by Carlo Zen
Copyright
The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 2
Carlo Zen
Translation by Emily Balistrieri
Cover art by Shinobu Shinotsuki
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
YOJO SENKI Vol. 2 Plus Ultra
© 2014 Carlo Zen
All rights reserved.
First published in Japan in 2014 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION ENTERBRAIN
English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION ENTERBRAIN through TUTTLE-MORI AGENCY, INC., Tokyo.
English translation copyright © 2018 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Zen, Carlo, author. | Shinotsuki, Shinobu, illustrator. | Balistrieri, Emily, translator. | Steinbach, Kevin, translator.
Title: Saga of Tanya the evil / Carlo Zen; illustration by Shinobu Shinotsuki; translation by Emily Balistrieri, Kevin Steinbach
Other titles: Yōjo Senki. English
Description: First Yen On edition. | New York: Yen ON, 2017-
Identifiers: LCCN 2017044721 | ISBN 9780316512442 (v. 1 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316512466 (v. 2 : pbk.)
Classification: LCC PL878.E6 Y6513 2017 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017044721
ISBNs: 978-0-316-51246-6 (paperback)
978-0-316-51247-3 (ebook)
E3-20180228-JV-PC
[chapter] I The Dacian War
SEPTEMBER 24, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, RANSYLVANIA REGION, TURAO COUNTY, IMPERIAL ARMY FIELD MANEUVER AREA
The first thing Battalion Commander von Degurechaff asks about is the situation in the air.
When the radio operator from Command replies that they have no information about enemy air strength nor any aerial contacts at all, she cocks her head as if she can’t believe what she just heard. Her distrust is plain in her next question—whether their communications are in working order.
But the operator assures her that both wired and wireless communications are functioning normally. They’re even fully monitoring the Dacian FAC’s contact channel.
The next moment, the personnel at Command feel a chill go up their spines. Major von Degurechaff’s smiling—an intoxicated smile? An indescribable shock ripples through the room.
No one knew at the time, but if Lergen had seen that expression, he would probably have smiled the same way. It’s the smile of a ferocious hunter, and it contains the delight of a starved wolf eyeing its prey.
That’s right. She can hardly believe her improbable good luck, but logic tells her it’s the truth, enveloping her in a burst of joy. Yes, this is what they mean when they say filled with emotion. It’s no wonder she can’t keep her lips from curling into a grin—the opportunity in front of her is that good.
A battlefield entirely devoid of enemy air cover?
Yes, a battlefield entirely devoid of enemy air cover!
The significance of that is so luscious, so terribly seductive. How many officers, how many men, have yearned for relative imperial air superiority in Norden and the Rhine?
Thanks to the complete lack of enemy air forces in Dacia, which is unthinkable in modern warfare, complete supremacy is guaranteed.
No hostile forces in the sky? I have to confess that never in a million years would I have thought the Principality of Dacia’s military was this hopeless!
I wanted to avoid the foolish error of underestimating the enemy, but to think I overestimated them to this extent! They say any number of unforeseen incidents can happen on the battlefield, but I heartily welcome any that are this happy.
Has there ever been such a fortuitous turn of heaven’s will? Yes, the heavens are literally on our side!
September 24 is only her birthday on paper.
Still, this could be considered her first birthday present ever. Today seems like it’s going to be such a wonderful day I’m liable to start skipping around like a giddy little kid. Tanya’s cheeks flush, and without thinking, she whispers, “Dear God, thank you for this one-in-a-million chance.”
In a normal mental state, she wouldn’t even entertain the thought of parting her lips for such an utterance. It must be an expression of her tender feelings toward this command.
The establishment of absolute air supremacy… At least at that moment in time, the only one who understood the significance was Tanya. That’s why she shot off running with periodic little skips.
And that entire scene played out where Lieutenant Colonel von Lergen could see it, even as his face was still twitching from the report that six hundred thousand Dacian troops had crossed the border.
Thinking of the dire effects this would have on the front, he wanted to bury his head in his hands. And so, when Tanya ran off with her unit’s deployment orders in hand, apparently skipping her briefing, all he and some other personnel from HQ could do was stare after her as if the whole thing wasn’t actually happening.
If someone asked what was lacking in the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, which had withstood being drop-kicked off a ridge in the Alpen Mountains as part of their extremely authentic training, Tanya would immediately declare, “Combat experience.” Not that the need to further develop esprit de corps and continue training are insignificant issues, but their commander can’t stand the fact that her subordinates lack a most critical baptism by fire. No matter how much rookies train at an exercise range, once stationed on a real battlefield they’re sure to muck it up.
