by Carlo Zen
In terms of her humanity, she had a loose screw. Perhaps that was an ideal trait for soldiers off fighting wars on the battlefield. In reality, few possessed personalities innately suited for combat. Hence, the Imperial Army, along with the armies of other nations, trained people as soldiers through regulations and drills before finally recognizing them as trained combatants.
In that regard, Degurechaff was blessed with great talent. It was annoyingly obvious to him, precisely because Lergen worked in Personnel. She embodied the ideal officer from the army’s perspective, from the way she calmly used a nearly self-destructive maneuver to the way she loyally carried out her duties. Of course, she was clearly hazardous in some ways.
In particular, she greatly strayed from the army’s desire for unit cohesion. Degurechaff’s way of thinking was dangerous enough that it wasn’t possible to trust her to act on her own discretion, so Lergen was forced to consider her a potential threat. She was truly war hungry.
“…This is no joke.”
Realizing that he would be in the minority as far as his views were concerned, Lergen was nonetheless driven to have the proposed decoration reconsidered.
The girl had held the line until reinforcements arrived, ultimately fighting so hard that she was hanging on by a thread when infantry searching the area found her. Such a feat was definitely worthy of praise, but considering her disposition, he was convinced that was the natural outcome. As for the way she fought, it was hardly surprising that she had followed the textbook to the letter by putting up a noble resistance. She had extensive gunshot wounds all over her arms and legs, and there were signs that she had held her computation orb with her teeth. In short, this indicated that she had made the levelheaded strategic decision to buy time and desperately defended her vitals while resisting enemy forces for as long as possible.
But that was precisely the problem. Having finished reading the documents, Lergen couldn’t help but bury his head in his hands. It was true that Degurechaff was horribly dangerous. Yet at the same time, based on the principle of rewarding excellence and punishing inadequacy, he couldn’t overlook such an outstanding accomplishment. It would be unacceptable if he did.
It was unclear what the future held, but considering the achievement that earned Degurechaff these recommendations, she would most likely receive the glorious Silver Wings Assault Badge. The Northern Army Group probably regarded this as the greatest deed in the initial phase of the war. During a critical phase in the early battles, a crisis occurred. Enter a mage from the academy, performing exactly the kind of distinguished exploits the military hoped for to boost morale. She’d gotten real results. And the story was absolutely perfect. It was an honor for a mage to be awarded an alias, and so soon in her career. He immediately understood that she’d been given the elegant nickname “White Silver” because everyone was thrilled.
While Degurechaff might not be a hero for boosting morale, Lergen still had to exercise both positive and negative discipline. He took pride in being fair and true to his duty. Yet for the first time, he was torn between his emotions and his obligations as a military bureaucrat.
A child honed into the perfect weapon is terrifying. The only way to use Degurechaff is to turn her on the enemy. I’ll build you up as a hero. I’ll respect your exploits as much as possible. I’ll permit you to act on your own discretion to the best of my ability. I’ll support you however I can to make certain you can fight. I’ll do all of that. So please, I’m begging you, fight on the front.
Is it right to bestow honor and influence on a soldier I can only possibly hope to control with a prayer?
“…If only this was one rung lower,” Lergen grumbled in spite of himself. The Silver Wings Assault Badge provided massive influence and recognition in the army.
This decoration was one of the most valuable distinctions of many the Empire had to offer. Of course, merit awards were also presented out of honor and courtesy for years of continuous service or at certain points in a soldier’s career. Still, it was true that the decorations for courage and remarkable devotion to the nation were viewed more highly. (This tendency was attributed to Empire-like fortitude and utilitarianism but could have simply fallen under nationalism.)
Long ago, each individual received a crown of laurels for his or her brave actions. But with the modernization of the army, this was switched to the current decorations. Among these decorations, the assault badges honored soldiers who fought with dauntless courage in field operations. Normally in a large-scale offensive, the unit that served as vanguard would receive the General Assault Badge, while whoever among them who clearly contributed the most would receive the Assault Badge with Oak Leaves.
A soldier holding the Assault Badge with Oak Leaves was viewed as a core member of the unit and trusted unconditionally. But even that honor could not compete with that of the Silver Wings Assault Badge. After all, it was reserved solely for those who were like archangels coming to the rescue of allies in crisis. Even the nomination requirements differed from the normal assault badges.
Nominations for the Silver Wings Assault Badge were not submitted by the candidate’s superior officers. Generally, the commanding officer of the rescued unit would nominate the fellow soldier out of overwhelming respect. (Though in most cases, the highest-enlisted officer of the rescued unit would do this.)
But that wasn’t even the most unique aspect of the Silver Wings Assault Badge: The majority of its recipients were already deceased. In other words, the bar was set so high that the badge wasn’t awarded unless the soldier heroically fought under such perilous conditions.
