city is a small price to pay.”
Even if the fallen city’s name was taken from their general secretary’s…they had only lost a city with a symbolic name. That was all. The impact on their ability to continue fighting would be extremely limited.
The party leadership was so terrified of losing the southern resource area that the types of people who would make a fuss about losing one city when they stood to lose them all were no longer around.
Come to think of it, the party had felt well ventilated of late.
“The army judged that they wouldn’t be able to defend it successfully and retreated. I’m not about to go back on my promise to accept the comrade generals’ decisions unconditionally.”
“B-but…the city we lost is Josefgrad.”
That those below should fear the disfavor of the general secretary made sense, but the commitment to use everything available was now long in the past.
“I’ll inform our comrade general secretary personally as well—that the troops did a good job. And I’ll arrange a little something for our comrades in the field.”
“I—I appreciate it!”
As the color returned to the colonel’s face and he relaxed his shoulders with a sigh of relief, Loria smiled like a loving, understanding father.
“The problem is the enemy’s B Group.”
The central lines should have performed a checking attack, tidied up the lines, and achieved a modest victory; that they were instead repelled was unexpected.
To the Federation anyhow, it should probably be said.
To Loria, it was also a surprise, but he could see how it was possible.
“That what-do-you-call-it, the Devil of the Rhine? I saw a report that she was there raising hell. There aren’t any further details?”
Her…
My adorable, mischief-loving fairy…
My little devil brandished her fury.
This is what it means to get suddenly hot between the legs.
Ahhh, I had no idea my fairy was right there, so close.
“We’re going after her unit, since they’re the ones who caused trouble in Moskva…” Suppressing the heat that threatened to creep into his voice, Loria maintained a nonchalant air to the greatest extent possible. Falling in love at his age struck him as embarrassingly pure.
“Due to the failure of the offensive, nothing is certain. At present, we have the unconfirmed report that the multinational unit engaged with the Empire’s most capable unit.”
“With Comrade Colonel Mikel commanding, was it?”
“Yes, it’s Colonel Mikel from our side. A magic marine by the name of Drake is the commander from the Commonwealth. Though apparently, this lieutenant colonel has ties to their intelligence agency.”
Having been asked implicitly if that was a problem, Loria smiled. “That’s probably fine. We’re good friends with the Commonwealth. Friends don’t need to worry about each other’s backgrounds, and there’s nothing we need to hide.”
If there were, they would never have let in even the limited group of journalists they had. They needed the West to see only the good points of Communism.
They weren’t about to show problematic elements to outsiders. Of course, if the Commonwealth Army’s intelligence agency made some kind of egregious slipup, he would be more than happy to condemn them in front of the journalists and lament the infidelity to their alliance…so they always stayed ready.
“At any rate, we can recover.”
It was actually huge that they had managed to stop the invasion at the cities and protect the resource-rich areas. He could live for love, but if he suffered a setback at work, he wouldn’t have time to tend to his affections, so he was grateful to the army for doing a good job.
“It was the enemy’s Operation Andromeda, yes?”
“Yes, that’s what the code said.”
“We’ll just laugh at them for being overly attached to such a fantasy operation. The winners will be we who are supported by scientific Communism. We shall claim victory!”
“Yes, sir!”
The colonel straightened up and saluted—he was a good career soldier. These comrades of Loria’s would be quality pawns who would bring his desires to fruition.
“Then, Comrade Colonel, if I can trouble you to tell the General Staff, I’d like them to take the measures that are necessary from a purely military point of view.”
“I’ll be sure to let them know.”
“And one more thing. That Devil of the Rhine really is a problem. Do you agree?”
“Of course, she’s a dangerous presence…”
Loria nodded that she was a special sort of danger.
This devilish fairy was making off with his heart.
The things that welled up in him when he so much as thought of what her panting and gasping might sound like…
He wanted to know so badly.
What a tempting danger of a monster.
“On that note, I’d like you to ready a unit specifically to track her.”
“…Is that an order, sir?”
“No, just the suggestion of one Federation citizen. Do be so kind as to consider it. Though if you’re up to it, I’d like you to pursue her jointly with the Commissariat for Internal Affairs.”
B GROUP ON THE EASTERN LINES, PROVISIONAL FORWARD COMMAND POST, THE POSITION PREVIOUSLY KNOWN AS SOLDIM 528
“Lieutenant Colonel von Degurechaff here.”
