Youjo Senki - Volume 9 - Chapter 6

[chapter] VI At Dusk

JULY 22, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF OFFICE

Back from a business trip or a chance to pop into headquarters. Either way, an adult member of society can’t neglect to always appeal to others when the chance presents itself.

Reporting into the General Staff Office is a great opportunity.

Turn in the report on the V-2 operation in the south and miscellaneous observations of Ildoa. Establish that my adjutant will hand over the souvenir wine to the recipients.

Then all that’s left is to the make the rounds.

Tanya is summoned by an extremely sober-faced Colonel Lergen just as she’s oozing maximum charm. There is almost no time between his “Can I see you for a moment?” and her being marched off to his office.

Well, he’s certainly in a rush. It’s natural to wonder why. But when he shares his news, all extraneous thoughts go out the window.

“Colonel Lergen, excuse me—what did you just say?”

“You heard correctly, Colonel.”

I’m dumbfounded, and Colonel Lergen simply continues matter-of-factly, looking tired as he does.

“Captain Meybert and Lieutenant Tospan were taken in by military police. Of course, it’s only temporary. I’m sure they’ll be released right away.”

“I beg your pardon, sir. This isn’t an issue of timing. You’re telling me my artilleryman and infantry idiot were arrested?!”

Manual maniacs. They’re the type to follow the rules to the letter. The type who will work steadily at whatever they’re told to do diligently and without rest. I know both of their personalities intimately.

They are in no way the sort of useless imbeciles who would neglect the manual and make it up as they go along or do anything so stupid as acting on their own bumbling authority. Tospan may be the type of numbskull who doesn’t question the rules, but that means at least he has read them.

“Both of them are even bigger sticklers for the rules than I am. I can’t think of any reason they would be taken in. What was the reason the MPs gave?”

“…The occupied port they were posted at came under attack by Commonwealth commandos. Our troops managed to repel them, but the damage is severe. The commanders at the base are furious and are claiming the Lergen Kampfgruppe’s laziness led to excessive damage.”

“I’m sorry, laziness? Too eager to fight, I could understand, but lazy? Not those guys.”

As far as Tanya knows, both of them are the type to diligently devote themselves to their work. They simply aren’t the sort of idiots who would get arrested for neglecting their duties.

“Lieutenant Tospan is the kind of guy who is thrilled to be ordered to defend the line with his life! The only time he’ll slack off in the face of the enemy is when he’s dead!”

Though he looks a bit fed up, Lergen responds to Tanya’s sputtering with a nod. “What you say makes sense. From what I’ve heard, the navy fellows are desperate to cover up the fact that they completely dropped the ball. Supposedly, they’ve been falsely accused.”

“I wish you would say they were instead of ‘supposedly.’ And? What’s this crime they’re being falsely accused of?”

“The charges are insubordination, noncompliance, and willful friendly fire.”

“Insubordination! Noncompliance! Willful friendly fire! Those are serious offenses. That can’t be what actually happened. What in the world did they do?”

“Well, it happened while they were defending the port. I’ll explain in detail.”

Upon hearing the circumstances and how things turned out, I feel sick to my stomach. Unbelievable incompetence. Incorrigible imbecility. And on top of that, a hopeless lack of imagination.

“So we paid tuition to the teacher called experience on the eastern front while waste-of-oxygen officers in the rear haven’t even learned from those hard-won lessons? Should we write them off and prescribe lead bullets?”

“…Watch your mouth, Colonel Degurechaff.”

I try to choose my next words carefully and rephrase. “Please send all those incompetent commanders and MPs to the eastern front. I’ll throw them in front of the Federation Army and teach them what real war is like.”

If your subordinates make a mistake, it’s your job as their superior to take responsibility. But if your subordinates are being evaluated unfairly, you have to go to bat for them. Always.

That’s Meritocracy 101. Ability must be evaluated fairly. If Meybert and Tospan are both idiots, they should both be punished. If they did the right thing, then the true fools should be strung up in the streets.

“The honor of my—my—subordinates has been brought into question because these fools are trying to pass blame for their own failures!”

My career may be in the balance as well. I absolutely refuse to let this tyranny stand.

In response to Tanya openly protesting with such passion, Lergen groans like his head hurts. “…I’m with you, Colonel. You’re right to be angry. This tyranny indeed must not be allowed to stand.”

“They’re both going to be released, right?”

“Of course. I went down there myself to talk to the MPs.”

“I appreciate it.”

He waves his hands to indicate that there’s no need. “Formally, it’s the Lergen Kampfgruppe that is involved. I should handle at least this much.”

Nodding in general agreement, Tanya smoothly inserts a request for compensation. “There’s a probably a medal in it for them, too, right?”

“That’s a perfectly reasonable request, Colonel. Actually, submarine command has kept their heads about them. It’s thanks to them we were able to confirm the truth of the matter. They’re quick. They’ve already written a thank-you along with a recommendation for awards.”

“So the ones who have experience with the world outside a bunker are sensible?”

Lergen replies to Tanya’s nonchalant comment with a meaningful smile. “That’s exactly right, Colonel. People with knowledge of the outside world must still have some capacity for objective judgment.”

His words contain deep implications. Reservations, perhaps you could say, regarding people who haven’t seen the outside world. So things are that bad in the home country, huh? Tanya realizes and puts a hand over her mouth in case its corners twitch ambiguously.

“Sectionalism, a deficient imagination. And so our best and most faithful officers go to their deaths on the eastern front? Won’t the core of the Imperial Army crumble at that rate?” Oh, wait. Realizing I should be precise, I correct myself. “Strictly speaking, I suppose I should say ‘collapse’ rather than ‘crumble.’”

“Are you complaining, Colonel?”

“…Terribly sorry, sir.” I straighten up and meet his eye as I tender my apology. “I believe I’ve surpassed the bounds of what a mere field officer is allowed to say. I do hope you can forgive me.”

“You’re fine, Colonel.”

Lergen smiles like a coconspirator as he waves off my concern. In other words, he’s implicitly condoning my remark. So that’s the Empire’s current status? Unworldly fellows, take a proper whiff of the outside world’s air.

“All right, Colonel. Let’s talk business.”

“Yes, sir.”

“General Rudersdorf is waiting for you. Apparently, General Romel has been raving about your achievements. I realize it’s a minor consolation, but…you should be able to expect a decoration out of that, too.”

“An award? I mean, it’s an honor, of course, but isn’t it a bit soon? Surely the Southern Continent Expeditionary Corps has yet to file any relevant paperwork.”

Tanya points out that they have only just returned home, but Lergen raises a hand to stop her. “I suppose we have a gap in experience. Outwardly, you’re correct, but remember, I’m an insider.”

“By which you mean?’

“I used to be chief of decorations. The standards and regulations for awarding them have changed since the start of the war, true, but I’m confident in my predictions in this area.”

How dependable the pronouncements of someone familiar with the bureaucratic apparatus are. This is what’s so great about the elites who come and go between Operations and Admin!

Honestly, I almost envy him. Even though he’s such a great superior officer!

Akhhh, but I’d still love to be in his position.

“That said, wearing a bevy of medals only gets you so far.”

“…Too true. Much better to boast to your grandchildren during peacetime than to proudly wear a bunch of medals during the war.”

“Are you married, Colonel von Lergen?”

“Before the war started, there was a plan, but once the fighting started, it all came to nothing. Once this is over, I’ll give it some thought again.” He casually continues, “Once the war’s over, you’ll be about the right age to start thinking about it as well. Ahhh, maybe I overstepped. I hope you’ll forget I said anything.”

Tanya simply nods with a polite, vague smile. “I hope we can laugh about such comical moments and look back on them fondly.”

“Indeed.”

“Let’s do whatever it takes to put an end to this. I’ve been promised I’ll get to live on royalties after the war, so I’m looking forward to that.”

He must have been taken by surprise. Lergen looks as dazed as a pigeon that’s been shot with a peashooter—a rare occurrence. “Royalties?”

