VOL 5-4

[chapter] IV Long-Range Assault Operation

OCTOBER 7, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, IMPERIAL ARMY BASE

The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion has suffered heavy losses in Norden. Teeth-grindingly heavy losses. It was an unbelievable waste of human resources and capital.

If you’re like Being X, a piece of trash who can view humans only as numbers, then you would probably say, It was only ten people.

But to the modern, free individual, Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff, it goes without saying that the loss of ten elite soldiers is a huge loss for society.

So many resources and so much time were invested in their training.

“We’re an army. I realize that casualties are a given, but…”

Logically, there are no irreplaceable gears in an army.

And the units with losses will be allocated replacement personnel. But textbooks and the real world don’t always get along.

In actuality, there are tons of valuable gears on the market whose supply is monopolized by a single company.

And if that precious source is struggling under too much demand, even if you request a replacement gear, you have no way of knowing when it will arrive.

As soon as she leaves the companies to their commanders—First Lieutenant Serebryakov, Major Weiss, and First Lieutenant Grantz—she thinks, Even so, and follows standard procedure, getting through the paperwork to apply for the replacement personnel. For her new gears.

It’s a solitary battle.

Pen, paper, ink, and me.

What is effective in a culture battle is the deceptive power of words.

In the real world, though, it’s as if there’s a fearsome wall of bureaucracy in the way. Even the Imperial Army, a precision military machine, can’t escape red tape. How irritating!

“…What we should really be afraid of is bureaucracy…”

The process, complicated to the point of futility, makes me suspect that the higher-ups are determined to reject applications for replacements. But desk work requires perseverance.

“Hmph, government forms are always complicated. Well, I’ll just read these administrative texts with the care of an exegete.”

Having returned to their lodgings with that determined murmur, Tanya has now been chained to her desk for over twenty-four hours finishing paperwork. She processes the documents, gulping down the coffee from Lieutenant Colonel Uger, which she has requested brewed so thick it tastes like awful muddy water.

Even the Anglo-Saxon spirit during the Victorian era, famous for its perseverance, is child’s play compared to the discipline of a modern corporate employee like me.

If the documents don’t get approved, that’s fine.

I’ll just keep filing them until they do.

Thus, about two days after shifting the battlefield to her desk…

Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff achieves a modest victory.

On October 6 at exactly midnight, she has her adjutant Serebryakov send the paperwork and burrows into her bed to get as much sleep as she possibly can.

Then, when her eyes pop open, it’s morning.

As she munches the breakfast with coffee that her adjutant prepared for her, she finally has the wherewithal to begin thinking about what comes next.

“Still, man…”

A little sigh slips out.

She can think and think, but thinking will get her only so far.

At any rate, their current situation is exceedingly vague.

According to their official orders, they’re a support unit.

The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion was sent as patrol personnel as part of the Northern Sea operation. Therefore, the failure of the operation to stop the RMS Queen of Anjou doesn’t translate to the end of their deployment.

Theoretically, their mission is ongoing even now. On the other hand, that’s all it means.

Additionally, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion’s position as a unit directly under the General Staff deployed to the north is unique. As a result, I suppose?

The bureaucratic consensus within the military machine is that the General Staff lent them the unit for the mission to stop the RMS Queen of Anjou. For that reason, even if they wanted to divert the unit to a different mission, the theory of the organization went that they would fall off the promotion track if they broke the contract.

I guess the inertia of bureaucracy is formidable? Contrary to our official orders, we aren’t even being incorporated into the patrol rotation.

Thus, in order to not waste time, Tanya takes up her pen again. She writes the letters of consolation to the bereaved families that are her duty as a commander.

But in terms of word count, letters of consolation aren’t very long. Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is unexpectedly running out of things to do before it’s even lunchtime.

“…I get that we’re experiencing some issues, but having nothing to do is actually pretty unbearable,” she grumbles with a bitter grin.

I don’t count myself as a workaholic, but in this sort of ill-conceived situation, my thoughts tend to wander. If I don’t have something that requires an immediate judgment call, maybe it’s not so bad to leisurely ponder the long term.

But the future is grim. Maybe spirited speculations on your bright future can be productive, but having to expect a dark one is no fun.

Of course, whether it’s fun or not is just an emotional issue.

I have no intention of ceasing to think just because I’m upset.

If I’m going to stop thinking, I’d rather take my pistol and blow my brains out.

That said, there are some realities that…can’t be changed no matter how much you think. Just as I’m running out of high-quality coffee beans, the Empire’s resources must also be dwindling.

That goes for human resources, too. Tanya is compelled to frown bitterly.

The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion is short ten members.

The only people who can say it’s only ten are the ones who have zero understanding of human capital management.

To find a parallel, it’s like the massive numbskulls who fire all their veteran sales staff and replace them with low-salaried part-timers and then wonder why things aren’t going well.

Ten members, rich in experience and accomplished as well, were taken from us. From a department of only forty-eight. For now, while our duties are limited, it shouldn’t be a serious problem.

But…there’s no telling when we’ll get replenished.

“I guess we’ll be able to fill our slots with…newbies who have only the bare minimum of training…”

It’s a predictable situation… No one has any veterans to spare.

No, they probably just stubbornly refuse to give them up. I mean, if they asked me to pull a few, I’m sure I’d give them a flat no.

After all, veteran experience and optimized unit coordination aren’t something you can achieve in a day. It’s possible to turn know-how and accumulated experience into a manual, but acquiring that knowledge and mastering it through experience take time.

That’s the first thing you have to remember when using human capital.

“Going by that principle…I really just have to cultivate them? It’d be better if I could simply get some mid-career hires somewhere…”

It’s only natural for someone working in personnel to fret about filling vacancies. But when there’s a war on, getting replacements doesn’t go very well.

Although officers have a measure of discretion within the army, they don’t get to choose their subordinates. You can complain when something sucks, but it’s virtually impossible to simply take what you want.

…The situation is very different from the time we pulled together an augmented battalion from a mix of Eastern Army Group and Central troops.

And so, Tanya’s mind is completely occupied by the word replacements. Unfortunately, there’s no time you’re less likely to have a great idea than when you really want one.

Just as she notices her thoughts going down a dead end, there’s a knock on the door. She raises her head.

When she looks toward the door, it’s her vice commander standing there with a message. The fact that it isn’t a messenger but Weiss himself means it must be fairly important news.

“What is it, Major Weiss? If you’re not in a hurry, I’d appreciate if you’d stay and have a cup of coffee.”

“How kind of you. I think I will.” He bobs his head and doesn’t seem nervous. If he was tense, he probably would have refused a leisurely teatime.

So it must not be an emergency, she figures. As she offers him coffee, she tries to guess. Then what could it be?

“Colonel von Degurechaff, these are orders from home.”

Ohhh. She doesn’t have to think for that to make sense. So the General Staff has gotten word of our failure? Is it a reprimand? Consolation? Or word of a new mission?

Well, whatever it is… Tanya straightens up.

“Hmm…? Redeployment orders?”

“Yes, ma’am. As soon as our replacement unit arrives, we’re to take up a position on the eastern front main lines along with the reorganized Kampfgruppe. We’ve also been instructed to incorporate the replacement troops we’ll receive.”

She takes the papers from Weiss and looks them over. I see, so it’s a proper notification.

But there is something giving her slight pause.

“Redeployment and reorganization in parallel? And on top of that, reorganizing on the main lines in the east? With no orientation training?”

“…Yes, the General Staff says to lead the unit they’ve formed.”

After reading the orders, Tanya sighs in spite of herself. This is almost exactly what I was griping about earlier!

“So we’re stuck having our veterans replaced with newbies! That’s just one step down the path to a giant failure… What the hell.”

No. She shakes her head. If she pushes the shock from her mind and employs some self-control, she can understand what the higher-ups are trying to do. The General Staff probably doesn’t have anywhere they can secure human resources, either.

But just because she can understand doesn’t mean she can accept it. Even considering what this war situation demands, it’s not enough time!

As the commander, she’s had to lodge a complaint.

Kampfgruppen are created via ad hoc formation.

These words say it all: ad hoc formation.

Confusion will be inevitable once the quickly scraped together band of officers and men has to carry out an operation. She can describe what she wants from them, but it will be hard to avoid a breakdown somewhere. And that’s why she wants the core to be her own forces that sync perfectly with her.

But they won’t even give her an orientation period?

“Any more than this is just going in circles. I guess we should be happy we’re getting replacements, but the unit they’re allocating doesn’t look so great. They say they modeled this Kampfgruppe on the Salamanders, but as far as I can tell, it’s probably best not to have very high expectations.”

“…At face value, it seems to have been fortified.” Weiss’s observation is half-right. Just the other half is wrong.

“To some extent, I’m sure that’s true. But there are too many newly established units. Even if the foundation is veterans, you know what will happen if the ratio of newbies is too high, right?”

In stories, in heroic tales, one might encounter new units that turn out to be elite. Or we could probably give up on education and at the last minute send in elite units made up purely of veterans and instructors.

Conversely, if you’re fighting a war like usual, it’s extremely difficult to imagine forming a new unit containing only veterans.

“I want to hope the core personnel are decent, but no one wants to give up any veterans. We probably can’t expect too much.”

“You’re right about that. I see, so it must be made up of whatever units they had on hand back home. In that case, they’ll be weaker than they look.”

He must have understood. An awkward smile appears on Weiss’s face. Well, that’s the only possible response to this sort of reality—a vague smile.

We’re not replacing our losses like we want and instead are getting units so new it’s unclear if they’ve been tried in live combat yet.

“It makes me think of General von Romel. I remember how he always used to say he wanted units that were easy to use.”

It was the catchphrase of my former superior officer. He used to grumble over and over how badly he wanted a decent unit.

Now I understand what he meant quite well. No matter how they gloss things over at home, without proper manpower, it’s going to be hard to continue fighting a war. How sad that the day has come when I can sympathize with the gripes of my former superior.

“Ahhh, man,” grumbles Tanya as she pours herself another cup of coffee with a sigh. “Do the best with what you have. They’re simple words, but doesn’t it feel like a last resort? Don’t you kinda get the feeling they’re just shoving the whole issue off onto us in the field, Major Weiss?”

“But, ma’am…all we can do is train the new recruits.”

“I guess. It’s going to be a struggle. Training the mage unit will be up to you. I hope you’ll turn them into troops we can use.”

“I’ll do my best. Still, I think in this case…it’s really a fight against time.”

I absolutely agree. Even without Weiss pointing it out, I know that training new people is a challenge in any era.

Humans don’t work the minute you install them, like programs. You can allow them to grope along and spit out errors, but it will still take a huge amount of time.

Time and effort are essential for fostering newbies no matter what.

But even if you understand that necessity, it’s still one of the most difficult jobs. Normally, in the military organization, personnel will be deployed once they’ve completed the minimum training…but as the war continues on and intensifies, the standards have greatly shifted.

Currently, I really wonder if they’ll be at a usable level.

“How much time can we take to retrain them? The orders didn’t specify… So what do you think, Colonel?”

“I wouldn’t expect the usual standard. Even if we’re being sent to a war zone, we probably won’t be in the hottest area, but… Well, they definitely won’t let us have six months. We can probably expect them to tell us to train during the winter lull, since it’s a test operation.” She swallows the rest: It’s probably hopeless. “I want to give you as much time as possible. I genuinely want you to train them hard.”

Unfortunately, there’s a limit to what gets decided based on my opinion.

“The problem is what the General Staff is aiming for with this formation. It seems like they want Kampfgruppen that can be formed in a short amount of time for special missions.”

The Salamander Kampfgruppe was a great preliminary run.

Having been formed quickly, it achieved adequate successes in multiple field tests, such as proving its concept, supporting the main army’s flank in the east, and getting a handle on the enemy’s status.

Tanya’s personal view is that she showed the brass the utility of composite units made up of troops from multiple branches of the org. And that seems to have been acknowledged as the truth.

But, she does end up thinking. As she told Weiss, she thinks the General Staff has put too much emphasis on the ability to form them quickly.

“The existing types of units, formed with specific scenarios in mind, aren’t flexible. Kampfgruppen are different in that they can be formed in an optimal way on the fly.”

“So they really have a lot of potential, then. I imagine they’ll be especially useful for putting out fires.”

“Exactly. In other words, Major Weiss, I’m thinking…that you need to be prepared for them to expect the sort of convenient unit they can send on errands. And as long as they do, it’s hard to hope for a generous training period.”

If the mobility and firepower to cover those vast lines can be arranged by adjusting a single unit, Kampfgruppen will be a good fit for mission-oriented orders.

To be frank, they’ll be super-handy. If you’re a commander, you’ll be thinking, I want a ton of those ASAP.

People who work on logistics like Lieutenant General von Zettour and people from Operations like Lieutenant General von Rudersdorf are sure to be desperate for Kampfgruppen. The new type of unit scratches their itch.

Which is why Tanya can understand the line of thought for the General Staff.

“The guys in the General Staff must be thinking to develop the know-how to form a ton of these at the drop of a hat. We’re going to be forced to go along with this major research initiative, so we should probably brace ourselves.”

“…If it works out, the army will have a lot more options, huh? As a soldier, I’m honored if I can contribute to my fatherland in such a way.”

She needs to finish her mug of coffee, but reality is so harsh, she can’t possibly drink. It’s unbearably awful, but we’re going to have to work our asses off. We’re going to suffer terribly.

After all, the higher-ups’ objective is to locate problems through trial and error. There’s no way we’ll have an easy time of it in the field like that.

“It’s like we’re playing house and being told to sample their cooking. And though this is a presumptuous thing to say…the ones cooking aren’t even going to sample it themselves.”

It may be necessary to go through various processes to turn an idea into something concrete, but this just makes her want to cradle her head in her hands.

“It’s no good,” she says, and they both wince.

“Then should we tell them it’s inedible?”

“That would be like whining that you hate it without even trying it. Unless, Major Weiss, you want to make a direct appeal?”

“Please have mercy, ma’am.”

“Right.” Tanya nods and gives a little sigh.

Weiss’s resigned exhalation should probably also be called a sigh.

“We don’t have a choice.”

“Yeah, I guess not.”

Awash with emotions, she laments openly. One of the bad things about the army is that your preferences become irrelevant.

The pair can only grumble: “How uninspired. We’re stuck.” The officers simply admit to each other that there’s nothing they can do.

That said, neither of them had any work they had to rush to do. And so they have time to sigh but no time for training and reorganizing; it hits them how poorly resources are distributed.

If you give it enough thought, things can’t go on like this. As Tanya is looking for a topic to chat about over their coffee, she finally realizes something.

“Actually, Lieutenant Grantz was once a replacement. What if we left training up to him?”

“…I never thought of that. But…” Weiss nods with interest. “Before, I might have argued against it. Now, though, Lieutenant Grantz has built up experience commanding a company. He’s made a lot of mistakes, but he might actually make a great instructor.”

“So it’s worth considering?”

Weiss nods yes. “Training new recruits will probably be good experience for him.”

“Undoubtedly.” Tanya nods.

Teaching someone else is a learning experience for the teacher, as well. Tanya has been reminded of that numerous times since meeting Serebryakov on the Rhine front.

Once a conscript, she’s now a fine magic officer, too.

Tanya is about to comment on the delights of helping with personal development when there is a polite knock on the door.

“Huh? Come in!”

Speak of the devil. Well, surely it’s nothing like that.

Peeking in with a sudden briskness is Lieutenant Serebryakov, whom I was just reminiscing about training.

“Lieutenant Serebryakov, come on in!”

She salutes and walks over with a smile. She must be in a great mood. Maybe she’s at that age where any little thing has you giggling?

On the other hand, the Serebryakov I know is a pragmatist. I do wonder if there’s been some sort of good news.

Tanya asks with her eyes, and Serebryakov must understand, because she begins explaining.

“Colonel, we’ve received a report from the air fleet.”

The air fleet?

Maybe it’s not my place to wonder, but why is the air fleet reporting to me?

Though I’m clearly perplexed…my adjutant pays it no mind. She hands me an envelope, and her face brightens with a proud smile. “It’s aerial reconnaissance photos. I won them off the air fleet playing cards.”

“Are you betting military secrets? Visha, I don’t mean to criticize you, but you might want to take it easy. No, this is even more serious than that. Encouraging intelligence leaks is worse than most types of gambling.”

Weiss’s grumbles are legitimate. But the documents Serebryakov brought made those worries seem trivial.

Inside the envelope are several aerial photographs.

I don’t even have to look at the data, analysis, and other notes written on them.

“The RMS Queen of Anjou? It’s as absurdly huge as I remember.”

The giant ship is so magnificent, it makes others look small. It’s the most famous ocean liner by far. We have lots of data on it, so there’s no way to mistake it.

The air fleet analysts must have felt the same way. It’s natural that they declared it the RMS Queen of Anjou in red ink.

Just then, Tanya notices something.

In the notes on the margin of the photo, there are some doubts written about the status of the ship’s mooring.

“They’re…performing maintenance?”

Even from the photos, the damage to the ship’s deck and more is visible. But there’s something drawing Tanya’s attention even more: the large number of tools and workers.

“Does this mean our attack to slow them down got some results?” Weiss remarks, sounding somewhat ashamed.

Well, of course he sounds ashamed, if this is all we achieved… But then Tanya rethinks it.

Does the fact that it’s not docked…mean the damage is only slight?

Really?

Now she has doubts. Could it be? she thinks. Or maybe…, she hopes. Either way, when she looks over the photos again…the answer is clear.

Just as I thought, I suppose?

“Nah, Major Weiss. Just because it isn’t docked doesn’t mean we have to be self-deprecating about our results. I mean, what dock can accommodate that huge ship anyhow?”

“…That’s true.”

Weiss stares speechlessly at the photos and starts thinking about something, but Tanya has already moved on to the next issue.

Only one thing is important.

“Lieutenant Serebryakov, the air fleet brought this to you, yes?”

She’s confirming that it wasn’t intel she pressed them for. If her adjutant has gone above and beyond to ask them…

…it would mean that we went to pick up requested information from them.

“That’s right. I did tease them, but they brought it to me without going through HQ.”

“Just to confirm, the air fleet offered this, right? They weren’t responding to a request from you?”

“They called me and I picked it up.” She declares it with conviction and doesn’t seem to be hiding anything. So perhaps they really are just being friendly.

Of course, it’s also possible that the air fleet is trying to show off their skills or make up in some way for their deficient performance in the attack on the ship. It’s hard to tell exactly what their intention was.

But it’s not as if we asked them for it. In other words, they volunteered it. Good. Tanya continues to dwell on this point.

Aerial reconnaissance and these photos… Unlike with a reconnaissance satellite, this photography required a manned aircraft to fly over enemy territory. Though it was taken from a high altitude, there was still a lot of risk involved.

If neither Tanya nor Serebryakov requested recon and this report showed up…

…Is it encouragement or reassurance, then?

This was sent by people who know about our mission related to the RMS Queen of Anjou. There must be some kind folks in our org somewhere.

“Lieutenant, choose whatever alcohol seems appropriate later. If we don’t have enough, you can dip into the battalion treasury. Send it to them on my behalf. They did a good job, so I’d like those brave pilots to drink their fill.”

“Yes, ma’am. Leave it to me, Colonel.”

A good job deserves respect. I’ll give the air fleet a heartfelt thanks for their fine work.

