by Carlo Zen
I don’t want to think about it, but on the off chance… His thoughts raced, but then he realized he was being deceived. Who came up with this? This must be the work of those miscreants.
“Ha, I’m not going to fall for that. Don’t give me this horseshit.”
He meant to slam the receiver down at the same time, but instead he found himself perplexed.
He heard something shattering on the floor. When he returned to himself, he saw he had dropped his glass of wine. There wasn’t even any sign that he had touched the receiver to call security.
“Sir? What was that noise?!”
“Ah, nothing. I just dropped my glass.”
He gave his subordinate a look that silenced the question about what had or hadn’t happened—Don’t worry about it.
In the eyes on the receiving end of this glare was the fear of being sent away. This learned behavior showed he understood that opening his mouth would be the man’s ruin.
Josef firmly believed that the key to controlling people was this fear.
“Sorry, but do me a favor and clean it up.”
It wasn’t hard for him to save face in this situation. No, not this one time.
But similar troubles continued for nights on end. It didn’t take long for even this man with nerves of steel to yield to the nightmares.
I must eliminate it.
I absolutely must eliminate it. Josef’s mind couldn’t tolerate foreign threats any longer.
Which is why…
Even though it was low on officers due to the purges, the farmers’ ressentiment stemming from the collectivization policy was about to explode, and he had just finished purging the mages; he had to mobilize the army.
He had to turn his imperfect military into the war machine that was the Empire.
Of course, in Josef’s country, soldiers grew on trees.
[chapter] II A Goodwill Visit
MARCH 15, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF OFFICE, CONFERENCE ROOM 1
Conference Room 1 in the Imperial Army General Staff Office was filled with such clamor and panicked shouts from officers, it was as if it were the deck of a sailing ship that had just been hit by a typhoon.
The bad news of the full-scale military conflict with the Federation Army in the east had arrived.
After the ominous first report, the General Staff readied themselves like sailors who sensed a fearsome storm brewing; no preparations were left undone.
They had already made the huge mistake of allowing the Republican Army to sneak attack them on the Rhine front. Twiddling one’s thumbs until a situation broke out would not be tolerated, a fact the army had already demonstrated, both internally and publicly, by purging all those involved in the previous debacle.
The General Staff cannot afford another mistake. The words were repeated like a pass phrase, giving a graphic account of the staffers’ determination, as well as their clear rejection of their predecessors’ mistake.
And in fact, none of the negligence associated with boasting was evident in their determination. They called a general mobilization that included even off-duty members and did everything they could to get a handle on the situation.
Their efforts were rewarded with the frontline troops’ well-disciplined combat in defense of the east.
The close cooperation and coordination between Eastern Army Group Headquarters and the General Staff Office also yielded excellent results.
A fluid mobile battle was unfolding, and the officers of the Service Corps from Deputy Director von Zettour on down were maintaining the supply lines. When it came to the supply of shells to the front, the interior lines strategy was working, to an amazing degree, exactly as it was meant to; on the whole, they were successful in responding to circumstances without delay.
Even so…
Information came in obscured by the fog of the battlefield, and grasping the overall picture was an enormous task for their mortal minds.
There were emergency calls from each patrol station and updates from the regional armies. At the same time, conflicting inquiries came in from all directions. Naturally, even if they did everything in their power, there was still a limit to the General Staff’s processing capabilities. Even if they tightened things up as much as they could, there had to be a maximum.
The torrent of status reports easily shattered their expectations for an exercise.
They had three times the number of analysts that they thought they would need, as redundancy, but it was way more work than even they expected, so processing had reached a saturation point.
But the true strength of the Empire’s prized staff officers was none other than their ability to deal with the unexpected. Putting the ad hoc skills praised as the crux of their staff education on display, they discarded all trivial data the moment it became apparent their processing ability was being outpaced.
With a terrible clarity, the Imperial Army’s core faction took the realistic attitude that priority was everything.
Thus, less important reports and requests were ruthlessly shunted aside, and the entire staff began handling things from highest priority down.
They started by sending the waiting Great Army to the east. Knowing that speed could decide wars, they put everything they had into the rapid deployment of their forces.
The Service Corps and the Railroad Department worked without sleep or rest to coordinate the timetables, and they had already started sending the units that were ready to go.
At the same time, the logistics officers in charge of supplies cursed the heavens as they tweaked the shipment schedule on the fly, which was no small feat. In response to the last-minute operation plan, the Railroad team members practically all collapsed but still managed to get it done.
In the army, they always said that the heart of interior lines strategy—that is, the swift deployment of equipment and troops—relied on the Railroad Department, and this feat proved it. On top of that, there was a depot set up as part of the Service Corps–led supply network maintenance, and the flights to take staffers over to confirm the situation were being arranged according to plan.