“General Rudersdorf said he’d write a picture book, and he promised me the royalties.”

“…A picture book? The general?”

In response to his disbelieving look, Tanya nods, agreeing that it’s only natural to doubt the story. That stern, boulder-like general writing a book for children! That’ll be the day.

All you can really say in response is that sometimes people have surprising hobbies.

“Yes, a picture book produced by General von Rudersdorf with me as the protagonist. He said he would write it once the war is over. Isn’t that an interesting project?”

“That does sound like fun. I hope you’ll treat me to a cup of coffee.”

“With pleasure. Anyhow, I’m going to get back to making the rounds.”

“All right, Colonel. Since you’re here, have this A ration coupon. Take some chocolate, wine, coffee—whatever you like—from the General Staff’s meager supply.”

“Are you sure?”

I know it must be a valuable coupon and try to refuse, but Lergen insists. “I’ll look forward to calling in a favor after the war. At least the price of a cup of coffee.”

“Yes, sir. Then if you’ll excuse me.”

After watching her go, Lergen sighs.

“…Royalties, huh?”

Even that young girl probably knew that such an innocent dream wouldn’t come true. How miserable.

“Colonel, I really hope that day comes for you.”

There was no silver bullet, the sword of Damocles was hanging precipitously over them, and there were only the faintest signs of a backup plan.

To someone who knew how things were before the war, a few years ago felt like another dimension.

How and why had things come to this?

When the theory of total war was first presented, Lergen had avoided it as a taboo. But today, that attitude was no longer an option.

No, it was actually unforgivable.

He was a soldier and a staff officer.

Believing in the breakthrough that would change the tide of total war, the fatherland raised a foundation of flesh and blood… If, as the mountain of corpses of young soldiers and the Empire’s territory was scorched away, amid the widespread laments of the nobles, one had to continue waging war…?

I can’t very well furrow my brow as if the war doesn’t concern me. This is reality. This is reality.

Fucking hell.

With that new warmth in her pocket and her excellent mood continuing unabated, Tanya makes her rounds in high spirits. She saves Lieutenant General Rudersdorf for the very end, as if he is the most important stop.

Even if Lieutenant General Zettour out east is my actual boss, it’s only natural for anyone to be friendly with an influential, capable officer in the same organization who has close ties with their superior. And if there’s a medal coming up, the least Tanya could do was say hello.

“It’s Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff, sir!”

“Come in, Colonel.”

Rudersdorf invites her in, and he looks the same as usual—a rather tired expression on his face but the same dislike of anything unnecessary.

He gets straight to the point in conversation as well. “I’ve heard what you’ve been up to.” He claps in amusement as he continues. “A cruiser, a carrier, and multiple destroyers! You could even ask for a medal from the navy. Of course, we’ll award you on our end, too. You can bet on that.”

“With all due respect, everything I achieved, I did together with my troops. I also need to thank the submarine command. Without the navy’s support, we never would have been able to pull it off.”

“Probably a word to the Technical Arsenal as well, hmm?”

“…Yes, you’re right, sir. I am…grateful…to them, too.”

Even as mere formality, expressing appreciation to that mad doctor is mentally taxing. To put it more bluntly, thanking the guys who would stuff people into V-2s…goes against human nature.

“It was Chief Engineer Schugel’s team, right? They sure built us a masterful weapon.”

The general seems moved, so of course, I’m forced to interrupt. “With all due respect, I would suggest that we don’t overvalue the V-2. We may have succeeded once, but expecting the same results a second time should probably be considered a fantasy.”

“Oh? Care to explain your reasoning?”

Tanya nods and launches into her explanation. “The trick has already been revealed once.”

“You mean to say that the enemy now knows that mages attacking from underwater is a possibility?”

“Yes, sir. The element of surprise has been greatly diminished if not lost entirely. They’ll probably be on a borderline pathological lookout for mana signals in the water from now on. I don’t think we’ll be able to replicate our results.”

Rudersdorf winces in understanding. “…So they can just withdraw as soon as they detect the mana signals in the water.”

“Exactly, sir. And since they’ll definitely station marine mages on carriers and other capital ships, the risk that they respond quickly and effectively jumps up. Personally, I’m sure they will be prepared next time.”

The V-2, by virtue of being a guided torpedo, is in essence still an imperial torpedo. That means unlike a shell or formula, the fastest it can go is forty knots, if that. Thirty is already considered good.

Regardless of how they perform against sluggish battleships, they’re entirely too slow to go after carriers. Frankly, there are too many elements left up to luck if we want to go after any target that’s on high alert.

“What about for regular attacks?”

“They’re better than the V-1, but that’s all. I think the V-2 still has too many issues to work out.”

“The concept of a guided torpedo is just so attractive.”

Tanya gives him a nod to be polite. It’s utterly natural that the brains of the army would have high expectations for guided missiles and torpedoes given the reputation these new weapons have for a dramatic increase in achieving direct hits.

The only issue is, of course, the guidance method.

“They aren’t fully automatic yet. They depend too much on the pilot’s ability. This time it was the 203rd piloting—I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how highly trained my battalion is.”

“You mean only veterans can handle them?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Strictly speaking, most veterans won’t be of any use, either. There aren’t enough mage units familiar with maritime operations.”

“That’s strange. Why do you say that?”

“It’s a technical detail that has a lot to do with being an aerial mage; would you like me to explain it?”

The general nods, so I begin to explain as simply as I can.

“It’s a difference in navigation method. We generally use terrestrial navigation.”

“Elaborate.”

“We go by the lay of the land as we fly. Over the sea, where there aren’t any distinguishable landmarks, I anticipate a lot of problems—even for seasoned veterans. These days most of the troops receive accelerated training, and among them are some who haven’t even nailed down terrestrial navigation. Our ground-controlled interception is just too good. More than a few of these guys can only do wireless navigation, which entirely relies on guidance from the ground.”

Instead of being the job of the mage, navigation gets outsourced to ground control units. That’s efficient, and their results have certainly seen a bump. At the same time, however, it has caused a sudden loss of navigation know-how among mages.

A striking example of how being thoroughly efficient with outsourcing leads to a weakening of the core.

“Should we start drumming celestial navigation into aerial mages again?”

“In my position, all I can think is that if we have the time to do that, then…”

“I see what you’re getting at. On that point, Zettour was telling me something silly.”

“Sir…?”

“It’s about you, actually.”

“I have no idea. What sort of thing about me?”

Lieutenant General Zettour out on the eastern front? When I ask what he said, Rudersdorf seems eager to elaborate.

“He was comparing the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion to the troops who have been through accelerated training.”

“I can’t even imagine what the comparison might be. May I inquire as to what he said?”

“Apparently, a young first lieutenant claimed, ‘There wouldn’t be any point to fighting with even numbers. We would win with half or even a third of our personnel.’”

Ahhh. I pound my palm with my fist when I realize who the amused general is talking about. “That must be Lieutenant Grantz. I could see him saying something like that to General Zettour.”

“Is his evaluation accurate, do you think?”

“Strictly speaking, no.”

“So he was just talking big?”

He gives Tanya a hard look, but she smiles easily.

“No, he’s learned to be more modest. As his superior, I’m glad to see my subordinate employing some restraint.”

“What do you mean?”

“General, the gap between the accelerated-training graduates and veterans is unspeakably vast. With all due respect, do you really think they could fight on even footing with my seasoned veterans with even triple the numbers?”

That’s an insult. And contemptuous. My unit didn’t get to where they are today by kicking back.

In response to this poor evaluation, as commander of the unit, I need to raise my voice slightly and express my displeasure in an obvious way. What do you think the point of having elite troops is?

“My unit doesn’t report directly to the General Staff just for show. Of course, if you asked us to go up against three times the number of enemy elites, we would probably crash and burn, but…” I pause to take a breath. “Why wouldn’t we be able to kick the asses of a bunch of raw recruits who might not even have a hundred flight hours? My vets are Named, you know.”