If this were a corporation, I’d be on my way to accounting to see about a special bonus.

Unlike the stuff we get from the inept joint intelligence agency of the Army and Navy Commands, this is fresh intel guaranteed by the air fleet.

And most importantly, it’s highly reliable.

“I should simplify things,” Tanya murmurs.

When you need to make assumptions about unclear facts, it’s best to simplify them as much as possible.

There’s no need to speculate about the intentions of the air fleet. They’re friendly forces, at least, so it’s safe to rule out the possibility that they’d feed us false intelligence. In which case, it’s much more likely that this data is as it seems.

Ships move, but ports don’t. So the conclusion is exceedingly elementary. It’s not hard to take out an opponent that can’t run.

“Let’s go!”

“Ma’am?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

These officers are from the same unit, but I suppose the difference in their replies is a reflection of how long they have been with me?

Weiss looks puzzled and asks a question; Serebryakov acknowledges her understanding.

My adjutant picks up on my intentions immediately. She assists me like a wife of many years and is now comprehension incarnate.

“The air fleet has set the stage for us, so let’s go along with it. Tell the submarines. Lieutenant Serebryakov, round up the troops.”

“Understood.” My adjutant gets right down to business without interjecting any questions; she’s one of those rare great aids.

She jogs straight to the submarine unit HQ without a single complaint. Even though I’ve been having her do a brutal amount of paperwork since we’ve been back on base, her passion hasn’t flagged at all.

She has a model work ethic, no two ways about it.

I’ve been lucky to have such a talented subordinate with me ever since the Rhine front.

Meanwhile, thinks Tanya as she accepts the questioning look on sensible Major Weiss’s face.

“It’ll be a long-range operation, so it’ll extend beyond the bounds of our current operation area. If we apply to cross the border, will we make it in time?” His implied fear is that the enemy might escape during that time.

As my vice commander, Weiss fills the important role of devil’s advocate. When we’re about to go through with something, he voices quite rational hesitations. He gives great advice, even going so far as directly urging superior officers to exercise caution.

“That’s a good point, Major Weiss. If we’re going to perform a raid, we need to hit them during this short period before they can move.”

It’s true. Tanya nods. She also wants to nail the ship before it moves. No, they must nail the ship before it’s able to move, or this will all be pointless.

It would be no joke if we went over there all ready for a raid and found an empty nest.

“So we have to follow the ancient saying that soldiers value foolish haste.” She looks into his blue eyes to make him understand. You get it, right? “Applying to cross the border? That’s out of the question. We can’t waste time with roundabout administrative procedures. Considering the risk of a leak, acting on our own discretion seems like the right answer in this case.”

“A-acting on our own discretion? We may report directly to the General Staff, but if we leave the operation area without permission…they may say it’s purely arbitrary.”

That’s true. Tanya nods internally.

Still, she’s compelled to point out something else.

“For commanders, or probably all officers, really, acting on their own authority is their duty.”

“That brings back memories, Colonel.”

Everyone, including Serebryakov, who had jogged off, had had that line beaten into them at the academy. Even if proper communication is an absolute requirement in society or any organization, on the battlefield, things are frequently different than orders or previously received intelligence indicated.

For that reason, to accomplish their missions, officers must take actions that conflict with their orders when necessary.

“We need to consider the objective of the orders we were given, right?”

“Do you think the General Staff and the Army and Navy Commands meant for us to sink it?”

“I do, indeed. Major Weiss, I don’t want us to be the kind of inepts who adhere to the formality of the orders we were given under these circumstances. Even if we were sent here to stop the ship, we must infer that we are meant to work with the submarines to sink it!”

Grouchy2 would say, It’s Napoleon’s orders, and continue on an absurd advance. But look at Davout3 or Desaix.4 They ignored the great authority of Napoleon’s orders—because it was essential to achieving the objective behind the order.

You have to understand the objective of the orders and, if necessary, change the method of fulfilling them according to your own judgment. That’s what acting on your own authority means, and it’s an officer’s duty.

Only fools who can’t think for themselves follow orders, carry them out faithfully, and then writhe about when they fail. That’s a truly inept worker. They should probably be shot.

“So, in faithfulness to our orders…let’s go. I’m sure the submarines aren’t such chickens that they would hole up and refuse to come out when their gambling buddy Lieutenant Serebryakov is the one pressing them.”

“But, Colonel. Remember what we’re talking about. We may have been given some degree of discretion, but I think leaving the ‘formality’ of the district is a bit of a larger issue. Isn’t it dangerous to take it lightly?”

“Certainly, the issue will be the district. But conversely, if that’s the only obstacle…then it would probably be more useful to figure out some way to deal with it.”

Which is precisely why I’ve found a way.

“To cut to the chase, we already have our answer. Read the orders from the General Staff. They ordered us to, ‘Above all else, stop that enemy transport ship.’”

“…‘Above all else’?”

It was just one phrase in the document. Exegetics may be dry to most readers, but it all depends on how you use it. If you read between the lines, the amount of freedom with which you can act rapidly increases.

Though it’s one step away from broad interpretation, if you can provide your reasoning, then everything’s peachy.

“It’s an order that says to achieve the objective, above all else. It’s obvious that the objective is to send that ocean liner to the bottom of the sea, and the location of our target is clear. Now, under those circumstances, is there really any meaning in holding back out of consideration for the district?”

“No.” The distinct light of understanding shines in his eyes as he nods.

We have orders that say to do it, above all else. It’s…impossible to think that we should have to worry about the operation area. After all, it’s the brass who gave the orders. Even if they complain after the fact, it unquestionably won’t be a problem.

I mean, Tanya declares confidently in her head. Weiss the sensible man agreed. The reason I listen to my subordinates’ opinions is that I want a third party’s point of view. Then I make a careful decision based on that information.

If there aren’t any issues, then this is a juncture that demands bold action.

“Good, then we’ll move out like faithful dogs. Let’s accomplish that mission the General Staff gave us.”

Being a member of society, being part of an organization—work—is like that. But there are good people supporting me. It’s probably rare to get to devote yourself to work with such proud, professional colleagues.

The functional beauty of an organization that unites to fulfill an objective… It’s not an expression I like, but I suppose if we’re paying our respects to the classics, “The invisible hand of God is a pretty apt description. Now then, Major Weiss, go find Lieutenant Grantz. As soon as Lieutenant Serebryakov gets back, we’ll draw up our plan.”

THE EVENING OF OCTOBER 7, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, FEDERATION TERRITORY, NOVO KHOLMO BASE

The man known as Colonel Mikel slowly moved the cigarette in his mouth closer to the lighter. It wasn’t as if he was smoking a particularly good brand.

It was the same old ration of “grunt tobacco.” Still, tobacco was tobacco, and he was free to smoke it… As long as Mikel was afforded that, he had no complaints. The modest freedom to fill his lungs with cheap cigarette smoke was heaven compared to the gulag.

As he exhaled the purple fumes, Mikel was thinking about the strangeness of fate.

It had been a few months since he had been released from the concentration camp and his supposedly deleted military registration had been reinstated. The war with the Empire was changing Mikel’s fate in ways he never expected.

They had taken his orb away, but then the army gave him a new model. He never thought he would fly again, but the sky returned to him.

He had ground down, had endured the cruelest of treatment, but the fatherland still needed him. It had to be a blessing from God.

To say he didn’t have any beef with the Communist Party would have been a lie.

His friends collapsed on the ground in the bitter cold… Their frozen bodies that didn’t make it to another dawn, their suffering faces… You couldn’t tell him to forget them.

But more importantly…he was a Federation soldier. He had sworn loyalty to his motherland, so if he could fight for her, it wouldn’t do to mix up his priorities.

Thus, he wholeheartedly welcomed the Communists’ decision to re-form the mage units—as long as his friends would be given positions.

For that, he would suppress his antipathy toward the party members, even if they were more like the devil than the devil from the Bible himself.

But… He calmly observed his situation, nearly scoffing. They must have summoned us because they’re losing. Defeat makes states act without regard for appearances. The status of the mages who were loyal to the previous regime was so low, they risked eradication if it wasn’t for this very situation.

Which was why despite getting his enlistment reinstated…he never expected the circumstances behind his orders to be explained in detail. The orders the dear party gave him were part of a scheme that was much more well-thought-out than any “mere soldier” could ever imagine.

He couldn’t possibly ask for an explanation of every little thing.

As long as they had their reasons and things had to stay confidential, everyone agreed that all they had to do was carry out the missions given to them. They didn’t want to go back to the gulag.

Well, let’s rephrase that.

They hesitated to voice their complaints openly. That foolish move would put not only themselves in danger but their friends and families as well.

There were good things and bad things about savoring his freedom with a cigarette. The officers next to him seemed rather relaxed as they smoked.

“Colonel, are you sure there’s no mistake about the orders we were given?”

“Use ‘Comrade.’ You never know who might be listening.”

“S-sorry, Comrade Colonel.”

He nodded at his careless subordinate and wordlessly put a hand on his shoulder. He could understand their impatience.

Even an order to stand by could make people who had spent time in a concentration camp antsy because it meant their future was unclear.

What meaningless cruelty must those sadistic camp guards have inflicted for the sake of bullying them?! Those who had been in the gulag were rendered extremely sensitive to the feelings created by an uncertain future.

Though they had been released, reenlisted, and formed as one of the rare mage units on active duty in the Federation Army, they couldn’t relax for a moment.

The battalion was, in the eyes of the Communists, a battalion-size gang of potential traitors.

As before, they were under surveillance, and it wouldn’t be strange for them to be purged on a whim at any time.

But more recently, that had started to change.

The improvement in their treatment had them wondering what happened; in his unit, they speculated that it had to do with the worsening war situation on the main lines. Then they weren’t even sent to the main lines but to the north. And after that, they were ordered to stand by.

Mikel himself had done an awful lot of investigating, but he had no idea what was going on. In other words, it must have been the will of someone so high up that underlings like him would never be involved. But he just didn’t know why.

The fatherland was in crisis, so it was strange that they hadn’t been allocated to the main lines.

At first, he wondered if they weren’t trusted. But in that case, the political officer attached to them was bizarre. The one keeping an eye on them was a very different breed from the ones they’d had before—from the Central group.

Was it possible that he’d been sent not as added surveillance but to send them off somewhere else? That was the sort of rumor Battalion Commander Mikel had to shut down day after day.

Everyone thought this day would be like the others.

“…If we can just show them what we’re good for… Ah, I guess I’m going in circles…”

The idea that war was a way out, would lead to the future, was the worst. Using your fatherland’s struggles as a way to achieve personal success was deplorable.

But when he thought of the families still in the camp…he felt like he had to perform at least well enough that they would be freed. He wanted to give his men’s children and their families a normal life.

I want to preserve the future. As far as Mikel was concerned, that was the duty of an adult. That was logic that even war couldn’t undermine.

Which was why he did believe this: We need them to think highly of us.

When one of the officers beneath him rushed into the smoking room to inform him that the esteemed commissar from Central had asked for him, it was no wonder he hoped it was a chance.

The commissar met him as soon as he set foot in the command facilities, as if he had been waiting for him, and his face was unusually tense.

The mere sight of him without his shady smile was enough to elicit some very natural astonishment from him.

“Comrade soldier, I’ve been waiting for you. Oh…” Before getting into details, he offered him a chair.

As in, Please take a seat.

Mikel had thought the political commissar was practically of another race of people who couldn’t be upset by anything. But now, looking visibly nervous, he was obsequiously offering Mikel a chair?

A member of the Commissariat for Internal Affairs? Acting this way toward a man who was his enemy in the class struggle?

“Would you like some tea, Comrade Colonel?”

His mind was blank.

Tea……tea, tea?

“Oh, right. You don’t have to be tense; there’s just something I’d like you to hear. True, I’m a party official and you’re a career soldier with many years of experience, but aren’t we comrades fighting together against our fatherland’s enemy now? Comrade Colonel, I should think we could have tea together…”

The offer made it hard to tell him how strange this seemed.

These political officers, thought Mikel with a wry smile. There’s got to be a better way they can make conversation. They’re great at bullying their enemies, but when it comes to winning over allies, they’ve got nothing? Apparently, he had a critical flaw that was difficult to cover up.

“I would be happy to join you, Comrade Political Commissar. But I thought perhaps…there was something you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Oh, you knew, Comrade Colonel?”

It would have been easy to spit, How could I not?! Even without the flowery words, he could see right away. After all, the man’s normal expression of something like suppressed condescension had taken on a brownnosing hue.

…As someone who had lived under the heels of others all this time, Mikel had to notice it, even if he didn’t want to.

“There’s no greater happiness for a soldier than to be of use to his comrades and his party. Whatever is it, Comrade Political Commissar?”

What empty nonsense it was to work for a party you didn’t believe in. It made him want to lament, Oh Lord. Surely even the Lord, although he might wince, would forgive him some tricks necessary for survival.

Then was this the Lord’s protection and forgiveness? The political commissar began to speak as if a dam had broken.

“Very well, Comrade Colonel…allow me to consult with you. We’ve actually just received special orders from Moskva. They’re instructions of the highest priority from the Central Committee.”

“Special orders from Moskva?! Comrade Political Commissar, I haven’t been notified…” He protested because he was the battalion commander, after all. Of course, he knew how little Moskva trusted them. It made him sick. But if they were going to be entrusted with such an important mission, he would want to be preparing far in advance.

“My apologies, but it was top secret, and I only just found out about it myself.”

“Top secret?”

“Yes, an escort is needed, Comrade, and you and your own comrades have been ordered to provide it. According to Moskva, it’s a civilian ship from the Commonwealth and…you’re to coordinate its defense with the Commonwealth marine mages on board.”

A civilian ship from the Commonwealth. Wasn’t the party cursing them as despicable pawns of bourgeois imperialism just a few years ago?

A civilian ship from there is visiting a northern naval base? And Moskva is telling us to protect it? It didn’t seem at all likely.

No. The absurd truth hit him.

“You’re saying Moskva has special orders for us?”

“Comrade Colonel, it’s a mission of utmost importance. I’m sure the party and the fatherland have significant expectations of us… Let’s rise to meet them together.”

The political commissar’s creepy smile as he held out his hand irritated Mikel.

Moskva, the party members—none of them was paying any attention to us a few months ago. And now I’m supposed to be comrades with this guy with the chilly smile? What a dramatic twist of fate. It’s surreal. Cliché, in fact.

And what other words are there to describe it? Whoever said, “Truth is stranger than fiction,” hit it right on the nose.

“Of course…but… We’re really just escorting a civilian ship?”

Still, what’s the deal with escorting a civilian vessel? What the heck are they telling us to protect?

Mikel had been doing his utmost to collect information since his release. But there was no way the newspapers published by the party contained truth and the news as is. Reading between the lines to figure out what hadn’t been written was no easy task.

“If it’s not confidential, I’d like you to tell me: It seems slightly excessive to me. Are its passengers or cargo that valuable?”

We’ve been stationed up in the relatively quiet north despite the main lines turning into a stalemate.

I thought the only reason Central would send a detestable political commissar here was to get rid of him…but apparently I was wrong.

He was suddenly very curious about what was being entrusted to them.

“It must be quite some cargo…”

“Yes, well, it is valuable without a doubt. But compared to the actual target of your services, its load probably isn’t as important.”

What’s that supposed to mean? Mikel wondered, but the political commissar continued right on talking.

“We want you to treat this defensive mission the same way you would a mission in airspace over the capital. Keep a sharp watch.”

“I understand that we’re escorting a civilian boat, but I just don’t get it. For starters, even if you tell us to protect a ship, I can only wonder what we should actually do. In that case…” I have to tell him that we simply can’t do what we can’t do. Mikel continued, “We have no maritime navigation training, and on top of that, our unit has no anti-submarine doctrine. I don’t really think we’ll be a useful convoy escort.”

“Oh, but Moskva isn’t asking you to perform a maritime or convoy escort.”

The response confused him. As far as Mikel knew, ships sailed through water. If they were being told to escort the ship, the only possibilities he could come up with were flying above the convoy or sailing alongside it.

He wasn’t even familiar with the navy in the first place.

“Comrade Political Commissar, you’re being too vague. I realize I’m not well versed in matters pertaining to the sea, but I’d appreciate it if you’d explain. Aren’t we going to be guarding the transport ship?”

“You are correct, Comrade Colonel.”

I don’t understand the context of this at all. Mikel was about to cock his head when the commissar’s next words confused him even further.

“But it’s not a convoy. What we’ll be protecting is a single, huge transport ship of Commonwealth nationality.”

“Huh?” The question slipped out at that news. We’re providing this powerful of a guarding force to one boat?

“It’s sailing alone? That’s awfully reckless. I’ve heard imperial subs are lurking around… What a dangerous thing to do.”

“Ha-ha-ha. You’re right. Under normal circumstances, I’m sure that would be true; however, Comrade Colonel. This ship must sail alone. Contrary to what one might think, that’s probably the safest option.”

What? Just as Mikel was about to cock his head in confusion, the commissar continued hesitantly.

“It got attacked by a powerful imperial aerial mage unit and still managed to break through—the RMS Queen of Anjou, code name: Queen of the Sea. It’s currently the largest ocean liner in the world.”

“The RMS Queen of Anjou? That’s a name I don’t know.”

Although I suppose I should have heard of it if it’s the biggest ship in the world.

“…It’s new, only made its maiden voyage a couple of years ago. It may not be very well known in the Federation.”

“A few years ago?”

“Either way, well, er. It would be great if you could not worry about that.”

Oh. It was then that Mikel scoffed at himself internally for being so stupid. Of course the political commissar would have a hard time saying that.

Its maiden voyage a few years ago!

That was when we were in the gulag learning how far we could go before our humanity would break. He was forced to recall how they were unable to get any information about the outside world.

A slightly awkward silence hung in the air. But this wasn’t all bad news for Colonel Mikel. At the same time, he knew for sure that a favorable wind was now blowing.

“I’ve overcome that unfortunate misunderstanding and am grateful that the party has a place for us now.”

Mikel was desperate. If this went well, it could lead to a promotion. It seemed like a chance. But the chance didn’t come free. If he failed this special mission from Moskva, he, and even his family, wouldn’t get off easily.

On the other hand, if he could pull it off… If he could pull it off, maybe he would be allowed to take back what he missed so dearly. Though they were being treated better, his family was still in the camp.

If he could provide a normal life for them with this…

“Not to rush, but I’d like to hear the details of the mission. Please tell me.”

“I’d expect nothing less from you, Comrade Colonel. Your response is encouraging.”

Mikel wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of getting worked so hard by this political commissar smiling at his luck. But Mikel knew from experience not to make enemies for no reason.

He gave the commissar a vague smile and figured he wouldn’t be tainted to his core just for shaking hands. If he didn’t shake hands with the devil and drink vodka together with him, he’d never last until the Lord’s return.

“It’s damaged…but can still sail. That’s how it made it to our navy base. However,” he continued in a voice suppressing his disgust, “the effects of the imperial strike cannot be ignored. The attacks targeted the deck and the engine, so the damage is profound. Our comrades at the base are working as fast as they can to fix it, but they say it will definitely take a few days.”

“I have a question. Will the RMS Queen of Anjou be carrying things we need in the future?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Perhaps the rumor that the so-called West Side was sending us military gear, industrial parts, and a ton of medical supplies in support of the fierce fight on the main lines was true.

