NOVEMBER 4, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, ENTENTE ALLIANCE DEFENSE MINISTRY,
PERSONNEL OFFICE 2
-x-X-x-
A man in the Entente Alliance Army's type II dress uniform was receiving a new rank
insignia from his superior officer in the Army Personnel Division, who wore a smile
plastered over his face like a mask.
"You've been promoted. Congratulations, Colonel Anson Sue."
"If I'm getting promoted after suffering such a loss, our country must be at its end." He
didn't fly into a rage at the state of things, but neither did he bother to hide his
murmurings. He simply expressed his sentiment before he realized what he was
saying.
Normally, an officer of his rank shouldn't have talked like that. But the miserable
situation of the Entente Alliance created a peculiar atmosphere in which Sue's bitter
comments could be excused.
Their defeat was all too clear. The kind of fall that was guaranteed to come. Of course,
there was still some hope.
But in a room full of people who understood their circumstances and could see where
they were headed, optimism was in laughably short supply.
"Now then, here's your new insignia. We expect a lot out of you, Colonel."
And that was why the people who fully comprehended the gravity of the situation
were already exhausted. Their hearts were long spent from the intense rage they felt.
"The fatherland is in crisis. I have to hope you'll do your duty as best you can. That's
all. "
"There is no greater happiness than to be entrusted with the fatherland."
"Excellent."
They did nothing but exchange set phrases. Probably the only thing on Sue's mind as
he delivered his stirring lines in monotone, like a sutra, was simple contempt for
formalities. Since the leadership's choices have been so grievously bad, aren't the duties
we soldiers can actually fulfill rather limited?
It was for that reason that Sue was miserable. His only reaction to the impassioned
commotion caused by mobs of citizens frantic to save the nation was the extreme
fatigue on his face.
He saluted according to protocol and left the room with a gait that grew even heavier
when he saw the excited young volunteers, brimming with love for their country,
forming up before marching out. They're so innocent… Eager to go to battle, but what
can they even do when they finally arrive?
"How disappointing. What awful luck to have been born in a country that can only ask
its youths to die for it."
A patriot would cry. They were supposed to protect their fatherland; they should have
been proud of it. Instead, their nation had committed a grave mistake, and now it was
ushering young people down a path that promised death. Though he could have sworn
he was emotionally spent, he found tears blurring his vision.
"Colonel Sue?"
While trying his best to keep up appearances in response to concerned voices, in his
heart, with a hint of resignation, he made a vow. If I'm going to send them to their
deaths, then the least I can do is fulfill my duty as best I can, too. The commitment to
self-sacrifice stemmed from his sense of responsibility and fate as a leader.
If the youth are going to sacrifice themselves for the fatherland, then there at least has
to be someone to accompany them down that path, an adult who will fall beside them.
He was grimly determined. How could I let them die alone?
Even so, as the young men paraded proudly down the road, he couldn't stand the sight
of the anxious-looking women carrying children in the crowd of people bidding them
farewell. Thinking of those who were left behind, he prayed for salvation and nearly cried out. Anyone, anyone at all, please end this nightmare…
If there was a hope he could cling to, it was that the Republic or some other great
power would maybe, just maybe, show up in the nick of time to save them. Then the
Entente Alliance might have a chance to escape total collapse. But can it really? Having
thought that far, Sue sneered at the futility of clinging to a wish that couldn't even
convince him.
He knew they were well and truly cornered, with no way out.
They were supposed to protect their fatherland, but it was already ticking down its
final days little by little, like an hourglass. In the future lay inevitable ruin.
Facing downfall, he could only stand still, tormented by a sense of helplessness. His
resolve to share the fate of the fatherland was unwavering. Nonetheless, when he
thought of what hardships would befall the people when they lost their home country,
he could only shed tears of grief.
Wait. It must have been the workings of fate that made him realize something at that
moment: Just because a country was destroyed didn't mean its people had to be. If
they couldn't protect their homeland, they at least had to let its citizens escape. Even
after the state was broken, mountains and rivers would remain. Yes, countries fell, but
they were made up of people. Perhaps they would have a chance to rebuild their
broken home. If they saved the people who would become the seeds, they could dream
of a day when the field of the fatherland would bloom once more. It would be a difficult
journey. Times would be hard. But this wouldn't be the end. There was the hope of
rebirth.
A homeland is more than territory; as long as home existed in the hearts of its people,
this wasn't the end.
He had to help as many fellow citizens escape as possible. Surely that was the great
cause worthy of dedication for a soldier of a failing nation. No, it was the one and only
way of sacrificing oneself that a soldier who had sworn to protect the fatherland could
be proud of.
"Here it is. Yes, I found it!"
With a shout so full of hope and purpose you would never have thought the speaker
had been on the brink of despair just moments earlier, Colonel Sue made a vow. I'll never let anyone destroy thee, O Fatherland.
This country was his family's home. He was a father, even if he hadn't been around his
child much. Though he regretted that, and it was a bit late to start caring, he swore to
leave his wife and daughter a future. Though it was immodest, he wanted to be glad
he could use the military connections he hadn't paid much attention to until that
moment.
Meanwhile, the new Entente Alliance councilors, with traces of difficult-to-conceal
resignation and contrition in their gloomy expressions, groped for a way to flip the
hourglass back over as time slipped away.
Nobody had foreseen the start of open hostilities with the Empire. Everyone present
had been appalled upon hearing the news. "Why has the fatherland done something
so reckless?" When they came to grips with reality and left by the wayside ideologies
and the illusion that this was the way things should be, it was clear that the Empire
was going to pulverize the cheeky little contender snapping at it.
Though the gears of destruction had ground to a halt briefly due to the Republic's
surprise attack, the situation had definitely not improved for the Entente Alliance. On
the contrary, the Principality of Dacia, after their warrior's fanfare that sounded like
music to the councilors' ears, had been wiped off the map in the span of a few months.
The overwhelming military might of the Empire and the pathetic final days of the
upstart challenger… To anyone with a heart, this was a nightmare come to life for the
Entente Alliance.
In the midst of all that, the new councilors, despite their fear, were doing everything
they could think of to maintain the front and continue the resistance.
"Now then, I've got some good news for you, gentlemen. It's only a stopgap solution,
but we've begun coordinating with our allies."
As he read the announcement to the other nine councilors in the meeting room,
Foreign Affairs Councilor Abensoll was a little excited by the first good news in a long
while.
Diplomacy had fallen into chaos ever since the war started, but he finally received a
favorable reply. Ever since the Republic had entered the war, he had been going around
apologizing to all their allies and begging for assistance, and finally someone replied.
The Republic had stepped in, fearing the collapse of the Empire's encirclement
following the Entente Alliance's reckless move, but between the stalemated front and
a huge number of casualties, its attitude rapidly soured to the point that the Republic
barely even gave the Entente Alliance the time of day after Dacia got involved,
addressing them with openly cold contempt.
What the nation wanted to say was clear: "Your heedlessness is the cause of this
catastrophe." A Republican diplomat had made that remark to Abensoll under the
influence of alcohol, but those words said it all.
