0100 HOURS AUGUST 17, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, 203RD AERIAL MAGE BATTALION ENCAMPMENT
The battalion received word that they were shipping out. Frankly speaking, it's business as usual for the troops. Whenever someone wanted something done, they inevitably came to the 203rd.
After they finish lining up perfectly, I address them. "Attention!"
The entire battalion snaps to attention the moment they hear. The way they can respond at the drop of a hat is a testament to their excellence as a part of the war machine. These soldiers are the cream of the crop that I raised by my hand.
They'd be able to make it through this unreasonable mission. I know that there isn't anyone in the business better than my battalion. They're tough as nails, and I'm proud of them.
"Here we are, back on the western front. The last time we flew these skies, we scored a big victory in Operation Revolving Door. Today, my comrades, we're about to embark for the homeland of the Commonwealth, an enemy that has been a thorn in our side in the skies from time to time."
We're about to attack a land we've visited before. It's time for us to say hello to the Commonwealth again. Of course, we're mages. We need boots on the ground, and mages can't hold territory. We aren't foot soldiers, after all.
That's why…we need to bring the foot soldiers with us.
I know how difficult a task this will be, so I'll do everything in my power to try and inspire the troops.
"Why?"
I stare out at my subordinates, looking at the faces of each and every one of them as I continue with the patriotic and passionate speech.
"Why? Why are we here?"
The General Staff Office always prefers going on the attack and the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion is their ace in the hole. To say each of these elites is enough to match a thousand soldiers might be an overstatement, but they can certainly take out a company of nobodies.
Now it's time to tell them their mission, roles, and objective.
"The answer to this is simple. We're here to win. We're here to dominate the skies with our power alone."
Defeat may be bitter, but victory is ever so sweet.
Unfortunately, the Empire that employs them has a chronic case of insufficient funds. It doesn't have the money needed to put toward its victory. To my great annoyance, I'm beginning to get used to working under such dismal circumstances. It's incredible what war can do to a person.
While it's something to be feared, I also need my soldiers to maintain their calm.
"Comrades, the enemy will probably laugh when they see us. Look at how few of them there are, they'll say. And they'll be right. We are but a lone mage battalion. We're reinforcements. If they laugh, we may as well congratulate them on their ability to do basic math."
That was just the truth. Our enemies are going to have the advantage. I'm simply trying to be up front. It's imperative to objectively lay out the circumstances so my subordinates fully understand the situation.
Once they know what they're getting into, I'll let them in on the fact I do have a plan. Though this doesn't address the meat of the problem, it's justified by my need to keep morale up.
Necessity is like an iron fist of its own—it dictates all.
"You are the members of my battalion. I believe you're elites who have been forged with blood and iron. We're on a different level than mages still in their diapers. This is why we're called to the battlefield."
I'll instill a strong sense of purpose in them.
Willpower is a convenient thing. It allows people to cover their eyes when they're left with no other options and put away their convictions with their inability. For fuck's sake… It's important to never lose a sense of self- loathing. Losing the ability to tell when something is wrong is the path to true incompetence.
So, without giving them any time to do so, I jump right to our objective for the coming mission.
"I'll give you a summary of the operation we'll be performing over the next two weeks."
As this is a briefing for the whole battalion, and due to the secretive nature of the operation, better to keep the explanation short and simple. That
said, they should get the gist of things as they've been at this for quite a while now.
"We'll start with recon-in-force. Each squadron will split up and infiltrate the Commonwealth under cover of night. The goal is to test the enemy's nighttime anti–air defenses."
It's going to be a sort of stress test—a reconnaissance-in-force mission to find the enemy's weak points. It's not something veteran mages would consider particularly dangerous.
Relieved to see a look of confidence in my subordinates' eyes, I mention another detail.
"We'll simultaneously be conducting counterintelligence with 'rotten eggs.' Should you fall into enemy hands, you'll give them a story about rotten eggs."
I can feel a glance coming from my first officer. He takes the initiative to ask the question on the rest of the battalion's minds.