When she enters the room, her sense of smell is confused by an unexpected stimulus. The entire space is filled with a mellow fragrance. After a moment’s hesitation, Tanya’s brain remembers that it’s the long-lost scent of black tea.
Ohhh, right. This is the smell of real tea.
“Hello there, Colonel. Yes, I’ve prepared us some tea as promised. Take a seat.”
“Thank you.”
This is a source of caffeine often interrupted due to the John Bulls’ maritime blockade. Eager to partake, Tanya happily accepts Lieutenant General von Zettour’s invitation.
“The orderly will bring it right over. Now then, Colonel von Degurechaff. Let’s have a little chat while we wait. How’s the pursuit battle going?”
The moment she sits with a cheerful expression, the question hits her like a ton of bricks. Chuckling inwardly at his brilliant command of soft and hard manners, she answers her superior’s question with the very definition of a sober look on her face.
“…We weren’t able to catch them. At least, it’s not possible with my troops alone.”
Maybe it would be possible with an augmented mage battalion?
Nah, that would be tough. We need to face the fact that the Imperial Army can no longer guarantee qualitative superiority. Just by discovering that the Commies can compete with us in quality, the future of the Empire has gone pitch-black.
“Really, the entire army is short of manpower.”
“Well, that’s no surprise. As long as we’re lacking reserves, hoping to increase our gains in a follow-up attack is an awful lot to ask in the first place.”
“…Can we even say we’ve won in a situation where we’re unable to properly run down our enemies?”
Being unable to even go after withdrawing enemies is tantamount to allowing them an opportunity to recover and organize a retreat. It may look like we successfully took ground or broke through the encirclement, but really, we dropped the ball.
“What do you think?”
“You’re asking my thoughts, sir?”
Tanya is bewildered when he nods the affirmative. She thought he might ask her opinion, but she wasn’t expecting him to be this direct.
But he’s asked. If she doesn’t make good use of this opportunity, she’s nothing but a mooch. She hesitates for just a moment and then speaks what she has felt for a while now.
“We’re failing to annihilate the enemy field army… If we don’t even have the wherewithal to chase them as they retreat, this is truly a disaster. At this rate, it’ll become a battle of attrition. That’s what the Imperial Army needs to avoid more than anything.” This is Zettour she’s talking to. She figures that rather than dress things up, she should get straight to the point. “With all due respect…despite that, I fear we’re already getting ourselves trapped in that situation.”
“I welcome your honesty. But I’ll amend one point.”
“Sir?”
“We’re not ‘getting’ trapped—we’re in up to our necks.”
He grumbles that things are abysmal and sadly shrugs. The murmur, stripped of Zettour’s usual calm, even carries a whiff of powerlessness and frightens Tanya.
“…It’s that bad, sir?”
“I was in the Service Corps, you know? Well, no, I still technically have a position there. And I’m also here dabbling in leading troops on the front lines.”
This is the analysis of someone well versed in rear echelon matters who has taken a dive into the field. Basically, he should have the best understanding of the current situation.
“I’ll give you my conclusion, having seen both sides. Colonel, things are horrible. To call them ‘too horrible’ wouldn’t be overstating it.”
When he glances at her, Tanya realizes how precarious the atmosphere is. Not that she’s overly concerned, but she doesn’t want the mood to be bad. Discretion is the better part of valor.
She searches for a way to change the subject and—Oh!—grins. “…Ah, how rude of me. I completely forgot. Congratulations on your victory, General.”
“…It’s hard to be genuinely happy about it. Oh…” He smiled wryly. “I can’t forget my manners, either. I appreciate the rescue, Colonel. You saved me from a dangerous spot. I mean that.”
“Hmm?”
She’s confused by his last few words. She thought she had dodged a bullet, but this conversation seems to be heading off in another strange direction.
“What is it, Colonel von Degurechaff?”
“I was sure you leaked the location of the headquarters on purpose to act as bait… Was that not the case?”
“You’re right that I meant to be bait.” He continues in a bitter monotone, “I never believed I would be saved, though—there was no guarantee.”
He risked his life to lure the enemy? Tanya can’t relate at all. He acted as bait without even thinking about his own safety?
“…That’s a bit difficult for me to comprehend.”