"That's fine, but all the Republic really hopes for is someone to lessen their burden on
the Rhine front, no?"
Because they knew exactly what the Republic was truly after, what should have been
good news instead left the ten councilors in a hollow mood with low expectations. At
most, the Republic hopes to take some of the heat off themselves by having us continue
fighting on a second front, they thought.
"Councilor Cazor, your apprehension is reasonable, but the Republic is worried about
a repeat of Dacia."
"You mean they're worried that if we fall, the Empire will turn its full energy on them?
I see. Well, isn't that a wretched thing to hear." Army Councilor Cazor shrugged,
seeming offended at being treated like a second Dacia, but his arguments weren't very
persuasive given how much he had hoped the Grand Duchy's entry in the war would
lessen the Entente Alliance's own burden.
"Councilor Abensoll, surely that isn't all?"
"No, excuse me. In addition to the Republic, it appears the Commonwealth will send
over some manner of assistance. At least, there is consensus among the great powers
that they would like to stop us from being completely annihilated."
Foreign Affairs Councilor Abensoll had trailed off, but at the urging of an older
councilor, he presented some good news about a sympathetic neutral power's foreign
policy.
The Entente Alliance would receive a helping hand from another nation, in addition to
the Republic, that wasn't happy with the prospect of the Empire expanding its
influence. The Commonwealth, known for its excellent naval forces, was concerned by the Empire's sudden expansion on the continent, so it had decided to take the first
step toward joining the battle. Its plan was to maintain the balance of power—not
much more than an excuse, but that was why they could be trusted from a realpolitik
standpoint.
"Ohh, the friendly Treaty of Londinium again? Though we're the ones who broke it…"
Despite thinking it was probably a good thing, there was no way anyone present could
be genuinely happy to accept the help. Any member of the Entente Alliance leadership
who was familiar with how the other powers felt about them, given that they had
broken the treaty, could understand that the Commonwealth had offered half as an
insult.
"So what are our options?"
"After analyzing the Dacian War, the Republic told us they worry our rear regions are
under-protected."
Unlike the Republic, forced into a head-on clash with the Empire, the Entente Alliance
was using its topography and climate to maintain its front. But in reality, what allowed
the Entente Alliance to just barely hold was that the Empire didn't consider it a serious
threat and was treating it as a side project.
"…I'm envious of countries that have power to spare. We've got nothing left." The
interior councilor commented on the disparity in national strength, which was truly
massive.
In fact, simply going at it with just one of the Empire's army groups required the
majority of the Entente Alliance's resources to maintain the troops on the front lines.
"For now, we have mage units stationed to fend off any attempts at incursions in the
rear. They should at least be able to handle most things before it becomes a serious
problem."
The Entente Alliance was on guard against surprise raids deep in their territory, but
so far nothing major had come up—one of the leadership's few comforts. The most
they expected was a gamble by an imperial cavalry brigade to destroy Entente Alliance
railways or an airborne operation by a handful of aerial mages. The Entente Alliance's
quick response division had been successful in repulsing everything that had come
before with their mages, so they were fairly confident they could fend off most invasion attempts.
"The Commonwealth says they're anxious about an imperial naval assault."
"A seaborne invasion? I don't mean to be master of the obvious, but couldn't we just
attack them once they make landfall?"
Foreign Affairs Councilor Abensoll himself was dubious, but the Commonwealth was
seriously concerned the Empire would try an amphibious assault, and its officers were
unanimous in voicing the warning. "I understand your country's situation, but your
coasts are wide open."
"If our main forces are all tied up, even a small amphibious landing force could prove
catastrophic."
Abensoll had no choice but to warn his colleagues with a measure of anxiety that if
invaders met no resistance when they made landfall, then it would open up the
Entente Alliance to a thrust from behind and bring their whole country down.
"Councilor Abensoll, the Republican Navy doesn't have the power to put a stop to that.
And might I remind you we only have two capital ships ourselves?"
But he still managed to feel hopeful.
"That's no problem. This is confidential, but the Commonwealth is already monitoring
the Empire's navy. The Republican fleet is apparently ready to deploy if need be."
Which means…
"Gentlemen, time is key. We need to buy time."
"We must ask the other powers to intervene. It's utterly shameful, but we have no
choice. In the meantime, let's do our best."
-x-X-x-
NOVEMBER 5, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, IMPERIAL CAPITAL GARRISON 14,
AUDITORIUM
-x-X-x-
"Battalion Commander!"
In the auditorium where all the unit members have already gathered, the commander
of Second Company, First Lieutenant Weiss, stands and salutes the battalion
commander as she enters. The troops follow suit, saluting and voicing their greetings
as Tanya gestures for everyone to be at ease. She takes the dais in the center and nods
in satisfaction after glancing around at her men.
"I think you've already heard, but the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion has been given
transfer orders. We're going to Norden."
Man, that's exactly what I don't want to do, but I don't let my opinion on this injustice
show on Tanya's face. Right now, it's all hidden with that particular tone officers use
to keep their emotions unreadable, but I sent a dozen complaints in writing to
Lieutenant Colonel von Lergen about how much the military has been overworking
Tanya. Rest and joint training for four months, plus two months of basic training to
improve the recruits' skills. The unit should have had six months of deferment. It was
no small shock to have the unit declared trained and ready for deployment after their
combat exercise in Dacia.
Running my gaze over the troops from the platform, I can understand how it was
possible to see them as a disciplined unit brimming with confidence. With their field
gear perfectly polished and their feet all lined up as if they were toeing a ruled edge,
they do seem elite.
But the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion isn't as ready as the General Staff might want to
believe. They have so many weak points remaining that it's enough to give Tanya a
headache as their commander. First, as exemplified by Lieutenant Weiss's misstep in
Dacia, most of them are still operating on an obsolete version of common sense, even
if only partially. Of course, it's true that after their baptism by fire, their understanding
had changed so dramatically it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it a Copernicanlevel revolution. It was almost like Paul's conversion—Tanya could practically bless
them and inform all that they were on the right path. But that's still nowhere near
good enough.
"Naturally, the General Staff expects us to bring to Norden the same skills and quick
thinking that we showed off in Dacia, so we need to be ready." On Tanya's face is a smile
of anticipation, but it feels so forced. Well, that makes sense. This unit has never been
through a tough fight. There are too many examples from history of game dogs who
only just learned the sweet taste of victory and turned into a pack of cowed mongrels
with a single loss. No one is weaker in the face of adversity than purebred elites, which
applies to Tanya as well.
"Gentlemen, be proud that you've finally been given a chance to overcome a trial of
fire and iron."
No army can win forever. Even the USA, despite boasting that it would bomb its enemy
back to the Stone Age, was long traumatized by the nightmare of guerrilla warfare. It
dispelled the trauma momentarily in the Gulf, but when it got overconfident, the result
was Iraq.
I recall that even the great Empire, one of the leading world powers, hasn't achieved
military strength on par with the USA's dominance. I really need to cultivate
subordinates who can withstand hardship.