"I have a question about these rotten eggs, ma'am. What kind of script will we be using?"
"Good question, Major Weiss. To put it simply, we're going to make it look like the main goal of our attacks is to harass their night patrol. In response to this, the enemy will hopefully pull some of their troops away from the Western Air Battle to fortify the defensive line on their home front."
They'll need more troops to help defend against aerial mages who attack at night.
Just like the plan says.
"As a result, rotten eggs will likely weaken their air campaign against the Empire. We need them to think that's our plan."
The Empire is going to trick the Commonwealth into thinking they're trying to force troops off from the front lines.
"This is the script we'll be following for the entire two weeks. We'll conduct nightly operations, and once we've established air superiority somewhere along their defensive line, we'll enter phase two."
My subordinate flashes a grin as he suppresses a laugh. I quickly wave a hand to let them know I won't be taking any more questions.
"The specifics will be announced at a later date. Let's show them what we're made of."
After the troops are dismissed, I notice a group of officers approaching
me. The group, headed by Major Weiss, includes the lieutenants and other officers. First Lieutenant Serebryakov is among them; this should make things easy. I already have an idea of what Major Weiss wants to know.
"Are you working overtime, Major? How diligent of you."
"There's something I wanted to ask… Can I have some of your time?" Though he asks his question politely, his expression is very intense. "Enthusiasm is admirable. Is it about the second phase?"
"Yes. What do the higher-ups…have in mind?" I nod in approval.
"I'll tell everyone who's here."
While paying special attention to my surroundings, I cut right to the heart of the matter.
"…The plan is for the navy and the army to work together and storm the shores of the Commonwealth before day breaks."
"We're going to conduct a surprise invasion of the Commonwealth?!" "Keep it down." I glare at him with a sharp look before continuing. To be
clear, I do get a good laugh out of it on the inside.
I can tell by the shock on my subordinates' faces that this plan will work.
Forget Major Weiss—even Visha can't hide her surprise. So not even these war hounds saw this coming… I can't wait to see the faces our enemies are going to make.
The Empire is going to shake the Commonwealth to its core when those leather boots hit the ground. Our objective is purely political. I get it now. This ploy seemed reckless and pointless on the surface, but apparently there's more to General Romel's plan than meets the eye.
Bringing the war to the Commonwealth homeland will have a profound effect on how its citizens perceive the Empire as a threat.
"What's wrong, comrades? You look like pigeons that just got shot by a kid with a popgun."
My first officer responds to my joke with a doubtful expression. "It's just…such a bold move."
"How can you win a war without being bold?" My astonished adjutant also decides to chime in. "I…never thought war could be fought like this."
Well, this is surprising. I expected Major Weiss and the others would respond like this, but Visha's response catches me off guard. You all do
realize that this is total war, right?
"If they think they're safe on that little island of theirs, wouldn't correcting their little mistake be the humane thing for us to do?"
"Oh, I…"
"Lieutenant Serebryakov? Is there something else you'd like to say?"
I give my adjutant a look, but she quiets down. What was she going to say? I regard the line of officers with confusion. Why is there so much tension on all their faces?
This is quite troubling. Communication is important, after all. "This is total war, comrades. We can't discriminate."
"…Is this a question of discrimination?"
Though timid, my adjutant poses a legitimate question that causes my expression to twist up—well, on the inside at least.
That's right! They don't know about human rights! I can't believe they haven't learned anything about discrimination!
Evidently, coming from another world makes me fundamentally different from those born only to this world. My shoulders slump a bit, and I decide to change the subject. It's important to respect the culture and customs of the world I find myself in.
"Back to the original question… This is a commando mission where we'll be storming the enemy's beaches. It will be an extremely precarious and risky operation. Our job is to protect the commandos, but I also want you to study the enemy."
I give them a stern look to confirm whether they understand, and my officers give their affirmatives. To my surprise, the air of uncertainty has all but cleared with this simple comment.
Not only that, but my first officer also comes forward with a constructive proposal.
"Shall I collect information from Meybert and Tospan?"