Surprisingly, maybe it’s best not to discount those tiny whispers.

“For that reason, we must provide complete protection. That is the special mission for you, Comrade, and your comrades from the party executives.”

“It’s an exceedingly great honor to bear the party’s expectations. But, Comrade Political Commissar, what does ‘complete protection’ mean?”

It was unusual to specify a single ship and send in a mage battalion. Anyone would guess there was a catch. As for Mikel, he understood that they needed to protect the RMS Queen of Anjou that the West Side was sending over.

But he didn’t understand the particular repetition and emphasis on complete. In a way…that was a reasonable question for him to have as a soldier.

To the political commissar, the need for perfection was clear as day. But though he was deeply sorry, he didn’t explain any more.

“It’s the heart of our maritime supply line. Comrade Colonel, no matter what happens, we want you to defend it to the last.”

That was all the political commissar could say, in his position. In that sense, his answer could qualify as conscientious.

That said, as a member of the Commissariat for Internal Affairs, he knew.

…He knew what Comrade Loria would do to anyone who failed.

He knew the Commissariat for Internal Affairs didn’t hesitate to turn a present-tense person into a past-tense person.

And knew how incredibly cutthroat the key figures were during wartime.

That’s why the job had to be done perfectly.

“In other words, pull no punches. Do whatever it takes. Send it back to the Commonwealth without letting it get another scratch?”

“Exactly, Comrade Colonel. Moskva, the Commissariat for Internal Affairs, and Comrade General Secretary Josef are all hoping that our wonderful foreign friends have a peaceful trip home.”

Though the true meaning of the political commissar’s ghastly, repetitive exhortations didn’t get through to Colonel Mikel…they were enough to give him a sense of crisis and make him realize how important the mission was.

In a way, you could say the two of them agreed on something for the first time.

“I see. I understand Moskva’s wishes very well now.”

Once the political commissar said that much, what other choice did Mikel have, in the Federation, than to accept?

In the party, there was nothing higher priority than the wishes of Moskva and Comrade General Secretary Josef. At least he hadn’t been told to die, so he probably wasn’t allowed to complain.

And so.

On that day.

Colonel Mikel stood in front of his battalion and barked, “Comrades, it’s as you’ve heard. Our role is to be guard dogs. Stick close to the ship until it makes it safely home!”

“““Yes, sir!”””

THE SAME DAY, IN WATERS NEAR FEDERATION TERRITORY, IMPERIAL ARMY SUBMARINE UNIT DISPATCHED TO THE NORTHERN SEA, FLAGSHIP U-152

“Colonel von Degurechaff, I realize it’s not my place to say this, but…are you serious?”

Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is surprised to be asked such a question so suddenly.

Crammed inside the cramped U-152 is a mage unit—that is, three companies’ worth of personnel. She thought they would hate being smashed together in the small space, but they consented so easily she hadn’t been paying enough attention.

She assumed the submarine crew would be cooperative.

“I’m having trouble understanding the intent of your question, Captain von Schraft. What do you mean?”

There’s nothing more obnoxious than having your resolve questioned over and over.

To Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff, a decision is a decision. Once she makes up her mind, even if a terrible god stands in her way, she’ll blast her way through if she has to.

No. After a moment’s reflection, she gracefully corrects her mistake. If a terrible god stands in my way, I’ll be delighted to blast it to bits.

“You’re really going to attack the naval base?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time.”

It’s fine for Captain von Schraft to question my sanity. I respect his free will.

Tanya could argue loudly that he misunderstands her, but she has no intention of interfering with the thoughts and beliefs of a naval officer of the same rank as her.

That’s what it means to be liberal.

But. Tanya acknowledges there is one point that her duty necessitates she argue. Things that should be said must be said.

“With all due respect, Captain, it’s the Supreme High Command and the General Staff’s wishes. I don’t believe we’re at liberty to have an opinion.”

“You make a good point. I can’t argue with that. But…” He smiles wryly and moves out from in front of the periscope. Then he casually pushes a wooden box into the space. Oh, fine sailors of U-152, when this war is over, you should pivot into the service industry.

He must have realized the periscope was impossible for a child to look through. That’s just the sort of thing I’d expect from the navy; they appreciate people with their heads screwed on.

“Take a look at this, Colonel.”

“…All right.”

The superior lens is telescopic. The Empire’s optics technology maintains its praiseworthy reliability even in open water in the Northern Sea.

That said, it’s still just a periscope.

“Can you see? No offense, but I’m guessing you can’t.”

Of course, U-152’s periscope is properly maintained and fully functional. There’s just a fundamental limit to what it can do. In reality, visibility is awful and all she can see is a haze.

“You’re correct. But it’s not just because I had to stand on tiptoe to look?” she asks as she steps down from the irritating box with as straight a face as she can manage. She’s not about to undervalue a specialist’s knowledge and make a decision without getting the opinion of Captain von Schraft or someone on his crew. “I guess I’m hoping maybe a submariner with plenty of experience might have a different way of looking at things…”

“Sorry, but I must disappoint you.”

“…So then?”

“Well, we have confirmation that the princess of the sea is at the base. It’s just that we know nothing else.” How disagreeable of him. He’s just shrugging and saying, Guess they shook us.

And yet how natural and open. Or perhaps we should say it suits him. Even if the Imperial Navy is a straitlaced bunch. Or maybe all submarine units are like this?

For better or worse, submariners aren’t generally bound by convention.

Well, if they can do their jobs, that’s fine. If they follow the bare minimum of rules, then an outsider doesn’t really have the right to complain.

“And we don’t know where the enemy is. We submariners like to watch for our chance and then attack. Frankly, we prefer to be cautious.”

“…What you say certainly makes sense. But the intel we received from the air fleet has proven far more useful than what we got from the joint intelligence agency of the Army and Navy Commands. You could say that now is our chance—we should take the initiative and strike.”

“I can’t deny that, but they’re probably keeping a close watch.”

“They probably haven’t even dreamed that mages would sneak over there on a submarine. Sneak attacks are a classic method, but that’s because they’re so useful.”

Even Pearl Harbor5 was, logically speaking, a huge gamble that never should have worked. Or think of the submarine operations to enter Scapa Flow.6

To be fair, the British bomber units who, back when the Luftwaffe7 was alive and kicking, broke through the Nazi air screen and harassment-bombed Berlin had commendable skill and bravery.

And I’m not averse to acknowledging the bravery of the Communists.

But…they’re making a structural error. The Red Square International Airport Incident is a fine example. We learned this when we attacked Moskva: They’re great at conspiracies, but they’re not always perfect when it comes to the serious stuff. For another instance, there’s the case of Inchon, when the strategic transportation hub that had to be resolutely defended…was not defended.

“We’ll take the enemy by surprise. It’s an old trick, but that’s how you know it works. Going at them with a traditional method wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Tanya adds that the best way is the tried-and-true way. “Of course, I don’t mean to look down on the proper, orthodox methods.”

“I’m sure you don’t. Doing things the orthodox way is best, if it’s possible.”

Everything he’s saying makes sense, but Tanya has to inquire about something. “May I ask you something straight?”

Captain von Schraft signals with his eyes for her to continue, and Tanya throws him a fairly insolent question.

Thirty knots may be incredibly fast, but if the exit point is known, even a novice at naval operations like Tanya can come up with any number of plans. Why weren’t the submarine units or the navy acting?

“If you know the ship is in the port, can’t you just ambush them with the subs here? You’ve identified which port it’s in, right?”

“Of course we considered that. We considered an ambush, and a wolf-pack attack, and also a mine operation where we planted a field along its projected course…”

“This is just the opinion of an amateur, but none of those methods sounds so bad.”

Those are the orthodox methods. They take full advantage of submarine-specific properties. The imperial submarines led by U-152 should be able to do those things.

“Yes, if they were possible, they wouldn’t be bad.”

“If they were possible?”

There are an awful lot of overtones going on here. We’re talking about the basic options when conducting a commerce raid operation.

They’re completely normal ways to use submarines. Frankly, she can’t shake the question of why they would be impossible.

Weren’t submarines originally designed specifically to do those things?

“Is there…some problem? If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear about it.”

“Of course. Well, first, the plan of using submarines to build a mine screen…went up in smoke when a unit that nearly sank put up a fierce protest.”

“What in the world happened?”

One, sure, but the entire unit nearly sank?

Did they build a minefield to defend against submarines? No…they shouldn’t have enough forces to build a minefield capable of blocking all submarines from sailing the Northern Sea. So she says, puzzled, “As far as the briefing I read, the Federation isn’t very good at fighting with mines. What I heard at home is that they’re sticking pretty close to their coasts.”

“Yes, that’s all correct, Colonel.”

Captain von Schraft puts on a smile that has a hint of irony about it. Still, he’s not sneering at her information. So then, what’s the issue with waging mine warfare?

“As far as I know, we’re the only power attempting mine warfare in the Northern Sea. And that right there is the issue.”

When Tanya seeks an explanation with her eyes, the submariner scoffs as he shares his woes. “The sensors of the new magnetic mines have a critical defect. In these high latitudes, and in this area rich with mineral resources, the magnetism is particularly powerful, you see. We can’t expect these garbage triggers to work properly at these levels.”

“You mean they don’t go off?”

“The opposite! It’s terrible!” he says, and though he’s smiling, a tense, weary emotion comes through. Why would this submarine captain who boasts he fears nothing look so stressed?

What happened? She can’t help but be curious. “If they go off, that’s better than if they didn’t, right? Even if they go off early, that’s less of a problem than if they fail completely, no?”

“If they weren’t exploding at times that they really, really shouldn’t be, maybe.”

…Hmm. She feels like she’s heard this somewhere before. When she thinks about it, she recalls that the friendly subs trying to take out the Entente Alliance fleet were troubled by torpedoes that exploded too soon.

“You mean they’re exploding before the enemy ships are anywhere near them?”

“Nein, nein, nein! Nothing so charming as that. The triggers are overly sensitive… Shockingly enough, they react to the submarines!”

“Huh? To the subs…?”

“Yes. They were nearly sunk by the mines they laid themselves. We never should have tried fighting with mines.”

For a moment, she doesn’t understand what Captain von Schraft has just said.

She doubts her ears, and her jaw drops slightly.

They wouldn’t be able to perform a sneak attack like that.

“…Huh?!”

“It’s incredible—the damn things will even respond to the U-152’s magnetic signature. It seriously makes me wonder if agents from Commonwealth Intelligence have infiltrated our underwater explosives development department.”

Magnetic mines work by reacting to magnetic signatures. In theory, submarines also have magnetic signatures.

But doesn’t that mean they have safety mechanisms to keep them from exploding? How can you even lay them if your own boat causes a reaction?

“And on top of that, the torpedo fuses are rotten.”

“You’ll have to excuse my ignorance, but they haven’t fixed that yet?” Tanya asks, utterly astonished. She had seen a torpedo shot by a submarine on an operation in this same Northern Sea explode too early, but she feels like that was ages ago.

Regarding mechanical problems, Tanya’s impression has been that imperial manufactured goods are reliable. That it’s possible even now for the Empire with its national strength to keep pumping out high-precision industrial products.

But the Empire’s marine weapons like torpedoes and mines keep having shameful failures?

“Mm, we’ve made progress since before. Things have gotten better.”

This is what true shock feels like.

Did the definition of better change from “improved” to “worsened” when I wasn’t looking?

“B-better…?” She nearly says, This is? but swallows the words because they would be too rude. Still, this is too much. The submarine units are the most active part of the Imperial Navy. Yet the primary arms we’re giving them are defective?

“Things really have gotten much better. Believe me.”

“I-in…what way specifically?”

“It’s an important military secret, but all right, I’ll explain it to you. The contact fuses are so-so. At least, if you make a direct hit, they’ll explode more than half the time. Well, if the angle of incidence is shallow, it’s like shooting the same old dummy rifle, but…”

Tanya gapes at him and shouts, incredulous, “…W-wait a sec! You’re saying that a direct hit only explodes half the time?!”

Misfires happen, of course.

She knows that for a fact.

Even the shells the artillery fires are sometimes duds. Some torpedoes misfire; that she…can understand. But to Tanya, the fact that even a direct hit triggers only half the time is utterly absurd.

And Captain von Schraft continues in a self-deprecating tone, as if he wanted to see that reaction from her. “Hmm? We love the contact fuses compared to the others.”

“Sorry, but could there possibly be something worse?”

“There is—this. There’s a problem with the depth-keeping mechanism, so we can’t aim torpedoes for direct hits on ships with shallow drafts. Specifically, ones like destroyers and so on.”

The grave revelation that the submarines don’t have a way to combat destroyers… Even though submarines are so vulnerable themselves.

They can’t even torpedo their natural enemy, those escort ships that scatter mines everywhere…?

“So that leaves us with our dear magnetic triggers as our hope…but due to the high latitude, we keep having issues with them. In the Northern Sea, if our only option is magnetic triggers, we have a better chance of survival if we stay quiet and dodge the depth charges.”

“…You’ll have to excuse me, Captain von Schraft. There are no words to describe the circumstances the submarine units are in. I’m impressed you’ve been able to carry on fighting…”

“Thank you, Colonel von Degurechaff. It’s understanding, not pity, for which there is no substitute. Even so, may I vent about one thing?”

Tanya nods yes, and the captain begins speaking in an even voice.

“The most hopeless thing of all is that…”

Suddenly, she realizes…

Everyone on the bridge seems to be resisting some urge.

“The navy’s Weapons Division stubbornly claims that the issues are all operational errors. They’re convinced their torpedoes are perfect.” He snaps on the U-152 bridge how ridiculous it is. “As proof, they keep guaranteeing us that they worked in the lab. That’s their response to them not working in battle.”

“…I’m completely dumbfounded. I can’t believe you have to fight a war with weapons you’re not even sure will work or not. You’re being jerked around by the developers’ egos—you have my sympathy. Please let me observe when you load the developers into your torpedo tubes.”

“Sorry, but that bit of fun is restricted. It’ll be a party for submariners only; I hope you understand.”

“Ha-ha-ha. No, that makes sense. It was a presumptuous request. I’d appreciate it if you could even just tell me how it goes.”

“You can count on me for that, at least. I could even print up a leaflet and send it over.”

The delight of blowing fools away… It’s a forbidden thrill. Yes, I see how outsiders shouldn’t be poking their noses in.

In that case… Tanya makes the appropriate gear switch and brings the conversation back to reality. “Anyhow, I understand your situation now. It’s no wonder submarine attacks go so poorly.”

I had no business talking about orthodox methods. No, Tanya corrects herself. The joint intelligence agency’s plan was for the submarines to deal the final blow via torpedo.

In other words, the information about the defects either hasn’t gotten to them, or they didn’t find it important.

It’s stupid, but the Imperial Navy, which has expanded so rapidly, is awful at troubleshooting. It’s become a wholly useless organization. Time to make some cuts.

But making that report comes after dealing with this.

“As things stand, all we can do is observe, or maybe fire torpedoes if we’re lucky. I want to support you in the base raid, but…as frustrating as it is to say, we can’t.”

“It’s a huge help for you to even carry us this far.”

“U-152 is a submarine, you know? Not a transport ship.”

“No,” the duty officer on the bridge grumbled. “As long as the eels can’t be counted on, U-152 is a transport ship that sneaks around the sea. Much to our regret, though we were built to sink transport ships, we ended up becoming one under the water at some point.”

How true, she wants to sympathize.

But there’s nothing more useless than blaming them for problems they didn’t cause.

Tanya knows that the people on the ground are frequently exhausted by the top making systematically impossible demands. Though in theory, encouraging people is fine organizational management.

You morons who discount the power of words, you scum who sling abuse! Whether it’s the teeming swarm of Being X’s allies or just a bunch of idiots, it can all just rot.

“No, no, you’re a fine attack sub. You’re going to unleash us, so I think you can consider us something like aerial torpedoes.”

Aircraft carriers don’t attack, themselves, either. They’re just platforms from which to launch the planes on board. But are there any soldiers who underestimate an aircraft carrier as a transport ship? Not if they have normal intelligence.

“Ha-ha-ha, a torpedo that soars through the sky?”

“Yeah, and you can use the word unleash just like for torpedoes.”

Sensing the improving atmosphere aboard the sub, Tanya allows her lips to slowly curl into a bewitching smile. A ballistic missile platform is also a fearsome ship.

Calling it a part of mutually assured destruction is plenty correct. Although at this point in time in this world axis, the idea is still an armchair theory.

“…Don’t you think that’s something?”

The crew members who replied, “Sure is,” probably think it’s just a cute story. But even a cute story can inspire people to be ambitious once more.

I introduced words to General von Zettour as an inexpensive weapon, but…if they can be used to support allies, as well? Logos! How powerful.

Perhaps it’s because she’s thinking those things?

“That’s fine. Then quit sulking about a transport mission and concentrate on preparing to launch our aerial torpedoes.”

Hearing how smoothly Captain von Schraft says it, Tanya realizes something with a start. Was this whole conversation just a skit for the crew?!

Really? she does wonder, but the next thing he says convinces her. Speaking in a casual tone, the captain of the sub seizes the hearts of his crew.

“Anyone with a free hand, I have something else for you to do. Even if we’re shooting into the air, a torpedo attack is a torpedo attack. We need to add to our sunk tonnage. The treasury’s got a bottle for anyone who comes up with a way to threaten the brutes at Fleet Command.”

Amid the cheers on the bridge, Tanya discreetly removes her cap and waves it at the captain. Wow.

“I finally understand why Submarine Command, despite being strangely cooperative in sending out boats, starts talking circles around me right before the attack.”

“Ha-ha-ha! Sorry, Colonel von Degurechaff. I’ll apologize on behalf of all our officers for using you, an outsider, to further our own purposes. The torpedo troubles are really eating away at morale, both for us and for all the other submarine units.”

She can’t argue with morale problems.

And it’s true that the torpedoes are defective. Tanya knows the pain of being handed faulty weapons, so she understands and can even sympathize.

The Elinium Type 95 is ridiculously flawed. It’s a toss-up which is worse: that or a mine that explodes right near a submarine the moment it gets laid.

Who could fight a war under such conditions? It would drive you nuts.

“I understand painfully well. I’m not going to hold a grudge over getting used or anything like that. If I get a chance, I’ll report to the core General Staff members about the torpedo issues.”

“We’d appreciate that so much. Thank you.”

Surely exchanging textbook salutes is enough, then. Inside the cramped submarine, on the crowded bridge, there’s no reason to annoy everyone with prolonged motions.

All that is left is hashing out the administrative details.

“So what are you actually planning to do, Colonel von Degurechaff? That ship is enormous. Honestly, I think it will be very hard to sink. If we succeed,” he says, continuing in a lighter tone, “do you think we could have half the tonnage?” But his eyes show his concern for us. “Can you tell me how this is going to work?”

“Basically, we’ll be taking a classic approach. We’ll distract the enemy with a feint, and in that opening, the task force will go about blowing it up.” Tanya gives a brief explanation of the plan. “Therefore, most sneak attacks are distractions with a task force delivering the main blow. Well, even if we fail to destroy the enemy ship, we’ll have achieved a distraction. We’ll be counting on you to recover us.”

“What a bold plan. Understood. We’ll get it done.”

OCTOBER 8, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, DAYBREAK, FEDERATION TERRITORY, NAVAL BASE

For First Lieutenant Serebryakov, the sight reminded her for a moment of the Rhine front.