Not only will I be branded as incompetent if I handle it poorly, it could literally mean
death for me. After all, once a bunch of numbskulls who've never lost a battle collapse,
they're extremely fragile. An army with a broken spirit is simply a mob. Even with
magic technology, it's not as if soldiers can be miraculously imbued with an iron will
to fight—although somewhere in my heart, I'm sure that's what a certain mad scientist
and his cohorts are trying to accomplish.
That said, at present, all I can do is manage as best I can with the cards I've been dealt.
My salary is looking better, and considering my raises on top of that, I need to work at
least as hard as I'm getting paid.
"Gentlemen, Dacia was nothing but a live-fire exercise. Now it's time for the real war
you've all been thirsting for."
The best part is probably that a whiff of war fever is coming off most of her handpicked
subordinates. Under normal circumstances, of course, there would be nothing good
about that at all, but the moment a unit has to go into battle, that trait becomes more
than welcome.
"Give your all for His Imperial Majesty the Emperor and your fatherland. Never forget
your duty."
""""Yes, ma'am!""""
Their magnificent reply satisfies her for now.
In terms of personnel management, it can be necessary to remind them that their duty
is commensurate with what they receive, but this time, given their reactions, there
doesn't seem to be any need. Of course, I can't let my guard down.
It's for the Empire that everyone seems so attached to and for myself. Yes, I'll have
them properly serve the apparently beautiful and respectable emperor as well as the
fatherland… Luckily, my subordinates are strong, so in a worst-case scenario, they can
be my shield, too.
It's too bad they're so obsessed with fighting, but for the most part, they're still
talented enough mages that I want to work with them.
"Good. Now we'll hear the notice from the General Staff. Lieutenant Weiss."
Of course, I'll have my deputy explain the details. After all, that's why the Empire and
every other country established a system with adjutants and vice commanders.
"Ma'am. As you've already heard from our commander, this unit will serve as a mobile
battalion."
According to the notice from the General Staff, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion will be
deployed in an entirely different way than being assigned to one of the army groups,
as would be standard. We are the first unit created specifically as a mobile battalion.
Naturally, it's safe to assume that there will be plenty of experimenting and that we'll
be expected to bring back a lot of informative reports. Due to our status as a unit the
General Staff can deploy without coordinating heavily with an army group first, we
won't be picked on much as long as we can live up to their expectations. In other
words, be an easy-to-use independent unit that promptly tackles any mission
entrusted to us and we'll have no problems. Yes, though it hasn't been explicitly stated,
we've been given de facto autonomy.
"To put it another way, we'll be constantly shuttling around via interior lines."
In other words, it's an even exchange of authority and responsibility. If there is ever a
problem on the front, we'll be sent over and expected to resolve it immediately. To
explain it simply, Tanya employs a simile.
"The General Staff's working us like a team of harnessed draft horses. Rejoice.
Apparently, they've prepared some carrots for us."
I don't know what the exact perks will be, but I predict the General Staff will do all they
can in terms of salary increases and chances for promotions. Whether it will be
enough for her men is another question.
"""Wa-ha-ha-ha-ha!"""
Well, laughing was probably all the troops could do. Who would happily go to war for
a perk or two? The officers and generals might see a modest raise, but the rank-andfile soldiers don't get much in terms of special rewards. It honestly isn't a very good
proposition considering they're putting their lives in danger. Of course, if a free market
system were in place, it would be up to each individual to decide whether it was worth
it.
In that sense, the conscription system is outrageous. The Empire drafts people like
Serebryakov who might be even slightly useful because the nation doesn't have the
resources to fully attend to its citizens' rights… Tanya herself had no other option than
to volunteer for the military for much the same reason.
I would prefer it if they switched to a system of voluntary military service as soon as
possible. Or let me resign this very instant. Of course, only if I can still collect on my
civil servant and commissioned officer pensions.
Tanya shakes her head slightly to clear out the extraneous thoughts, then gestures to
Weiss, who was looking at her questioningly. She indicates that there's nothing to
worry about and has him continue.
"Battalion! Attention!"
The way the room quiets down the moment he shouts is extremely satisfying. At least
they're disciplined enough to follow instructions properly. Then again, of course
soldiers should be able to do that much…
"Carrots or not, even horses aren't lucky enough to eat for free."
Lieutenant Weiss almost seems like he's lecturing the soldiers as he insinuates that
the unit is expected to produce results. Watching him talk to the troops is gratifying. I
adjust my evaluation of him upward in a mental grade book. My vice commander isn't
half-bad.
No one likes meaningless expenditure. A racehorse is expected to win; a farm horse,
to plow; a stud, to pass on his genes; and the workhorse earns its keep through pure
labor. If the vice commander can understand that and explain it to others, he's a
keeper.
"Of course, we need to prove that we're capable of handling a bit of work."
I've never particularly wanted to be a horse. And I wouldn't want to risk my human
dignity by thinking I'd want to be "cultivated." But if they're going to wedge the carrot
into my mouth, I'm not opposed to biting it—although it would be unfair if afterward
they said, See? We're supporting you, so get to it!
"We'll be assigned to a mixed group drawn from the Eastern Army Group and the
Southern Army Group, but we're going to be under Northern Command as a unit
dispatched from Central."
Political dignity as a concept is honestly ridiculous. Perhaps political decisions that
are considered without looking at the issues logically show its limitations. Then again,
the dictatorship of an emperor or nobles can be just as terrible. Even democratic forms
of government falling into the hands of mob rule may be due to latent defects within
the system. Humans truly are political animals.
It's possible that animals that have no honor are far more rational than any human. Of
course, this might just be a misunderstanding, since we haven't yet confirmed whether
animals understand the concept or not.
"The General Staff wants us to test new combat tactics in the north."
While listening to Lieutenant Weiss's explanation, the essence of the message echoes
in Tanya's mind.
This is a test. In any case, we belong to the General Staff, and no army group on the
front can order us around directly. Basically, we're a unit the General Staff can send on
missions without interference from the regional armies. I suppose all we can do is
reconcile ourselves to our duty and follow our orders to put on a show.
I feel like a circus monkey being forced to perform for other monkeys. You could call
it a species of abuse.
The only difference between me and the monkey is that there are countless protection
groups dedicated to preventing animal cruelty. There is no organization that would
shout That's abuse! when it comes to imperial soldiers. I'd like the people who cry
Animals are not your food!5 to spare a thought for us, too; people may be political
animals, but we're still animals.
I guess this is better than the pity of paternalists, though…
"…And so we've got to show them that we can work well enough in a group to go
picnicking."
We're stuck with orders to go up north to try some new stratagem for the General
Staff's Operations Division. This isn't really a mission that I want. It's the same as being
sent on a pointless business trip due to company hierarchy.
And talk about wasting time and resources. New tactics or whatever are generally just
novelties; they can't be trusted. And on the off chance there is an element that turns
out to be something we could implement, how much trial and error will we be forced
to do before it's usable? Tanya hasn't said much about it to anyone, but I can only think
that someone thought this up after noticing her service with Technology and the
instructor unit.
Anyway, putting that irritation on display won't get her anywhere. She nods
benevolently at Lieutenant Weiss, who was looking at her for permission.
"Today at 1800 hours6 we'll begin a long-range maneuver toward the supply depot.