But not everything was proceeding as expected, as usual on the battlefield. Annoyingly enough, from the reports, things did indeed seem chaotic.
At any rate, it was a gambling den.
Would their actions produce good or bad results? It was almost like making a bet. There were officers with bloodshot eyes rushing around everywhere you looked.
And at the center of the maelstrom was the General Staff Office…
“Let’s make this quick. All right, gentlemen, I’d like to discuss the suggestion commander of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion Major Tanya von Degurechaff sent over.” Lieutenant General von Zettour, who should have been busier than anyone, presided over the meeting. They were gathered to consider Tanya’s proposed plan for a raid on the capital of the Federation.
Even for a unit reporting directly to the General Staff, it was unusual for a request from a mere battalion to warrant such high-priority deliberations.
“Colonel von Lergen, let’s hear what you have to say.”
A battalion had gone over the regional armies’ heads to ask the General Staff for instructions. Given the way armies are structured as organizations, that would normally be most unwelcome.
But not only did they permit it, the officers of the General Staff, who were so busy that every second counted, were putting their heads together to debate the request seriously. It would be quite something…if they sent the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion to attack the Federation’s capital.
“Sir, if there is a chance of success, I think it’s worth letting her try it.”
It was a plan to hit the capital directly.
The astonishing thing is Major von Degurechaff’s way of thinking. That had been Lergen’s honest appraisal when he was informed of her idea.
When ordered to join the eastern lines and fight a delaying battle, she responds by suggesting they raid the capi
tal and give the enemy rear a good shock? Certainly, if they could draw the Federation’s attention behind their own lines, that would be very effective in terms of strategy, but…it’s a bit difficult for an ordinary person to follow her train of thought.
No, he amended, I must have been sucked into her influence.
If anyone else had said they were going to take a single battalion and attack the capital of the Federation, nobody would feel the need to debate the ridiculous boast.
“To be frank and ignore the risk for a moment, the returns are huge. And the chances of success aren’t low by any means.”
But far from reprimanding her for her forwardness, the General Staff promptly began considering the request—that is, they made harried specialists from all departments go out of their way to spend time on it.
Lergen believed it could be done, even if no one else did.
“…A direct attack on the capital. As a distraction, it’s perfect.”
The main lines are engaged in a delaying battle, and the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion is supposed to be supporting them, but apparently, its commander is running things in her usual way, Lergen grumbled inwardly but voiced his opinion that they should let her do it.
“Her message says she is requesting permission given political factors.”
You can never tell what she’s thinking. A magic officer appeared in Lergen’s tired mind. It wasn’t as if all magic officers were that hard to understand.
This was definitely Major von Degurechaff’s idea.
This was that major. It certainly wasn’t the more usual case, where a commander under pressure from their officers appeals in a roundabout way to have the idea shot down.
She was probably asking for permission out of consideration for her unwilling subordinates. And perhaps also due to political situations. She had covered all her bases admirably.
Her talent for preventing political quarrels before they started had already been proven during the Commonwealth submarine sinking incident.
“There’s a chance it works. And it will be a good distraction, so I say we let her do it.”
Except for the political impact, an attack on the capital would be a perfect distraction. It would force the Federation to take some of its muscle and protect the city. They might even draw some off the front lines.
“Isn’t this a classic example of something easier said than done? Colonel von Lergen, striking the capital directly will be no easy feat. No matter how impactful it sounds, actually accomplishing it will surely entail a mountain of difficulties.”
“They succeeded in attacking the Dacian capital, the Republican Army HQ on the Rhine front, as well as the enemy HQ on the southern lines. Considering this proposal is coming from a specialist with no lack of achievements, don’t you think there’s a good chance they could do it?” Degurechaff and the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion had a brilliant track record for decapitation tactics. “And even if—if—the strike failed, the enemy would still have to send units to deal with it. In that case, if they can lure in some enemy forces, we can expect the Federation Army pressure on the main lines in the east to relax somewhat.”
But at the same time, Degurechaff’s glass-like eyes crossed his mind. Just the recollection of that inhuman gaze staring into nothingness was enough for him to realize that normal expectations were far too restrictive for this.
By appearance alone, you would think her an adorable little girl. But her eyes gave Lergen an impression that was less human and more like a murderous doll.
“…Colonel, are you serious?”
“General von Zettour, please consider it. We’re talking about Degurechaff.” He responded to Zettour’s suspicion with a challenge. Normally, that would be incredibly rude—but they were talking about Degurechaff.
Supposedly she had laughed and danced on the Rhine. She was the crazy type who forced her way through the Republic’s air defenses and took out their army’s headquarters.
She was taking the time to solicit permission.
By then, it was no longer an issue of feasibility; she was simply checking whether politics would allow it or not.
There was no doubt in his mind she could do it.