No matter how much I try to bury the memories of those days, the smell of gun smoke brings them back. I’ll never be able to play in the mud like a child again. Mud recalls irritating yet nostalgic memories.

How could I ever forget the days I spent holed up in the trenches?

“Oh God, forgive our enemies.”

The one who began singing next to me was my superior officer, feared by our enemies as a monster. It makes sense that even allies are quietly calling her Rusted Silver instead of White Silver.

Still, I know Tanya von Degurechaff better than anyone in the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. In fact, I’ve served under her since before she earned the von in her name in the war college.

She’s the officer who let me live while the guys I joined up with, Harald and Kurst, became so much ground beef.

That eminent figure, that person, that senior member of the forces…

She doesn’t seem to believe in God. Yet she was praising Him on the battlefield…? The moment I think, Don’t give away our position…, I remember her clenching her orb on the Rhine front and praying just like this. She doesn’t talk big at all; in fact, she’s modest. Reality is far too unreal.

She’s crazy. There’s something strange about her.

“Oh God, forgive our enemies.”

The enemy mages scattered every which way.

Two companies of Federation aerial mages were being toyed with by a single opponent. Her own company didn’t even have time to jump in.

“It’s not that the enemy is stupid, just…”

That’s what it’s like to murmur a mixture of surprise, admiration, and astonishment in spite of yourself.

Despite the sneak attack—I suppose—the Federation had responded with surprising speed.

Though they came with a force of two companies from a different direction to cause confusion, troops were scrambling to meet us immediately. I’d heard the Federation Army’s rear was completely relaxed, but apparently not.

We should have anticipated it, but there were Commonwealth escorts with them. Well, no, that much was according to expectations. There was only one problem: Their coordination was actually not too shabby.

It was a regiment of Commonwealth mages plus the same number of Federation mages. I couldn’t deny that I was shocked that the two countries managed to coordinate just as they had said. I thought they would be sloppier, but I underestimated them.

…Our battalion even managed a direct attack on Moskva. Yes, we were the veteran 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, and yet… I nearly despaired at the tenacity with which the Federation aerial mages and wall of ground forces devoted themselves to keeping us from breaking through. We were all prepared to be subdued and wiped out.

But a single soldier’s fierce fighting turned the tables.

“Those poor ignorant lambs.”

The motions of loading a mana shot, protected by a special sealing formula, into her rifle… She wasn’t even using a formula bullet but a shot formed from her own magical energy.

I knew how powerful that would be.

The colonel cackled—no, she giggled, smiling like a child. It was positively surreal to see her eyeing the enemy with her tender gaze and licking her lips.

She snickered, but what was so funny? She was terrifying.

I guess it’s a perfect distraction.

“I’ll have a romp with them. It shall be most amusing.”

No, maybe it’s better to call it a steamrollering.

Despite calling it a distraction, each one of Colonel von Degurechaff’s shots was undoubtedly ripping through the enemy mage’s defensive shells as if they were delicate candy sculptures.

The enemy units bunched up, dumbfounded, in spite of themselves, and we kept firing without a moment’s rest, but…mages’ defensive shells are practically the definition of strong. It’s hard to imagine anything with enough juice to break them that easily.

I had heard from the colonel. I had seen her rage on the Rhine front. But it was now that I had more experience myself that I understood what an outlier that power was.

So this is the full power of the Type 95?

When I heard there was only one person in the whole army who could use it, I thought it was an awful lie, but no.

…Isn’t it too much for a person to handle?

“Amusing, most amusing.”

She laughed as she fired the intense barrage of formulas. Contrary to her lighthearted tone, Colonel von Degurechaff’s formulas were full of crafty tricks. When I took a closer look, I saw there were optical sniping formulas and guided formulas deceptively modified to be harder to detect.

If you only dodged the optical lines of fire, you’d be riddled with holes.

But surprisingly, the Federation mages realized that.

“Colonel Mikel to all units! Break! Break! Get outta here as fast as you can! We can’t take this one! Don’t even try!”

She had no idea how he figured it out, but the enemy commander at the head of his group shrieked over the open channel that everyone should dodge. At the same time, he handled the situation brilliantly himself. He bent his flight path so hard and lost so much momentum in the process, he nearly fell out of the sky.

Then the Commonwealth commander roared evasion orders, too. Both instructions resulted in clear changes in their units’ movements.

Emergency evasion was strictly prohibited in the manual. The Federation had been forced to do it not once but repeatedly, and now the Commonwealth mages, too. Their formations began to come apart.

Anyone could see the airspace was exceedingly dangerous; the closely packed units were performing highly mobile erratic evasive maneuvers, and who knew where they were dodging next.

When seen from above, their desperate movements to escape the God of Death’s scythe just looked like clumsy struggling. They were so sluggish. They weren’t going fast enough. They got too late a start to dodge the approaching blade.

“I shall sing praises of the Lord.”

Rapturously.

Practically joyously, Colonel von Degurechaff began singing in a high and somehow pure-sounding voice. With a merry smile, she seemed to delight in it. It was a smile without a hint of reproach. A truly charming, out of place smile, pretty as a picture.

If you didn’t know her, the battalion commander…it was a cheerful smile like you’d find in a painting.

But lurking behind that smile was an absolute will to fight.

“We’re going to play with the Empire’s archenemy. What fun!”

What she formed was a manifestation formula, pouring in vastly more mana than ever before. Making up the unbelievably dense four-layer formula was extraordinarily thick magical energy.

Most people would be shocked.

However, I knew—that Colonel von Degurechaff didn’t actually have a huge amount of mana. She had only a little more than average.

It was entirely possible that I had more. If you lined up a select group of mages like their battalion by mana amount, it would be faster to count from the bottom to find the colonel.

But even questioning the significance of that was absurd.

“Our archenemy shall dye the earth with their blood.”

With a gleeful shout, she fired that thing.

Having increased its density as she managed its size, she unleashed it.

That very moment, it scattered.

A red, red something spattered the earth in huge quantities.

“The game is to dry that up—enjoy!”

Dripping red liquid. Pink things that used to be humans, flying everywhere. And opposite that scene was a beaming little girl. It was so surreal, it made more sense for me to suppose I had gone insane.

No, maybe I really did go insane.

While I was thinking this and that, I was keeping my hands busy making optical sniping formulas to put holes in the enemies who fell through the cracks of my commander’s attacks. The enemy mage named Mikel, who had shouted evasion orders earlier, was still moving.

So I needed to aim for the enemy commander. I was baptized on the Rhine, too, I recalled.

The conditioned reflexes I had soaked up, optimizing myself for combat… Now that I was used to it, it was rare I didn’t know what to do.

“Ohhh, praise be to the Lord.”

The sight of my superior officer nodding with satisfaction and beginning a confession of her faith was horrific. I didn’t get even a glimmer of madness from her beautiful, innocent eyes. They were the eyes of a stubborn servant of logic, full of pure reason.

But that’s what was so horrific: those eyes stuck on that doll-like face.

Still, it was the superior officer I knew by now, and the mages writhing on the ground were only enemy soldiers who needed to be finished off.

Even the Commonwealth marine mages, who fed us a taste of bitter defeat, ended up like this when we went hunting for them. The 203rd’s reputation was alive and well.

The renown we built up in Norden, in Dacia, on the Rhine, in the southern continent would continue to compound glories.

“The promised land shall open.”

The demoralized enemy mages were trying to split up, but it was too late. The battalion’s follow-up attacks found their marks.

I was casting optical sniping formulas unconsciously. In that soundless void, the enemies went down so easily. Only a few—including, irritatingly, the commander—were still doing fine.

That said, they probably didn’t have the energy to resist anymore.

This was supposed to be a distraction, but it turned into a massacre.

It was so silent, as if to not interrupt the prayer.

“Now sing, now sing.”

Never mind that this was a battlefield… Even though it was a battlefield… On this hushed battlefield…

“I shall praise the will of God.”

Our superior had a huge sneer on her face.

That means, I thought, all of a sudden.

“Grantz, if it goes well, that’s great, but… If we fail to destroy the ship, I don’t think she’ll stop at kicking our butts in this state of malevolence,” I grumbled over the wireless without thinking.

I was answered by a man’s voice, trembling to its core.

Of course, it was Grantz.

“05 to my cohort painting such a horrific picture of the future. Gimme a break. I’m so, so scared, I’m practically shaking.”

“Huh? You’re all ready?”

Lieutenant Grantz nodded. “Yeah. This’ll be no problem. I mean, the colonel gave us such an incredible distraction. I won’t complain if any numbskulls who get that kind of support and still fail get sent to the firing squad. Okay, I guess it’s about that time. Let’s sync our watches: three, two, one, boom.” He didn’t even have to say, “Watch this!”

From the port came the thundering of…a massive explosion.

“See?” I heard his voice in the background and was sure he was wearing a proud grin.

Now, then, I thought. I’m sure the U-152 crew will share some canned food with us, at least. If things go well, I can get us a bottle and playing cards. If we’re lucky, there will even be dessert?

All right. That got her fired up.

A tasty meal, something sweet, and wine. Rather than worry about the tough stuff, let’s have some fun for now.

OCTOBER 8, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, EVENING, MOSKVA, THE COMMISSARIAT FOR INTERNAL AFFAIRS

In Moskva, the newly built Commissariat for Internal Affairs building had long since turned into a nightless fortress. With the strict blackout, light wasn’t pouring out, per se, but still, if you walked by, you would be able to see the officials coming and going inside.

Anyone had to concede that the staff of the Commissariat for Internal Affairs was extraordinarily diligent in keeping up their war efforts compared to most of the Federation’s public servants.

To be frank, they were, in a way, the steel-clad vanguard of Communism.

Their efficiency, their self-sacrifice, and their unflagging spirit made them indomitable workers.

Of course, the majority of them were normal humans. But that didn’t diminish their drive to work.

And the source of their diligence was…simple fear.

“Comrade Loria! The inspection failed to find any misappropriation, corruption, or improper conduct! Neither were there any reactionary remarks made regarding the inspection itself!”

A Commissariat for Internal Affairs official, wearing an immaculate uniform, read the report. He seemed about to continue when the dull thud of a fist slamming down on the table interrupted him.

He froze as a glare rolled to fix on him, and the room’s occupant snapped, “I’m fairly certain I ordered you to expose improper conduct. Let’s be clear. You really didn’t find anything?”

“N-no, Comrade, we didn’t.”

Hearing that quivering reply, Loria’s expression was sternness incarnate.

Then he pronounced the man’s sentence.

“That’s fine. Comrade guards, take this fool away. Sabotage during wartime is a crime against the nation.”

“Yes, sir!”

“P-please wait! This must be some mistake!”

The man protested as the guards grabbed his arms and began to drag him away, but Loria flatly denied him.

“There’s no mistake at all. Your case was a dummy conducted as part of an internal audit of our staff. We had the object of your inspection perform the corrupt act, and we have record of the inspector taking the bribe.”

“Wh-wha—?!”

“If you had just reported that…things would have been different, but you accepted the bribe without telling us. That’s enough,” spat Loria.

He didn’t have time for a single pointless action when time was passing moment by moment.

“I’m sure a single punishment will be a better lesson for these idiots than a lecture. Next!”

“Er, Comrade Loria…”

Loria turned a gaze of merciless intensity on his hesitating subordinate. Even with that questioning look, the response was slow in coming.

“What? Let’s have it. Hurry up!”’

“It’s bad news…about the Queen of the Sea…”

Sensing he wasn’t getting anywhere, Loria asked directly. And his expression tensed at the nervously delivered information.

There was probably no way to stop that twinge of emotional fluctuation.

The fact that something had happened to the ship entrusted to them by their precious—yes, in a way precious—“bullet shield” made Loria seethe with rage.

It wasn’t clear what the John Bulls were up to, but he and they had come to an agreement. After all their reluctance, he had persuaded them. He had ordered dozens of Federation officials slowing him down to be shot; either that or he threatened and buttered them up to secure them as allies. All of that, and yet…

The supporting sea route that they needed in order to continue the war, a symbol of their joint struggle, had only just been opened.

Though casualties had been taken into account, they were hopeless if they couldn’t defend the one boat he ordered them to stake their honor on protecting.

He was sure he provided the necessary units, fighting force, and discretion to get it done.

But they still couldn’t do it?

“Those incompetent bastards. What were they doing? Do you have a detailed report?”

If they don’t have an excellent reason, I’m going to make the ones responsible regret surviving the mission for as long as they live, Loria swore in his head as he requested the report.

The silver lining for the official who had been asked was that he actually did have the papers with him. If he had blundered by not bringing them…God only knows what his fate would have been.

After all, the word forbearance had been missing from Loria’s dictionary for ages.

“Here it is, Comrade Loria… I don’t know how they found out, but apparently they sent in a Named mage…”

“…What’s that?”

The inept political officer continued making justifications for the report.

But I told them. Apparently, this guy is stuck in the old way of thinking, where mages aren’t worth paying attention to. Perhaps he was trying to shift the blame? The report went on and on about how unfortunate their position had been.

It was a surprise that the man thought he could get away with making excuses like that.

But… Loria was conscious of a stirring in his emotions as he wrestled his irritation down.

Aside from this one garbage political officer, everyone was putting in a splendid effort.

“Comrade Loria?”

“So there aren’t any mistakes in this report, hmm?”

Everyone here was endeavoring to their utmost ability, working without wasting any time, and giving their all. For Loria, it was the first time in a while that his eyes popped wide open in admiration of their magnificent professional awareness.

Perhaps because he was reading it after dealing with those other inepts? It was even refreshing.

“N-no, sir. It’s the first report, but we did a rough confirmation of the damages!”

“That can be investigated later.”

They’re fighting my fairy, that little imp who attacked Moskva. Teaming up with the Commonwealth and then standing our ground and suffering casualties…is not a bad excuse.

No, more importantly.

“The issue is the enemy who attacked. You’re sure it was…the unit that laid its grubby hands on Moskva? The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion?”

“O-of course! As you say, Comrade Commissar, that is the conclusion the inspection unit on its tracks reached! They guarantee their identification 100 percent.”

“Very good. When the documents arrive, make delivering them to me highest priority.”

“Yes, sir! Right away!”

“You’re free to let others take over any other ongoing mission you may have. In any case, I want to know where this unit is.”

“I-I’ll get to work on it immediately!”

What wonderful news.

We found her. A few losses are piddling trivialities in the face of my genuine love. I’m even moved to pay my hardworking men a bonus like a capitalist. I should probably arrange some extra rations for them.

Although I’m not pleased that we had one fool who misunderstood his role to the last.

“Also, Comrade, take these orders.”

“Sir?”

“It’s orders to execute the incompetent idiot who slandered our hard-fighting comrades. Yes, don’t blame the men on the ground. I’d like to send Colonel Mikel a gift, actually. Arrange for the highest-quality drink and cigarettes to be delivered to him.”

“Shall we poison him?”

What?! He glared at the man, nearly dizzy with confusion. What the hell is this guy talking about?

“…Comrade, were you not listening to what I said? A gift, I want to send him a gift. Just try and lay a thoughtless hand on Colonel Mikel and his troops—you’ll get a comprehensive lesson about what happens when you make me mad.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

That was as much as Loria could stomach. He was aware that the Commissariat for Internal Affairs was a gang of useless sadists. He recognized it, and he was taking measures to improve it.

But this was how things stood.

Just incorrigible.

He just wanted to sink deep into his exceedingly pure thoughts…but instead he had to endure the faces of these dolts? He truly struggled to understand why.

To repeat, it was unbearable.

The others had gathered that he was angry by the time he waved them off. “All right, everybody out.” The moment he said it, they all ran away like fleeing rabbits.

That was so funny that it eased his frustration somewhat.

Which was why he gazed at a photo he pulled out of his desk with a smile.

“Ahhh, my ever so lovely, lovely…little fairy. You’re a bit too naughty, but… Well, I’ll just be happy we know where you are.”

You like playing hide-and-seek, don’t you?

“To appear like this just as I was forgetting you, you’re quite—quite the tactician! It makes my heart race!”

You like to tease, don’t you?

“I’d nearly forgotten my passions, and now you’ve got me all riled up. Oh, you, you little… This is…”

It’s just unbearable.

Swallowing that last comment, Loria thought, entranced, of his beloved fairy.

He did have a mind to blame the troops on the scene for failing to catch her, but his relief that they’d found her was stronger.

He didn’t really think a unit of that caliber could shoot his fairy out of the sky.

“On the contrary, they did a great job locating her. Yes, Colonel Mikel, was it? He…truly did a fine job. Considering what he was up against, I can only say he did a fantastic job surviving and bringing the intel back to us. I need him to work hard for me.”

How about a game of tag? I’ll be It and catch that girl.

“Ahhh, I can’t wait. I really, truly can’t wait.”

Let’s play.

“Yes, I need Comrade Colonel Mikel to do his best… So I’ll give him and his troops the best support possible and deploy the best reinforcements. Someone who’ll make a favorable impression on the Commonwealth would be good.”

I’ll send her lots of friends.

That lovely jokester fairy. Surely the privilege to have her was his alone, so he was so excited to trap her. He was looking forward to it so much that before he knew it…

“Well, this is no good. Now I’m all hot and bothered, and at my age.”

What a bad girl. It just builds up; it’s too much—how am I supposed to help it? What a troublemaker she is. To think I’m this excited to push her down.

