The Finest Hour

by Carlo Zen

  If that mage hadn't burst through, we would never have known there was anything here. Considering how elaborate the setup is, I can't help but sense the maniacal preparation unique to Intelligence agents. Perhaps Intelligence was right, and my feeling that there was nothing here was wrong? Tanya revises her mental evaluation of the team.

  Of course, I still have no idea how they managed to mistake it as an ammunition dump, so I still count it as their error overall. I don't mean to say Intelligence is completely incompetent, but they make enough mistakes that you can't count on their intel when you need to.

  That said, the enemy has screwed up, but we have not.

  This gives us a major advantage. It goes without saying that whether you get to make the first move or not will affect the outcome in a big way. In any competition---in the struggle for survival as well, not only war---the one who messes up should get screwed. Surely that's a law of nature.

  "Maybe we're onto something after all, Lieutenant."

  "But it doesn't really seem like..." Lieutenant Serebryakov swallows what was probably the words an ammunition dump, but she's right.

  Of course, Tanya has zero intention of declaring this place an ammunition dump, herself, so she nods. "Yes, but it is something. Otherwise, why would they have gone to the trouble of concealing it so well? Hey, how's the directional mic? Can you hear anything?"

  "Sounds from multiple sources. Probably voices."

  Bingo! Tanya wants to shout with glee at how the enemy chalks up another error for us, but she looks at her adjutant with a satisfied smirk that says, Do you know what this means?

  No matter who is down there, if they're hidden like that, they must be making secret plans. This is a juicy target.

  She doesn't have to say anything more for Lieutenant Serebryakov and the others to understand.

  "Can you make out the conversation?"

  "It's rather difficult. They're pretty far away...and from the sound of the echoes, it's a bit of a labyrinth."

  Everyone is enthusiastically listening in, but unfortunately the sounds we're working so hard to pick up through the echoes contain too much noise to be a clue.

  ...We can't make out the words, but we can hear them.

  And using the sounds in place of a sonar signal, we can tell they are quite far down. Tanya quickly weighs the risks and decides it's too dangerous to rush in. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, but there is no reason to bend over backward at the moment for this particular gain.

  Even if expecting a trap is overthinking it, on the off chance their enemies get desperate and self-destruct, there'll be nowhere to run. Tanya is sure it would be a mistake to think the guys holed up in this basement are going to act according to common sense.

  I have to be prepared for the worst-case scenario: a group of mages resigned to their deaths, unleashing huge formulas and wiping out my teammates and me as well. Diving into a subterranean nest of enemy mages for a fight in an enclosed space is a total nightmare.

  But---there Tanya has a strange feeling---it can't be. But when she triple-checks, sure enough, she detects almost no mana signal. Of course, it's possible they're just too far down to pick up, but...

  "Lieutenant, I'm not getting any mana signals. Are you?"

  "No, ma'am."

  She even has Lieutenant Serebryakov check, but the result is the same.

  ...Does this mean that they aren't prepped for a rapid response? Or could it be the place is packed with non-magic personnel only? Either way, it seems fine to conclude that there aren't any mages with defensive shells and protective films up.

  Which means...we can take it exceedingly easy. There's even a move that is usually ineffective on mages that would work great in this situation.

  It's something she learned in Norden. While it may be possible to neutralize poison gas with one's protective film, mages are still living things. Their talents still don't enable them to shield themselves against poison before realizing it's there.

  So.

  "...I'd like to take prisoners, but we don't have time. We have no choice. Eliminate them."

  "We're going to charge?"

  "Oh, right, you weren't in Norden. There's a bit of a technique we can use. It's pretty handy to know, so I'll teach you," Tanya says in a low voice, giving her promising subordinate a bit of advice with a smile, like a good boss. "Listen, Lieutenant. Carbon monoxide is quite effective in closed spaces like this. Or, if you're prioritizing speed, make hydrogen and throw a match into it."

  "...But is just a simple explosion enough to...? Oh, the oxygen?"

  "Exactly. Oxygen reacts more readily than you would think. You really need to be careful not to asphyxiate in an enclosed, underground environment like this."

  Being underground means all the oxygen in the space burns up in a single explosion. People have a surprising tendency to forget about asphyxiation, but it's treacherous.

  Actually, in an enclosed space, the blast alone is threat enough.

  Even if you have multiple escape routes, the explosion and bad air balance will get you before you can use them. If we create hydrogen first and then launch a combustion-type explosive vaporization formula, it will rob them of all their oxygen---perfect. I wasn't expecting much out of this storehouse, but we should actually be able to get some halfway decent results.

  "We're going to burn up the oxygen. Ready formulas. On my count."

  We repress the formulas' manifestation as much as we can while we're constructing them. We don't want to let the enemy notice us. Initiating the formulas as potentials to the extent possible and casting them at the last second makes them particularly effective sneak attacks and entails very few drawbacks.

  Of course, I can't deny it's a total pain to cast like that, and for that reason, it's not a technique used very often in actual combat. Initiating formulas the usual way is much preferred, considering the time and effort required to repress them.