Company commanders, after everyone is dismissed, we're having a meeting to decide
the flight plan."
While watching them trying to get down to business in the meeting, I decide to throw
out a few words—instructions, I guess. Soldiers love these kinds of formalized
interactions.
Let's just say that not only do I disapprove of this waste of time, I can't sincerely
appreciate this prioritizing mental intoxication. Of course, as a member of the
organization there's no good reason for me not to participate.
That's where Tanya endeavors to string together some sort of advice.
"Sorry to interrupt while you're enjoying your chat, but I have some quick news."
It was a truth that people at company commander–level should have already picked
up on. Though it was only an unspoken doubt at this point, if they knew it, their units
would have a different outlook. It wasn't a particularly confidential matter.
"The Great Army may have pulled out, but it's strange that the fighting in the north
hasn't settled down yet."
According to military standards, the Entente Alliance isn't considered a major world
power. The fact that it's able to qualitatively compete with the Empire, on any level,
implies that they're receiving aid from somewhere.
Needless to say, its ally the Republic has already given it a formidable helping hand, so
there is no doubt that the majority of the support is from there as well.
The real crux of the problem is whether those that claim neutrality are intervening. Of
course, these bystander countries deny any participation on a national scale, but they
are silent whenever the possible existence of voluntary armies comes up. The
participation of at least a few countries like the Federation and the Commonwealth is
certain.
To begin with, the Entente Alliance is dramatically less capable than the Empire when
it comes to the national strength that can be devoted toward total war; Entente
Alliance mages alone shouldn't be able to put up such stiff resistance. Its troops' ability
to fend off the Great Army while holding steady against the pressure of the regional
Imperial Army group speaks volumes to the amount of aid they must be receiving.
That's the reason why even Tanya's battalion is stuck going on a picnic despite the
Dacia situation not being quite settled yet.
"So there has to be something going on—in other words, someone is poking their nose
where it doesn't belong."
"Commander?!"
Lieutenant Weiss was on his way out of the room when he changed color. He must
have had some idea what she was saying. It annoys me, but he's right that there are
things that can be said aloud and some that can't. But considering the situation, it's better to have Tanya's subordinates in on this from the beginning.
"Lieutenant Weiss, this is just my guess. A personal take on things."
Well, for now, I'll stay quiet about the supposedly neutral Federation. I don't mean to
stir up unnecessary trouble. It could affect my career, and I wouldn't want to invite the
fatal misunderstanding that I can't be discreet. Still, the troops are relaxed from their
easy win in Dacia, so it feels like Tanya has to brace them for what's coming.
"Well, gentlemen, I just mean to say that I don't know if it's the Republic, the
Commonwealth, or some other nation, but someone is definitely interfering."
It really pisses me off that some other party is joining in. It's faithful enough to the
principle of raison d'e tat that it makes me sick—simply put, it's actually a very rational
decision. From the point of view of the other powers, it's a standard move to protect
their national interests. Surely the people of the Commonwealth and the Republic can
rest easy knowing they have heads of state who take security seriously. So compared
to the Commonwealth and the Republic, which conduct themselves as proper political
animals, the Entente Alliance, which starts a war on an impulse, is even more
irritating. What in the world is so fun about picking a fight with the Empire?
Are its leaders just addicted to war and love it soooo much that they can't help it? Well,
if that's the case, maybe that's why the Republic has to help out its game dog after
pitting it against the Empire.
Still, it's a surprise world-class players even pay attention to such a remote nation.
Usually territories short on resources and potential concessions don't even show up
as blips on the radar of powerful leaders.
"In other words, we're going on a nice hiking trip with the whole world watching."
It's significant that we're heading to a battlefield that has every nation's attention. The
General Staff are wagering the nation's dignity on a swift victory, so they must want a
win badly. We also have to bear in mind Supreme Command's desire for an outcome
that demonstrates the Empire's superiority as much as possible.
In any case, failure will not be tolerated in the slightest. We can probably expect some
sort of disciplinary reprisal if that happens. In order to avoid falling into ruin, we have
to be model imperial mages.
So despite my deep reluctance, to the battlefield I must merrily go. Otherwise it'll be
interpreted as lacking the will to fight. In reality, I have no love whatsoever for war, so
I have to do everything in my power not to be suspect.
"So? Great news, right?"
You guys get it, too, don't you? They seem to pick up on my look.
"This is the best. To think the General Staff would provide us with an opportunity to
shine so soon."
"I was just feeling like a skiing trip. What thoughtful orders!"
"I thought the General Staff only asked for the impossible. Are the orders really from
them?"
Luckily, everyone goes along. These guys have more tact than I expected.
They understand both respect for a superior officer and what is being asked of them.
Maybe I don't have to worry too much.
"Good. Well, that's where we're at, troops. We've been given the opportunity, so we're
off on a trip up north."
Am I pulling off the I can't wait for combat look? I manage to avoid spewing expletives
by smiling.
"You're excused."
-x-X-x-
NOVEMBER 6, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, NORTHERN DISTRICT, KRAGGANA DEPOT,
ADVANCE GUARD
-x-X-x-
For the Imperial Viper Battalion, the words the worst described everything about their
day. Certainly, there was no other way to explain the circumstances after they sortied.
The bulk of the Empire's proudest force, the Great Army, had been abruptly
redeployed, which caused massive confusion. By the time the Imperial Army's
Northern Command managed to get everything under control again, the Entente Alliance had taken the chance to recuperate and rebuilt their lines. As a result, the
imperial units that had been sent out to pursue and mop up the enemy had to be
reorganized, and the Northern Army Group's logistical network was overextended.
That meant opportunities for continuous Entente Alliance Army strikes on imperial
supply depots. Once the Northern Army Group had been forced to spread their
manpower thin to fend off the Entente Alliance commando attacks, the enemy aerial
mages would strike.
The Northern Army Group had already been hit with this tactic twice. They were just
barely managing to keep the front supplied, but they couldn't afford another major
disruption. The depot raids had to be stopped. That was the gist of the Viper
Battalion's mission to guard the supply lines.
The brass had made it sound simple, but for those actually tasked with the assignment,
it might as well have been impossible. Although the Entente Alliance's total mage
strength was less in absolute terms, it had total freedom in deciding when and where
to attack. Meanwhile, the Viper Battalion had to allot troops to multiple points and
communication lines because they were committed to defense.
It was a huge bother that the enemy had made remarkable qualitative improvements.
Most of the remaining Entente Alliance mages in this commando unit had been in
service since the war started. Furthermore, these tenacious soldiers had been
equipped with the latest model of orbs that, though officially unmarked, were actually
supplied by interested world powers such as the Republic, the Commonwealth, the
Unified States, and the Federation. With this, the quality of their gear and combat
capabilities rose dramatically. The Entente Alliance mage commando unit had
transformed into a threat even imperial mages couldn't take lightly.
On top of all that, the fact that imperial forces couldn't let their guard down against
even new units on the front made it difficult for imperial commanders to station
troops. Sometimes the Entente Alliance sent in fresh soldiers. If they were new mages
rushed through training, they could be immediately slaughtered, but sometimes there
were "voluntary mages" of unknown nationality mixed in; it was hard to know how to
deal with those.