“I see. Just a different breed.”

“Exactly. That was the job. And it continues to be the job.”

In response to Tanya’s considerable pride, Rudersdorf pounds his fist as if to say, That’s it!

“I understand, and I thank you, Colonel. So if they’re that well-developed…what if we split them up and turned them into the core personnel of other units?”

“Wait, what? …P-please, anything but that.”

“But in terms of personnel development, that would be the quickest and most efficient method.”

“I understand, sir, but I’ve drilled them so they can work together as a cohesive whole. There aren’t many who have had the officer education that would help them become core personnel, and they haven’t been trained for that in any practical sense, either. And more than anything, if my unit were cannibalized, the Kampfgruppe would…”

“I’m kidding, Colonel.” Tanya is still frantically stringing words together when he finally stops her and continues with a mischievous grin. “Trust me. I have no intention of handing your knights over to the pawns.”

“…Thank you.”

“Though I do sometimes wish we had the time to.”

I decide to file his grumbled remark away in my heart. Though he’s joking, his words alone have given me a keen sense of how pressing the lack of time has become.

For now, we can still laugh about it.

That is, the problem is serious enough that it requires a smile. If nothing else, it’s time to face the reality that the general is taking it that way.

“Are you informed of the current war situation, Colonel?”

“Sir?”

The general who hates anything unnecessary and dislikes debate is chitchatting? Seized by a bad premonition, I take a small but deep breath to try and maintain my calm.

What is this going to be about?

“Come along with me for a little chat, Colonel.”

“If that’s your order, sir.”

“I can’t order you. But I should be able to request it.”

A request from the boss of Operations in the General Staff! Who in the world could politely decline such a thing?

“…If that’s your request, General.”

“The current situation is not bad.”

“I don’t mean to parrot your words back at you, sir, but ‘not bad’?”

The comment catches me off guard, so I allow the confusion it inspires to register on my face. Honestly, even saying there isn’t much to be optimistic about is already a more optimistic way of looking at things than I’m comfortable with, at this point.

“With Zettour solidifying our hold on the eastern front, we have some breathing room here to think about the west and south. Also, our strategic reserves have finally returned to the fold.”

“Strategic reserves, sir?”

“I’m an Operations man. Troop numbers are always giving me a headache. Thankfully, the Council for Self-Government out east has done good work. There’s promising signs that they’ll act as a shield for the Empire, and they are most welcome.”

That remark gives me pause. I can appreciate the role of the council made up of locals established on the eastern front insofar as it is meant to counter partisans.

Frankly, I don’t think it’s possible to expect much else out of it.

“Are they good for anything beyond padding for defense in depth?”

“They’ll offer a division’s worth or so.”

“…General, I mention this purely out of obligation: Conscription in occupied territory is a clear violation of war law.”

“Hmph.” Rudersdorf sniffs before declaring, “That only applies to conscription.”

For a moment, I fail to understand the significance of his words. If conscripts are indeed not allowed and they’re not conscripts, then that can only mean…volunteers.

It’s a similar enough matter, but the question is whether there are real volunteers.

“No! They’re volunteering?! No matter how many rewards we line up, all a recruit would get in return is a trip to the eastern trenches!”

“I thought the same thing.”

“General.” I feel compelled to offer advice based on my vivid experiences on the front lines. “No matter what form it takes, that would essentially be forced enlistment, and that’s too dangerous. There must be a lot of hostility for the Empire roiling just below the surface. Arming soldiers who harbor such feelings will force us into the position of always having to watch our backs.”

“Thankfully, they’re true volunteers.”

“You mean beyond formality?”

“We’ve promised them independence after the war.” He smiles cheerfully. “The Empire will officially recognize their independent spirit, defend them if necessary, and even help them develop.”

“I’m surprised Supreme Command allowed that. Not that I mean any disrespect, but things seem to be going…much better than what General Zettour had led me to believe.”

“Colonel, a word of warning: Don’t speculate.”

“My apologies, sir.”

In response to my show of feigned shame, Rudersdorf softens his voice and says it’s nothing to worry about. Though his hand has nervously clenched around his cigar.

As far as I can tell, there’s a faint, lingering tension. If a central figure with a career as a staff officer can’t hide it, then the stress must be considerable.

What’s it about?

“I’ll just use what you’ve stated already: Strictly speaking, the ‘promise’ isn’t real.”

“Huh?”

“Supreme Command has expressed an interest in acquiring new territory in the east.”

“What? N-new territory?”

Territorial ambitions in the east? Of all the ridiculous—that completely negates the entire deal that’s apparently been struck with the Council for Self-Government. If the Federation Communists find out, they’ll give us a round of applause.

The Empire doesn’t have the strength to hold any territory in the east—and it isn’t as if there any good reasons to do so or obvious benefits that would merit the effort involved. Trying to take on something too unwieldly like that will only lose us potential allies—it’s the height of folly. If someone wants that swamp, we should just give it to them!

“They want the depth. And to make up for losses. There will be reparation demands. In that case, why not have the Federation give some land up?”

“Lately, I’ve had this feeling…”

“What might that be?”

“That maybe the Empire’s homeland is connected to another world. Even in my brief time here, it’s hard to believe we’re living in the same universe.”

As far as Tanya knows, the Empire should be a country that is capable of calculating their interests. So how the hell did they end up using such a messed-up abacus? The Empire may have a tendency to favor a militant style of thinking, but I would have thought, then, that it would at least consistently apply that perspective across the board.

“As someone who has set foot in that other world, I’ll say this much: Relax, Colonel. You’re not the only one who thinks that way.”

“I was hoping you would deny it…”

“…This is reality. A daydream feels more realistic.”

“Reality is the true horror of our time.”

This is what it means to get a chill up your spine. Having a lieutenant general essentially welcome me to another world with a straight face isn’t the most helpful thing for maintaining my sanity.

Without realizing how Tanya feels, Rudersdorf begins to chuckle in amusement. “In other words, our current situation isn’t so bad. Do you disagree, Colonel?”

“I don’t think I’m in a position to comment.”

“Say whatever comes to mind.”

“But I’m only a lieutenant colonel.”

Rudersdorf waves a hand to tell me to cut it out and continues, “Don’t waste time. It’s like I always tell you. You obviously don’t agree with me. So come right out and tell me what you really think.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

“It’s an order.”

I guess if I have to…but wait. Then I should request some insurance. Last time didn’t work out as planned, so this time I definitely want a lifeline.

“Even if what I say is extremely rude?”

“I don’t care.”

Well, in that case… I take a breath and choose my words carefully. “There’s no need to be euphemistic about the fact that we have no chance at winning.”

“Defeatism, Colonel?”

“No, I am merely pointing out the objective truth.” After another deep breath, I brace myself and press on. “At present, victory is far away. More accurately speaking, I should probably say that it’s far outside our reach.”

Awareness of impending defeat.

It’s a frank expression of our current situation.

If they weren’t almost like family—no, if there weren’t a minimum level of trust—Tanya would never have survived voicing this thought aloud.

“We’ve probably reached the point where it’s time to start figuring out how to convince the people on the home front of our current reality.”

My opinion on our present circumstances is extremely concise and clear.

At best, it’ll be a stalemate.

We can try as hard as we possibly can and hopefully get lucky, because even then, the best we’ll be able to snatch from the jaws of defeat is a stalemate. It doesn’t make any sense to hope for any other outcome. That’s why it’s time to begin processing our impending defeat, using the word compromise indirectly. The public may have to be convinced and the government may need to get the ball rolling—our only option is to start getting resourceful like that.

However, Rudersdorf’s reaction is far from sympathetic. He glares at me suspiciously. “Colonel, I just want to confirm. Are you saying the army should interfere in politics?”

“Both my personal opinion and the regulations I know by heart want to say no. But in our current situation, I think it’s difficult to imagine a viable alternative.”

Actively working to end the war.