 

VOL 5-3

[chapter] III Northern Operation

SEPTEMBER 28, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, IMPERIAL CAPITAL BERUN
Every time she goes through the gate to the General Staff Office, Tanya thinks, The higher-ups really just do whatever they want.
It’s been mere hours since she pulled her Kampfgruppe out of the east and returned to the imperial capital. They’d been sent there on the pretext of surveying the situation, but a single sudden order called them back.
Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is diligent, has a rich work ethic, and is a far cry from those slackers who hate doing their salary’s worth of labor. But even she finds a bone to pick when the General Staff keeps changing her assignment.
It’s no easy task to move an entire Kampfgruppe from the east back to the capital.
After all, we report directly to the General Staff. And we were deployed to a region on the eastern front under the Eastern Army Group’s jurisdiction. It wasn’t that we were on loan to them, but we were stationed there. Of course, with orders, we were permitted to leave, but…a rapid withdrawal couldn’t possibly go smoothly.
The biggest problem was how to get back to the capital. It’s not as simple as a long train ride with a smart card. There are limits to which train cars the Imperial Army can use. Even if we’re told on paper that efforts will be made to make a transfer more convenient…that’s not always the case in the field.
Even in the comfy plan with the big official stamp on it, the space we are guaranteed on the trains can be lost thanks to the weather, technical issues, or someone else cutting in.
About a week ago, Tanya had been rushing around arranging space for the armored unit and artillery’s heavy gear and managed to get her helpful adjutant to pick up some souvenirs from the east.
A few days ago, she just barely managed to nap in the cramped first-class compartment.
Last night, she arrived at the capital.
And as she was busy with all that, she received yet another telegram from the General Staff. It was a message from Lieutenant General von Rudersdorf before she could even report in. It really makes you feel that the higher-ups think only of their own convenience.
Of course, that was her personal feeling. She couldn’t very well refuse a request based on proper function and authority.
So if she was summoned, she had to go. The moment in the middle of the night that she received the telegram saying to show up at the crack of dawn, she elected to take a nap, and she was right to decide that sleeping even a few hours would give her a clearer head than none at all.
She was slightly less tired when her adjutant woke her up. Then all she had to do as a magic officer in the Imperial Army was put on her immaculately pressed uniform and pry her eyes open with some ersatz coffee, and it was time for work.
As long as she was headed to the General Staff Office, she figured she should bring the souvenirs from the east, so she packed up her officer suitcase and prepared to leave.
Flawlessly dressed according to regulations, she feigned quiet contemplation and nodded off in the car the General Staff sent around—she got her sleep where she could.
From the moment she arrived at the office, she’s been willing her sleepiness away. She approaches the MP desk with a disciplined gait.
“State your name and rank.”
As usual, it should probably be said? Reception at the General Staff Office, though a formality, is staffed by pros who don’t slack.
I don’t want to admit it, but I know that I stand out with my appearance as a little girl. These are guys stationed at the entrance to the General Staff Office; they must have superior recall.
“Magic Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff of the Salamander Kampfgruppe, currently assigned to the eastern front.”
“Colonel von Degurechaff. One moment please.”
People who don’t understand tend to scoff at these procedures as a waste of time. Sadly, that means they’ve gotten too comfortable. Even if both parties know that omitting the administrative tasks goes against regulations, it happens fairly often between friends.
But these fellows at the General Staff Office don’t forget to challenge visitors. It’s a manifestation of a healthy focus on their job. This is what it means to have a favorable impression of someone and respect them. How could I object to their handling of the situation when it’s based on regulations?
“We’ve received confirmation. You’re expected. Please proceed to the Operations Division.”
She leaves them with a thank-you and walks the halls she knows by heart. From what she can tell at a glance, there is none of the hustle and bustle that precedes a major operation.
None of the staffers coming and going looks very tense. So then, Tanya cocks her head. She was worried that she had been summoned to be sent into another big operation, but…
Was I wrong? She takes a closer look at the passing personnel’s expressions, though not close enough to be impolite, but… Just then her gaze rests on a certain face.
“Oh, long time no see.”
“If it isn’t Colonel Uger. It’s been a while.”
They exchange salutes and pleasantries upon meeting each other again. When Tanya glances at her watch, she sees she still has some time until her meeting with General von Rudersdorf.
“Well, it’s great to see you in one piece. Hey, are you busy today?”
“I arrived much earlier than necessary, so…I do have some time.”
“Then, well, come with me for a minute.”
He winks and suggests they talk as they walk, but Tanya says, “Before that…,” sets down her suitcase, and takes something out. “I’m glad I ran into you. I was going to bring this by later—a thank-you for before.”
She’s taken out a glass jar. It’s one of the many souvenirs she had First Lieutenant Serebryakov buy up in the east.
“It’s honey from the region I was stationed in. You can share it with your family, if you like.”
“Oh, honestly, this is great. Thank you.”
Hmm? Tanya wonders about the relief in his words of gratitude. It’s only honey… Is it really something to be that happy about?
“Well, you gave me coffee, so I thought it seemed right.”
“Ha-ha-ha, yes, I suppose we both ended up with what we prefer.”
Tanya knows Lieutenant Colonel Uger fairly well, since they went to war college together.
He’s a person who can be described as tremendously serious and honest. If a mere thank-you gift of honey is enough to get a handshake of gratitude, this is pretty strange.
“…Is the food situation in the rear as bad as all that?”
“It’s not a crisis, so in that sense, it’s not so horrible.”
So he must not be starving. None of the people walking by seemed to be going hungry, either.
Well, Tanya adds.
This is the hub of the Imperial Army, the General Staff Office. If even the staff officers were starving, it would be no time to fight a war.
“And actually, rationing is going more smoothly compared to the beginning of the war.”
“So life on the home front is all right?”
“Yeah, it’s all right. Technically, we should say it’s perfectly fine in terms of calories and nutrition. Although we’re going to get awfully sick of rutabagas this winter.”
The tired tone of his voice says it all.
The ration system is working, but only so far as nutrient intake. Rutabagas are a root vegetable and a turnip with no reputation for flavor, at that.
I heard they were originally used as feed for livestock. If that sort of thing has made it onto the ration list…it’s easy to gather what the actual state of affairs is like.
“To inquire bluntly, what about luxury items?”
“We probably can’t expect many when we’re at war. The Commonwealth’s naval blockade has deprived our tables of coffee completely.”
“Ahhh,” she can’t help but lament.
I don’t dislike meals aiming for efficiency, but humans are humans due to their culture and creativity. From the standpoint of respecting personal liberties, it’s sad that people’s freedom of diet has been limited.
It’s another cruel facet of war.
“That’s quite serious, then, isn’t it? Let’s hope for retaliation from our submarines.”
“Indeed. Colonel von Degurechaff. I don’t know if you have time or not, but if you do, come by the Service Corps desk. I’ll treat you to lunch.”
“Understood. I’ll be looking forward to it. Oh, but it is time, isn’t it?”
A glance at a clock on the wall tells her it’s nearly time for her appointment.
“Okay, if things go well, I’ll see you later.”
Though she’s worried about the home front, her duty comes first. With a bow, she heads deeper into the General Staff Office where the Operations Division is.
Tanya braces herself, unsure what awaits her…and encounters her greatest enemy: General von Rudersdorf beaming with a plastered-on smile.
The smile of a war planner is never a good sign. If he’s laughing? You’d best be turning right back around and escaping, if you can. It’s like being sneak attacked by the enemy—who knows what will happen now?
“It’s been a long time, Colonel von Degurechaff.”
“Yes, sir, it’s been a while. My Kampfgruppe arrived in the capital yesterday! We’re currently located at the designated barracks.”
“Yes, I’ve heard. I feel bad for the officers, but I thought we should give the men a few days on leave, so I’ve gone ahead and made those arrangements. To the extent you can, allow them to go home.”
“I appreciate your consideration for my subordinates, sir.”
Their conversation is based on the formulaic standard, but there is open affection. Though within the framework of superior and subordinate, their exchange seems to indicate their mutual respect.
This is strange as well.
Alarms go off in Tanya’s head. It’s really weird for General von Rudersdorf to be so diplomatic.
A military man who usually gets straight to the point is inexplicably beating around the bush today?
“All right, let’s get down to business. Colonel von Degurechaff, you’ve done a fine job with supporting the main army on the eastern front, investigating the enemy’s status, and commanding the experimental Kampfgruppe.”
What warm remarks.
If she didn’t know what he was usually like, she might have been touched. That’s how amicable his tone and eyes are. Conversely, since she does know how he talks on a normal day, she shudders.
He tells me we’re getting down to business and then praises me…? What soldier impatient to the point of rudeness would do such a thing?
“I merely did my duty, sir.”
“There’s no need to be modest. It’s due to your peerless devotion. General von Zettour sends his admiration as well.”
Now the chills are really going up her spine.
“That and please accept this without protest.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He offers her a small wooden box.
Wondering if she’s being given a bomb, she nervously takes it and finds it to be much heavier than it looks. Now she’s sure it must be a bomb, but when she opens it, she finds…a medal?
“It’s the White Wings Grand Iron Cross, awarded for your intelligence gathering and test run of the Kampfgruppe. And the recommendation came from—how fancy—the General Staff Military Intelligence Division.”
“That’s…Wow. I’m so honored.”
A “recommendation” from the General Staff Military Intelligence Division? For a White Wings Grand Iron Cross?
To express her sentiment in metaphor, being presented with a hand grenade would have made her feel more at ease.
This is the Operations Division deep inside the General Staff Office.
But. Tanya tenses up. She might as well be on the front lines. No, this place is as dangerous as no-man’s-land on the intense Rhine front.
“Now then, Colonel. You’ve performed so splendidly, so it’s hard for me to say this, but I have an order for the Kampfgruppe to be disbanded.”
Tanya gasps. It’s so sudden.
“I beg your pardon, General, but what did you just say?”
“I’ll be frank, Colonel.”
Her superior’s joke is hard to grasp. Is this what it’s like to see your shocked expression reflected in General von Rudersdorf’s eyes?
“The Salamander Kampfgruppe has accomplished what it was formed to do. Now we’re going to send the units back to their original stations.”
“…What?!”
Send them back?
For a moment, Tanya is speechless, but then she yells at her superior. “Please don’t break up my Kampfgruppe! They’ve finally come together as a combat group!”
“It’s the Empire’s Kampfgruppe, Colonel.”
“…Ngh, please excuse my outburst.”
The general wears a small, wry smile and says it’s fine as he hands over the sheaf of orders. But Tanya still can’t accept it and raises her voice again.
“I worked so hard to train them! A commander like that can’t abandon their unit!”
They’re my pawns to move.
She doesn’t want even a superior officer laying a hand on her men.
…Whether in a company or the military, the chain of command works the same way.
Nothing good comes of a commander’s superior overruling them!
Yet now…the General Staff is stepping in on my command?
“It’s unheard of to disband a unit that is prepared to be deployed at any time!”
“All your arguments are valid.”
“If that’s true, then—!” She’s about to beg him to reconsider when…
“Colonel von Degurechaff, I’m sure you remember this, but the Kampfgruppe was formed and tested as an ad hoc task force, not as a regular unit.”
“…So you’re saying I shouldn’t have invested in it?”
“The intention was for you to test the ‘ad hoc formation’ part. You built a magnificent team of elites—too magnificent. I can understand that it’s a shame to disband them, but…,” he continues soberly. “A single elite Kampfgruppe isn’t what we need. Kampfgruppen make many types of combat possible. But the critical factor is the doctrinal knowledge on how to form them ad hoc on an organizational level, not the strength or talent of a single commander.”
The logic is sound. Thinking of the entire Imperial Army, it’s better to have universal standards that can be applied everywhere rather than outstanding individual feats.
When it comes to Kampfgruppen, I can see how they would want to be operating with many of them.
“I’m sure you understand. In order to create a foundation where the General Staff can form Kampfgruppen and entrust them to officers, we need to acquire the know-how.”
We shouldn’t go about making an irreplaceable cog. He’s right that we need a few people who know about making, duplicating, and employing cogs in an organization.
And in the military, where attrition is a given, it’s important to have multiple backups. Logically, it does make sense.
But even so, Tanya still argues. “Please take the situation in the east into account!”
She’s practically shrieking.
She has just returned from the forward-most line on the eastern front. For someone aware of what is happening in the present tense, it’s impossible to blithely follow logic.
Reasoning that works in one context isn’t necessarily sound in another.
“This is only a lull! Shouldn’t we acknowledge the value of having a good, able combat asset like a Kampfgruppe as a strategic reserve?”
“Of course we considered using it as a strategic reserve. But the lull is a stroke of luck. Now is the time to look ahead.”
“Ahead?”
“Our rate of attrition on the eastern front is severe. If we keep losing soldiers at this rate, our army’s combat capability will be worn down to nothing.”
“Nrgh.” Tanya is lost for words despite herself.
She can’t help but nod… The Empire has been pouring vast amounts of blood and iron into the east at an unbelievable pace.
It’s not as if the army will cease to exist by tomorrow.
Neither will there be any operation issues next week.
Even next month, the forces should be able to maintain their combat capability.
And with luck, they might make it through next year without collapsing.
But it would still chip away at the Empire’s finite human resources. They would slip away like grains of sand in an hourglass.
…But unlike an hourglass, there’s no way to flip over and start again.
“Soon we’ll be forced to make use of crumbled units. That day may not be tomorrow, but it’s coming. So it’s essential that we, as an organization, learn Kampfgruppen doctrine so we can reorganize units on the fly, even if it’s atypical.”
Considering the nightmare of their decreasing human resources, I can understand why Operations would jump at Kampfgruppen operation as the knowledge for reorganizing collapsed units.
“That you pulled off the formation so quickly gave us hope, and we’re grateful for that. So I’m sorry, but it’s time for the General Staff to test out that know-how. Go back to commanding the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion for now.”
“…Yes, sir.”
There’s no room to argue. When she thinks of all the authority being taken away from her…she feels downhearted, even.
“That said, at the moment, the only one with successful experience leading a Kampfgruppe is you. In the not-too-distant future, we’d like you to lead one that we form and collect data for us.”
“Understood. I’ll do my best. When will I be posted to the General Staff–formed Kampfgruppe?”
“Actually, you won’t have to wait very long.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“Work is already under way. It should only take another week, maybe ten days. The objective is to give young officers experience. And we don’t want you to be without a Kampfgruppe for too long, either.”
The idea of having her veteran team taken away from her and being given a test team selected by the General Staff makes her dizzy. I get it because I used to work in HR: It’ll be a team that is convenient for HQ but which doesn’t take the people on the ground into consideration.
“So what will the battalion and I do until then?”
“I would have liked to give you leave, but the Empire isn’t in any position to let free units twiddle their thumbs. We’ve got work for you to do, Colonel.”
“Yes, sir!”
Though she replies gallantly with her heels snapped together, her mind is gloomy in inverse proportion to her voice. This is what it means for your nerves to start wearing thin.
“Very good. Then let’s have you play pirates. You can teach real pirates how to fight a war using live ammunition.”
He sets an operation plan before her, and the paper makes a slight noise.
Surprisingly, we’re being assigned to the north, not the east where the intense fighting is going on. It’s a patrol mission over the autumn Northern Sea… If I’m going to do it, I’d much rather do it in the summer.
“…We’re joining a maritime patrol line?”
“Yes. There aren’t many mage battalions that can handle long-range searches over water. The guys up north came begging us to lend you to them.”
The Northern Sea is famous for its cold temperatures. Even though it’s only the beginning of fall, it’s sure to be chilly already.
Of all the times of year to do long-distance flights through sea breezes… We just keep getting the short end of the stick.
“Nominally, it’s an on-the-spot inspection. Well, you’ll be given the details when you get there. That said, this is all very sudden—I do feel bad about it. Plan on being gone about a week.”
“Understood.”
I do understand.
Even if she doesn’t accept it, it’s an order. So then. She grits her teeth. She has to do as they say.
She performs a salute according to the manual, all her fingers perfectly in line.
Thus, after losing her Kampfgruppe, Magic Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff takes in the news that she will be flung into a literal frigid nowhere.
She had no choice. No, she wasn’t even asked. She was told. It was unavoidable.
I gotta get this off my mind, she thinks and begins looking forward to the free lunch Colonel Uger promised her.
Not that she doesn’t regret that.
…I must have been more sleep-deprived than I realized. What Colonel Uger said was true.
The meal was indeed free.
It was the food from the General Staff Office army dining hall—if you can call the horrifically stewed lumps “food,” that is.
“Ha-ha-ha, I heard the news! General von Rudersdorf sure works his people hard.”
Sitting across from her, laughing with luxury flatware in hand, is her dear old classmate.
You can’t just… Tanya decides to warn him. “Are you familiar with the words military secret, Colonel Uger?”
“That’s a very good point.” He laughs. “But you don’t need to worry.” He averts his eyes from the not inedible thing the General Staff dining room served as lunch and shrugs innocently. “Disbanding the unit and reassigning you guys falls to the Service Corps. In other words…”
He brings his fork to his mouth, frowns for a moment, picks up his water, and washes down whatever it was to continue speaking. It’s not good manners to have things in your mouth, so he drank the water for the conversation’s sake… Of course, that’s just how we dress up the chore of extracting nutrients from disgustingly flavored food.
I’m compelled to remark that the offerings of the General Staff Office’s banquet hall taste as horrible as ever. It’s like the food quality is sacrificed to and becomes the inverse of the plate quality.
“To give away the secret, I’m in charge. Naturally, then, arguing with you about your assignment is part of my responsibility.”
“How nice to have a close friend on the case.” She is grateful but also a bit wary, since it’s different from usual. “I was sure it was Colonel von Lergen.”
They eat as they talk. That way, they can distract themselves from the alleged “food” provided by the mess hall the General Staff is so proud of.
Speaking strictly of the flavor, the food on the forward-most line is a bit…no, quite a bit better. This is a moment she is glad to be a magic officer provided with a high-calorie diet.
The chocolate and cookies they get as extras taste pretty good. If they were the same quality as the banquet hall food, it would be difficult to avoid losing the will to fight.
“Who knows? It’s probably just convenient. It’s not as if we need to know. Still, a search-and-destroy mission over waters you’re assigned to sure brings back memories.”
His eyes are expressing something like a smile, but he’s not smiling.
Oh, I see.
If he’s telling me indirectly not to ask what Colonel von Lergen is up to, then…is that what this is about?
“But…it sure is a pain. As the free unit being sent in, we can’t help but be puzzled. An operation premised on an on-the-spot inspection of civilian ships…?”
“Right, what if you accidentally sank them? You have a record, after all. We in the Service Corps will be concerned for the digestive health of our colleagues in legal.”
I feel like I’ve been hit where it hurts. And Tanya can’t help but wince. That was an accident, but yeah…I can see how it would be considered a “record.”
“And in the Northern Sea…? Commerce raiding up there would be politically problematic.”
“So we’re being considerate to the people residing on some other continent or whatever?”
There is only one nationality of ship sailing the Northern Sea that would require an on-the-spot inspection. It would only be ships from the Unified States.
When you think about it, there’s no reason a civilian ship would be crossing such dangerous waters.
No, there should be no reason at all, and yet strangely…retired Unified States Navy sailors are apparently finding new positions on civilian ships in the Northern Sea.
“It’s ridiculous, but on the other hand, I can’t say we shouldn’t go through with it. Am I wrong, Colonel von Degurechaff?”
So all Tanya can do is respond with a wry smile.
“No, I think you’re right. It makes sense.”
The General Staff and Army Command, who want to prevent the Federation Army from getting any stronger, have pulled Navy Command into this strange relationship—where they actually have different ideas but are working together—on the pretext of letting them finally take credit for something. Then the Foreign Office must have stepped in to request some political consideration. They’re right, but it’s the ones in the field who have a hard time.
This is just the kind of situation when you have to hold back a sigh. Bad food, depressing conversation. And on top of that, the annoying situation in the field and political backdrop.
Sheesh. Then just as Tanya is sipping her pseudo–ersatz coffee…
“…So I’m just talking to myself, but…” Colonel Uger speaks suddenly once the waiter has left them. “The Northern Sea operation your unit is being deployed for is made possible by the joint intelligence agency of the Army and Navy Commands.”
Tanya cocks her head in spite of herself.
The bad relationship between the General Staff Military Intelligence Division and the joint intelligence department of the Army and Navy Commands is legendary. They always clash on vertical hierarchy, budget allocation, and authority issues. She heard they needed to work on integration, but…
Apparently, this White Wings Grand Iron Cross is going to bring trouble, just as I thought.
“The disbanding of the Kampfgruppe had already been decided. But I heard the higher-ups wanted to put you in the instructor unit doing combat skill research.”
…So an extremely reasonable and utterly peaceful life in the rear was stolen from me yet again? Again?
“It was a quick intervention that resulted in the change to the north. Intelligence is moving really fast on this. Well, it’s no wonder. They’re in a much more delicate position than the guys in the Military Intelligence Division.”
…They’d messed up in the fights with the Entente Alliance, the Republic, and Dacia.
After ignoring the somewhat forceful warnings from the General Staff, the army and navy must be aiming to regain their power even if it means risking their honor.
“That’s why they’re so keen to bring down something big.”
“And what’s that?”
“…I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like they’re planning any major operations.”
If the Service Corps isn’t aware of it…then they can’t be moving that many troops. It would be difficult to use a big army without stockpiling supplies ahead of time with the support of the Service Corps.
“In which case…I’m just talking to myself, but…something smells like trouble.”
So that’s what’s so fishy.
We, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, are inherently fairly easy to use. We’re one of the few commands with outstanding firepower that can be deployed without putting too much stress on the logistics network.
We must be extremely convenient.
The intelligence agency must be envious.
“I’ll bear that in mind, although I don’t really expect Intelligence to collect accurate info.”
“How could you? Those guys need help.” With that comment and a wry smile, Colonel Uger’s tone of voice changes. Oh, I see, so that’s the end of that conversation, then?
“…Speaking of needing help, first up should be this dining hall, no?”
“I heartily agree, Colonel von Degurechaff. The General Staff definitely needs some superior intelligence officers and some cooks with a sense of taste.”
She agrees, but she also notes that he’s holding the conversation back due to the proximity of the waiter, so she arranges her knife and fork and tamely feigns ignorance.
Once their dishes are cleared and Tanya is enjoying her post-meal tea, Uger addresses her, as if he just remembered something, in a businesslike manner. “Now then, I have a present for you. I had Colonel von Lergen arrange a going-away party for your Kampfgruppe at the officers’ club. So I hope you’ll drink up.”
“So there was a reason to suffer through this meal.”
“Ha-ha-ha. I’m taking a page from General von Zettour’s book. Every chance he gets, he treats people from outside to this food.”
“The world is going to start calling you Service Corps officers out on your nasty habits.”
“Oh, we risk our lives so you guys on the front know how hard we are working. All right, I’ll see you again sometime.”
“Yes, see you again.”