"Fucking hell. Entente Alliance mages again?!"
As a result, despite outnumbering their opponents on paper, the imperial mage units on the defensive were suffering from local numerical inferiority.
The Viper Battalion's skill was fairly standard for an Imperial Army unit. Compared to
others in the district, they were veterans with a good amount of combat experience,
and as usual in the Imperial Army, they were well trained. There was no reason not to
label them as a first-rate combat unit.
So the fact that they were outnumbered by a fearsomely powerful enemy unit could
only mean the situation was terrible.
"This is sooner than we thought! Why did Intel say we had nothing to worry about?!"
Information regarding the skill level and equipment possessed by the average Entente
Alliance mage had been passed on to Viper Battalion so they were ready for the
qualitative improvements, the disciplined fire, and other tactical measures their
opponents had taken that made them a greater threat than before. But despite the
force's upgrades, according to their data, the imperial mages should still have been
superior on an individual level.
That's why they were confident they could defend to some extent, even if they were
outnumbered. They figured with Airspace Control holding the sky they could
overwhelm the enemy with their individual abilities; a little numerical disadvantage
wouldn't beat them.
So they wanted to curse Intelligence as the ones responsible for the phoned-in report.
They could explain it away as the fog of war, but the ones who suffer are always the
troops on the front lines. When everything was predicated on different information, it
made them want to be mean.
"—Commander!"
He blossomed red upon shielding a subordinate who had carelessly maneuvered into
the enemy line of fire.
Luckily, his flight was only momentarily disrupted, and he soared across the sky in an
evasive maneuver; he must have managed not to black out. There was no immediate
threat to his life, but as far as the soldier could tell, it was a serious wound.
As his buddies covered for him, maintaining coordination, what crossed their minds
was the notion that output strong enough to penetrate an imperial mage's defensive shell didn't come from standard Entente Alliance equipment. In spite of their grim
suspicions, they cast formulas one after the other. Even when the Entente Alliance
unexpectedly made it a three-way fight, the mages of the Viper Battalion were fulfilling
their duty thoroughly.
"…I messed up. Sorry, 02, the rest is up to you."
"Understood, Commander! 07 and 13, you two have reached your limits. Fall back with
him!"
02 had taken command, so he quickly shifted mental gears. Their commander
wouldn't be able to continue fighting, but he needed an escort to retreat, so the only
option was to assign soldiers who were exhausted or heavily injured to go with him.
They hadn't expected this to be such a tough fight, but the enemy was also wearing
down. All we have to do is defend, he encouraged himself, but it pained him that their
battalion was down to half its original strength. A company's worth of mages had
already retreated. Another half a company's worth had been shot down and were still
lying on the ground below. Down to half strength, and their enemy was still raiding
their supply depots, though the fight should have been wearing them down, too. Their
determination was extraordinary.
"CP,7 do you read me? This is 01. Command of the Viper Battalion has changed hands."
"CP, roger. Viper 02, do you read me?"
Of course, there was tension in the CP radio operator's voice. The company they'd sent
ahead was already combat ineffective. Almost all their anti–air gunners who were
supposed to be a powerful deterrent against mages had already been evaded. Behind
those, the only defense the supply depot had was the temporary anti–air gun
emplacements established to provide direct support fire. Maybe they could do a little
intercepting, but there was no way they could handle a large-scale assault.
"No problem. This is Viper 02. The commander has been seriously wounded, so I'm
taking over."
Agh, what should I do? I want to take my time to think of a way to handle this. If God
exists, he's a real asshole.
"CP, roger… Got some bad news for you. The surface observer squad spotted two
company-sized groups approaching from the northeast. Seems like they're definitely headed your way."
"Reinforcements? How the hell do they have any left?" Viper 02 took off his receiver
and screamed. They're chipping away at my friends in this bloody battle, but we've
downed way more than a company's worth of these bastards. And yet, two more
companies were closing in on them. A little math was all it took to see that the Entente
Alliance was pitting a regiment's worth of mages against a single supply depot. Why?
This is a bigger problem than our intelligence agency being incompetent. The Entente
Alliance obviously has way more troops than we thought.
"Viper 02 to CP. If I may share my thoughts on the matter…"
We won't be able to continue interception missions like this. Our only choice is to use the
supply depot we're supposed to protect as a shield, even if it sustains some damage, and
commit to a defensive battle. If we take any more casualties, our unit will be wiped out,
and the supply depot will be overrun. Having made his decision, 02 had to tell CP.
"This is an emergency. Please make handling this top priority. The battalion has
sustained serious casualties. I don't think we can take much more. Requesting
immediate permission to retreat. I want to take us back to the depot."
Even the exhausted Viper Battalion could fight their hardest in a tough battle if they
joined up with the depot's defenses and the mages who had retreated. It would
increase the likelihood of the depot getting damaged, but there was no other way to
intercept at this point.
If the battalion fought with only the remaining mages, they would just be picked off
one by one. It would be better to at least join up with the remnants of the units that
could still fight and get support. They might get cut, but they would be able to put up
a better resistance that way than with broken bones.
"CP, roger. I hear what you're saying. I'll consider it with high command. Wait five
minutes."
Under normal circumstances, five minutes would be wonderfully efficient. It was
proof that the bureaucratic CP understood the gravity of the situation. But even if he
should have been happy for the prompt assistance, as someone on the front lines, he
had to think, Five whole minutes?
Three hundred seconds. How many times would they have to evade and counter while
waiting them out?
"Please respond as fast as you can. The vanguard is already beat up!"
In a brawl like this, the vanguard always had to face the enemy the longest. They were
already so worn down they could barely fend for themselves as individuals, much less
perform as a unit. Even if they set up for a protracted defense, they wouldn't last long.
Just staying in the air was a huge burden for them now. Only someone who had
experience knew how hard it was to dodge formulas. Anyhow, they had no choice but
to hold out until they got permission to retreat.
…That was the right mind-set, but it wouldn't be that easy.
"Lieutenant, multiple aircraft at two o'clock—bombers," came the half-screamed
report from his subordinate on guard. Agh, the worst guys show up at the worst times.
Mechanical birds that were comfortable flying at high altitudes and could carry a huge
amount of explosives a human could never manage. They had almost never been
spotted on the northern front: bombers.
"H-how high?!"
"They're at 9,500."
His question contained a sliver of hope, but the response was cruel. It sent a chill up
his spine.
Nine thousand five hundred feet. That was too high for a mage but low for a bomber.
At that altitude, they could also bomb targets to some extent.
Naturally, they had sturdy armor. And a bomber unit under pursuit from mages could
shake them off with no trouble by leisurely climbing to a higher altitude. Between the
huge altitude gap and their armor, intercepting bombers was too hard a mission for
mages. That was why the aerial units that specialized in interception always fought
the air supremacy battles.
But with a mere mage battalion, they didn't know what to do. Intercept the bombers
while fighting two battalions? That was the definition of an impossible order.
"Viper 02 to CP! It's urgent!"