“I’m sure it is. I never imagined we’d be so hard-pressed that we’d have to use HQ as bait. I knew this would be rough, but I guess I underestimated things.”
Zettour spoke so simply. Tanya considered him logical, had never doubted it. She even specified in her mental evaluation of his character that he was a pragmatist you could talk to. Yet, he’s capable of self-sacrifice in the heat of the moment…? That’s a grave oversight on my part.
If you follow someone unconditionally, you risk being led into danger; the warning echoes in Tanya’s mind.
“That’s why I’m grateful to you. You did a great job commanding out front during both the pursuit battle and the defense of Soldim 528. I’ll have Colonel von Lergen pull some strings to submit a medal application.”
“All I did was have my troops form a meat wall to be bludgeoned. It had nothing to do with my abilities.”
“So you’re saying the one who ordered it should be responsible? That’s an interesting way to comment. Or are you saying it was terribly irresponsible?”
“I think in my position it’s best to keep things formal and remain silent.”
“Hmph.” Zettour smiles wryly. “You always do stand your ground, Colonel von Degurechaff.”
“Yes, I believe in myself.”
You can only lie to other people. Trying to deceive yourself is sheer folly. In an era when all things are uncertain, you should at least be able to have unconditional trust in your loyalty to yourself.
I go my own way. Rather than leave my fate up to randos like Being X, I’ve decided to put my faith in my modern self’s determination.
That’s why people with no sense of self-preservation frighten me.
“Perhaps you’re making too much of self-determination?”
“It’s more productive to act and regret it than to regret not acting. I prefer taking responsibility for myself over leaving my fate up to someone else.”
“…That must be why, then.”
I don’t know what it is that he saw, but Tanya sincerely expects that Zettour will accept her ideals.
Especially in this sort of era, getting to probe the leader you’re following is a precious opportunity. Given that she and Zettour have had some communication hiccups in the past, whether they are able to gain a solid common understanding here or not could very well determine my future.
“Oh, the tea showed up at just the right moment.”
“Thank you.”
The orderly delivers properly brewed tea poured into a cup warmed to just the right temperature.
She had almost forgotten this rich, blossoming fragrance. Though amber in color, tea is nonalcoholic; having some after finishing a job on the eastern front makes her almost obscenely happy.
“The friendly Ildoan or whoever has great taste.”
“Biting commentary from a neutral country, perhaps. No…I doubt our mutual friend is that sort of man.”
Setting aside the character of the supplier, there’s no doubt about the fact that he knows his stuff. Understanding the temperament of the supplier—that is, Colonel Calandro—it was a social gift presented half-kindly and half-calculatingly.
Tanya would also do well to remember that Zettour is the type to bring tea leaves to the forward-most line on the eastern front. Is that half-eccentricity, half-sophistication? It’s definitely revealing of a civilized temperament.
“Kindness is truly delicious.”
“To be sure. But goodwill can also be awful. And sometimes ill will does the most good.”
“Oh?” Tanya raises her head and observes Zettour’s expression. “You’re saying that bad intentions are sometimes better than good ones? I beg your pardon, but if you’re saying that from the purview of your position…I fear I might read into it and get some strange ideas…”
“You’re free to think what you like. Use your common sense to decide what’s right.”
“You mean sense that is common in the homeland will apply on the eastern front?”
Tanya is laughing as though she’s heard a fantastic joke.
“Watch what you say, Colonel. Surely that’s going a bit far.”
“Yes, sir—I’ll be careful.”
“Do that. I think nothing of it, but words of that nature are liable to get twisted and find their way into unexpected places.”
I don’t know what the goodwill of the homeland looks like, but I should probably be grateful for the ill will Zettour has shown me. Honestly, as someone in the field, he’s been a great help. Although in the long term, he may affect things in other ways…
Furthermore, Tanya didn’t expect to be given such candid advice. What is compelling him to reprove me more than I expected…?
“I had no idea it was so careless.”
“There are reasons… Once you hear the bad news I received just prior to our meeting, I’m sure you’ll agree with me.”
Tanya braces herself, and Zettour lobs the word bomb at her so simply.
“I don’t mean to rain on your victory parade, but it’s not good… Andromeda’s hit an impasse.”
The bomb explodes smack in the center of Tanya’s mind. She just barely manages to remain calm but fails to hide her shock.