The mere mention of military affairs, and she brings them up. My subordinates' areas of expertise are still extremely specialized. To my chagrin, however, it isn't a bad idea. The two of them are experienced with harbors now, after all. Seeing as how their ability to protect one of the Empire's ports was tested under fire, they may have some useful insights.
"Good idea. But stay vigilant." "Colonel? By vigilant, you mean…?"
"Don't use your radios. No matter what. If you need to send a message, use anything but your radio. I need you to keep this mission top secret. If you must, set a meeting and gather the entire Kampfgruppe's officers. This goes for everyone."
While I agree with seeking advice from specialists, I also make sure to stress the importance of secrecy.
If Weiss is going to speak with those two, they need to make it look like a meeting for the Kampfgruppe.
"Should I call Captain Ahrens as well?"
"Of course you should, XO. By everybody, I mean everybody." "But he's…"
I already know what he's going to say and cut Weiss off. Ahrens is of course currently off having fun rebuilding the Kampfgruppe's tank unit back in the homeland.
I'm going to need to prepare for the captain to hold a grudge against me for pulling him away from his enviable life on the training grounds. But it needs to be done.
"The enemy resistance is always watching and listening in on everything we say. They keep track of every time we move and what units we send where. You can never be too cautious when it comes to things like this. First Lieutenant Serebryakov, I'll allow you to buy some wine with battalion funds. Hold a small party for the Kampfgruppe."
"Are you sure it's okay for us to do that?" I give her a firm nod.
"Just make sure nothing leaves the party. We need to be vigilant with how we proceed from here on out."
"Understood."
Excellent. I cross my arms as I turn to my deputy.
"You heard that, right? Don't screw this up. We're throwing a party, got it?"
Major Weiss offers a vague nod. How much of this is he following? He may be a serious officer with a good head on his shoulders, but he's also a bloodthirsty war hound.
"Major Weiss, is the western front too peaceful for you? This is effectively one of our territories now."
"With all due respect, ma'am…it doesn't feel that way."
"In that case, feel free to act as if this were the eastern front.
Understood?"
The major gives me a look that makes it clear something's finally clicked for him, and inner Tanya lets out a wry laugh. This is what he knows best! Seeing it is worth more than a million words. These soldiers have been living with war for too long.
After giving their salutes, my troops take their leave. Once I return to my own room, the grumbling begins.
"What am I even doing here?"
I'm about to take on the unreasonable challenges thrown down by the military like some kind of ardent patriot. It is a worthless act in the most literal sense.
The Empire is doomed, and I want nothing more than to get out of here.
Nothing more, nothing less. And yet, here I am, bound by the shackles of my position and sense of duty, unable to set myself free.
This is why I hate government authority.
If the market wasn't such an absolute mess, I could promote myself as valuable human capital to other employers at a fair price! Damn that Being X to hell. That's the cause of all this.
If it weren't for that bastard, I could have lived a life with basic human rights!
"I want happiness. I want to live a life with bare-minimum cultural standards."
What's more, I don't want to have to stay aboard a sinking ship. The fate of a sunken ship is a miserable one. There isn't a great chance of escape once the vessel has capsized. I want to get off this boat as soon as possible. As much as I want to, though, not only is going on a job hunt virtually impossible but I'm about to attack a potential employer.
Of course, it's only out of obligation to my current job.
Nevertheless, the fact of the matter is that I can't deny that I've grown very subjective to the whole thing. If this is out of necessity, then why is Tanya now a slave to necessity?
"War… What an insane enterprise."
How could anyone stomach this massive waste of money?
Never mind the fact that it's completely derailed my career plan.
Tanya von Degurechaff is a firm believer that every human being should
have the right to the pursuit of happiness. It's self-evident. It's one of our natural-born rights.
"Damn that Being X. How can he call himself a god when he doesn't even know this?"
Thus, a logical inconsistency is born.
I can't let anyone get in the way of my happiness.
I shouldn't have to let them, and it would be completely irrational to do
so.
"If they're wrong, I simply need to correct them." I need to win.