I don’t want to admit it, but I, a classically liberal anti-Communist…Tanya herself is advocating for the military to intervene politically. If it were the Middle Ages, she probably would have invoked words like sacred peace despite the urge to recite a litany of grudges against Being X.

“So both you and Colonel Lergen are all about politics now, eh? If you want to talk about politics, retire from active service first.”

Rudersdorf’s commonsense reply speaks to his resolute conscience as a soldier. He’s probably right that Tanya, an active-duty officer, shouldn’t be saying such things.

Of course, I would like to point out that it wasn’t my choice to be in the army in the first place.

“If I could retire, I would rip off my uniform and march into parliament.”

“Colonel Degurechaff, you’re an outstanding soldier, but you don’t seem to know much about politics.”

“Huh?”

“There’s an age requirement to participate. Didn’t you know that?”

“…Do excuse me. It’s just that the elderly seem to keep making such a mess of things, I couldn’t help but… Ah, never mind.”

“You couldn’t help but what?”

“I had the feeling that even someone like me could do something.”

Without a superior officer who would grin teasingly about how biting her comment really was, Tanya would never have been able to get away with such remarks. Conversely, though, it means Rudersdorf, a high-ranking officer of the Reich, is enough of a free spirit that he can let it go.

“Tell me what you can do as an active-duty officer.”

I nod and immediately kick my brain into high gear. The bureaucratic method is probably the most efficient way to cut through bureaucratic regulations.

Tanks should fight tanks; mages should fight mages. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth is an inviolable rule.

“In order for the correct political calls to be made, and in order to fulfill our weighty responsibility of giving counsel to the emperor, we should offer our advice directly. It depends on the interpretation, but…we have the authority to give an appropriate explanation, don’t we?”

“By which you mean?”

“It could take the form of schooling the emperor on the state of the war, or perhaps a ranking member of the General Staff can relay an account of pertinent events.”

These are common types of explanations that bureaucrats often give. The way of smacking someone over the head with data and knowledge till they are forced to understand. It may not be a very effective way to convince others to buy in emotionally, but in a pinch, it’s still a fairly restrained option.

“General, don’t we have the power and responsibility to explain the situation to the highest decision makers?”

“And that’s how we’ll put pressure on them? Unfortunately, when it comes to military affairs, I’m sure you know we have the aide-de-camp and liaison officer. How would we get around them?”

“…They’re both colleagues. We can explain to them about military affairs.”

“What do you hope to gain by piling exceptions onto exceptions?”

This is undoubtedly a nonstandard procedure. It deviates a great deal from the norm.

But the only ones who will be forgiven for doing things according to procedure and dying in the course of their duties are the rank and file… When officers get soldiers killed by sticking to the rules, it only serves as proof of their ineptitude.

“Because otherwise, sir, it’s a deadlock! Let’s go directly to the government!”

“Just because it’s a deadlock doesn’t mean we can blow the rules to smithereens.”

“General! Then are you giving the status quo tacit approval?!” Without thinking, I raise my voice, abandoning all sense of decorum. He’s just being so stubborn, and this conversation is going nowhere. Frankly, I’m disappointed.

The stance that the army shouldn’t meddle in politics is a typical display of admirable self-restraint. A textbook example.

But that is a peacetime virtue.

This is war, and war is simply an extension of politics.

“If war is a political endeavor, then why should the army, the ones actually waging it, not be allowed to have a say? General, we have a duty to tell them what needs to be said!”

“Shut up!” Rudersdorf strikes his desk with a bang and gives me a scathing glare, then roughly chomps on his cigar. Taking a full drag, he exhales right into my face as if to demand my full attention before continuing in a stern tone.

“…We’re soldiers. Remember that. We’re not the brains, Colonel.”

“Yes, sir. I overstepped.”

“No matter. This awareness will only become more important going forward… Don’t forget it.”

His words carry a strange weight.

It will become more important. At some point in the future.

Still, Tanya von Degurechaff, who has vowed her loyalty to the emperor and the fatherland, even if only as a formality, can’t think of any particular reason she should be warned not to express an interest in politics.

“General, if you don’t mind…”

“Be quiet and listen, Colonel.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Supreme Command is considering seizing Ildoa.”

“…Ildoa? Seizing it?”

There’s no room to ask why.

But I emit a tiny sigh, wondering how anyone could be so foolish.

“If we kill the mediator, who will broker the peace talks?”

“Why should a soldier bother thinking about that?”

Is he just saying, So what? Or standing idly by? In an odd tone of voice, Rudersdorf questions himself between puffs of purple smoke.

“We’re soldiers. As long as we’re soldiers, we should remember that it’s none of our concern, no?”

“General, your devotion as a soldier is only a superficial good. For the world and our state, not to mention the Reich and even our Heimat, please consider this for a moment.”

Even I’m shocked by the words coming out of my mouth.

How did I end up spouting stuff that makes me sound like one of the Kakushinha fanatics or some other idiot arguing for a military dictatorship?! It’s just so—! I can only marvel at how far gone the world is.

Arrrgh, this stupid fucking world.

Curse whoever is responsible.

“We’re soldiers!”

“And, Colonel? What of it?”

“We’re soldiers who have sworn allegiance to the emperor and the fatherland!”

I don’t have so much as a smidgen of patriotism in my heart, but a contract is a contract. If you read the duties involved in the military service Tanya vowed to uphold closely, you see that protecting the fatherland is one of them.

As a military officer forced to love her country, she must make this declaration.

“We can’t leave it up to fate!”

“Just as we trust our brothers-in-arms, we should leave politics to the experts.”

“But—!”

The sound of a bang against the desk cuts that thought short. It goes without saying that the owner of the fist that interrupted Tanya is Rudersdorf.

“I appreciate you offering your opinion, Colonel. This has been a stimulating exchange.”

His response perfectly embodies his resolute rejection of my proposal; nothing further will be tolerated. From the look in his eyes, it’s all too clear that there’s no room for me to object. It’s time to withdraw. I quickly make a beeline for the path of retreat that’s been offered.

“Thank you for bearing with me, sir.”

“I need you to persevere a little longer, Colonel.”

“Of course—I’ll focus completely on my duties!”

“Good.”

Tanya leaves respectfully with a quick “Then, if you’ll excuse me…,” but internally, I’m irritated. If I had to verbalize it: Don’t involve me.

Honestly, it feels like the smallest possible request.

Please, anything but getting me caught up in whatever this is. I let out a sigh. If the Empire is going to die, then I’ll have to evacuate, even if it’s just me.

I have no intention of sacrificing myself.

In the end, there’s no such thing as a happy marriage between an organization and an individual. An individual’s only choice is to marry their abilities. But that doesn’t change the truth that Tanya has committed herself to this organization thus far.

Will that mean all my labor has been for nothing? What a shame.

“Haaah.” Another sigh escapes into the hallway of the General Staff Office.

What started out as a simple intent to stay in touch ended up strengthening my desire to switch careers. Things just never go as planned. I’m feeling quite gloomy, maybe just one step away from despair. My mood is more overcast than the sky over the imperial capital. That’s when a hand claps me casually on the shoulder.

“Colonel Degurechaff, do you have a moment?”

“General Romel?!”

Tanya turns around in shock to find the general with a look on his face that says he’s up to something.

“I never got a chance to thank you for assisting our withdrawal. It must be fate that we met here today. I’d be very pleased if I could borrow you briefly.”

“I only did what needed to be done, sir.”

He waves off the modesty as usual—like he was saying We’ll have none of that, now! Despite everything, this man is the same as usual. What a straightforward fellow. And his stiff expression…must be a polite smile.

“Sometimes you want to reminisce with your war buddies, no?”

“And you’d like me to join you on a trip down memory lane?”

“By all means.”

I can tell that much due to the close bond we formed after spending time together in the south. Considering the timing, it must be more than a simple thank-you.

“It’s a damned shame I can’t offer you a drink but how about a cup of coffee?”