SEPTEMBER 28, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, EVENING, IMPERIAL CAPITAL BERUN, THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF THE OFFICERS’ CLUB
Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is a distinguished magic officer with the Silver Wings Assault Badge, a seasoned aerial mage crowned with the alias White Silver. She’s a diligent officer who adheres strictly to the rules but also grasps the concepts of authority and duty well enough to exercise appropriate discretion during missions. As such, she’s a good person who hews closely to the image of the Empire’s ideal officer.
Thus, Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff has been extremely loyal, if only superficially, to the Imperial Army’s paradigm.
Until today, at this moment.
“…Move, Corporal. Do you know whose way you’re in?”
“Sorry, Colonel von Degurechaff, but I can’t do that.”
The one holding his ground even under Tanya’s stubborn gaze is…a corporal at the officers’ club. Well, if he’s an imperial soldier working at the officers’ club in imperial capital Berun, then I see—it makes sense that he would be chosen for both looks and ability.
He’s not timid, but he also has the proper courteous attitude. Tanya isn’t against calling him the best sort of honor guard.
“I’ll make myself clear. I’m an active-duty aerial magic officer. If you try to obstruct the exercise of my valid rights, I don’t care if you’re an MP from our side or not—you won’t get off so easily.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, it’s the rules!”
The only problem is… Tanya repeats her request and sighs internally.
Rules, rules, rules.
What a stickler.
He’s like an RPG villager who only repeats his programmed lines. I really start to wonder if all he can say is It’s the rules, so you may not enter.
So Tanya speaks up with determination. “You must be joking! I’m an officer! Can you not see these?” She points at the insignia on her collar and shoulder and even thrusts her General Staff braid at him, but he doesn’t react at all.
“With all due respect, ma’am, the rules prohibit it.”
“Sorry, Corporal. As far as I know, there’s no rule against officers making use of the officers’ club.”
“That’s true, Colonel, but the law prohibits minors from smoking and drinking!”
“Huh?” The question slips out of her throat in spite of herself as she scowls at him.
What did he…What did he just say?
“S-smoking and drinking?”
Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is a high-ranking officer who adheres strictly to the rules. Naturally, she is more than well aware of the age restrictions on smoking and drinking.
She doesn’t drink or smoke.
Of all the things to say…
“Should I just take that as an insult, Corporal? Who’s trying to smoke or drink?! I’m just telling you to let me into the bar!”
“My sincere apologies, Colonel von Degurechaff. Your intent is not at issue! It’s purely your age!”
“I’m here on military business!”
The words age restrictions disappear when it comes to military business. How could the younger guys fight in the night battles if they had to follow the curfew?! At that point, every last high-ranking officer would have to be dishonorably discharged for aiding and abetting public morality violations.
“It’s possible I’m uninformed on the matter, but I haven’t heard any ludicrous stories about officers of units fighting in no-man’s-land on the Rhine front being indicted by the Ministry of the Interior for commanding minors.”
“Huh? Colonel?”
“On military business, the military laws of the Imperial Army take precedence! At a military facility, military law should be applied, no?”
“My apologies, ma’am, but this isn’t a military facility! It was established with private capital, so please understand that, legally, minors are strictly prohibited from entering at night!”
When Tanya asks for clarification, the corporal unflinchingly provides the basis for his assertion.
The moment she hears it—aha!—she understands why he has been repeating, “It’s the rules. You can’t enter,” even if she doesn’t accept it.
It’s a problem of interpretation.
Apparently, because the bar is operated by civilians…this corporal doesn’t view it as a military facility. But, Tanya smiles.
She’s quite confident in her legal interpretations.
“The officers’ club is funded with private capital. In other words, people who pay the monthly officers’ club dues have the right to use it.”
Just like mandatory insurance, the dues are deducted every month from her wages. They force me to pay club dues! Tanya is therefore compelled to insist on her rights.
As a free individual, she must protect her rights.
I don’t care about alcohol or tobacco in particular, but I’m determined to defend my rights from being violated with everything I have. That’s the duty of a free individual in modern times. I’ve got to get bastards like Being X and other numbskull idiots to understand the concept of sacred, inviolable rights.
“I have the right to make use of the facilities.” So Tanya doesn’t back down. “I’d like you to let me use them.”
“I don’t mean to deny your right to use the officers’ club! But I can’t make the call about your use of the bar inside.”
So you’re going to put up a fight, then? They stand in conflict, frowning at each other.
To Tanya, this futile argument is only a waste of time. She glances at her watch and sees it is nearly time to meet the others.
Of course, officers come five minutes early.
People are waiting for me…, Tanya laments in her head.
Even if it’s Weiss, Visha, and Grantz from her battalion, making people wait itself is extremely irritating to someone who is punctual.
Tanya’s delicate sensibilities can’t endure any more time wasting.
“…This is an official warning, Corporal. Did you get an explicit order from your direct superior to not let minors in? Or are you refusing me on your own discretion?”
She asks if it’s him or his superior.
If it’s his own discretion, she’s determined to push past him without hesitation.
From experience, Tanya knows that you should handle idiots differently from people who have to follow idiotic orders.
If the cause of the issue is a small fry, you should just get rid of him. But if the fundamental issue is higher up, Tanya knows to blame the superior officer.
“I have orders from my direct superior based on the Wartime Public Morality Control Ordinance.”
“…Fine, Corporal. I respect your duties. Tell me who gave this shitty, stupid order. Then I want you to call someone who is inside for me.”
“Yes, ma’am. Who shall I call?”
“Get First Lieutenant Serebryakov from the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. We’re going to get a proper record of your statement and then go and protest to your boss.”
Which is why…
Even though she knows she’ll be laughed at later, she requests that her adjutant be summoned so they can change the venue of the party.
Thus, I suppose?
To mention only the outcome, though it became a small incident that gave the person involved an ulcer, what ended up going in the MP log that day was “Nothing to report.”

SEPTEMBER 30, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, ON A NORDEN-BOUND TRAIN
Tanya received the sealed orders inside the train that had been arranged with bizarre efficiency.
The officer must have been instructed to politely deliver it in person. The young first lieutenant, who seemed to have come from the academy, mistook Major Weiss as the commander and had to take back the envelope he had nearly handed him, but apart from that and the necessity of making a formal complaint to Army Command, there were no issues.
But…it might be good to add that considering the trouble the day before at the bar, Tanya had every right to be irritated.
And so, though part of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion was abnormally tense, the unit entered Norden and finished deploying to the provisional base on the northern edge of the former Entente Alliance territory.
Judging from the collapsed houses and other buildings…the recovery effort wasn’t proceeding very smoothly. But the base that had been established, apparently as an aerial foothold, was equipped with the minimum necessary facilities.
There were lodgings for personnel, control officers, and, most importantly, a canteen.
Since she had been told not to open the sealed orders until further notice, she tossed the envelope into the battalion safe and conducted air battle exercises to get her troops used to the climate and the sky.
She even had them do a scramble exercise the exact moment everyone was hung over from dousing themselves in beer after the first exercise.
Once they understood what would happen to them if they let themselves go, she relaxed the reins a bit.
Which is not to say she told them they could drink as much as they wanted. But she did arrange for the canteen to have a stock of alcoholic drinks at the official price as long as they could maintain moderation.
Of course, that put them in the red, so she had to assist with “General Staff Confidential Funds,” but…Army Command was picking up the tab this time. The Inspection Division’s suggestion that this was appropriation for my own personal use was a misunderstanding.
Tanya kindly replied, “An officer too childish for a messenger to give her the time of day couldn’t possibly drink alcohol. It’s all merely operation costs to boost morale.”
Frankly, if I had a way to embezzle money, I would embezzle as much as I could and worry about it later. Isn’t that what they say? To snatch up funding and authority while the snatching is good?
A few days after that, Army Command apparently took some care when sending someone over. The captain who brought documents addressed to Tanya didn’t make a mistake.
Upon prying open the sealed orders, she nodded and relayed the information to Weiss.
The captain whined about keeping it confidential, so Weiss and Tanya left First Lieutenants Serebryakov and Grantz with him and went to consider their situation.
The conclusion was that it was worth it to trust the information Intelligence had given them and do a search. Not like they could have refused after being ordered by the General Staff to fulfill as many of the joint intelligence agency’s requests as possible, but still.
So it was that, once the briefing had been conducted, the forty-eight members of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion flew, in full gear, into the sky over the Northern Sea.
Even in the northern sky, visibility is surprisingly good. No wireless noise or long-range signal hindrances. The elites at Norden Control are providing navigation support.
“Colonel, we’ve received a transmission. It’s a wide-area broadcast from Norden Control. They’re saying Case C43…”
“Case C43? So it’s what we expected, then.”
Tanya groans at the report from her adjutant Lieutenant Serebryakov in spite of herself. Case C43 means the sub unit has discovered the target as expected. Apparently, the Army and Navy Commands’ joint intelligence agency is competent enough that they can overcome their vertical structures to support each other laterally for the sake of their mission.
…Yes, awfully competent they are.
“Mm.” Tanya nods in deep admiration. “So the army and navy intelligence agency or whatever actually exists. The way they’ve been working, I figured they were freeloaders at best.”
“Ha-ha-ha, you’re right. This might be the first time Intelligence has been useful since I’ve been stationed under you, Colonel.”
Serebryakov, laughing next to her, had been with her suffering on the Rhine front—and the reason for that suffering was the failure of command and the General Staff to acquire intel.
Did they work so hard this time to make up for that huge failure?
“I wasn’t convinced when I heard they nailed down the route, but we can’t ignore it when they give us such a detailed projection bursting with so much confidence.”
Expected route, estimated speed, and info about its escort.
The fishy operation plan they approved said that attacking and taking out the engine would be good enough, but now that we know the subs have spotted an enemy ship, the data seems much more reliable.
“Did they break the Commonwealth’s code or something?”
“Who knows? They’re not about to tell us.”
Information sources are protected on principle. You can even call it a rule set in stone.
You might be able to guess things, but the world of espionage is all about deception.
Even if they did tell us where the intel came from, we wouldn’t be able to know how much of what they said was true. There can be any number of sources for analysis, from human intelligence assessments to legal means of intelligence collection or even SIGINT.
So it’s a waste of brainpower to try to worry about it.
“That’s for sure. But, Colonel, if the enemy finds out that we know what they’re up to now, won’t that hamper future espionage efforts?”
“Visha, we’re here to execute. If the top hands us some intel and tells us to move out, worrying about where the intel came from is pointless.”
There’s a heavy sigh.
To think they would hear an easygoing Lieutenant Grantz come booming over the wireless… I thought he was pretty tense, but he must be an optimist deep down.
“…I’d actually like you to think a bit, though, Lieutenant Grantz.”
“M-Major Weiss, that’s a little…”
Weiss with his common sense probably can’t stand that sort of talk. There’s nothing wrong with optimism, but it depends on the context.
No. Tanya has a second thought.
Though they are flying a mission, they haven’t yet encountered the enemy. If Weiss is playing around, I’ll join in, too.
“I agree with Major Weiss. Lieutenant Grantz, if you haven’t been using your head, then you’re not tired at all, right? How about you use your brain to do the battalion’s complicated paperwork?”
“C-can I beg for mercy?”
Grantz must be used to the battlefield enough to catch the change in tone.
“Hey now, Lieutenant Grantz. They say the commander’s supposed to lead the charge, right? Are you lacking initiative? This is no good. I can’t believe a company commander is revealing his lack of fighting spirit before the enemy…”
“Major, give me a break!”
“That’s enough. It’s important to ease the unit’s tension, but I don’t think anyone in my battalion is delicate enough to be nervous except for me.”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha. Now you really must be joking!” Weiss laughs cheerfully.
“Don’t you know what a young girl’s heart is like? I guess my only friend here is Lieutenant Serebryakov.”
“Excuse me, but Colonel? We’re concerned that our dear Visha will vanish. Just what kind of monster are you trying to develop her into?”
“A proper magic officer, clearly. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t make it sound like she’s evil.”
Just a little show of banter for our subordinates before we head into combat.
“…All right, you two, if you could leave it at that. There’s signs of a ship up ahead on the route where we’re projected to encounter the enemy. I’ve spotted it.”
The one who goes so far as to warn us to quit joking around is the one we were talking about. Lieutenant Serebryakov doesn’t even need to be developed—she’s already a fine soldier.
Abruptly switching gears, Tanya takes her binoculars and points them in the direction her adjutant indicates.
It’s a little dot, but she can see it. Actually, with that size…if she can see it at this distance, it must be pretty huge.
No doubt about it.
It’s the prey they were expecting, the giant RMS Queen of Anjou. It would be difficult to mistake this singular ship capable of carrying large amounts of both weapons and personnel.
“It’s huge, huh? It’s just one transport ship, but it’s still pretty overwhelming to see. Well, I guess it’s not quite appropriate to call it just a transport ship. It’s like twisting reality with words.”
In terms of size alone, it appears to surpass even the capital ships of the High Seas Fleet. This ship, weighing tens of thousands of tons, races at incredible speeds across the water and would no doubt break through anything besides a minefield. Once you lay eyes on it, you realize how imposing it is, even if you don’t want to.
“…Colonel, this is bigger than expected, I guess you’d say,” Weiss murmurs in shock. When he comments on how gigantic it is, all she can do is nod.
Tanya herself should have known—it was something big enough to warrant a special mission. But even so…the spectacle before her eyes is formidable.
“…Intelligence back home is asking too much.”
“I heard the terms, too, but this is…” Lieutenant Serebryakov trails off. From the way she is peering through her binoculars, the remark was probably half to herself.
“Hearing and seeing are two very different things. They say a floating castle of iron is a warship, but that’s a floating palace of iron.”
It came from my heart.
It’s been a long time since there’s been a fierce battle between a maritime guard and a commerce raider over the water.
About the only carefree lone ships are of neutral nationality or ships that the warring countries have agreed to allow to pass—medical boats or prisoner exchanges. Any other ship going alone in these waters would get laughed at as not a daredevil but just plain reckless.
To any unit watching sharp-eyed for prey, an unaccompanied merchant ship is a sitting duck. The Imperial Army’s submarines and air units are excellent hunters.
“And it’s awfully fast. I’m just eyeballing it, but it seems like they’re going…over thirty knots.”
“They sure are. It’s weird… I thought merchant ships had a max speed of twenty. I’m sure that’s what we were taught.”
“There’s always an exception, Major Weiss.”
And this high-speed transport ship before their eyes is one of those few exceptions. It’s a huge ocean liner built not for economic efficiency but out of national pride.
I’d like to laugh it off as a white elephant, but the harsh reality is that I can’t.
“I can see why the imperial blockade basically wouldn’t function.”
Usually, the bigger a ship gets, the more speed it sacrifices. The heavier, the slower. So as a matter of course, a huge ship ends up slow no matter what you do.
Large transport ships tend to be extra slow due to the added weight of their cargo. But apparently, those rules don’t apply to this ship.
“I’m altogether jealous. It must be so stable. If only we had had a ship like that for going to the southern continent, then no one would have gotten seasick.”
“I agree, Major. It’s hard not to be envious of a maritime state’s cargo-passenger ships.”
The sea is rough, but this giant ship isn’t pitching at all.
No, its conspicuously elegant hull slices through the waves as it speeds along. This queen is one wild filly. She can’t be going less than thirty knots.
And astonishingly, that’s its cruising speed. And if you consider that it’s packing enough fuel for a round-trip…it’d be practically impossible to catch with a run-of-the-mill navy ship. I’d like to ask them if they even know what the word economical means.