For a bit of peace, for a humble future, and for my own career. And I need to do it as a human being.
THE SAME DAY, IN THE SKIES ABOVE THE CHANNEL
That night, the troops in charge of patrolling the channel were completely abandoned by Lady Luck.
They were outstanding soldiers.
Outstanding, yes—but from another perspective, they could be considered slaves to their skills.
Had the outcome of the Western Air Battle tilted in favor of the Commonwealth, their countermeasures for the sporadic appearances of the Empire's reconnaissance aircraft and harassment night bombing would have fallen into the category of high-stress routine work—a sort of oxymoron.
It was the same old thing every day, where they balanced a level of caution with relaxing their nerves.
Unfortunately for the air defense department, this rhythm was thrown awry when a ferociously violent change caught them unawares.
One of the survivors from that night would live to tell their tale. A tale about a ghost who descended upon the channel.
"Fairy 01 to all units. Commence attack."
The simple orders given in standard imperial dialect fade away into the night sky shortly before a horde of monsters made their appearance.
The first one to pick up on their presence was a man at air traffic control. The Commonwealth air traffic controllers who were on watch that night pried their sleepy eyes wide open when their machines detected an immense magical signal.
It had been some time since they'd seen anything like this. But not so long that they forgot what it meant: The enemy was here.
There was no time to put the kettle on. Instead, they were now running on pure adrenaline. The people stationed at the southern interception control area were met by a sight they could have never imagined.
"The mana signals are rapidly increasing! What the hell?! They aren't even hiding it?"
Despite attacking at night, the enemy had lit themselves up like beacons. It completely went against the norm of aerial mage doctrine to always stay hidden.
Though it was strange beyond belief, one thing was still certain—they were enemies. The Commonwealth soldiers knew what that meant. It was time to welcome their guests.
"Sound the alarm! Prepare for battle!" The duty officers moved with great haste.
"Prepare to intercept enemy air units! Get the quick response team ready, ASAP! Contact the other units as well! Get the reserves up in the air, too! We're throwing everything at 'em!"
If the enemy was going to waltz into their front yard, the Commonwealth troops would use all available resources to crush them.
As alarms blared, all aerial mages on duty were ordered to take to the skies. For good measure, they also scrambled their reserve units. They woke up the Third Regiment as well and lined them up on the runway, ready to deploy at any time just in case.
As the officers in charge began to feel a sense of relief in their seemingly overwhelming response as well as a tinge of excitement at the idea of performing well, a scream could be heard shattering the night.
"What the—?! It's that monster!"
The person in charge of checking the enemy's mana signal had positively
identified the enemy and shouted in dismay.
When the chief air traffic controller turned to see the results, the first thing he noticed was the terrified, colorless face of the operator.
"According to our database…it's the D-Devil of the Rhine!" "The Devil of the Rhine?"
They didn't know if they were lucky or unlucky. While those in the control room who'd yet to directly encounter the Named mage could only stare at the chief air traffic controller, he and the other duty officers practically kicked their chairs over in unison as they rushed to their radios.
"Warning! Warning! Emergency alert to all units in the AO!"
There was a chill running down their collective spines. The chill was like a polite sign that they were about to be visited by the grim reaper. They needed to be on their toes, or a lot of people were about to die.
"Identity of incoming hostiles confirmed! It's the Devil of the Rhine! I repeat, it's the Devil of the Rhine! We've got Named mages! One of the deadliest Named units is heading our way!"
The man frantically shouted into his radio. He sent out his message across the airwaves, but it was already too late. The screams of the air patrol were already ringing out in the black sky.
"Intercept control, intercept control! We need reinforcements! We need them now! Shit! Our formation leader…"
"One company of aerial mages is trying to force their way through! They've downed everyone they've come into contact with so far! They're Named! We can't hold them off!"
"Commander down! Commander do—" It was chaos.
To say the channel was thrown into turmoil that night would be putting it lightly. Even in the control room—where things were generally kept calm and professional as a rule—spittle flew through the air as the commanding officer shouted his orders into the maelstrom of confusion. This kind of thing never happened. Something strange was going on. Everyone there knew it— they couldn't handle what had come.