Tanya nods amiably to accept. “I’m grateful for the invitation, General.”

THE SAME DAY, EVENING, IMPERIAL ARMY OFFICERS’ CLUB

In a private room at the Imperial Army Officers’ Club, not far from the General Staff Office…

Since it’s a place where alcohol is served, a member of the military police starts in on the “no minors allowed” spiel, but a flash of General Romel’s insignia stops that in its tracks.

What a refreshingly magnificent display of authority, pushing through with the simple line, “I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” As one might expect, it seems that once you’re a general, you can throw your weight around even at the officers’ club.

By the time the utterance “Get us a private room” causes a space appropriate for confidential discussions to magically appear, I have gained a clear understanding of the power differentials inside the Imperial Army.

Tanya has flashed her lieutenant colonel insignia at a beer hall before and still been forced out with the expected “It’s the rules.”

Wait, hold on. I shake my head and switch into entertaining mode.

Going drinking with General von Romel will probably require some finesse…is what I had been thinking, but that goes out the window the moment he declares, “I’m drinking.” That instant, he sets a whole bottle of distilled spirits on the table and begins gulping it down like it’s water; that’s slightly odd.

As I silently sip my herbal tea, the only thing on my mind is the cause of the unsteady vibes the general is giving off.

How much has he already had? After reaching the bottom of at least one bottle, he lightly shakes his head. “Don’t believe what you can see is all there is… Especially when it comes to General Rudersdorf’s attitude.”

“Huh?”

General Romel seemed dead-drunk, but maybe he wasn’t as far gone as I first suspected. Maybe his face just gets red easily? I can hear the spirits taking effect from his speech, but still, he murmurs, “He’s a wily one. An extra-wily one. Give your cheek a good pinch before you get tricked.”

Even Tanya can’t say, I know, sir, in this situation. Romel may be drunk, but it’s too dangerous to underestimate his memory and intelligence.

When I politely feign ignorance, Romel grumbles. “You’re General Zettour’s pawn— Do I really have to convince you how merciless those two are? Stop thinking of General Rudersdorf as a single-celled molecule.”

“General?”

“I’m sure there are tons of headless eyes and ears in the capital. There must be.”

“…Huh?”

Even if he’s drunk, this is a bit…

“Do you have any idea how poorly the Southern Continent Expeditionary Corps was treated? You probably don’t. But I do. To be frank, we were outrageously abandoned. We were forgotten.”

“And then forced to withdraw for political reasons?”

“When necessary, even the fellows in command can keep these things in mind.” He grunts as he takes another swig of his drink and continues his rant. “Political expediency is costing the rank and file too much. The army is a tool for the nation to meet its goals, but it’s also a group of living, breathing humans.”

Complaints…? No. This goes deeper than that. Something is gathering strength from the alcohol and rising to the surface.

“Even the soldiers getting ground into dust are alive.”

“I do believe that goes without saying, sir.”

“Absolutely. I don’t really need to stress this point to a field officer like yourself.” Openly sympathizing with Tanya as a colleague, the man shrugs. “We returned by boat, separate from you. And what do you suppose was waiting for us when we arrived in the capital…? A ceremony to celebrate our triumphant return.”

“Huh?”

“Listen and be flabbergasted, Colonel. The official story is that the Southern Continent Expeditionary Corps is returning in triumph. Word’s going round that we achieved a major victory, and they’re even being extra generous with medals because we accomplished our mission.”

He pings a finger against the medal hanging off his uniform and starts laughing in an odd manner, his drink in his other hand.

“So?”

“So? It’s like I said. Apparently, I’m a winner.”

His voice isn’t unhinged. He seems drunk, but his voice is utterly calm. What’s hidden at the base of his voice, completely unblemished by alcohol, is a searing rage that renders Tanya speechless.

“The glory of victory, credit as a hero. And the reputation of an honorable soldier, I suppose. I really wanted those things—that’s right. I’m a soldier, too.”

“A soldier in pursuit of individual fame is a bit…”

“I suppose it’s not something I should be saying to someone with the Silver Wings. But it’s true that I had a smoldering yearning for glory and fame. Saying I wanted those things isn’t a lie.” As those words tumble out of him, I have to wonder if that’s how he truly feels. “Do you know why officers in the field carry out their orders, Colonel? What I think is that it’s for looks. Then it becomes duty. And by the time the end is near, it’s all internalized. In the beginning, though, it’s only about not wanting to get laughed at—what amounts to petty pride.” He clunks his glass down on the table and chuckles softly. “And now that petty pride is aching.” Topping off his drink, he sneers again. “I wanted to claim victory and renown. I wanted to be a winner. I don’t want to steal like the politicians and let my gains become unsightly flab.”

“…That’s what you were after, General?”

“Yes,” he murmurs with a faraway look in his eyes as he drains his glass. “The country’s position is a simple one. This is a ‘necessary measure to maintain morale.’ Necessary? Maintain morale? What a joke. They call that stopgap playacting politics? Bah.”

“Excuse me, General. You seem to be drinking an awful lot. Even if this establishment is part of the General Staff Office, I think…”

“Yes, I’m saying too much, I know. And I’m well aware that I’m criticizing the brass under the guise of simply griping.”

This comment is much more clearheaded than I expected it to be. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. That said, I force myself to say what I believe it is my duty to say.

“Then allow me to remind you that we are only soldiers—and officers in the business of conducting operations, at that. Though I realize it’s blunt of me to say so, you are no exception, sir.”

“Yes, you’re right, Colonel. When I complained to the government about being called Romel the Victor, they told me the same thing.” Furrowing his brow in disgust, the general continues grumbling. “Lieutenant generals are in no position to discuss strategy. For the nation’s political purposes, I must meekly accept the honor of my triumphant return. I’ll never forget the moment they told me.”

“You’re saying quite a bit more than you should, sir. Have you had too much to drink?”

“The Heimat’s spirits move me. I had a hell of a time finding a drink in the desert. You’ll understand when you’re old enough, Colonel. This is the good stuff.” His loving gaze focuses on the liquor. Honestly, it’s quite high proof. I literally don’t understand how he can drink it like it’s water.

“Most of what we could get on the southern continent was Ildoan wine. Our so-called ‘friend’ refused to give us bullets, but they made sure to send over a couple bottles as a token of our ‘friendship.’”

I can definitely see them doing that. I nod unconsciously. Gasoline, wine, blood. Only Ildoan diplomacy could view all those as equal in value.

As someone working in the field, Tanya is sure she understands why Romel is upset. The risks far outweigh the returns.

“The friend politics gave us. And my men who died because of political blunders!”

“…That’s the state of things.”

“Yes, Colonel. This is our reality.”

A helpless loneliness comes through in his acidic reply.

“Give a medal to the man whose subordinates were killed by shitty politicians mishandling the situation! I’m a big fan of medals, but this one I’m sure I’ll never be able to like.”

If this weren’t an officers’ club, I would be concerned about who might be listening. “General, with all due respect, the standards for—”

“Ha-ha-ha! I guess my opening remarks have gone on too long.”

“General?”

Clunk.

He puts his glass down again, but this time he doesn’t fill it and just stares at Tanya as he speaks. “We’ve sworn, Colonel, to defend the emperor and the fatherland. We can’t forget our vows.”

“I agree.”

“So…if politics is the problem, it has to be solved.”

“But that’s not a soldier’s job. Just earlier, General Rudersdorf ordered me to keep that in mind.”

I’m not exactly satisfied with the way things are going, either; I’d like to scream from the rooftops that we’ll never be able to reverse the slow decline at this rate. The hourglass has run through its sands of reason and is nearly out of time as well. I still firmly believe that I should do everything in my power to turn things around as long as my personal safety isn’t endangered.

But I’m but one part of an organization. Individuals can’t accomplish anything on their own.

“We’re soldiers. Acting at our own discretion is possible only because our shared objective is clear and we have the authority to choose how to approach the goals necessary to achieve it. Determining both the objective and the goal at your own discretion is only ever a despotic overstep of one’s authority.”