"This is CP. Viper Battalion, what is—?"
"We've spotted multiple bombers! Altitude is just an eyeball estimate, but they're at
9,500 feet! Intercepting is impossible. Deploy all the marshaled troops immediately."
What the heck? CP was taking too long asking the question, and he furiously
interrupted.
Bombers don't have great mobility, but they are fast. If fighters go around 250, then
bombers go 200 to 210. Mages usually go around 230. If they really worked, they could
tolerate 250, but at that point they could only really fly in a straight line.
The enemy was going for a one-two punch of bombs and mages. The methods to deal
with that were certainly limited. This enemy was awfully crafty and capable.
"Bombers? Tell me how many and what direction."
"Two o'clock from our perspective. About twenty."
It was only twenty planes, but getting bombed in this state would entail more than a
little damage. It would be a disaster if they lost the winter fuel stockpile. The troops
on the front would have a cold time.
Surely their opponent knew that. That's why they'd brought out not only mages but
bombers as well. This was what it meant for worse to come to worst.
"CP, roger. Can you intercept them?"
He suppressed the urge to shout, How?! "They're too high, and we still haven't
eliminated the enemy mages. We can't really use long-range sniping formulas right
now."
Basically, It's obviously impossible. It would be difficult even under normal
circumstances to eliminate bombers with a 3,500-foot gap in altitudes. If they were
operating fully manned and employed disciplined fire, maybe, but that was about as
much of a chance as they had. Intercepting them while dogfighting enemy mages was
unfeasible.
"…We definitely want to avoid Kraggana Depot getting bombed."
"We can't put up a fight if we're all dead."
CP seems to want to rely on us, but the impossible is impossible. There are things that
can and can't be done, and we are doing our absolute utmost. The voice of the Viper
Battalion leader couldn't help but become sarcastic and even a bit resigned as he
replied with pride. It seemed like no matter what they did, they would be wiped out.
So are they going to tell us to brace for annihilation and resist? My interest is purely
sarcastic, but boy, even I'm getting pretty philosophical. Maybe I should get ready to die.
It happened just as he thought that.
"Roger… What? Really?"
A whisper, then a shout. Then a flurry of voices. Something was happening at the
command post.
"CP? What's going on, CP?"
"CP to Viper Battalion. Fall back immediately."
The awaited retreat orders came down in a tone that brooked no argument, but he
never imagined they'd get them like this. What the hell happened?
"We have permission to retreat? I appreciate it, but is everything all right?"
"Rejoice—you have reinforcements. A battalion is rushing over from Sector B-3. Once
you join up with them, you'll be under their command."
Reinforcements? What woodwork did they suddenly come out of this late in the game? If
we had reserves, why did we end up in this struggle?
"Reinforcements? That's news to me. If we had extra troops, what were we waiting
for?"
"They were dispatched from Central. Call sign Pixie."
The operator ignored his attitude and simply conveyed the information. If it was a unit
from the central forces, they must be getting caught up in the fighting as soon as they
arrived. It was likely they had shown up ahead of schedule and Command thought, Great! before throwing them right in.
"And you should be happy. Their commander is Named."
He forgot his grudge in spite of himself and nearly whistled in amazement.
Wonderful. That's absolutely fantastic. A battalion of reinforcements and a Named. It's
like the harvest festival and Christmas both arrived at once, and we got this terrific
present. If I could, I'd open a bottle of champagne and welcome them with a toast.
"Viper 02, roger. Those are some fancy reinforcements."
If we're getting that kind of quality backup, then…yes, I see why we were granted
permission to retreat. I want to shout hooray, but I do wish they could have come a little
sooner.
At that last thought, he realized humans rescued from hopeless situations tend to
expect an awful lot, and he winced. Well, he knew it was completely unreasonable, but
he still had the nerve to think that if the reinforcements had come earlier, his battalion
wouldn't have had to suffer so much.
Add some fighters, and it'll be perfect. There probably wouldn't be many, but he was
sure they would scramble some to intercept before too long. His mouth naturally
relaxed into a grin at the prospect. It was such a load off to know that the enemy would
be crushed one way or another.
"When will the fighters be taking off?"
"…They were judged to be unnecessary."
The unexpected response stunned him.
Fighters? Unnecessary?
"Huh?" He wanted to ask what the radio operator was talking about.
"Don't worry about it. Just hurry and meet up with your reinforcements."
"…Roger."
-x-X-x-
AT THE SAME TIME, NORTHERN ARMY GROUP HQ
-x-X-x-
The staff at Northern Army Group Headquarters were staring at the map of the war at
a loss, and that was when they got news they didn't really want to hear. The deputy
director of Operations in the central General Staff had gone out of his way to come and
deliver the notice in person. It might have been central interference, but the wording
was simple: "We've dispatched reinforcements. Don't touch them."
"The damned General Staff. Why do they think they can go around meddling in
frontline business?"
The complaints of the high-ranking officers of the northern forces that it was insulting
were unsurprising. After all, they finally thought they were getting support from
Central, but the moment they had managed to accommodate the hastily deployed
Great Army, most of it was transferred abruptly to the western front, and they were
left in disarray. It was only human nature that anyone stuck enduring unnecessary
hardships in that chaos would want to give Central a piece or two of their mind.
According to the report from the observation post, a battalion-sized group of aerial
mages was indeed rapidly approaching.
Aha, well that certainly is a nice batch of reinforcements. Seeing as they were sent
immediately after we requested them, they're apparently serious about being a response
team. But Central giving us reinforcements and then telling us not to touch them is
overstepping their bounds.
"Well, maybe they gave us really elite troops?"
Even so, from another perspective, this is an opportunity for the Central Army to pay us
back. It pulled out the Great Army before the battle was completely decided. Those guys
are proud—they won't come bowing in apology. Although he wouldn't go as far as to
accuse them of taking advantage of Northern Command's current issues, they were
probably thinking to cancel out the debt.
"Are they trying to make us feel indebted to them…?"
"But 'Don't touch them'? That takes some nerve."
Yeah, I can't believe they said that. And if they were trying to make us feel indebted…the
northern supply depots are in trouble! Do they realize that the already poor logistics
framework for the Northern Army Group could completely collapse?
"They're talking pretty big considering the northern supply lines are in crisis. I wish I
were that confident." You could even call that warning arrogant. He made his spiteful
remarks without thinking, but from someone in the thick of it, it was the natural
response. Then came even more dumbfounding news.
"We just got a telegram from the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. 'This is the Pixie
Battalion.' Uhh…"
A telegram from an incoming battalion of reinforcements? Normally, they would
report their call sign, and that would be all, but for some reason the radio operator
was hesitating.
"It's fine—read it."
A suspicious staff officer urged him on, and he finally continued.
"It says, 'We don't require assistance. Have the Viper Battalion retreat immediately.'"
"We don't require assistance"? The Viper Battalion has been intercepting up until now,
but they want it to fall back? This went past impressively confident to overly confident.
There were two mage battalions and bombers out there reinforcing the enemy side. It
definitely didn't seem like an attacking battalion fresh off a forced march could handle
it on their own.
They were supposed to put their units under a commander who didn't understand
that? That was simply out of the question.