“That’s with a typical transport ship load, so I’m utterly amazed.”
If it was simply a fast transport ship, it would still be easy to deal with. It would have been a distraction but tolerable. The problem is that it’s enormous.
It was originally built before the war as a passenger ship… Full of people, it rushed across the open sea.
It was the fastest way to travel besides a plane. And if you wanted to, you could pack it with tons of people and cargo.
This is just an estimate, but I bet it could carry a division’s worth of personnel at thirty knots. Or you could fill it with weapons and ammunition and send it cutting across the vast ocean with that thirty-knot speed.
It’s practically a moving maritime logistics base. Palace was the right word.
“All right, battalion. Obviously, we can’t let that thing be.”
“We sure can’t!”
To the Imperial Army, this is nothing but a strategic nightmare. No matter how thorough they’re being with the commerce raiding operations, it’ll be meaningless if the RMS Queen of Anjou gets through.
If the enemy laughed off the blockade mission the submarine units were making such harsh sacrifices for, where would that leave us? And that’s why…we must sink the RMS Queen of Anjou.
“Well, that’s why they picked us to give these orders to. Battalion, prepare to attack.”
“Yes, ma’am. Battalion, prepare to attack!”
“If possible, stop the enemy warship, er, boat. Use explosion formulas to blow away the engine or the rudder!”
For a second, she nearly calls it a warship—it’s that imposing. The order to halt Her Majesty as she calmly crosses the vast ocean is definitely another instance of getting the short end of the stick.
I’m impressed the joint intelligence agency managed to pick it up. And I can see why Operations would want to send us in. Even with an ambush, it would be pretty hard to capture it with our existing ships.
“This boat is just too much. They’ve shaken off our superficial efforts and existing paradigm and technology with that size and speed…”
For starters, there’s no way a submarine is going to catch a ship that was a contender for the Blue Riband. I can feel myself ready to grumble at the sky.
It’s not like the imperial subs are subpar.
But subs that even on the surface reach only the twenties when pushing their engines to the limit just can’t compete. And they never expected to have to go up against such a giant monster of a ship.
So it surpasses the imperial subs. The only ones who can chase it are the air forces the Empire is so proud of.
But sadly…
The Empire’s planes are severely limited when it comes to anti-ship attacks.
After all, it’s an issue of whether the mission fits the scope of a tactical air force aiming to support ground troops and fight air battles. Have they begun outfitting themselves for maritime aerial power?
With horizontal bombing, it’s hit or miss. In that respect, aerial mages—the other air force—are much more accurate.
Hitting the boat, we can do.
I’ve even heard that troops in the south and west have had success in operations attacking smaller ships and torpedo boats.
“Understood. But I think stopping that ship is going to be pretty tough…”
“Even just the engine is probably built to be strong.”
“Right, we can’t ignore the question of whether our firepower will penetrate it.”
But even that is full of issues, as Tanya is forced to point out.
First, aerial mages don’t have unlimited firepower. Particularly when it comes to stopping a huge ship, all we can do is hope for secondary explosions.
“Or maybe we could attack the sides and cause it to take on water or damage the propeller…”
To rob the ship of propulsion, we could probably pull off a focused attack on the stern. But. Tanya is at a loss in this vexing situation.
“But don’t you think they’d have taken some measures against that?”
“Yes, I’m sure at that size they have buoyancy to spare. They may even have a spare rudder. I don’t think we can expect results if we go into this without more info.”
Tanya nods at Weiss’s complaint.
“If only those guys in Intelligence could find us a map of the layout.”
“Apparently, they at least know that there aren’t many escorts.”
“But that’s a given, isn’t it, Major Weiss? It’s way too reckless to ask us to take on that mobile foothold with such few numbers. If they didn’t have that sort of intel, we wouldn’t be taking on that huge ship.”
Our target is a passenger ship. To be explicit, it’s a boat that carries people. We’re fatigued from our long flight, while the enemy is brimming with the energy to come up and intercept.
We wouldn’t have even considered coming near this thing if Intelligence hadn’t guaranteed us that the Commonwealth is relying on its speed and not attaching many escorts.
“…Huh?”
Something seems slightly off.
“Abort the attack! Turn around—now!”
It’s not as if I believe in the frankly suspect idea of a sixth sense, but something is weird.
The moment Tanya senses it, she doesn’t hesitate.
The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion was in assault formation, ready to swoop down and attack, but they respond to Tanya’s command immediately.
“Break! Get out of attack formation! Increase altitude! Hurry!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Her subordinates neither question nor argue, and Tanya is thankful for their understanding. Right as everyone begins climbing in prep for an attack from below…
“Mana signals! Multiple signatures from the enemy ship?!”
“Disciplined fire, incoming!”
What they shoot, without using their sights to aim, is an attack calculated to hit the entire area. The mix of regular and formula bullets is far more orderly than haphazard firing.
Even a battalion won’t make it through unscathed if it flies into a hail of bullets. If we had been a few seconds later, we would have been turned into Swiss cheese.
“It’s a battalion—no, a r-regiment?!”
“The mana signals are rapidly increasing! What the—?!”
I can’t help the screams of my men echoing in my head.
Since we dodged quickly, the battalion hasn’t taken any losses. But it’s probably too soon to call it a close shave and be done with it.
As the situation continues to rapidly evolve, Tanya bites back her curses and suddenly thinks: Our augmented battalion is being fired on by a regiment.
If an enemy you have no intel about attacks you preemptively, it’s hard not to break step. Really, we’re probably blessed, considering we didn’t lose anyone.
“01 to all units. Abandon the original plan! Abandon the plan! Ascend—get some distance!” She clicks her tongue in frustration as she has them get out of assault formation and climb. “This isn’t what we were told! Those bastards in Intelligence are freeloaders after all!”
She means what she shouts.
We were told that due to the difficulty in mustering manpower, the ship would have only the minimum escorts…but that is clearly not the case. Intelligence has really half-assed it.
I don’t know if they cocked it all up, or latched on to some bad info, or what.
But in the end, it comes down to their work being hurried. Cursory. We should have beat the General Staff’s philosophy—the devil is in the details—into those administrative numbskulls’ heads.
“Colonel, it’s a unit of Commonwealth marine mages! A regiment and closing in fast!”
“That can’t be all. Assume they have two regiments.”
“Roger!”
Our premise that the giant ship had only minimal escorts…has been shattered. The ship is huge. If they wanted to, they could fit a whole division on it.
If we just got attacked with discipline fire from a regiment, there must be more where that came from.
“If we can rob it of propulsion, the submarines should be able to work for us, but…it’s unclear if we’ll actually be able to stop it…”

OCTOBER 5, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, OFF THE NORTHERN COAST OF NORDEN
He had heard it said. Major General Habergram had warned him: “Since we have a mole, the enemy might show up.”
Lieutenant Colonel Drake, leading the Commonwealth’s marine mages, recalled the superior officer who had guaranteed him, “That said, with the deception and the thorough information war we’ve carried out, there should only be a few if they do show up.” He heaved a sigh.
“…You dodged that?”
He thought it was a perfectly targeted shot. The enemy had been in formation to dive and attack when his troops had unleashed a screen of anti–air fire straight down their path.
They had even suppressed their mana signals so they wouldn’t be detected beforehand.
Despite all that, the enemy mages veered away at the last possible moment. Given the distance and the timing, the only possible explanation was that their commander had suspected something immediately before the charge.
“What is it, Colonel Drake?”
“No matter how you look at it, their intuition is just too good. And I recognize some of the signatures in there. This is the Named we fought the other day—I’m sure of it!”
He just barely kept his face from tensing and looked up to see the enemy unit increasing their altitude. They were so full of fight they not only saw through the sneak attack but were even taking distance to overcome their numerical disadvantage.
Even a high-speed military transport ship boasting a cruising speed of thirty knots would be slow against opponents in flight. It would be very bad to allow them to remain hanging around.
And so, they had to approach their braced enemy.
“Apparently, General Habergram is unfamiliar with the battlefield. Didn’t he say that…ambushing them with two regiments would be plenty?”
Given how important this route is, did they go all out with their guard unit?
Are we being ordered to fight this Named unit with this few people?
This was nothing like what they’d been led to expect.
…He should have expected that the unit reporting directly to the Imperial Army General Staff would show up. Not that there was anything they could do about it now.
“That said…we can’t let them get away without a fight…”
The bitter memories trickled back.
He had learned from experience in their encounter on the Rhine front, so he was aware, whether he liked it or not, of how much trouble this imperial Named unit was.
They had spirit and skill, but they also had a habit of taking the initiative and doing what their opponents hated. Surely they all have devil tails.
“These are the warmongers who hunted the voluntary army from the Unified States. Stay on guard. Attack with all your might. This fight will take everything we’ve got. Get both regiments in the air. This boat isn’t about to sink from the firepower of a mage unit, so let’s get up there and attack!”
“Pirate 01, this is Anjou CP. An all-out interception is fine, but it’ll lower our guard against subs. Even just a battalion is fine, so please leave a reserve force as direct support for the Anjou.”
“Sorry, even giving you a single company will leave us hard up. I’ll leave a voluntary mage company, but consider any more than that impossible.”
“I heard it’s a Named, but are they really that tough?”
Drake sighed over the wireless as his response. To him, it was so obvious it didn’t need to be debated.
They’re our natural enemy, a serious threat.
To put it plainly, he loathed them so much, it made him want to whine in a pathetic, ungentlemanly way.
“If there is anyone I don’t want to encounter right now, it’s them.”
“I understand that you think highly of them, but they’ve flown a long way to get here, right?”
“Even if they have, and they’re terribly tired, facing that battalion will still be a struggle for us. It would be easier to clash with other imperial forces with numbers equal to ours.”
He meant every word of his grumbles. Marine mages were brave. Many of them were skilled veterans. That said, they had been worn down since the start of the war.
They were replenishing their losses with fresh soldiers and new recruits, so they weren’t in ideal condition to engage in combat. If that was their situation, regrettable though it may be, they had to consider the possibility of a breakthrough.
“Anjou CP, a word of warning. This might be the same imperial unit that attacked them before. Please keep an eye on the voluntary troops.”
“Roger, Pirate 01. Things’ll be much easier if you guys can clean them up properly.”
“We’ll do our best, but don’t expect too much.”
His quiet reply was his true feeling.
With neither vanity nor condescension, he was confident they were the best marine mages. It was a conviction regarding their pride and self-assurance, or perhaps their duty.
But he was fully aware that they weren’t guaranteed the glory of victory unconditionally—that’s not how things worked on the battlefield. He wasn’t a green newbie, unfamiliar with the fog of war. He’d seen many a defeat snatched from the jaws of victory, only a stone’s throw away.
Only God knew what would happen when their greatest enemy and their greatest ally clashed. Drake wasn’t arrogant enough to assume the winner. As a man in the same business, he understood the Imperial Army’s ability so well it made him sick. And against Named, he knew it would be an intense fight.
But that didn’t mean anything.
Pulling off a win while you were nervous was a fantasy.
“…That tough?”
“Yeah, that tough.”
If they put in every last desperate effort, would it work?
Well, maybe. So that was enough. If they could bet on the possibility, then they could carry on through power of will. All right, we’ve got to try it.
“Pirates, it’s time for war! And we’ve got them heavily outnumbered! They’ve come such a long way, so give them a nice welcome!”
As he shouted his command, warriors adapted to the sea air took off.
Though even a two-thousand gap in their altitude was painful, the enemy was already ascending to eight thousand.
Is that gap actually eight thousand?
Absurd.
If they ended up getting shot down in a one-sided attack from above, they’d end up a textbook-case laughingstock.
But we have no choice.
“Split into companies and eat into the enemy defensive fire! All units, this is a fight to punch through! Rush them!”
Each company commander encouraged his subordinates within earshot as they rose, weaving through the bullets, thermic beams, and explosion formulas that rained down.
One bad hit and they’d be shot down like that.
“Don’t flinch away! We’re a regiment! Our opponent’s a battalion!”
“Keep pushing till we’ve surrounded them! Show them how to fight a war, gentlemen!”
“We’re gonna show these landlubbers how we do things at sea! Let’s go!”
It was just a charge to overwhelm the enemy’s processing power with numbers. It was a confession of ineptitude, a stupid plan to crush the enemy under the corpses of his subordinates.
It was nothing short of a brute-force move, but he had no other choice.
“All right, you gentlemen sons of bitches! Follow me!”