  But the technique is stealthy and thus optimal for sneak attacks. It's a shame it doesn't get used much during encounter battles or high-maneuver warfare due to the effort involved; even mages find it extremely difficult to protect against formulas that manifest only just prior to taking effect.

  In any case, mages at a location in the rear like this probably only have textbook-level coping skills. I can't imagine they're proficient in countering the sly attack methods found in trench and unconventional war.

  "Three, two, one, now!"

  She casts and projects her formula in time with her shout.

  Venting a strong mana signal, she prepares her next formula as heat rages down to the farthest reaches of the basement.

  As veterans trained for high-maneuver warfare, rapid firing and quick casting are the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion's specialties. They aim to maximize the effect by skillfully casting a swift series of napalm-type combustion formulas.

  The enemies on the receiving end have only two choices: Get blown away or get burned. They aren't terribly different, and the outcomes are practically identical.

  And once the job is done, the correct thing to do is skedaddle. They say only foolish birds foul the nest when they leave, but we'll be burning it. Tanya unleashes one last napalm formula just in case as she leads her subordinates out of there.

  Because, as noted more than once, she has no time.

  The time limit rings in the back of her head like an alarm. The schedule is so crazy because the General Staff overestimated the enemy's response.

  We have a mere ten minutes, down to the second. That makes the schedule to attack the headquarters extremely tight.

  And the ten-minute limit was set based on an estimate of how much time we would have. If we take any longer, locally deployed enemy troops will show up to handle things. At that point, our prospects of securing a retreat become dismal.

  No matter how lax security is at the headquarters, I don't want to cling to the optimistic fantasy that nearby combat troops are the same way, and then end up surrounded.
/>   That's why we have no time to lose. We fire everything we've got as a parting gift and then zoom out of the building. Surely the Republican Army has figured out that we're attacking by now.

  They cover one another in Rotten as a precaution against pursuit while moving inside the facilities, but Tanya finds it irritating to lose time even for that.

  "Major, Lieutenant Weiss says location C wasn't it, either."

  "Got it. Shit. We can't expect counter efforts to be terribly disrupted. Tell him to take care of B at all costs, and we'll figure out a way to tackle A."

  "Understood."

  And then, though it's a bit late, the enemy begins their counterattack. If only they could have behaved for a few more minutes!

  Fortunately, unlike on the front lines with the trenches and no-man's-land, these rear facilities have no lack of flammables. Tanya takes note of how the enemy soldiers are using buildings for cover, not dirt, and makes up her mind. Let's believe in our defensive shells and protective films and burn this place to the ground!

  "Attention! I want three rounds of explosive vaporization formulas! Your target is 360 degrees around us!"

  "We'll be roasted alive!"

  Lieutenant Serebryakov's comment, and the look of utter shock on her face, is half-correct. Casting an explosive vaporization formula while surrounded by buildings like this is a bit like setting yourself on fire.

  "But the enemy soldiers will be roasted first! Do it!" Tanya screams back at her with a defiant grin.

  It must have been those words that finally reminded them of their situation. Lieutenant Serebryakov begins constructing a formula right after me with no overthinking.

  It's a simple truth that mages are less flammable than infantry. Hooray for being flame retardant.

  The formulas, indiscriminately scattered in every direction on Tanya's order, scorch the entire area.

  The fire is spreading a bit quickly, but the panicking Republican soldiers are fortunately too busy to pay attention to us, so I'd call this good work.

  Since it would be stupid to roast in her own fire, Tanya takes advantage of the lack of resistance to continue advancing.

  Flying out of the flames that have already begun lapping at the surrounding buildings, she races away with her troops in tow.

  At a glance, it probably looks like we're fleeing the fire. For the Republican soldiers, this is home; there probably aren't many people with the balls to shoot someone escaping a fire on sight.

  Of course, we are actually half fleeing, so our acting approaches reality, thinks Tanya, wincing.

  In any case, as far as she can tell from how disordered it is, the Republican Army wasn't expecting their attack in the slightest.

  Really, we'd been expecting enemies ready for organized combat, but when we got in, it was a total crapshoot with the occasional brave guy putting up a valiant resistance at his own discretion. Frankly, they're only taking up the fight in a haphazard---and extremely disorganized---way.

  If this were the Rhine lines, the artillery would be raining shells down on wherever the enemy thought we were lurking. But I guess that's not how they roll at this rear base? Maybe it's a cultural difference.

  "01 to all units. Objective A is destroyed. Time's up. Report in with your status."

  "The attack on objective B was successful. That was the spot."

  Hmm, so apparently B was the headquarters. C must have been some kind of storage facility. Anyhow, if we managed to smash their headquarters, we can expect some confusion. Luckily, even if neighboring troops are scrambled, they won't be able to tell which way we went.

  "Understood. We withdraw. Leave at full speed. Head north. Beacons up after ten."

  I guess we don't need to worry about playing it safe; we can just move out and have the submarine pick us up. Anyhow, I'll need to report our achievements to the General Staff once we're out of here.

  Sheesh, I'm clearly doing work way beyond my pay grade. They'd better have a nice juicy bonus ready for me next round. Agh, and I have to recommend my subordinates for decorations, too.