“Our objective is to guarantee the safety of the state—that is, to secure peace for the fatherland and the emperor. The goal is mainly to eliminate military threats to the Empire.”

He suddenly reins in his tone to deliver this line that sounds like a public-facing policy. When he asks, “Is it not?” Tanya has no choice but to nod in agreement.

And in truth, that is the contract under which imperial soldiers serve.

“Yes, that’s true, General. Our duty is to eliminate military threats. Organized interference in politics is beyond the scope of—”

“If there is a military threat in the realm of politics, then surely that can be considered a valid military target. If necessary, we should be prepared to act on our own discretion.”

“…You can’t be serious!”

My expression is on the brink of twisting up. That’s not even funny. But I manage to mask it with a smile. Well, I intended to smile anyhow.

“General, you’ve definitely had one too many.”

Any more than this is nuts. I shouldn’t listen to any more. I’ve definitely made that decision far too late, but now that I’ve seen how dangerous this is, I need to leave immediately.

Tanya stands up in a hurry and abruptly makes an excuse. “I’ll go and look for your adjutant. It’s your first time back in the capital after a long time away. I think you should brush off the dust of the south and take a nice rest to recover from all your hard-fought battles.”

But her efforts to gloss over the situation are rendered meaningless by the general’s reply.

“My mind is sound.”

“…You really mean what you say, sir?”

When he silently nods, she’s out of options. Because now that she knows, she no longer has the choice to not find out.

Guess it’s time to grit my teeth. Tanya emits a tiny sigh.

“Then, General. Do tell me whatever it is you want to say. But I’d like to discuss it when you’re sober.”

“Let’s do that. I see you don’t appreciate the finer points of drinking… Well, I guess my method was the issue in this case. There’s not much point in waxing poetic about alcohol to a minor.” He laughs bitterly and promises to organize a future meeting. “Tomorrow, then, as you wish. Hmm. How about we talk at my garrison?”

“Understood. I’ll pay you a visit in the afternoon.”

Seemingly satisfied by Tanya’s suggestion, he makes a note of the meeting on his calendar. This way, he can’t make the excuse that he remembers things differently due to the alcohol. Of course, Tanya no longer has the option of running away from this meeting anymore, either.

“But before we get to the main topic…let me tell you one interesting story. It’s just a bit of insignificant fluff, but I think you’ll find it compelling.”

“Is it about our current era?”

He replies with a grin. “Yes. With a career longer than yours, I’m able to pick up on that much more. Having returned from battle, I can smell the disquiet in the air at the General Staff Office.”

“Disquiet, sir?”

“I did a little investigating in search of that scent…and I heard something interesting.”

“I hope it’s some total nonsense.”

It’s obviously not, but there’s no reason to side with despair, is there? My reply is just in case, reflecting the distant hope for a rare bit of luck.

In response, the corners of Romel’s mouth ease into an amused smile.

“Yes, it’s a silly joke, really. A backup plan, I think it was called? Well, I’ll give you a good laugh next time we meet.”

“Like a Plan B? I beg your pardon, but does that mean…there’s a Plan A?”

“Are we sounding each other out now, Colonel? To be blunt, we should probably say there was one. Colonel Lergen’s overtures in Ildoa were probably the crux of Plan A.”

Romel’s comments regarding this supposed Plan B are simple and clear.

“Every army puts too much stock in plans. We have a planned goal, but that’s what enables us to play things by ear and act on our own discretion, no? At any rate”—he stands—“I’ll see you tomorrow, Colonel. It was fun having you accompany me tonight.”

Listening to his parting comments behind her, Tanya stares, stunned, into her cup.

I don’t need to wait till tomorrow. It’s all too clear what Romel is trying to say with his hints. It’s unmistakable.

At least part of the Imperial Army is eager to do it.

Let’s set aside the macro view for a moment. It’s clear that things are still moving. If it’s Plan B, it must be a backup.

So how long will it stay a backup?

…What should I do?

JULY 23, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE JOURNAL OF GENERAL VON ROMEL’S ADJUTANT

Colonel Degurechaff visited to hear what the General Staff is thinking and be given an outline. Heard about the overall situation on the eastern front as well as some general information about the Battle of the West. The situation in the skies over the western front seem to be in rather dire straits.

The lines in the east are at a standstill, yet the war of attrition rages on.

After their official business, the general and Tanya chatted about personal topics.

P.S.

HQ presented her with coffee beans for fighting alongside us on the southern lines and in recognition of being the sort of esteemed friend who assisted us with our withdrawal.

THE SAME DAY, THE GENERAL STAFF OFFICE

A man with a gloomy expression delivered a dark report in a room that felt nothing short of oppressive. An objective view of the speaker at the General Staff Office Operations meeting would look like that.

Though he could hear his own internal cynic laughing, Colonel Lergen made a point of speaking dispassionately.

“And those are the prep materials related to the breakthrough operation from Supreme Command. The government has high expectations of us in the General Staff.”

“…Draw troops from the southern border, and if that’s not possible, ‘consider’ acquiring a surplus via a military incapacitation of Ildoa?”

General Rudersdorf had been listening in silence up until this point, and his face was pale. Without even looking in a mirror, Lergen could guess his face was a similar hue.

This was a beeline toward the catastrophe that should have been avoided.

The brakes that should have kept the Empire’s politics from heading down the wrong path were broken. No, it was more like instead of hitting the brakes, the driver had kept their foot on the gas.

“‘Make a military invasion of Ildoa an option’ is quite an order. The politicians and bureaucrats are quite courageous, talking so big from behind their desks.” The general’s face was brimming with sarcasm as he snorted and brought his cigar to his mouth. “True bravery means acknowledging your cowardice… Invade Ildoa? Win or lose, it can only end in untold tragedy.”

Lergen remained silent but had no choice but to nod. It was essentially the Empire versus the other major countries. What could possibly change from swinging at the one who barely counted as a middling power?

Even if it went well, it wouldn’t amount to much. They would just be able to send ten or so divisions into the quagmire of the east. And that was the optimistic prognosis assuming everything went according to plan!

“Colonel, let’s think realistically. For now, how about we set aside the idea of invading Ildoa and consider how many troops we can muster.”

It’s a staff officer’s job to advise that this proposal is impossible. When everything has been tried, and there’s still no hope of success, they need to point out reality.

That was the basic education given at war college, and it was the part that Lergen now resented.

Even doctors suffer when they have to tell a patient how much longer they have to live. Pronouncing your Heimat’s fate was agonizing enough to elicit groans.

“…General, we’ve considered that multiple times already.”

“We know the numbers. I’m saying now we have to consider the idea of taking them.”

“General, it’s impossible to recruit any more troops.” Lergen made a point of dispassionately repeating himself. He didn’t want to say any more than that.

“Colonel, I’ll say it again. It’s about giving the order to make the impossible possible. The competent troops we could potentially dispatch are currently in charge of defending the southern border. They’re the only ones with the adequate numbers. Figure it out.”

“The border defense unit in the south isn’t just sitting there idle, sir! They’ve already been pared down to the absolute minimum! Considering how badly disrupted our interior lines strategy has gotten, it would be too dangerous to subtract any more!”

They had already pared down to the safety margin. That was the current situation of every regional army group. Pouring a huge number of men and matériel into the eastern front while still supporting all other army groups was more than even the Empire could bear.

“What about compensating with defensive positions?”

“…It’ll negatively impact diplomatic matters. That comes into direct conflict with the General Staff’s aim of cultivating friendly relations.”

“So we’re so considerate we don’t even build defensive positions? Well, I suppose Ildoa is an ally. Not much we can do.”

Yes, that’s right. A problematic yet dear ally—that’s exactly what Ildoa is. There was no reason to believe they would attack the Empire.

But it all depended.