THE SAME DAY, THE 203RD AERIAL MAGE BATTALION
We’re actually eight thousand above. No normal mage units would challenge us under those circumstances.
There shouldn’t be… Or so I wanted to believe.
But apparently, these Commonwealth jerks take sports, war, and nothing else too damn seriously.
Suppressing a tongue click, Tanya looks down at the Commonwealth mage companies each making their own approach. Even throwing firepower at them to keep them down, they haven’t lost any momentum.
I’d like to write them off as daredevils, but vexingly, their fighting spirit and skills don’t seem to be inversely proportioned. They’re coming at us with magnificent evasion, defense, and teamwork.
…If we really engage, their numbers will probably crush us.
“01 to all units! Prepare to withdraw!”
My abrupt decision is to avoid the encounter.
“01, if we withdraw now, they’re likely to pursue!”
“I know! My company will charge to cause confusion! The rest of the units I’m leaving to you, 02. Have them perform delaying combat and support the charge!”
My unit and I will distract the enemy with an attack on the RMS Queen of Anjou. I leave the rest of the battalion to Major Weiss and an evacuation operation.
“05 to 01. Please let my company do it.”
“Why not give your subordinates a chance to shine once in a while? I’m confident I or 05 could do it.”
A proposal from First Lieutenant Grantz and an encouraging rejoinder from Weiss.
Tanya suddenly wonders something and brings it up. “So how come you don’t include my adjutant?”
“Ha-ha-ha. Because we know it goes without saying.”
“All right… Hmm.”
She does think relatively highly of the others’ abilities. They may be a bit overly war crazy, but they do know when to quit.
…Who should I send as the distraction? She’s unsure until…she suddenly thinks…
“Then we’ll all go.” Her subordinates are about to acknowledge, but she beats them to the punch and says, “These are orders from your battalion commander. All units, split into companies and charge. I say again, split into companies and charge.”
When you think about it, if the enemy is coming up at us…we just have to obliterate them with impulsive force. Adding the speed of our fall to our charge, we’ll have the energy advantage over our climbing enemy.
“Dive! If the enemy is going to come up, we’ll beat them down!”
Just because the enemy wants to see if they can saturate our processing power doesn’t mean we have to go along with it. If they’re split up, it means they have holes.
I’m reluctant to leave things up to probability theory.
But even in a 2-D trench battle, you can keep casualties low by running around. In the 3-D sky, as long as there aren’t any proximity fuses…if all we’re trying to do is break through, it shouldn’t be impossible.
“Cut straight through! These guys are convinced the sky is small, so let’s show them how big it really is!”
The point isn’t a charge by an augmented battalion.
“Maybe they could stop an augmented battalion, but can they stop four augmented companies? Follow your commander’s judgment and crush them!”
Tanya howls fiercely in the salty air. It serves both to encourage herself and to announce a charge that will probably kill some percentage of her troops.
“All units, charge!”
An augmented battalion vs. two regiments. There’s no way to make up that numerical disparity. Normally, it would be suicidally bizarre for the Imperial Army to choose a charge under these circumstances.
Which was precisely why it was totally unexpected for Lieutenant Colonel Drake. He was so certain of his troops’ numerical superiority that he had been thinking what the best way to chase the enemy mages would be.
No, no one on the Commonwealth side anticipated this.
“…?! Disciplined fire! Stop them!”
He shouted, but he wasn’t fast enough. There was no time for interdiction fire. For the Commonwealth mages, this was a literal bolt from the blue.
“Don’t bunch up! Break!” “Don’t take it?!” “No, stop them! Don’t let them get the boat!” “Assume there’ll be damage!” “Tear through the confusion!” “We can’t help you if you drop out!” “Just look straight ahead!” “Jettison your gear!” “Move!” “Speed up!” “Slice through! Forward!”
Chaos, shrieking, shouting, screaming. But amid the tumult, the battle cries of each level’s commanders as they work to maintain discipline are reassuring. I’m glad to know that subordinates are doing their jobs.
“…No irregularities here. I guess we made it through?”
A little grin appears on Tanya’s face in spite of herself.
Making it through despite the mistaken intel they received brings her no small satisfaction. Things are simple on the battlefield: The one who makes the right decision first gets lucky.
And the Goddess of Victory has smiled on the Imperial Army, who took their enemy by surprise by charging from the heavens. It was a breakthrough battle where they employed their magic blades at close quarters to cut off the heads that seemed to belong to enemy commanders. They had pounced from above. The freedom to choose their prey belonged to the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion as they accelerated due to their fall velocity.
“We broke through the vanguard!”
“Company, break! Penetrate in squads! You can withdraw after each shot! It’s practically a harassment attack, but as long as it connects, that’s fine!”
This is all even the two climbing regiments amounted to, once taken by surprise.
Tanya smiles in satisfaction and savors the fruit of her determination. The enemy mages they’ve left behind are in utter turmoil.
True, the Commonwealth companies certainly have excellent commanders. But… Tanya chuckles to herself. Because they’re so excellent, they’re chasing two hares.
It can be said that the commanders of the few companies who are already turning to give chase are making an appropriate call in an unexpected situation.
Not letting us get to the object of their protection, the RMS Queen of Anjou, is correct. And their attitude, in an escort mission, of trying to defend even if they have to stick to us isn’t mistaken, either.
Likewise, the other fellows’ choice to try to occupy the sky is also valid. It’s a textbook handling of the situation and the very definition of an appropriate tactical decision. If they can secure the position above us, then the tables will be turned and they’ll be the ones one-sidedly firing down at the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion.
There’s just one problem.
They’re outstanding, but the quick decisions born of that eminent ability are their misfortune. In other words, they shouldn’t have chosen either of those.
“Use the Commonwealth mage units on our heels as a shield and close in on the ship!”
The ones giving chase are preventing the ones in the sky from shooting us. Several companies have been suddenly and effectively taken out of the game.
Without even fighting, the enemy force has been halved, if only momentarily.
Then, because of their superficial excellence, they make a mistake.
“Colonel! The enemy companies coming after us are splitting up! They’re trying to secure a line of fire!”
“That’s some armchair theorizing by someone who doesn’t know how hard it is to fire through your allies during high-speed maneuvers. Adjust your angle and avoid their line of fire!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Tanya barks and the battalion’s seasoned officers respond.
“This is so nostalgic. It reminds me of the Rhine front.”
“You said it, Lieutenant Serebryakov. You’re exactly right. It reminds me of the trench battles! All right, troops, time to play a game from back in the day: tag!”
With the enemy in pursuit, we strike our target. It was like how we used to do company-scale night raids in the trenches, where if the enemy reinforcements caught up to us, that was it.
Our target this time is the RMS Queen of Anjou sailing leisurely below us. The only thing between the battalion and the ship is a tiny defense unit.
Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff has a sudden thought: I think we can do this.
Mary Sue would probably never forget that moment.
It always came out of nowhere.
…Suddenly, the alarm signaling combat rang out on deck.
“Warning, enemy approaching! We’ve also succeeded in identifying their wavelength! It’s a Named unit!”
“What’s their status?!”
“It’s the one we confirmed on the Rhine front!”
“On the Rhine?! Those guys?”
Those guys.
That…
…The one who killed my father.
And my friends.
My… Our enemy.
Which is why I set off running. With my rifle and my orb tight in hand, I ran up on deck. My friends who came after me have the same thing on their minds.
Revenge.
Our anger, our friends’ anger, our families’ anger.
Above all, we don’t want to lose anything else. To protect, we have to fight. The power to do that, my weapons, are in my hands.
“All marine mages, prepare to intercept! Get up there!”
Believing that, I told the officer in command, Colonel Drake, “We’ll go, too!”
And having asked for a part to play, I was met with…a cold refusal.
“Sorry, Lieutenant Sue. You guys are on direct support for the RMS Queen of Anjou on the lookout for subs. Stick close here and don’t let them approach the ship!”
My brain can comprehend the Commonwealth commander’s firm words. We, the voluntary army…aren’t without our faults.
“But…” I tried to tell him how I felt, but there was no time. “…Colonel Drake, we can do it. Please let us avenge our friends.”
“This was our decision after considering our situation and your level of training. There’s no time to debate. I’m not accepting objections.”
So up they flew.
All we could do as we watched them go was hope they would win. While our friends, everyone, was fighting, we were left behind on the ship.
I know holding down the fort is an important duty.
…Still…
“…This is so frustrating. I didn’t know being unable to do anything was so hard.”
A teeny, tiny murmur.
What I, what we, the voluntary army, could do or not do didn’t matter. It was just an infuriating situation.
Looking up at the sky, I saw my friends fighting my enemy and shedding blood.
Please win.
Let everyone be safe.
With those as our only wishes, we stood there watching…and everything changed before our eyes.
“Emergency! The enemy broke through!”
“What?! Against that gap in fighting power?!”
Shock and confusion echoed over the wireless. But Mary and only Mary knew it, somewhere in her mind. Ahhh.
What did you expect? They’re like devils.
“Direct support unit, intercept immediately! Lieutenant Sue, you’re good to go up, right?!”
“Y-yes, sir!”
A chance, her enemy, came at her.
I have to defend.
I can’t let them take anything else.
Harboring determination in her breast, Mary inhaled slightly and glared up at the diving enemies.
This time we can do it.
We’re not letting you get away with this.
Considering how things are going, it’s not impossible to complete the mission to perfection. But after thinking things all the way through, Tanya concludes they should cut their losses.
She thought it was doable and was very nearly determined to do it. But what dampened her enthusiasm were the battalion’s losses. She doesn’t want to say the mission was pointless, but they are in the middle of nowhere…so having their human resources needlessly expended is the worst-case scenario.
“Somebody give him a shoulder to lean on! Get him upright!”
“Lieutenant Grantz, I’m fine…”
“I’d rather get a lecture from the colonel than be the kind of first lieutenant who leaves a man behind!”
The transmissions crisscrossing internally are shrieks and screams that indicate losses. The battalion is still maintaining discipline and functioning as an organization, but she can’t ignore the fact that they have casualties.
In other words, the troops are just barely holding out and not collapsing. Even my battalion of unrivaled strength is a collection of humans. I don’t want to make them bend over backward any more than necessary. If you could win a war based on mind-set alone, the megalomaniacs would be the strongest force in the world.
In other words, I need to reevaluate my hand.
We’ve taken repeated casualties. We just barely managed to break through and approach the ship, but…the enemy is starting to react. Shockingly, we’re already taking long-range fire.
These Commonwealth guys…they must have, surprisingly, resigned themselves to missing some shots, because they’ve begun pointing a nasty amount of long-range sniping formulas at us.
“Colonel?”
“Withdraw! We’re withdrawing!”
Even my vice commander who laughs over the wireless can’t be all right with sacrificing his subordinates. Even I don’t welcome human attrition.
“We’ll scatter the enemies up ahead as we pull out! Score one hit-and-run!”
Now, then. Tanya is determined to follow through on her original plan of one attack.
Intelligence’s request to take out the RMS Queen of Anjou’s engine is now virtually impossible. Putting in the effort to pull off a hit-and-run on their way, out of obligation, is the most they can do.
If we carry out our minimum duty, all that’s left is to RTB.
It’s time to cut our losses.
Only a fool would continue pouring resources into this hopeless project.
And we can act out of obligation to HQ and Intelligence for only so long. I won’t let them chip away at my finite and irreplaceable resource, the subordinates I trained, any longer.
“All units! If you’re hit, prioritize withdrawing! Everyone else, we’re gonna nail the ship once and get out of here! There’s no reason to hang around!”
“““Roger!”””
My troops acknowledge enthusiastically; morale is running high.
“An enemy mage company is rapidly approaching from up ahead! We should maintain combat distance and—”
“No need. Cut them down!”
Serebryakov’s thought as she shouts a warning isn’t bad, but Tanya cuts her off.
“Colonel?”
It’s only natural Serebryakov would question directions that go against theory, but Tanya assures her. “These enemies are late in coming. They’re under a different command. I’m guessing they’re second-stringers meant to detain us. Our priority is to punch through. Don’t use explosion formulas, since they could hit friendlies. Expect a brawl once we cut in. Mop them up with sniping and close-quarters combat—our intent is to trounce them!”
Right before engaging, Tanya instructs her troops to switch from explosion formulas to sniping formulas.
Then…perhaps they’re wary of area-of-effect attacks? The enemy company splits up in orderly textbook fashion, and the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion with its comparatively dense formation charges.
It’s as good as punching out scattered enemies with a hardened fist.
“Geez.”
She shrugs as they fight a simple battle to mow down the recklessly engaging enemy mages. These guys never learn. She chuckles to herself.
Then just as she draws her submachine gun to take out an enemy mage.
When she feels an extreme chill, she abruptly accelerates. The next moment, she gasps as she nearly gets burned by radiant heat.
A thermic beam?
She doesn’t even have time to shout, What the—?!
“This is for my father!” The enemy mage charges as if she wants to clash blades. Her eyes spell trouble—a mix of pure hostility and hatred.
I want to yell, What did I do?
In fact, Tanya actually does. “What did I do?!”
“D-d-don’t play games with me!”
There is no reason I should be accused of playing. I always take my job very seriously. I can proudly declare that to anyone.
I’m not the type to play games while fighting a war.
On the contrary. Tanya snaps, “I can’t even believe I’m fighting someone so ridiculous. We’re fighting a war, you know! Yet you have a personal grudge? Preposterous!”
“B-b-but you!”
On the furious enemy mage’s face is a hideous grimace. If she was smiling, she’d have a face like a flower, but she twists it up with hatred to project her hostility at me.
I don’t remember her face, but did we fight somewhere before?
Eh. Tanya stops thinking at that point and fires off three formulas to hold her at bay. Apparently, the enemy isn’t foolish enough to strike when it’s impossible. When she dodges, she’s calm enough to launch a few optical formulas as she takes some distance.
“Colonel, the enemy marine mages are on our tails. We should withdraw!”
“Roger. What’s the status of the enemy ship?”
“We’re strafing the deck. We should also have scored a few direct hits to the engine, but…”
“Just make sure we have a photographic record. It’ll be handy, I’m sure.”
My battalion briskly accomplishes all the tasks that need to be done—they’re wonderful. When I glance over at the ship, I see my valiant subordinates bombarding it with formulas.
But that acts as a trigger, and the enemy regiments head rapidly our way.
“Okay, any more than this is a waste of time. We’re pulling out! Withdraw!” As she’s about to yell, Let’s go! she just barely evades another attack.
The murderer who fired the optical sniping formula is the mage from before. Surprisingly, though she doesn’t exhibit much skill in building the formula, it has exceptional power and speed.
Apparently, she’s manifesting extra-fast by forcing more mana into it.
“You’re running away?!”
“Quit your yapping! We’re in a hurry.”
The energy for a long-distance flight, a battle, and now a withdrawal. All considered, I don’t have time to putz around with a persistent opponent.
“Colonel, hurry!”
“I know, Major! I’m coming!”
To restrain the enemy, I fire another three explosion formulas. It’s an attack that prioritizes the area of effect over power, so it’s obviously lacking in the latter.
The numbskull tailing me flutters away like a kite, but she’s still flying, which means I didn’t down her… She’s amazingly tenacious for a newbie. I guess you’d have to say she’s a survivor.
No, on top of that, her defensive shell was stronger than I expected… What a pain. Considering what could happen later, I’d really like to finish her off now.
“Tch! I guess it’ll take more than this to get away.”
I don’t need Weiss to tell me I don’t want to get chased around by a regiment of marine mages. I’m not into life-and-death tag. Even at times like this, I want the freedom to choose who I play with.
“…At this rate, it’s going to be a struggle to get back.”
We flew long-distance, then got exhausted in combat, and now we have to deal with creeps trying to follow us home?! This is the worst withdrawal leg I can think of.
I suppose I should laugh at how humiliating it is to fail to finish off a numbskull with skin only slightly thicker than a newbie’s… When it rains, it pours.
“Ngh?!”
Tanya twists her body to dodge a thermic beam—shocked.
She almost shouts, Again?! but it’s different this time.
It was a long-range optical sniping formula. I can’t believe those Commonwealth marine mage bastards can aim accurately from so far away!
When she looks up, she’s irritated to see that they’re beginning to regain discipline.
We’ll be no match for a one-sided rain of rapid fire from above. It would be target practice.
Sticking around here any longer will only be a waste of time.
Tanya accelerates to resume her withdrawal, ignoring the numbskull enemy mage dogging her. She zigzags in random evasive maneuvers and meets up with the rest of the battalion.
“05 to 01. Before we go, if I may?”
“What is it?”
“Partly to slow them down, I was thinking maybe we could use long-range formulas to set the deck of the ship on fire.”
Since they’re close together, the intra-unit signal comes through clearly. Hearing Grantz’s suggestion, Tanya smiles. Aha, not bad.
When you’re accelerating away, sniping most moving targets is impossible.
But a huge target like this ship is a different story.
They were sticking close to the RMS Queen of Anjou, but now that you mention it… To the escorts, this ship is precious. So we should give them the chance to protect what is precious to them. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.
“…Good idea! Long-range explosion formulas minus the crushing effect!”
We were ordered only to stop the ship. She’s the princess. Even these obnoxious pirate knights can’t very well abandon their princess.
“Put all your mana into the flames! Prepare to manifest! Fire in unison! They must be cold serving in the Northern Sea; let’s warm them up!”
“Understood! Leave it to us!”
Just as she’s about to shout, Here we go! Tanya senses an enemy rushing her headlong. She just won’t give up!
“W-wait!”
“I’m touched that you miss me, but…?”
I need to hurry. I can’t get caught up with this obstinate pseudo-stalker and lose my chance to withdraw.
“I don’t have a pacifier, so suck on this!”
The trick I conjure up is one of the Imperial Army’s lovingly crafted potato mashers.
Normally, they only explode an area ten meters across, but this one has a formula bullet embedded in its head.
With the formula absorbed and unbelievably condensed, Tanya casually tosses the grenade.
Yes, the object she lobbed her pursuer’s way looks like a normal hand grenade.
“How—”
—futile! The moment the idiot overestimates her protective film…
…the formula bullet activates at close quarters. On top of the explosion formula, the head of the grenade scatters.
“Agh…… Gah…!”
“Ha! That’s what you get!”
“One down! Brilliant!”
Just as Tanya is about to nod a yeah, she notices something. The mage had started to fall, but now she awkwardly stabilizes. Could that mean…
…she recovered?
“Mm, nope, one unconfirmed.”
“It looked like you got her.”
“She seemed to recover at the last second. If you’re unsure about an achievement, it’s best not to count it. It’s better to be happy with a lower score than be laughed at for padding.”
It’s hard to say for sure that I got her. And if she lands on the water, there’s a pile of enemy mages flying around, so rescue is likely.
Even if she fell into the frigid sea, the possibility of her survival is not low.
“Man, she was stubborn as a cockroach! And how is she so sure I killed her father? Does she just hate imperial soldiers so much that we all look the same?”
“Ha-ha-ha. It’s because—you know. Remember your appearance, Colonel.”
“But they say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”
I wish they wouldn’t stare at me like that, looking like they want to say something. I understand reality just fine.
“Yeah, I know, but that’s not what this is about.”
Besides, isn’t looking like a little girl my distinguishing characteristic?
The famous line about not judging a book by its cover only means that you shouldn’t speculate about what’s inside. Appearance is very useful data when it comes to identification.
I don’t like sticking out on the battlefield just for being small.
“I was sent away from the officers’ club for being too young to smoke and drink—I get it.”
“You’ll have to excuse me, Colonel, but that was hilarious.”
“It really was. While we were waiting for you to show up, I was seriously worried that Major Weiss was going to go bankrupt playing cards!”
Maybe they’re trying to dispel the heavy atmosphere? My vice commander clowns, and my adjutant laughs and laughs. I guess I have to go along with it.
“It makes me want to hurry up and grow—even though smoking and drinking are bad for you. I at least want to take back the freedom to ruin my health as I please.”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha! That’s a wonderful liberty, Colonel. As the deputy commander of this battalion, I guarantee that we have no shortage of maniacs who would risk their lives to rebel if that particular freedom was going to be taken away. I hope you’ll keep that in mind.”
The moment she’s convinced they’ve gotten enough distance for bullshit like this, it hits her.
…We’ve taken pretty heavy losses.
A mage unit is far from a big family.
A company is twelve. A battalion is thirty-six. And even the augmented 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion is only forty-eight.
You can tell just by looking how many are missing.
“I know, Major. Even I wouldn’t try to keep off-duty soldiers in check… I’m sure the ones off duty in Valhalla must be drinking like fishes.”
“…I bet they are.”
For better or worse, it’s a small world. To put it in extreme terms, we’re the size of a class at school or a little bigger.
“Tch…I guess more of us went down than I expected.”
That’s why before they even get back to base and she has them line up, she can see that familiar faces are missing.
“Yes, ma’am. Four dead, three unable to fly, three seriously injured.”
“What a horrible loss.”

OCTOBER 5, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, AFTERNOON, IMPERIAL ARMY BASE
“Colonel, the battalion’s return is complete. We’ve also sent the injured to the rear and made arrangements for the articles of the deceased.”
People who were fine this morning are gone by dinner.
Major Weiss makes his report in an even voice, and Tanya responds calmly, “…It really is a horrible loss.”
A full complement is forty-eight. We lost ten people. And not just ten people. They’re the kind you would never treat as disposable, because they’re difficult to replace—they’re elites. They were elites.
They were the cream of the aerial mage crop. Setting aside their coaching ability and basing it on their skills alone, my subordinates could be employed tomorrow as aggressors in the instructor unit, they’re so capable.
Objectively speaking, my subordinates have the most impressive combat experience in the Empire.
“We essentially lost a company. That’s enough to say we were partially destroyed.”
They may have escaped death, but the severely injured still had to be counted as out of commission. That means a company’s worth of our invaluable personnel has dropped out—a company’s worth of truly matchless elites.
Just the thought of reorganizing and replenishing our numbers has me at wit’s end.
Replace nearly a quarter of my highly trained unit with newbies?
It’s going to be hard to cooperate for a while, even if we try.
Julius Caesar hated replenishing units with new recruits and made whole new armies instead; he was right. No, I’m sure the nugget of historical knowledge that crossed my mind just now…was escapism.
“…Maybe I was arrogant. Maybe I thought…that if it was my—the battalion I trained, that if it was the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, that amid any enemies…”
“It’s not your fault, Colonel. We…took them too lightly, too. We thought if anyone could take them, we could…”
“No, Major Weiss.”
The one in charge exists to take responsibility. Of course, if it’s not my fault, then…I need to find the offending son of a bitch and make them pay.
But who believed the numbskulls in Intelligence? Pretty sure that was me.
Believing those freeloaders, in other words, was my mistake. It’s undeniable that I was provided faulty intel. But that’s only something to take into consideration. It’s not a reason to exempt me.
These putzes who flee responsibility are utterly contemptuous of the fundamental modern principle of trust…
I took action according to my own judgment. So ultimately, it’s my responsibility. I’d rather be deemed inept than a despicable degenerate.
“Laugh at me. Scoff. It was my mistake.”
“It was the army’s orders… It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was a mistake to try a hit-and-run with a unit that was worn out from a long-distance flight. We had been in the air for hours, and then in that exhausted state, we plunged into combat—numerically disadvantaged, at that. I’m sure any manual would tell us to avoid all that.”
I know I’ll be ridiculed as a classic fool.
“It’s not as if we accomplished nothing.”
“Major Weiss, it’s as good as nothing.”
“But we carried out the minimum requirements of the mission. We slowed them down! In the photos we took before we left, you can definitely see that we hit the engine.”
I’m grateful to have someone with common sense like Weiss being kind to me.
But though I appreciate how considerate he is…we need to look at things objectively not subjectively.
Did I hang in there? Did I try hard? Did I do my best? So what?
The actions themselves have no meaning.
Intentions don’t matter.
Good faith, ill will—you can save your subjective truths for the judge in court.
It’s the results.
Results: Without them…it’s all for nothing.
This is an issue between my good sense and how I should be. As a modern, rational, free individual, for me, it’s an issue of conscience, goodwill, and ego.
This is garbage. Steeping in self-satisfaction and then licking your wounds is proof of ineptitude.
“…And the report that our submarines did a marvelous job stopping the ship?”
The response to my query is silence.
In reply to my vice commander’s sorrowful speechlessness, I slowly ask the same question again. What I want to know is the result.
“Well, Major Weiss?”
“So…” He frowns, having difficulty answering. At this point, that’s plenty. I can imagine the results with unbearable ease.
Even interpreting them through wishful thinking, it’s going to be bad.
“Fine. Then Lieutenant Serebryakov, Lieutenant Grantz, I’ll ask you. Did you hear that we sank the ship?”
I ask just to be sure, but I’m met with their blunt silence.
They politely feign hearing issues and look away to escape the answer. There’s no way it’s good news.
“So that’s that, then. Our actions didn’t produce results.”
A half-baked attempt at consolation isn’t going to do anything. It’s so bad Tanya wishes she could be anywhere but here.
The truth is the truth. I have to accept it.
“I don’t want to…admit that it was all for nothing, but…” She speaks dispassionately—as dispassionately as she can. “Our unit has suffered serious casualties. And after all that, the results didn’t follow. The submarines didn’t sink the ship.”
These words are necessary in order to accept the truth.
I lost veterans of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. It wasn’t my preference to choose war nuts. But they were essential talent for executing my duty—for waging war. They were battle-crazed golden eggs who, after passing a thorough screening, experienced all of the Empire’s main lines and were forged in combat.
“I put so much into them, and now my brothers-in-arms are gone. They’re gone.”
They were veterans, the rarest breed during wartime.
And they, of all people…
After wearing themselves out on a lengthy flight, they were forced into combat with an enemy whose numbers far surpassed ours, and I lost nearly a company.
“I feel adrift. I keep thinking, If there’s anyone to do it with, it’s them, so…or If they’re on the job, then…”
This is a reliable group who knows their jobs inside and out, has been well trained, and above all, understands my intentions immediately. With part of that group ripped away from me, I can’t possibly stay composed.
Business is all about how efficiently you can use the number of personnel at your disposal. Any action that decreases your number of optimized, most useful people is…the worst. Whether it was deliberate or an error, it mustn’t be overlooked.
“I’m going to make those bastards in Intelligence and those bastards in our enemy countries pay for this.” At this moment, Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is furious. With her little fists clenched and her eyes burning with rage, she quietly voices her determination. “…My men died!”
She looks at the battlefield cross erected in the ruins and grieves.
Even though she ordered the battalion to leave them, no one could forsake the fallen, and they carried them back. She’ll have to send their personal effects and letters to the bereaved families.
“I have to write those letters…!”
She puts out her hand. And what she reaches for is the helmet set on top of the gun to form the battlefield cross. It’s warped, dented, and has a hole in it. There was no repairing a bullet wound to the head.
“Sorry, troops, I guess I’ve been going around in circles a bit. We need to get back to our mission.”
“Colonel?”
“May their souls be with us. My fellow soldiers, let us wish for the divine protection of the fatherland—but only after we’re gone.” She quietly hints at her grudge.
Tanya von Degurechaff doesn’t believe in gods.
As long as that multifarious monster Being X is allowed to go free, a holy being can’t possibly exist in this world.
To Tanya, that’s practically axiomatic.
Therefore, thinking logically, trust should be placed in people. Believe in the power of people, and if everything falls apart, then you can try throwing the problem at God or whomever.
If you get saved, great. If not, you would be right, so that’s better than the alternative. Either way, you lose nothing.
“Asking God for help just isn’t our style!”
“Exactly, Weiss.”
“So shall we sing an old song?”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Tanya smiles. “‘We Had a Comrade,’ troops. Your thick, tone-deaf voices will do, so let’s sing it for them.”
In hoarse, trembling voices, the soldiers sing a sorrowful song.
When she feels it’s time, Tanya wails along. “You went through a forest of swords and hails of bullets, comrades. Rest in peace. Forgive us, for we cannot hold your hands. You remain in our memories. Glory to you, comrades.”
Pistols drawn. Blanks fired into the sky. A three-volley salute. Then Tanya loads a single live bullet and aims it at the White Wings Grand Iron Cross.
Stupid sectionalism, everyone holding one another back.
What a damn pain it is to work with Intelligence!