An impasse? So it failed?
“W-we couldn’t get past the southern cities?”
“We didn’t even get that far. After advancing to Josefgrad with blinding speed, the offensive ground to a halt due to supply line chaos. As a result, Federation defense tightened up, and there’s no way to advance any farther… The troops are too busy trying to protect their vulnerable flank at the moment.”
“So”—it’s not a question as much as a confirmation—“the resource area?”
“We can’t reach it, Colonel.”
The news is disappointing enough for an argh. We’ve failed to secure the resources that are the foundation of a war economy.
All I can think is that this mistake is—like dissolving what little money you earn in the forex market—one of those that you should absolutely not make, yet the Empire has done so on a national level.
“I’m surprised. It’s not like General von Rudersdorf to slip up.”
“Matériel mobilization not happening in time must have been the main factor. Lieutenant Colonel Uger is in charge of that; it’s unusual for him to make mistakes, but…”
“But?”
“If you take another look at the situation, a new answer appears on its own. If the supplies can’t be transported, then part of the responsibility must lie with the railroad people.”
“So it has to do with the rails?”
The Empire and Federation have different rail gauges, so we can’t simply jump tracks, which results in a bottleneck for traffic in several places. That’s a well-known fact.
If anything’s problematic, it must be that.
“The issue of unifying the standards is difficult, but Colonel Uger and his team are no slouches.”
Zettour snaps off the update that the technical issues have been solved. “It’s quite the juggling act, but they’re working magic to convert the gauge on part of the trunk line and, in the meantime, keep supplies moving with captured rolling stock.”
In other words, though it was a problem with the railroad people, it also wasn’t a problem with the railroad people.
“So the distance was too great, then? Or did the Council for Self-Government fail to preserve the rails?”
“No, the council is doing a good job. It has even developed its internal administration to the extent that it is in the process of organizing the self-governing bodies at the village level.”
“In that case, only the worst-case scenario is left…”
“Yes, it’s the absolute worst.”
The significance of Zettour affirming her fear is tremendous.
…There’s a path.
But supplies aren’t coming down it.
The reason is simple.
“We’re short of supplies themselves?”
“We must be.”
“Excuse me for asking, but how did you make things work, then?”
“I was scraping the bottom of the barrel and committing limited resources in a concentrated way to maintain production volume. And as the chief coordinator, I knew how to apply the right kind of pressure on the correct places.”
And now he’s been flung to the eastern front.
He doesn’t have to say it; even someone with paltry powers of imagination could easily grasp what kind of confusion that would cause at the working level.
The organization is learning through experience that coordinators earn high salaries because without their leadership in overseeing smooth unified operations, the organization can’t function. Only an idiot who has no idea what work on the ground is like would take that leadership away, throw everything at the working-level personnel, and expect operations to continue without a hitch.
“Allow me to say one thing.” Tanya chimes in with an awful headache gnawing at her. “Even if we’re talking about a capable guy like Colonel Uger, isn’t that a bit too much to put on him? This is a lieutenant colonel versus a lieutenant general. Those ranks have different authority, jurisdiction, and powers of intimidation.”
“The military organization should be made up of people who can stand in for each other…or I suppose I should say ‘should have been.’ Now then, Colonel, I’ve done enough learning on the eastern front.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This won’t work.”
Tanya nods.
“We can’t go on like this.”
It’s impossible to deny, so Tanya nods politely in response to his soliloquy.
“My conclusion is simple.”
“I’m eager to hear it.”
“…This…at this rate, our current path is no good.”
“Sir?”
“Somewhere in my mind, it’s possible that I…thought that maybe if we kept following this path, we might find a way out.” Zettour wears an expression of regret as he shakes his head, which has noticeably more gray hairs. “It was a fleeting dream.”
The Imperial Army has stabilized the vulnerable portion of the eastern lines. On the surface, that’s a great step forward that makes up for the offensive’s setback in the south.
But for anyone aware of the full domestic situation of the Empire, a different side of things comes into view… Even if you don’t want to see it, you can’t help it.
We step forward, we extend our legs, we even stretch out our arms, but they don’t reach anything we want them to.
But what exactly is the general referring to?
“In our current situation, the setback in the southeast is fatal. We need some propping up… Eventually, I’m sure your unit will be sent down there to fight.”