Not to mention that they’ve been drilling at the Turao Field Maneuver Area in the southeast—the exact opposite direction from the fighting. She can’t deny that they’re getting a bit overly comfortable, as everyone does when stationed too long at the rear. It would be a waste if the human resources meant to serve as my shields went soft, so after receiving word to keep an eye out for Dacia, I’ve been considering it a useful expedient to maintain some degree of tension—and not much more.
Given the disparity of strength between the two nations and the Empire’s habit of freely throwing its weight around, I figured Dacia would get the message and mind its own business.
Which is why when the alarm goes off, I’m at a total loss. The Dacians would go to war, risking occupation of their fatherland, in the name of international cooperation? I can’t believe idiots like that actually exist! She half expects a stern order to call off combat maneuvers because the warning was a mistake.
But for better or worse, for reasons Tanya can’t fathom, they don’t seem to care if they really start a war.
“Two hundred and third, to your battl
e stations, on the double. How’s Border Command?”
Command personnel run around shouting requests into radios and telephones to be connected to one post or get information about another.
“Lieutenant Weiss! Reassemble and have someone pass out ammunition!”
“Major, we have a theater report from the Seventh Air Fleet. We’ve received the Command Post frequency.”
“Verify immediately. And get me Lieutenant Serebryakov!”
Efficiently canceling the exercise and giving instructions for their next move, Tanya scowls slightly in the direction of Colonel von Lergen, who seems to have anticipated this. He had dropped her a hint, but if their neighbor Dacia is really planning to oppose them, she would have liked a chance to scope out the area as a military attaché or liaison officer. That way she would have a better grasp of the lay of the land and thus a clearer image of what needs to be blown up.
“…Well, this attack is certainly a bolt from the blue, wouldn’t you say, Colonel von Lergen?”
“Spare me the sarcasm, Major. You’ll be delaying for us.”
As my battalion is under direct command of the General Staff, there’s been a constant parade of high-ranking staffers in and out of the garrison. It seems my hunch that they were mainly interested in Dacia was spot-on. That’s why when Colonel von Lergen shows up with an urgent update from the border and sealed orders from the General Staff Office, I can only sigh and hold my tongue.
“Huh? Delaying, sir? You mean you want my battalion to stop the Dacian Army?”
“I realize it’s unreasonable, but whether we mobilize forces in the east or send reinforcements from Central, war on multiple fronts means we’ll need to buy time somewhere…”
Her unit might be newly formed, and she may be an untested commander, but Tanya isn’t about to be underestimated. According to the report, it’s only six hundred thousand Dacian troops crossing the border. Yes, their infantry is marching through this mountainous region, greener than a bunch of Boy Scouts.
“With all due respect, the Principality’s troops are a barely trained rabble of soldiers and farmers, hardly up to modern warfare.”
After assuming her post, she’d done a little investigating as part of her Dacian studies and learned that the Principality is a so-called minor nation standing atop an unstable foundation at the moment. It may have a lot of soldiers, but Boy Scouts would probably be better prepared. It’s ludicrous if Lergen thinks her battalion can only manage to delay them.
“Mobilize the regional army group? I’m sure four divisions assembled from the surrounding area would be plenty to trample them. My battalion alone would be enough to repulse the vanguard, not just delay.”
“…Do you understand what you’re saying, Major?”
“I do, sir. I see it as a fully outfitted army driving off a Boy Scout troop. It might even be easier than that.”
Far from the level of national guard reserves or part-time soldiers, the Dacian forces are half farmers, more like the Korean People’s Army. A band of armed robbers would have more discipline than such a riffraff. The imperial troops will crush them in a single blow. If they can’t do at least that much, it would be too shameful to call themselves an army. After all, the military of a modern state is a dense conglomeration of precisely managed violence. There’s no way such an instrument will find it difficult to scatter an anachronistic mob drawn from whoever happened to be around at the time.
The gap in fighting power between modern and premodern forces is insurmountable.
“All the sealed orders1 said was to take the most appropriate action to defend the border.”
Tanya has been authorized to act at her discretion. In other words, she’s been given free rein to do whatever she thinks is best. That’s the minimum requirement of a commander as well as the standard for all evaluations. Would a fully outfitted army run from a rough gathering of picnickers? That would be an eternal blot on her record. Tanya would forever be a laughingstock in military history.
Now that the mission has been given to her, the methods are essentially under the umbrella of her discretionary powers. That also means any failure would indicate a lack of resourcefulness. Call me anything but incompetent.
“Colonel, before the Dacian forces crossed the border, was there any artillery fire or struggle for control of the airspace?”
“Well, no.”