  MAY 25, UNIFIED YEAR 1925, THE COMMONWEALTH, WHITEHALL

  The birth of an unopposed superpower on the continent could absolutely not be allowed. Having to face such a continent was the Commonwealth's geopolitical nightmare.

  That was the foundation of the Commonwealth's foreign policy.

  Which was why ever since the Empire had appeared as the latest blooming power, it had become a headache for these men. Outwardly, they were understanding when it came to the self-determination of nations, but inwardly, countries that were too powerful made them anxious.

  And in fact, this man was taking it quite seriously. No, he was probably the one taking it the most seriously in all the Commonwealth---as a challenge to the destiny of the glorious Commonwealth as God's chosen nation.

  So when the massive Empire began snapping at the other powers to break through their loose encirclement, he imagined the worst possible scenario, which made him quake with anger.

  They were too dangerous. And when military personnel in the Commonwealth saw that the Empire was deftly fending off even the Republic's assault (practically a sneak attack at that), they came to him in shock to have a frank discussion about what to do.

  Up to that point was fine.

  But are you daft? he roared in his head as he plunged his cigar angrily into the ashtray. He exhaled smoke, mentally berating the numbskull gentlemen and their ridiculous burgeoning euphoria with every curse he could think of. He could only despair at the way every face he could see was relaxing into a cheerful smile.

  The other day, the Imperial Army had retreated, abandoning the Low Lands to reorganize its lines. And now even his friends were commenting, as if they were certain the outcome of the war was self-evident. There were even idiots concerned about fashionable society, saying that if the war would just hurry up and end, they could rekindle relationships with old friends in the Empire.

  To him, it was simply unbelievable. Even the sharpest critics and skeptics were questioning the Empire's ability to continue fighting in the newspapers, claiming its armed forces were quite vulnerable.

  Thus, he deplored everyone else's relieved sighs.

  And it wasn't uncommon for the key figures in the Commonwealth to be the target of his lamentations and contempt. Meanwhile, their sighs echoed off the walls of Whitehall, expressing relief that the balance of power would be restored.

  The noble gentlemen sitting around playing cards, talking about how the war must surely be nearing its end, were evidence of how relaxed the Commonwealth had gotten. Was it a reaction against the dreadful prospect of a dominant Empire taking over the continent? A smooth advance for the Empire meant the collapse of their plan to balance power. The idea of the maritime nation facing the continental power alone had recalled the nobles' worst nightmares.

  But yes---"had." Now that was all spoken of in past tense. Despite endeavoring to control themselves, everyone was grinning and chatting. The resonant laughter was erupting from their delighted anticipation of a bright future free of national security nightmares.

  Thus, men like him, who made noise about the continued threat the Empire posed, were kept, albeit indirectly, at arm's length. "Oh, come now, you're not really interested in debating a problem that's already solved, are you?" came the gentle, roundabout reproofs. It was clear to see that the rampant euphoria and accompanying optimism had reached even the politicians, who should have been Machiavellist. What a bunch of happy fools!

  Hence, impatient and seething with irritation, he was forced to attend another cabinet meeting.

  "Well, gentlemen, it seems our friend the Republic will get this done for us."

  Until just a few days ago, the prime minister had been clad in bespoke misery tailored from his anguish and suffering. But today he was leaning back in his chair puffing a cigar.

  Even if he wasn't hiding his contentment, he did show self-restraint in his expression. Still, it was clear to
all the cabinet members with one glance at his cheerfully relaxed face and unusually crisp suit that he was in a good mood. They could all tell from his calm visage and the lack of dark circles under his eyes that he had slept well.

  That thoroughly aggravated this man's already touchy feelings. He was forced to bemoan that, regardless of how this prime minister dealt with domestic problems, his political ability vis-à-vis foreign affairs couldn't be relied on.

  It was up to this man to protect the country God had chosen.

  No matter what. He looked gloomily around at the complacent faces of the cabinet members in disbelief.

  "Well, it's still a ways off, but...soon we'll be able to spend our weekends reuniting with old acquaintances at cafés in the Republic. I may love my country, but I miss wine."

  "Indeed. It's been hard to go without the subtle flavor of those galettes."

  Most of the cabinet ministers nodded at the murmured comment from the elderly minister sitting opposite the PM, showing that they all felt the return to normalcy was near. Only one man found their optimism difficult to fathom.

  To the others, however, it was a foregone conclusion: The bothersome war would soon end. When that happened, the ferries would resume running between the Commonwealth and the Republic, which was why they could have these easygoing conversations about sipping wine over galettes on the Republican coast.

  To put it in extreme terms, all these cabinet ministers were tasting the sweet happiness of freedom from anxiety. Hence the wherewithal to smile wryly at their country's poor food culture.

  Of course, no one went so far as to say the war was actually over. As relaxed as everyone looked, besides this one man, they hadn't forgotten that the Imperial Army still existed. It hadn't been wiped out yet.

  But once it lost the industrial base necessary to continue fighting the war, its fate was as good as sealed. "No matter how strong its soldiers are, they won't be able to change the outcome," the ministers commented as if they knew.