“We’re going to leave this delicate balance and concentrate all our forces in the south? That doesn’t sound sane to me. Launching a direct attack on Moskva while we tidy up the lines here would be more realistic.”
“The General Staff would probably agree with your view.”
Tanya’s spine stiffens at the words that seem to imply too much.
“I heard recently that our nice chat with Ildoa didn’t go so well. Was that also…?”
“On the army’s orders. Do you understand now, Colonel?”
She stares back at him, astonished. On the army’s orders? So the army intends to do the opposite?
Does that mean…? Wait, the Supreme Command is the only entity with the authority to give orders. Is the army under attack by some formal rubber-stamping gone wild or the monster known as public opinion?
“The fatherland has become dependent. Colonel, it’s sad how bad it’s gotten.”
“Dependent on victory?”
“Exactly.” He nods, expressionless. “‘All our problems can be fixed with victory.’ In other words, we’re sorely addicted. If we can’t envision tomorrow without a victory, we’re simply doomed.” He says this with a quiet but clear tone of voice as his eyes crinkle in a smile. “The fatherland wants to dream. It’s a grand dream. Everyone hopes for a great victory for the great Empire to be reality.”
“Then our only choice is to shatter that dream. We’ve got to throw out their comfortable bathwater and open these idiots’ eyes with ice-cold reality.”
“That sounds like treason, Colonel. Are you calling the fatherland a bunch of idiots?”
“Unfortunately, I’m a soldier. I was taught in academy that anyone who can’t see reality for what it is should be called an idiot.”
In an army at war, it’s utterly natural to call an idiot who can’t face reality an idiot.
One of the nice things about the army is that you can call a son of a bitch a son of a bitch. It’s wonderful to not have to say things in a roundabout way.
“Most importantly,” she says, “I love the peaceful days in the fatherland. If a bunch of blind, reckless patriots or whatnot are going to destroy that tranquility, I can’t even consider them real patriots. We’ve got to string them up like pigs and obliterate them.”
Tanya von Degurechaff is a utilitarian pacifist to her core. She’s against war on principle. She’s especially against any war that isn’t an easy win and won’t end with their finances in the black.
If it isn’t a winnable, low-cost war with guaranteed returns that can be obtained in a safe way, then there’s no way she counts it as a viable investment.
Basically, anyone who recommends that sort of venture is either a crook or a numbskull—in any case, criminally inept.
“Patriotism has nothing to do with taking bad advice. In the first place, if you love your country, you should be protecting its peace—and to go a step further, it’s precisely a patriot’s duty to prevent their country’s ruin.”
“Certainly. That’s the definition of a true patriot.”
His amused murmur makes Tanya realize their conversation is veering into strange territory. I didn’t mean to act so patriotic… Why did he take it that way?
“So, Colonel von Degurechaff. As a patriot in this situation, how do you define victory? Is it a victory for the Empire? Is it the victory the Empire dreams of?”
She’s not really a patriot, but she knows that denying it will offend him. Only a numbskull would declare to an officer—a high-ranking officer at that—that they haven’t got so much as a milligram of patriotism in their heart.
Not saying things that don’t need to be said is like a little bit of lube to keep society running smoothly. Silence is an expedient for suggesting friction to the whole of society.
Which is why Tanya thinks for a moment about what the appropriate thing to say as a patriot would be.
It’s not as if I intend to share the Empire’s fate, so I don’t really care whether it wins or loses, but if my life and assets aren’t protected, I’ll have problems. Major problems.
“I don’t acknowledge any difference between the former and the latter. How could I? Military regulations don’t allow it.”
She seems to have tapped Zettour’s funny bone; he grins slightly. It’s amazing he’s able to smile in the middle of this exchange.
“That’s quite the honor student outlook… I’ve given up on the old ways.”
“You gave up? That’s surprising.”
“I’ll do whatever’s necessary. In the end, you can’t compensate for poor strategy with superior tactics. We have no choice but to chime in on the strategic level, don’t you think?”
There’s no way Tanya can say she thinks that. Her face starts to cramp up, but she interrupts with self-preservation in mind.
“General, I think you know this, but…we’re soldiers.”
Career soldiers—that is, officers. In other words, our job descriptions are set out clearly in the associated laws and regulations.
The bare minimum requirement for control of the instrument of violence is civilized use of force.