If these were six hundred thousand Federal or Republican troops with air support, there’d be no shame whatsoever in calling for reinforcements, and that’s probably what I would do. But such worries are pointless against an enemy who didn’t bother with preparatory bombardment or securing air supremacy. It’s quite a pile of soldiers, but they’re helpful enough to line up in a row for easy targeting.
Experience is a great teacher, and these primitive buffoons are about to learn what a difference modern civilization makes.
“That should tell you something about who we’re up against. I’m going to bring the iron hammer of civilization down on these barbarians.”
We shall conquer the sky and teach them to fear mages.
“What?”
“My battalion is a fully outfitted and properly trained military force. We’ll rout the lot of them.”
Modern warfare depends on national strength to a savage degree. Education, training, logistics. There is a world of difference in these areas between countries that are considered great powers and those that are not. History provides eloquent testimony about how undeniable this disparity is. I’m gonna drive these guys off conquistador-style.
“The enemy vanguard alone is three divisions, you realize.”
On the map, the Dacian advances are represented by multiple arrows. The one penetrating the farthest into imperial territory is supposedly composed of three divisions—the elite core—from the standing army.
What a joke reality is, seriously. It cracks me up. This vanguard is supposed to be their military’s best, and they don’t have any armored divisions or mechanized infantry, just plain old foot soldiers. It reflects on their nation’s true strength, and it honestly makes me feel sorry for them.
The competition principle, at its core, benefits the strong and crushes the weak. Still, this is the first time I’ve ever felt guilty that the fight isn’t fair.
“This won’t even be a battle, just a simple thrashing. I’ll teach them what a real army and war look like.”
Nothing more than three divisions of amateurs. That’s all. The conquistadors had horses and guns, but they still fought it out on level ground. We’ll be shooting like mad from our third dimension in the sky, so victory is assured. This is going to be a pseudo-atrocity that can only be described as a live-fire exercise.
“So how far can we go?”
“What?”
“If the enemy’s resistance is so fragile that we accidentally overextend, that could be a logistical problem.”
“Hold on, Major. What are you saying?”
“Sir, I’m going to give Dacia some educational guidance. I intend to personally drive home for them the high price of the teacher we call experience.”
Okay, time for war. No, time for bullying a bunch of weaklings, more like.
How lucky; this pathetic bunch showed up at just the right time. I lick my lips in spite of myself. Unlike the muddy Rhine or freezing Norden, the skies over Dacia in the temperate southeast are sure to have perfect flying weather. It’s still September. We’ll have any number of opportunities to attack before the sun goes down.
I ponder these things, but all those thoughts disperse when my adjutant comes trotting over.
It’s time to work.
“Second Lieutenant Serebryakov reporting in, ma’am. You called?”
“Yes. Lieutenant, what’s the battalion’s status?”
“Everyone has assembled. Lieutenant Weiss is currently handing out ammunition and explaining the situation.”
Their progress is the definition of smooth. All according to plan. Tanya even
feels her cheeks relaxing into a smile of satisfaction, but she wills them to stay taut. Even elementary schoolers know that the field trip isn’t over until they make it home in one piece. It’s careless to be so giddy before departing.
But even if I don’t like it, it’s an undeniable fact that no one at command shares my optimistic view of the situation.
And at the very top, openly anxious, is Colonel von Lergen, watching our preparations in a speechless daze. Well, it seems he’s still overestimating these six hundred thousand Dacians from his desk at the General Staff Office. Regrettably, Tanya is forced to confront the reality that though the colonel may be a genius, he’s been out of the game for too long. That’s why when her adjutant finishes reporting in, she nods in satisfaction and pounds her little fist against her chest as if to tell Colonel von Lergen, Leave this to me.
Just as described, the unit has speedily assembled and is equipped with their training gear plus the distributed live ammunition. The soldiers are ready to sortie. Apparently, despite being a little winded from the interrupted exercise, it’s not enough to affect their combat performance. Very good.
“Attention, battalion! Instructions from our commander!” First Lieutenant Weiss barks orders, his heels angled perfectly at a formal forty-five degrees.
In response, the members of the battalion align their feet and straighten up with movements that are nothing if not brisk. Before she knows it, Tanya finds herself smiling in satisfaction. Surely everyone agrees there is something uniquely charming—dreamy, even—about rigorous discipline.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Okay, troops, this is war. Well, something resembling war…and it’s about to begin.”
Perhaps it’s even charmed Tanya into taking the dais with unconscious excitement and a smile of pure joy, nearly singing to them how happy this makes her.
“Today is my birthday. Maybe the Principality of Dacia knew that? As you’ve heard, they’ve been kind enough to offer the surprise present of targets for a live-fire exercise.”
I have been hoping for some. It’s so nice of the Dacian men to volunteer themselves.