"…We can scramble fighters to intercept at any time, right?"
"Every hangar is on standby. One word and we can send them out."
A few staff officers began quickly developing their own interception plans. Even if the
time they had to climb was limited, fighters scrambled from the surface should be able
to contain the bombers.
Originally, they were outnumbered and needed a way to deal with the mages, so they
were grateful for reinforcements, but…perhaps it would be smart to stop the bombers
on their own?
"Shouldn't we use them? This situation is plain bad."
"Well, it's an order, though. Doing anything more would be…" He swallowed the words
acting without permission, but they embodied the worried staff officer's fears.
Staff members' authority did not extend to acting without orders. Their job was to
plan operations, not make decisions. That was one of the hard things about being a
staffer. What freed them from that agony was ironically the source of their current
headache, the Pixies.
"The control unit got a read on the Pixies. Forty-eight signals. Speed 250, altitude…"
The control unit on watch detected the incoming Pixie Battalion.
The reported speed of 250 kilometers per hour was virtually the maximum. If they
could fly that fast and still maintain formation, it indicated they were highly trained.
"That's awfully fast. Hmm? What about the altitude?"
The staff officers were starting to feel like maybe they could count on this backup and
asked for the altitude data.
"They're at…7,500? No…they're still climbing."
"What?"
"Are you sure? They aren't fighter planes, you know."
Lessons learned in combat made six thousand feet the commonsense limit. Maybe the
data said the record was eight thousand, but it was hard to trust that until they saw it
in an actual battle.
The theoretical values the engineers talked about and the values a frontline unit could
achieve were of completely different importance. The members of the class known as
soldiers were always suspicious of new frameworks, weapons, and technology. It was
healthy skepticism given their lives depended on whether the things were usable or
not.
And that was why, in one sense, they had no choice but to be humbled by what they
were witnessing now. That was the weight of proof in combat.
"No mistakes. The Pixie Battalion is currently at eight thousand feet!"
"They're accelerating! Three hundred?!"
Just as unbelievable was the jump in speed.
A unit flying in formation toward combat on the front lines was at virtually the same
speed and altitude that the tech tests had achieved. If the data was real, it would
indicate skills on a whole new level.
Is it true? If it was, this battalion's performance was in such a realm of its own that it
would render all the existing units obsolete.
"Are those control unit readings accurate?"
"I don't see any other abnormalities… Everything's operating normally."
The same unbelieving expression rose to all the staff officers' faces.
"It seems the central General Staff has a deviation as their trump card."
"Seriously. Deviation is right."
The only thing they could say was that they were glad this battalion was on their side.
-x-X-x-
COMMONWEALTH VOLUNTARY ARMY FRONTLINE COMMAND
-x-X-x-
"It's Named! It's a Named who was spotted in the west! We've got an individual
match—it's the Devil of the Rhine!" the observer cried out in surprise, and the entire
HQ focused on him for a moment. The Named they weren't even sure existed had
appeared.
The one who flew casually through the death zone.
The one who single-handedly slaughtered a company.
The one could use interference formulas so powerful they distort space.
When their contact in the Republican Army had given them the intelligence, they'd
laughed it off thinking it was too early for April Fool's, plus he'd been drinking.
It was true the Empire had superior technology and tactics, but they'd thought this
was beyond impossible. Their analysts had said she was a sort of battlefield legend.
Though they respected the Republicans and wanted to avoid outright denying the
claim, they figured she was at most a phantom generated by the chaos of the
battlefield. The gossipy officers had whispered that sort of thing, questioning whether
this Named even existed.
But now if their own observer was detecting her in real time, they needed to
reevaluate the data they had tried to forget like a bad joke over a nice cup of tea.
"She's real? I thought the Republicans were just daydreaming."
Misunderstandings weren't uncommon. If you took every confused soldier's report at
face value, you'd join the ranks of the insane from the paranoia. Thus, the
Commonwealth officers who had realistically deemed her either a false report or, at
worst, some kind of mass hallucination had to leap for their machines.
Some jumped for receivers to wake up the analyst squad. Others promptly notified
high command.
"We've identified the signature. There's no mistake. She's heading this way."
Then multiple observers succeeded in identifying her. They had input the pattern half
wondering if it was even real, but now they had a match. An individual might
misreport, but the conclusion reached by multiple precise observations made by
several observers wasn't likely to be wrong. At this point, they had to acknowledge
that she was real.
"The enemy reinforcements are a battalion-sized group. We have no record of this
unit."
Add to that the signal of a group containing numerous unknown signals. Judging from
the scale, it had to be a battalion—maybe even an augmented battalion. If the mana
inclination didn't resemble any existing records, that meant the Empire had deployed
new mages.
The fact that there was almost no overlap with the Republic's library from the Rhine
front had to indicate that the Empire had as many reserves as ever. Apparently, despite
the muddle, they could still produce a new unit led by a Named.
"…I'm surprised they're sending out a new unit when they already have so much
pressure on the Entente Alliance."
"You think it's the unit from Dacia? Most of the fighting is over there, so they could
probably afford to transfer them."
Aha. He didn't know who, but someone had said the Dacians couldn't even stand up to
Boy Scouts, so certainly an Imperial Army Named would have no trouble blowing
them away. And it made sense to think that if they were free, they would be sent to
take care of the impudent Entente Alliance command team and its rampage.
"We'll take data. You got the recorders running?"
"If it's true, he's a monster who can take out a whole company on his own. Don't miss
a thing."
The intelligence officer may have been chatting, but he was staring at the data the
whole time. This unit had a mana inclination he'd never seen before. And more than
anything, he couldn't ignore the actual existence of the rumored Named from the
unconfirmed reports in the west. If they had so little info on a battalion led by a
monster of that caliber, it had to be a failure of their espionage in the Empire. So he
realized, even if he didn't want to, how important objective observation of this new
enemy was.
"Picking up any transmissions?"
"It's no good. They're using an unknown code and protocol. At least, it's not in the
library."
That was the answer he had expected. Even if they couldn't decipher them, by
intercepting and recording wavelengths, they would be able to grasp enemy unit
hierarchy and movement.
But if all the records they had didn't contain this code or protocol, who was this new
enemy? He was keenly disappointed that Dacia had fallen so quickly. They had gone
so fast it was no wonder they weren't able to get any data out of the conflict, but he still wished for the impossible.
"Commander, it's nearly certain they're a new unit with the Empire. There are almost
no similarities with existing records of the Northern and Western Army Groups."
"All right. Well, gosh, I'd really like to send up a control unit."
Everyone grinned. Even deployed in the frozen north, they hadn't lost their sacred
sense of black humor. All of them understood. They didn't need to be told that they
were under too much pressure in this war. It was evident that the Commonwealth was
wrestling with political restraints at home, which limited its military in ways
individual soldiers could do nothing about. God and the devil seemed to be involved
somehow, so after a round of curses for each, the officers on-site reluctantly accepted
their circumstances, resigning themselves to their fate.
"Yeah, we can't send a plane in."
"Right… We should probably be more worried about whether we'll be able to
withdraw with our gear in one piece."