"Two aerial mage companies have been dispatched… Engaging the enemy… They're engaged?! Already?!"
"Both squads Argyle and Carbene have made unexpected contact with the enemy! Shifting to battle mode!"
"Quick response team two has finished mobilization on the ground."
The officer received glances of doubt but didn't hesitate even for a moment.
"Shit! It's going to be a long night! Call up all the reinforcements we have! Including the reserves!"
Their orders were to mount a full-scale counterattack.
We need to stop them. Just when the command center was regaining its calm, it received another report.
"Warning! New Imperial Army air units sighted in air zone twelve! And also sixteen! They're all Named?!"
Impossible. Several people uttered the same phrase. It wasn't just the battalion headed by the Devil of the Rhine. Multiple Named units from the Rhine front had appeared.
It was like they were at the Rhine Air Battle. No, the living hell that was the Rhine campaign had come back to haunt them.
"Emergency alert to integrated control center! Multiple powerful imperial air units closing fast! Damn those imperial dogs! Do they want a second Rhine?!"
The duty officers did everything they could to ascertain the situation despite all the confusion. The ones in charge of the southern interception control area sent updates to command while they gathered as much information as they could.
"Calm yourselves! Prepare for electronic warfare! Find their guidance signals. The Empire should be providing navigation support electronically. Find their signals! That should give us an idea of what they're after."
"…? It's not working… I'm not picking up anything."
"Don't fall for their dummies. Just narrow down the potential sources." "Th-that's not the problem. There are no signals coming from line
control…"
"What do you mean there are no signals? Are they using some sort of new technology?!"
More bad news? The officers collectively rubbed their temples… Bad news had a way of coming all at once.
"Th-the enemies fighting Argyle have taken out their commanding officer!
Carbene's commander is also requesting immediate reinforcements!"
"What? Damn it all to hell! Get the rest of the quick response teams
ready! I want anyone who can fly in the sky right now!"
"A-Argyle's been wiped out! It's just been confirmed! Carbene's reporting that Argyle has been annihilated!"
It'd only been a few minutes, and their elite quick response force had already been taken out. It was like taking a bite out of a sour apple. The officer in charge couldn't control himself as he shouted out:
"How could it be over that quickly?! They only just made contact!"
He thought he knew. No, he did know. He didn't want to forget the Devil of the Rhine. The nightmare the François Republic saw was no fantasy.
They knew that monster was real, and this was why they were prepared to hit the invaders with everything available.
But why? Why was it turning out this way?
These were the best of the best they had for night air defense. Why couldn't they stop the enemy? How were they able to tear apart their defenses with such ease?
"Hostile mages have penetrated air zone twelve! Whiskey Battalion is on their way to intercept line two."
"The enemies in air zone twelve are turning around!"
"What?! No! They're trying to regroup with the enemies in zone sixteen!
Damn it, their target must be… Whiskey?!"
The officers moved as quickly as humanly possible.
"Alert, Whiskey Battalion! The enemy mages are regrouping and heading straight for your position!"
The man prayed that they'd be able to avoid the danger as he sent the warning across the airwaves. At the same time, a different Commonwealth battalion did their duty to protect their country.
"Scotch Battalion is taking off to meet up with Whiskey Battalion! ETA, four hundred seconds! No, they're moving faster! They'll be there in 360!"
"They're pushing their limits. But that's what we need right now. It'll be close…but it looks like the reinforcements will make it in time."
Walking on a tightrope like this was incredibly draining.
As of late, the Commonwealth enjoyed the upper hand in the war, so things hadn't gotten this hectic for a long while now. It seemed war was a monster that could never be trusted.
What a terrible thing it was.
That was as true for an officer as it was for anyone else. The air traffic
controllers could hear the endless mix of screams and harried reports coming in over the radio. They'd probably need to drink themselves to sleep for the rest of their lives.
"Damn it, it's been a long while since we've seen anything like this…"
Agonizing messages about shorn arms, dead friends, and comrades bursting into flames came flying in, all cutting off with bloodcurdling screams.