“But the capital?”
“Are we just going to keep her chained up? Wouldn’t it be better to let her bite someone?”
Success was practically guaranteed. And even if they did fail, that mad dog’s need to go on the attack would surely provide enough distraction to increase their gains considerably. It was best to let hunting dogs, even the overly brutal ones, snap at their prey. She had already proven herself to be a commander who could pick up the scent of military opportunity when released into the wild.
As long as giving permission wouldn’t cause serious political problems, they ought to let her go. It was far more dangerous to hold her back without reason. Letting de Lugo get away was costing them dearly now. With that in mind, perhaps trusting the mad dog’s nose was the optimal course of action.
“What a horrible take. That’s no way to talk about a frontline commander.”
“You can only say that because you don’t know, Colonel.”
The one who admonished him with a sensible opinion was an older lieutenant colonel.
I’m pretty sure he’s a communications officer for the Eastern Army Group, thought Lergen, at which point he scoffed at the argument.
If he had once, just once, come into contact with that anomaly Major von Degurechaff’s true nature, he would understand immediately. She was a mad war dog who would take a magic blade to an officer in training if they weren’t making themselves useful. If she realized someone was in her way, even an ally, she would probably blow them to smithereens. It wasn’t uncommon for inept commanders to die in “accidents” on the front lines.
But she would do a proper job with a logical reason, he mused.
“Major von Degurechaff is a capable field officer, but let’s look at this from a different angle, shall we?”
“Huh?”
“…She’s too capable. I suggest you read the reports from the mobile battles on the southern continent. As far as I know, you can count the number of imperial units who could pull off those maneuvers in an exercise on one hand. Surely she’s the only one who can make them happen in combat.”
In that sense, Lergen felt General von Romel’s discipline was fantastic. Instead of lamenting that she was a handful, he freed her to achieve as much as she could.
Without restrictions, she could work well, too.
…No, I shouldn’t underrate her.
Apparently, she really works hard.
He had to think “apparently” because Major von Degurechaff’s productivity had already surpassed any scale he could imagine.
“Oh, about that—the eastern armies had a question… Could the reports be somewhat lacking in accuracy? I don’t mean to suggest that a brilliant field officer’s achievements might be invalid, but I hope you would consider that results tend to be inflated…”
“I beg your pardon… What did you just say?”
“Some members of the Eastern Army Group wonder if the achievement reports are being filed properly. I realize the home front needs a hero, but shouldn’t the reports contain numbers that are a bit more realistic?”
For a moment, Lergen was rendered speechless. Umm. He looked to Zettour but found the same perplexed expression on his face.
Well, I can’t blame him. He winced, ruminating on the Eastern Army Group communication officer’s comment. In their achievement reports, Degurechaff and the rest of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion came off a bit sensational. He could probably assume the issue was with the comment that Degurechaff had fought the Republic’s colonial defense forces and the remnants of their main army with the fury of a lion.
“If you’re that skeptical, why don’t you dispatch an inspector from the Eastern Army Group to Degurechaff’s battalion?”
“…May I?”
“Of course. But if you’ll forgive
my impertinence, allow me to give some advice from the kindness of my heart. I strongly recommend sending a veteran magic officer who has previously belonged to a long-range reconnaissance unit and has at least a week’s worth of experience on missions penetrating deep into enemy territory.”
He gave a sincere warning.
With the fury of a lion is quite the metaphor. You frown at the accuracy of the report, but then there are those extraordinary achievement notes. Major von Degurechaff and her battalion always come back with scores like they’ve been out duck hunting.
Apparently, an inspector who doubted the accuracy of their reports once accompanied them, but the poor administrative bureaucrat had a miserable time. Following a week of long-range recon and attacks in enemy territory, they dragged him along on a scrambled sortie, and he lost consciousness, so her men complained that their scores in the interception battle hadn’t been properly recognized. In the end, the inspector fled back to the home country thoroughly battered.
This wasn’t score padding or anything like that—the achievements were real. Their performance should be deemed heroic.
But maybe it’s good to take a step back and think some more.
Anyone who could do a week of penetrating raids unfazed—even though one wrong move could mean getting wiped out—had to be a little insane. Not only that, but during the opening battle with the Free Republican Army (as they had styled themselves at the start of the war in the south), there was that frontal breakthrough and strike on its headquarters; the timing was so perfect it didn’t seem possible for a human.
The report about the battle was a parade of ideal tactical maneuvers that were perhaps, but just barely, theoretically possible. The right maneuvers happened at such the right time that it seemed like she was somehow overseeing everything from far above.
“That one’s exceptional, in her own crazy way. If you don’t at least send an inspector with exceptional abilities themselves, they might get shot for slowing the battalion down. I doubt that’s the conclusion you’re looking for.”