It was true that even if they left the border as good as empty, there was little reason to believe Ildoa would be eager to abandon the Empire in pursuit of geopolitical aims. Ildoa was a reliable intermediary and a good broker. It would buy the things it was expected to buy and sell the things it was expected to sell. That was a conclusion drawn purely based on calculated interests.

That being said, there was still a chance that Ildoa’s interests could induce it to attack the Empire if the opportunity was too good to pass up.

The forces garrisoning the border acted as a deterrent. In order to maintain this precarious alliance, they couldn’t be moved.

“So we can conclude that drawing troops from there would be problematic. We’ve already taken as many as possible.”

“And we can’t overtly treat them as potential enemies like in the east and west. There’s our reputation to think of. But…supposing we didn’t care, I’d like to set a goal for when we can get the positions built and the troops taken. How long do you think it will take?”

“I’ve gotten a lay of the land after numerous trips going back and forth between here and Ildoa—the issue is topography.”

The majority of the Ildoa-Empire border region was mountainous. Since that made it difficult to attack and easy to defend, they had gotten by with minimal defenses and personnel.

But…

Lergen had to point something out with a somber expression.

“Repairing the mountain road plus constructing a ropeway for transporting ammunition won’t be easy. Especially with our field engineers, equipment is part of the problem. Even the troops in the field aren’t being issued enough equipment.”

The eastern front again. Like Rudersdorf, who was listening with a look on his face like he couldn’t wait to be liberated from the problem of the eastern front, Lergen, too, cursed the massive drain on resources from the bottom of his heart.

“Colonel, how well outfitted was the area before the war?”

“There’s nothing more than a basic garrison. They’re just now finally starting to expand with an air base.”

“We didn’t ask for anything more from the local unit than a mobile defense that could be dispatched to the mountains in a hurry, so I suppose that’s what we get.”

“…If anything happened, the plan was to have the Great Army take care of the rest…”

“Right. And we can’t very well bring those troops back from the east.”

The collapse of their main thrust plagued them here, too. A failure at the strategic level had left imperial authorities with no choice but to flail for any handhold they could find.

“Then I guess the only measure we can take to draw off troops is to fundamentally change the status quo. We’ll crush Ildoa and then send everyone but the occupying forces to the east.”

“That’s such a bad idea it’s not even worth debating.”

“What a harsh critique, Colonel.”

“Unfortunately, I’m merely pointing out the truth. General, I’m sure even you are aware.”

“You’re not wrong.”

This general who hated beating around the bush…was doing exactly that. The source of that hesitation and even palpable hatred was the height of follies—war against Ildoa.

“Our readiness for a war against Ildoa is an unmitigated disaster. How did it look to you on the ground, Colonel?”

“I made inspections on multiple occasions. The current Southern Army Group mainly consists of reserve divisions stationed there on the assumption that they would only be relied on for defense—and a delaying defense at that. Though they meet the minimum head count in each area, the divisions might as well be hollow.”

The barrel of forces they could use for an offensive had been scraped clean long ago.

The Empire and the Imperial Army were struggling to even conduct their defensive maneuver battles in the east.

Just take a look at the Salamander Kampfgruppe awkwardly being called the Lergen Kampfgruppe, and it’s plain to see.

Most of the heavy equipment had some sort of defect, and the artillery and tanks were getting emergency maintenance in the home country.

A kampfgruppe stationed in the rear to use up their leave. By prewar standards, the unit was overdue for a top-down reconstitution.

But today it was rated as “an exceedingly powerful fighting force” without any hint of sarcasm or humor.

“Even the phrase war against Ildoa is a fantasy.” Having seen the situation on the ground, Lergen felt compelled to say it explicitly. “If the higher-ups are telling us to attack, they at least have to provide a breakthrough force. It would be far too difficult to take troops from units occupying Dacia or the Entente Alliance, and as the Western Army Group needs to defend the coast, they are likely to send a request for reinforcements right back to us.”

“Which simply brings us back to ‘Take troops from the east.’ Except that’d be missing the entire point.”

Lergen was dismissing the idea out of hand. But as far as he could tell, Rudersdorf wasn’t rejecting it as readily.

He could imagine how the general felt on the inside.

“So, General, you accept the current situation?”

“…The excessive focus on the eastern front is also a running problem. I’m sure you’re aware of that, Colonel.”

The great quagmire the Imperial Army found itself stuck in. This battle of attrition on the eastern front. The objective was to defend the Empire. The target was the enemy field army. Sadly, they had utterly failed to annihilate that very field army.

Strictly speaking, they had defeated the enemy on several occasions. By the military textbook definition, some might even say that they had broken the foundations of the Federation Army soundly enough to call it annihilation.

But the Federation Army was as fit as ever. Meanwhile, the Imperial Army was struggling through major operation after major operation. Which is not to say that the enemy was enjoying a carefree time, but the Empire was undeniably running out of energy.

“…How about that voluntary division? With that, couldn’t we pull a division out of the east for reorganization?”

“You’re saying that a division we aren’t even sure if we can use would be able to replace a division that is capable of attacking? With all due respect, General, will that kind of extravagance fly on the eastern front?”

Lergen offered the frank viewpoint as if by instinct, but he understood all too well that Rudersdorf had no choice but to pull a division from the east.

Originally, the Imperial Army was meant to have fewer troops in the regional army groups and a higher concentration of mobile forces, represented chiefly by the Great Army.

In any case, the Empire was traditionally partial to the idea of being prepared for rapid response. When surrounded by potential enemies, their predecessors had taught them that having strategic reserves was essential in order to seize the initiative and exploit breakthroughs.

It was impossible to forget how they got hit in the Rhine by the Republic while their strategic reserves were committed to Norden. That had been terrifying. And the way all their forces were committed to the east now resembled that error all too closely.

“We simply don’t have any pieces we can play. That’s what it comes down to.”

“…General?”

“Nothing. We’ll fight with what we have. That goes without saying. Just because you get dealt a bad hand doesn’t mean you can drop out of the game.”

Taking a cue from his cigar-puffing superior, Lergen lit a cigarette. This wasn’t the sort of subject matter he could comfortably discuss without nicotine.

The fact was that since the start of the war, he had become a heavy smoker, but as the quality and quantity of cigarettes they were issued decreased, he grew increasingly annoyed.

Even Lergen, one of the core figures in the General Staff, was anxious about his cigarette supply. How many things could illustrate the Empire’s matériel mobilization issues better than that?

Piling up ashes in the ashtray, Rudersdorf realized they were wasting time and forced himself to speak. “…What’s the situation like in Ildoa?”

“Down there? Well, even they’re using a mix of gendarmerie and soldiers working together…but they’ve also got multiple alpine units in reserve.”

Not the faceup cards shown during exercises. The real threat. The cornerstone of the Ildoan forces—their alpine units. Lergen was no expert in intelligence on Ildoa, but as an Operations man, one glimpse at their troops was enough to give him a rough idea.

Every time he went back and forth, he made some excuse to do an inspection—and they were the real deal.

“General, I think Ildoa is probably capable of mounting a rapid response.”

“How about their equipment and skill?”

“As far as I saw in their exercises, there is only one optimistic thing I can say. I think we should be able to safely ignore their ability to logistically support an offensive of any significant duration. Their gear is a jumble from several different countries, so we can expect some confusion on that end as well.” But there was a more important, painful truth that he ventured to report. “Their skill, however, is envy inducing in certain ways. They’re more than well trained and even properly supplied.”

“So an army of properly trained fully grown adults, huh?”

That was a luxury that the Empire could only dream of at this point. A well-trained soldier was more valuable than gold.

“The only saving grace is that they lack real combat experience.”

On the battalion level, they were tight. They may not have had the combat experience, but they were apparently incorporating the lessons learned from studying the current war. Training—that is, the right training—could far surpass “simple” combat experience.

That is: They weren’t sending military observers all over the place for no reason.

“Then our invasion will have to be literally lightning fast,” the general grumbled.

A casual remark.

But the head of Operations had just said the word invasion. The significance was overwhelming. Is that what you’re thinking of, General?