Deviation would surely be harshly punished, and it’d be a breach of contract, so it’s hard to even bring up an objection.
“The role of a soldier, who is subject to military orders, is to do only that which is clearly defined as military service. Our jobs don’t include politics.”
“In an ideal world, perhaps. I see no flaws save the one issue of it being sadly unrealistic.”
I’m starting to really hate this debate, sighs Tanya internally. It’s not that she has no idea what Zettour is thinking, but…if she shows that she gets it, she might end up being pulled into the same boat as him.
“Colonel von Degurechaff, ultimately, morale is like salt. Without salt, your only choice is to die, but neither can you live on salt alone.”
He speaks with so much gravity, but what he says is the most banal common sense.
Tanya doesn’t understand what he’s getting at.
“Do excuse me, but that’s pretty much self-evident, isn’t it? There aren’t any dishes you can cook with just salt. Even a child knows that. There’s no reason for us to get all excited about it.”
“Colonel von Degurechaff, don’t you know the upcoming trends? In the imperial capital, alchemy using salt is all the rage.”
“…Everyone in the capital wants to transform salt into gold? Like trying to make a philosopher’s stone?”
Unable to hold back, Tanya bursts into mocking laughter. Alchemy! It’s not as if we’re some unenlightened society from the time before the science of magic was standardized into the system we have today.
Frankly, even if it’s a metaphor…it’s not a very good one.
She wonders if she should swallow her unnecessary What kind of fool would do a thing like that?! remark or blurt it out.
“Some think it’s possible. Yes, they have a blind faith that no matter how great a fortune they wager, they’ll make it all back.”
“Is there a chance of succeeding?”
“None. They’re going to fail disastrously and pickle the whole Empire.”
Sodom and Gomorrah, the city of salt.
Horrible words cross Tanya’s mind, but she dismisses them at once. She’s not living in the unenlightened world that begot mythology. Though it’s vexing that I can’t completely deny that, having confirmed the presence of an evil deity like Being X… Was it careless to be relieved that she hasn’t been interfered with lately?
“…General. Is Supreme Command in the rear so useless?”
“Extremely sensible people are being ruled by the dead.”
The words appear so suddenly, Tanya fails to grok the context. She asked about the situation inside high command, and he replied, “Extremely sensible people are being ruled by the dead.” Tanya doesn’t have enough info on what’s been going on in the rear to grasp his meaning there.
“Colonel von Degurechaff?”
“Huh? E-excuse me, sir, what do you mean ‘ruled by the dead’?”
How uncomfortable it is to honestly admit you don’t understand something. It’s the painful moment that, vexingly, she realizes she’s been on the front lines for too long.
“Have you heard people talk about ‘the sacrifices we’ve made so far’?”
“A bit. From Colonel Uger.”
“That’ll make this quick. What did he say?”
I remember, at a table in the homeland, insisting that we cut our losses. Uger’s counterargument was that we’d already made too many sacrifices, so the desire for reparations would be too strong. It’s a sentimental argument that reeks of the Concorde effect, and frankly, it’s difficult for me to comprehend. After squandering so much sacred human capital, choosing not to minimize further casualties is practically tantamount to murder.
I’d like to ask them what they think a human life is, exactly. To be told such a thing by someone who should know better, like Uger, makes her want to shout that it can’t be.
“Honestly, I don’t intend to slander Colonel Uger behind his back.”
“Ha-ha-ha. He probably claimed that a powerful, unreasonable, emotional argument had taken hold, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
Tanya failed to understand what Uger said.
Or rather, she felt he was exaggerating. Surely, he’s not that idiotic! Though she’s perfectly aware that some people become idiots, she’s not so sure about turning into super-dreadnought-class idiots.
Does that actually happen?
“As someone who has seen the innermost workings of the Imperial Army, allow me to state with certainty: Colonel Uger is speaking the truth. If there was any issue with what he said, it’s that he may have been underestimating the situation.”
“…I find that extremely hard to believe. We’re at war!” she yells, so shaken as to be visibly upset.
To Tanya, a pacifist, peace has a value that can’t be exchanged for anything else. Human capital is the hardest thing to rebuild.
“We’re sitting here feeding logs of human lives into the fires of war like idiots!”
If the economists at the World Bank saw the way we’re carelessly gouging into the educated working population, they’d faint for sure. This is just like Ebola and AIDS. If you let something go unchecked because the cure is expensive, society will eventually pay an even greater price.