Pressure on the Entente Alliance Army was gradually increasing. They weren't
completely falling apart yet, but that was just it—the only way to describe the current
situation was not fallen apart yet.
The calmer third-party observer could see that the Empire, without even making this
front its main focus, was driving the Entente Alliance to collapse. The Entente Alliance
was like a bedridden patient with a serious illness, just barely hanging on. If the
situation changed even slightly, it would have a seizure and breathe its last.
"Ngh. Well, for now, alert the front lines."
"Roger."
But the CP officers consciously cleared those thoughts from their minds and focused
on the tasks before them, shouting instructions into receivers.
Determining the enemy's status was a task that involved many difficult elements, but
at least the team on the scene was a group of intelligence-gathering veterans. They
had been sent out with an eye on future fighting with the Empire.
Since the Commonwealth hoped they would gain all sorts of experience and learn a
lot in combat, from a national defense standpoint, it was very considerate toward its
personnel and had outfitted them well.
"But I'm surprised. Who'd have thought a battalion could come flying over at three
hundred kilometers per hour?"
"That's far from what you'd expect. Maybe the apparatus needs tuning after all?"
So these men chosen from across the Commonwealth's armies were expected to learn
from the Imperial Army and master their tactics. But even these most promising
soldiers hadn't had much combat experience, and on top of that, the assumptions that
had been pounded into them were all prewar doctrine. The reality of the battlefield
was far removed from the experiences and techniques they had accumulated during
peacetime.
Thus, if they didn't learn a thing or two before their country was enveloped in war,
they would pay for it with their own flesh and blood.
Most of the staff officers had thought this Named couldn't exist, but she did. In other
words, she wasn't an illusion of the battlefield but a real nightmare. It was no laughing
matter, but the predictions made far from the actual fighting had already missed their
mark.
Ironically, the fruit of the Commonwealth's diplomatic victories was a vexing dearth
of combat experience. Only specialists can do the analysis necessary to distinguish
subtle changes in the war situation. Their failure to read the situation was irritating.
In intelligence work, there wasn't anyone who could teach that essential sense—you
had to develop it through your own experience. Of course, there were no specialist
textbooks, and even if there were, they wouldn't be of much use.
"…We should probably be ready for about half of what we heard."
For that reason, most of the officers dispatched were chosen so that they would gain
experience. Of course, most of them weren't told they had been selected for purely
educational purposes, but the ones who couldn't figure it out were forcibly sent home
as wastes of time and resources. That being the case, the remainder went about
performing well-focused, objective analysis.
It was precisely for that reason, due to their quick sagacity, that they sensed they were
facing a crisis. Even if all the stories had been exaggerated, this was an imperial
Named. And the reinforcements consisted of a battalion—very likely an augmented
battalion. Even taking the simplest view, it was a battalion-scale attack. There was no
cause for optimism.
"So what if that Named can blow up a whole company instantaneously? There's no
way the bastard can take two battalions, right?"
Still, a wishful hope existed somewhere in their minds. Let's just say, hypothetically,
that there was a Named who could fight against a company. Even so, numbers can
overwhelm strength—so they still had a chance. If she had been alone, she probably
wouldn't have been such a problem.
"But we can't ignore the battalion. They must be highly trained if they're coming in
that fast."
"Meanwhile, we have numbers, but we're a composite unit… Could be tough."
Purely from a numbers standpoint, the new enemy battalion was a grave threat. There
was no doubting the fact that a fresh battalion would be a hard fight for two tired
battalions. Conversely, you could say a hard fight was as difficult as it would get. That
was what they were thinking.
"So the Republic, the Commonwealth, and the Entente Alliance all have different
combat doctrines, huh?"
What the Commonwealth men were most worried about was the possibility that even
if they all joined forces, they wouldn't be able to cooperate well. The Republic and the
Commonwealth were secretly fighting together, but as long as there was intelligence
they couldn't share, there would be major losses.
The Republic (to whom the Entente Alliance had cried and who was now asking for
help itself) and the Commonwealth (which was gathering intelligence for war with
the Empire on its mind) had gotten very out of step. Today they were extra conscious
of that fact.
"If our coordination gets disrupted, we might have to split up."
No matter what the Republic and Entente Alliance did, the Commonwealth was loath to give up its neutral status; even when it did join a war, it did so with caution.
The Republic and Entente Alliance would bad-mouth the Commonwealth, saying it
had a tendency to conserve power or that it only fought to test a new weapon in actual
combat. But were those really insults? The officers had to wonder. The state wanted
to keep casualties to a minimum.
"It will take some time, but a reorganized battalion might be able to come help."
Naturally, the Commonwealth's voluntary army—full of soldiers who signed
themselves up—didn't want to break through if it meant a high number of casualties.
After all, they had to buy the indispensable time for their home country to switch over
to the wartime system. Though they had numerical superiority, never for a moment
did they want to fight head-to-head on a battlefield where a Named was coming to
meet them.
And when she had an Imperial Army unit as backup, it was time to start considering
withdrawal, but they couldn't ignore the fact that they had sacrificed so much to
disrupt enemy logistics.
"I guess in the worst case, we'll smash the position using just the bombers?"
So accomplishing the minimum goal would depend on the bombers.
They were bombing a fuel depot. Even a small number of successful attacks could get
them great results. And if they failed, the planes they were leasing to the Entente
Alliance were old models that the Commonwealth wouldn't use anyway—something
they thought but couldn't say.
"I'm against that. If fighter planes intercepted, we're liable to sustain more damage
than we can brush off."
"Can't high-speed bombers shake them off?"
"The Republic already tried it and got burned, so I'm against it."
"In that case, we need to eliminate the enemy mages somehow."
"We stand a lot to gain from that. I guess we have no choice."
They pretended to worry about the bombers for appearances. Really, they just had to
make remarks for the record. After all, everyone knew the "high-speed" bombers they
had provided moved dirt slow.
"The issue is the ability of the Named and the unknown battalion. It would be great if
the bombers could take care of them…"
Those were their true feelings on the matter, a boorish hope that the enemy would
overexert themselves attending to the bombers.
At that moment, fate played a trick on them.
They had taken over a simple, hidden Entente Alliance Army control center used for
observing the front line over twenty kilometers ahead and giving direction. But they
had forgotten something. They had forgotten that twenty kilometers was not much
distance at all to a mage.
"What? For real?! There's no mistake?!"
Suddenly the CP officer on control duty jumped up, turned pale, and shouted into the
radio. A moment later, a number of other officers stood with equally bloodless faces.
"This is α Battalion! This is urgent! What the—?! Recommend taking shelter!"
"Kill the power! We're getting traced!"
Everyone was shouting at practically the same time.
"I'm getting a strong mana signal from the Named! She's rapidly deploying a magic
bombardment formula!" Then the controller started shrieking, and the panic
escalated.
We're getting traced? A warning to take shelter from α Battalion…? A strong mana
signal?
"What? She can't hit us from there!"
"Take shelter! Take shelter!"
A few of the officers kicked aside the idiots who instinctively denied the necessity of the warning, ran for the dugout, and were blown away a moment later.