Before he knew it, he had a thought that made his face stiffen.

“It’s not as if I’m for an invasion.”

“Then what, sir?”

The general’s eyes stopped on Lergen, containing a dangerous gleam.

“An army needs to have a plan; it needs to be able to act on assumptions. It’s only with a concrete goal that we can expect soldiers to carry out missions. Am I wrong, Colonel Lergen?”

“No, sir, it’s as you say.”

As he apologized for his rudeness, he felt a strange chill.

“That said, this problem will take some consideration. We’ll need to give it some more thought later on. Thanks, Colonel Lergen.”

“It was nothing, sir. I’ll be going, then.”

“Colonel, one last thing.”

Lergen had stood up and was about to leave the room when Rudersdorf casually lobbed a bomb at his back.

“We’ll see what happens with Ildoa, but in the meantime, have the Lergen Kampfgruppe conduct a topographical survey, just in case.”

“…Understood.”

As he saluted and took his leave, what was going through his mind? Resignation? Despair? No, don’t jump to conclusions. Lergen shook his head as he walked down the hall of the General Staff Office.

A topographical survey. That was a general instruction that on its own carried no implication of an attack. But Lergen saw the implication no matter how he tried to avert his eyes.

Bringing a combat unit in at this juncture seems awfully significant. That was what occupied his mind all along the way back to his desk.

Of course, committing research to paper and actual combat were two very different things. He took a cigarette out of his desk and lit it as he grumbled. “Someone in a position like the general would never approve a poorly planned invasion of Ildoa.”

His comments to himself melted into his office.

“…At least, they shouldn’t,” Lergen spat limply, but then he shook his head.

Lieutenant General Zettour, Lieutenant General Rudersdorf—both of the deputy heads of staff he served were staff officers with excellent pedigrees.

They were by no means so rash as to pull the trigger of a fully automated suicide device.

Ildoa is essential as an intermediary in order to end the war with terms.

They had to end the war. If war was becoming an end instead of a means, they were putting the cart before the horse. I see—fair-weather friends are rather unpleasant. You start to question their sincerity as well as the relationship itself.

But in the end, it was only a friendship between states.

A bond of steel, light yet stronger than anything, and only formed when interests align. National interest, raison d’état—in the end, any decent person would find it revolting. Such was the banal evil of organizations.

“…A state has no perpetual enemies and no eternal allies. O Lord, let there be as many allies as possible for the fatherland.”

A prayer. Sadly, he doubted whether it would get through.

It was the same old story. Enemies had to be defeated. Obviously, it would be preferable to have fewer of them. The reckless Stone Age bravery of seeking out enemies was not desirable in this century.

But someone in Rudersdorf’s position had been forced to at least entertain a blitzkrieg invasion of Ildoa, even if it was only talk—that was the reality the Empire was facing.

Nobody told me it would be like this.

A soldier’s duty was to avoid politics. Lergen himself, though a decent individual by his own measure, had racked up enough experience as an instrument of an evil organization that it made him sick, but…in the end, he was still in a subordinate role.

Now, surprisingly, this colonel in the Imperial Army, Lergen, was beginning to feel an interest in politics stirring in his breast.

It beat in his chest with an echoing ba-bum, ba-bum.

Imperial soldiers were taught from the very beginning that this should be suppressed at every turn. The lesson had been beaten into him so often that it had long been internalized as one of his values. So the emotional voice in his mind screamed its appeals.

“…What should I do?”

But his mind, his reason pressed on, throwing off the emotional restraints. His brain cried out, If the politicians are wrong, then perhaps it’s the army’s—nay, the soldiers’ duty to correct them.

And he couldn’t continue to ignore this strange, ceaseless current. The atmosphere in the General Staff Office justified a qualm or two.

Nor could he feign ignorance of his superiors’ thought processes. There was a limit to these things.

“…Plan B?”

How wretched it felt to be the one who had failed to carry out Plan A. He wanted to leave Plan B as Plan B forever. So he couldn’t help but feel there was some hope in that direction.

“We stand with God? And we’re meant to charge forth as he wishes? Without realizing our best chance has already come and gone, we continued believing an appropriate ending would be bestowed on us, and yet this is what we get?”

There should have been an escape route.

Open sesame.

The art of war that had been witnessed on the Rhine front was unforgettable. They had lured in the enemy field army and literally ripped them out by the roots.

The peace that followed the neutralization of the enemy field army was something the Empire had dreamed of, longed for, and thirsted for ever since its founding had been only a step away.

…Now, Lergen couldn’t help but feel like that was ancient history.

He had believed they could win the war.

Back then, it had even been possible to think about a time “after the war.” Where and how did things end up so horrible?!

“If you know the eastern front, you understand. Hell begets hell. Nothing is shocking in total war. What a fate! We’re stuck harvesting the seeds we sowed.”

Iron and blood.

Though they originated with the founding of the country, the quantity was woefully inadequate for saving the fatherland from this great war. Young people—human beings with bright, promising futures—were turned into statistics and casualty numbers; pouring the nation’s strength into this conflict was as foolish as heaving it away with great abandon straight into the muddy lands of the Federation.

And it still wasn’t enough.

It was hard to believe, but war, this greedy monster, having swallowed up every last one of the Heimat’s youths, continued to scream that it wasn’t satisfied. How about that for an unpleasant reality? Battle lines extending without end, the continuous sowing of despair, and the horror of a world that continued to betray every expectation.

To think this would happen—to think the world would enter such an age!

Who could have seen this coming? During the Norden conflict, who besides one little girl even spared it more than a passing thought? Who would have guessed that this nightmare, this madness, was about to snowball out of control?

“…Be ready for whatever may happen. That’s a soldier’s job. I made a vow to the fatherland and the emperor, so it’s my duty. I must do my duty.”

If you spelled it out, that’s exactly what it meant to be an officer.

Lergen himself was an outstanding cog—and nothing but a cog. But when it was unforgivable to remain a mere piece of the machinery, did the demands of his duty change?

“…Will I be forgiven if I remain as I am? What is the optimal route to carrying out my—no, our duty?”

The aiguillette he wore marked him as a staff officer. He had to fulfill his duty. But what duty was that? Was it a soldier’s duty to get involved in politics? Was it his duty to remain silent as a “mere” staff officer?

It would be easy to make the excuse that the context had changed. But duty itself would haunt him eternally. He didn’t know what it was he was supposed to do, but the responsibility he felt toward doing it tormented him.

Ahhh, damn it all.

Do I have to take the plunge into politics despite being a soldier? Or am I supposed to remain silent in the face of the politicians and their agonizing cluelessness?

Both choices were the worst. Not the worst and the second worst. They were both absolute shit.

“I’m supposed to choose? I…have to choose?”

When he glanced at the window, a sour face appeared. A haunting face. He was frowning as if he were the most unfortunate man in the world.

It was his own reflection floating in the glass, but even knowing that, he found it utterly shameful.

I look exhausted. As an officer, I’m meant to set an example, to put on a brave front in the face of adversity, but…I guess I can’t scrounge up what simply isn’t there.

Smile.

He ordered the muscles in his face to obey, but he didn’t have the energy to laugh at the ludicrousness even if he wanted to.

“What path will lead to the sun rising again tomorrow?”

He responded to his own words with a cynical jab.

“…Will it even?”

He asked and answered his own question.

There isn’t a soul who doesn’t hope daybreak will come. But will it? We’ll see the sun tomorrow. And probably next month. And even a year from now, we should be able to manage it.

But what comes after that?

Where is the Empire headed?

Are we sure it’s not night that waits for us?

“…Pessimism? No wonder the staffer curriculum drilled into us that it’s taboo.”

Peering into the window glass, he saw an absolutely haggard face. It was just so awful looking. Heading toward the night made him feel incredibly uneasy.

“…Night, huh? The horror. But who among us can escape the night?”

(The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 9: Omnes una Manet Nox, fin)