No matter if it’s bitter or costly, if there’s a prescription for a cure, it must be accepted.
“After hemorrhaging precious human lives, they can’t even make the call to cut our losses? I don’t think that’s how intelligent people would act.”
Peace is an investment that generally pays reliable dividends.
Ah, but perhaps start-up costs are high. Still, it’s certainly wiser than carrying on with an enterprise that’s constantly bleeding out into the red.
In response to Tanya’s shriek-like rumination, Zettour wears a vague, dry smile. There’s no refutation, no persuasion, no denial, just a mute silence.
I would prefer if he said something.
If a logical General Staff officer was joking, there was still a possibility. But having no words carries a significance that…
If there isn’t anything you can say, silence is correct.
It’s the limit of words or perhaps of reason.
“…After putting us in the red with all this waste, the rear is trying to escape our unproductive reality?”
Still mute, Zettour takes out a cigar and abruptly cuts it. Then he strikes a match, and the way he slowly begins to puff at it makes him look, at a glance, like he would on any normal day.
“Maybe the romanticists looking for honor and prestige out of war have finally died off. But the desire for revenge and gains that match the sacrifices we’ve made are a whole other issue. Public opinion is birthing a chimera-like hodgepodge of a monster.”
“It should be mowed down with sweeping machine gun fire. Iron and blood will fix it.”
Physical laws demolish silly talk.
No matter how strong your belief, the world will never move exactly as you predict. Perhaps it’s an inconvenient truth for guys like Being X, but the world just does its thing. Interventions don’t just work because you want them to.
“If everyone and their mother thought the way you do, that would be convenient. But we’ve got to accept that we’re the hopelessly tiny minority.”
“Like the majority that believed in the geocentric model and the minority that believed in the heliocentric theory, sir? I feel like a trailblazer who’ll teach dimwits some truths about reality. In order to win, we’ll need to reform our awareness.”
“Colonel von Degurechaff. As a practical problem, your opinion is worth considering… I should accept that we need to overcome our internal challenges.”
Though she was the one who said it, Tanya finds herself bewildered by the bad feeling that has beset her.
“A soldier achieving victory in domestic affairs? Is there a chance you can seize the initiative?”
“Problematically, I’ve only ever worked as a faithful military bureaucrat. Regardless of how I fare within the military organization, I know nothing of how to make things happen in politics. I’m an inexperienced amateur without a single trick up my sleeve.”
“So you’re going to start now?”
“It’s time to study, Colonel. Let’s learn some nasty tricks. For starters, I want you to be one of my accomplices.”
Tanya flinches slightly.
I don’t like that word.
“An ‘accomplice,’ sir?”
“…Yes.”
“I can’t help but feel bewildered.”
This is an invitation that the normative, modern citizen of good sense and abundant law-abiding spirit, Tanya von Degurechaff, has a very hard time replying to with a nod of acceptance.
Crime is not my style.
Laws, yes, are merely for hitting people with. That is, they’re a useful blade, but that doesn’t mean they should be your own death sentence like some sword of Damocles. When you consider that trusting in the law is what secures the market’s reputation, then breaking a law on purpose is unacceptable.
If there’s one thing ten thousand people in modern society agree should be taboo, it’s “breaking the law.”
“…You’re one of our most experienced frontline commanders. And you have the right abilities for a staff officer. I hardly think you don’t understand our situation.”
“General, with all due respect, it’s precisely because I understand that I hesitate.”
The Imperial Army General Staff has been an exacting boss. The quotas they impose are brutal, and they don’t give your feelings one iota of consideration when deciding where to send you next.
But that’s the fate of anyone stuck in a normal job.
You have to go where you’re sent and do what you’re told—anything goes, as long as it’s a lawful order.
But that’s based on the premise that the higher-ups understand the way things ought to be.
Any member of society who has to cover for a nincompoop manager on top of doing their own work would want to throw up their hands. But when you find out the leadership has abandoned reason during a war, are you willing to consider illegal countermeasures?
To Tanya’s sensible nerves, that’s intolerable.
“Forgive me, sir, but please keep the gap between our ranks in mind.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m merely a member of a military organization whose duty is to obey lawful orders.”
Even if it’s for work, I’m not about to cross during a red light.