All the radio operators could do was sit and listen. It had an immense impact on their minds. Even so, they needed to listen. Cursing the stroke of fate that had saddled them with watch duty on this of all nights, they continued listening to and reporting the messages they never wanted to hear.
Suppressing the collective nausea permeating the control room, they each pushed thoughts of their comrades who likely wouldn't return out of their minds and latched onto their transceivers.
They didn't know if it would be worth the sacrifice. That was exactly why they didn't want to miss a single message.
"Warning! Warning! It can't be?! Emergency report from Scotch Battalion! Th-they've encountered aerial mages who snuck past our perimeter at low altitude!"
This warning to southern interception control, unfortunately, wouldn't make it in time.
"What?! The enemy! The enemy!" "The enemy what?!"
In response to the horrified voice, there was a request for details, but their comrades on the other end were out of time.
"They're here! The enemy is here!"
The command center's operators shouted into their radios, asking for a status update. These would be the last messages that came through that night
—the last messages southern interception control would ever receive.
Static filled the airwaves before a large explosion rang out. Then everything went silent.
For the Commonwealth mages in the sky that night, it was more than evident what this meant.
They got southern interception control.
They listened closely to their radios for their next orders but picked up something else.
"Veni, vidi, vici."
It was a victory message.
No, it was more like they were boasting. The imperial mages shared this terrible joke on all frequencies.
"I came, I saw, I conquered…? Bollocks!"
As angry as they were, the soldiers knew that the night wasn't over yet. "Scotch Leader to integrated control center. Emergency. It's urgent!
Southern interception control has been taken out! I say again, southern interception control has been taken out!"
The man shouting this had seen the terrors of the Rhine front firsthand.
Wreak havoc, spread chaos, and eventually cause a total collapse.
This was the Empire's way of doing things. He and anyone else who saw them operate knew this all too well. These men had trained hard to make sure it never happened on their turf.
And yet, despite their best efforts, these were the miserable results. What the hell was happening?
"They're coming for us. This is bad… Those imperial bastards were quiet for a time, but it looks like they're back in action!"
"Commander! We're ready for battle!"
"We're not going to let them have their way any longer!"
With their weapons armed and ready, Scotch Leader's battalion was prepared to jump in the fray. He was proud of how capable his troops were.
Though he also found himself questioning whether his unit's bullets would ever strike home.
The enemy was the Imperial Army's meat grinder that first appeared on the Rhine front. They were supposed to somehow fight monsters that had been racking up kills ever since. The battalion leader directed every swear in the Commonwealth dictionary at God in heaven for this cursed fate.
His doubts and fears, however, would never be tested that night. "Wha—?! They're retreating?!"
To everyone's surprise, the enemies began withdrawing from the southern interception control center after razing it to the ground. In what could only be described as gorgeous maneuvers, the enemy swiftly turned on a dime and rapidly left the area.
"Th-the enemy is retreating?"
The battalion that had been ready to mount a counterattack was left in the
dust as the imperial soldiers left them behind.
Time to go after them was the first thought that popped into their collective minds. But anyone who had spent any significant amount of time on the battlefield knew this was the forbidden fruit.
"…Gather the troops! Don't follow them!" The devil was trying to seduce them.
The only thing that awaited in that direction was living hell.
For the careful soldiers, it was nothing but a pointless risk. And unlike Scotch Leader, the only one who came out lucky that night, ground control came forward with a thoughtless question.
"Integrated control center to all units. Integrated control center to all units. We have confirmation of enemy retreat. Scotch Leader, is pursuit possible?"
"The bloody hell?! You're asking us to chase after them?!" He promptly rejected the request.
"No can do! Pursuit is impossible. They pulled one over us. We need to land and reorganize before we attempt to attack unless you want us to get annihilated as well!"
Scotch Leader swore and cursed some more before finally landing at a different base. He shook his head and grumbled while being handed a glass of alcohol by the ground personnel.
"They got us… Shit, and this is probably just the beginning!"