Tanya reveres the life of a law-abiding citizen; it’s not as if she’s interested in deviating from the norm, and she definitely doesn’t want to get dragged into being someone’s accomplice and made a bona fide gangster.
Laws are for getting other people to break, not for breaking yourself.
She understands that Zettour, this important man, is implying all sorts of things between his words, but once you touch that guilty business, that’s your life. Everyone knows that someone who gets their hands dirty is tainted forever.
Well, or maybe it works a bit differently from how the Nikkei corporations did it.
Maybe personnel doctrine in the Reich is kinder toward underground business… In other words, could it be set up so you can be ordered to ignore the law as necessary?
To Tanya, a proudly justice-loving individual, that makes the world a very sad place.
“General, allow me to say once again: I’m nothing but a soldier bound by lawful service. No matter what the intention, any deviation from legal norms would mean betrayal of the imperial family and the fatherland.”
Of course, that applies only to the letter of the law, not its spirit. Anything not written down is nonexistent.
“Very good. Incidentally, your duty is to defend the Empire, is it not?”
“It is, General.”
Her nominal duty…
To Tanya, it’s simply to devote herself to what her work is according to the contract. Perhaps it should be called a stipulation against side jobs, but pursuing anything besides imperial victory would be a contradiction of the idea of a contract.
“Then sorry, but I have an order for you. Colonel von Degurechaff, find the way to do that which you deem ‘best.’”
“If that’s your ‘order,’ sir…”
“Good. Well, yes. I’ll just give the order.”
Wondering what the command will be, Tanya is frightened, but Zettour smiles to relax her.
“It’s an all-new initiative. A new way out. It’s unorthodox, but it might be a soldier’s greatest ambition.”
“I’d appreciate if you’d tell me what it is.”
“Sure.” Zettour nods benevolently. “Are you fond of preventative surgical measures, Colonel?”
In this context…
In this conversation…
Preventative measures.
Surgical?
In this ever-so-pregnant string of words, Tanya discovers the source of the dangerous vibe she has been getting from Zettour since the start.
For a high-ranking officer to come out and say this openly sure is a sight.
“…Not to be insolent, but I’m an imperial soldier.”
Official stances are wonderful.
Official stances are safe.
Thus, Tanya resorts to the model answer that Magic Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is supposed to give. Emphasizing that she is a soldier and will fulfill her duty as an officer while simultaneously declaring her firm refusal to deviate.
She’s so desperate that Zettour cracks a smile.
“Fantastic. If you had answered with anything else, I would have had to shoot you. If you understand that much, then I have faith that you’ll be able to take the appropriate surgical measure.”
“…What in the world are you planning to do?”
She doesn’t want to ask, but the risk of not knowing is greater.
“In order to give our undivided attention to the east, we need to win our war in the west.”
“You mean the western air war?”
She realizes that’s wishful thinking, but it’s a hope she can’t give up on so easily.
“A little more toward the east than that.”
Ahhh, damn it all. She sees what he means. So it’s come to that?
East of west could only mean the beautiful place Tanya has been wanting to return to so badly: the dear homeland. As a rule, falling back to the rear is a happy thing; however…this particular instance makes her hesitate.
“Rejoice, Colonel. It’s a peaceful type of war. We’ll have a grand time back home.”
“If that’s an order, then of course I’ll do what little is in my power.”
Tanya repeats that she’s a soldier, a member of an organization. Implicitly informing your boss of your position is essential for self-preservation. Although I’m not sure how effective it will be here.
After all, the man staring her in the face, Zettour, is a specialist in military administration. If a pro at formalities gets serious, they’ll find a way to do whatever is needed.
“Great.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let this be a golden era for the Reich… Even if it’s a twilight, we’ve got to show them that the sun will rise again. I’m counting on you, Colonel.”
“We shall…make this a golden era for the Reich.”
“Good! Very good! Let us steel our resolve. We don’t seem to have much of a choice.”
“…Yes, let’s prepare ourselves just in case.” Tanya murmurs a reply.
I’m sure this order will be awful. I’m sure it’ll be justified as necessary, but it’s terribly upsetting to be forced to go along with it.
Still, if running isn’t an option, then there’s no choice—Tanya needs to be ready no matter what comes next.
(The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Volume 8: In Omnia Paratus, fin)
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