Could an individual rescue a unit in dire straits? How would one pull that off? Was such a feat possible through normal means? Needless to say, the answer became clear at the sight of the photographs taken in commemoration of the Silver Wings Assault Badge recipients. For the most part, the badges were pinned to the recipient’s hat resting atop their rifle. Official regulations said the only decoration that could be presented to the rifle and hat in place of the deceased was the Silver Wings Assault Badge, so it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say these restrictions alone indicated a bitter struggle.
As a result, regardless of a Silver Wings Assault Badge recipient’s rank, it was appropriate for officers and soldiers to show them respect. The badge connoted that level of honor.
I’ll admit it. Bluntly put, I dread what will happen if we give Degurechaff that kind of clout. She’s simply too different. At first, he had suspected she conformed too well to an overzealous recruitment agency’s wishes. Wondering if she had been indoctrinated with fanatic patriotic beliefs, he went so far as to have an acquaintance in Intelligence investigate her orphanage. But it came up clean. It was an ordinary orphanage that could be found anywhere, up to typical standards, and the staff were sensible enough. If anything stood out, it was that they provided average nutrition, since donations and the like had created some leeway for the administration.
In other words, the basis for Second Lieutenant Degurechaff’s loyalty to the army and will to fight was neither a means to escape starvation nor an inclination toward violence caused by abuse. Out of curiosity, he checked her responses on the question-and-answer section of the military academy entrance exam only to find that she—this monster in little girl’s clothing—had said, “This is the only path for me.”
Overflowing devotion and loyalty to the nation. Nothing short of a magnificent display of what the military looked for in an ideal soldier. Continuous training and a desire for self-improvement. All those things were worthy of praise. A soldier with any one of those traits would make Lergen perfectly happy as an imperial officer managing human resources.
If an officer has a combination of them, we’re delighted. That’s precisely what the army wants. But ironically, now having seen those qualities made incarnate, Lergen realized that highest form of the Imperial Army’s desires was simply another way to describe a monster. And it filled him with fear.
He didn’
t know what she was implying with “This is the only path for me.” One of the logical theories he had conceived was that perhaps she was trying to sublimate her overflowing lust for murder into something practical. Who could say for certain that she wasn’t born hungry for war, and the army was the only path that could sate her appetite?
Who could guarantee that she wasn’t a loose cannon who would enjoy the sight of dripping blood and fly off on a journey of carnage? Even if she conducted herself like an ideal soldier in every way, the overall picture suggested she had to be crazy, or at least abnormal.
Naturally, he understood that you couldn’t fight a war with tranquil serenity. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know from experience that only those who snapped or were truly mad could fight without getting nauseous. But what if someone enjoyed it?
He had once heard that as far as a murderer was concerned, both theory and practice were nothing more than a difference in aesthetics. Meaning a serial killer conflated their theories with actual implementation. At the time, he had laughed it off as a rather wild opinion, but he understood all too well now. Sadly, he had come to understand. At best, Degurechaff is an anomaly, fundamentally different from the rest of us.
Maybe that’s what a hero is—someone divergent from the average person in some way. There’s nothing wrong with celebrating a hero, but we will never teach “Follow the hero.” We cannot afford to foster that. The military academy is a human resources development organization, not a place for creating lunatics.
SAME DAY, IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF OFFICE, WAR ROOM
The General Staff came to a formal decision to award a certain mage officer a medal, and not only was this one of the rare occasions where the Silver Wings Assault Badge was presented to someone other than a corpse, but also the judgment was handed down with unprecedented speed. The recipient was even given an alias. But while one area bustled with the award ceremonies that accompany victory, a heated debate was filling the tense air in a corner of the General Staff Office—the General Staff’s First Conference (War) Room, where guards refused entry to all unauthorized personnel.
To be exact, two brigadier generals stood in fierce opposition.
“I absolutely oppose! If we make a concentrated commitment like that, we may lose the flexibility to respond swiftly, a risk which greatly outweighs any merits!” A manly soldier in his prime stood and roared in unending protest. His pale blue eyes overflowed with such confidence that he seemed arrogant, but anyone who met his gaze realized it was always fixed on reality. The General Staff regarded Brigadier General von Rudersdorf as an officer whose balance of confidence and ability made him exceptional. Now, this man cast aside his reputation and all but leaned over the desk as he continued howling in protest. “We have more than enough troops on the field already for a running fight! We should maintain tactical flexibility while applying a reasonable amount of pressure. That’s all there is to it!”
“Likewise, I must voice my protest as well. We have successfully destroyed the enemy’s forces in the field. What more is there to accomplish through war? We have already met our national defense objective.” Furthermore, he agreed with the need to maintain tactical flexibility. With his quiet disposition and scholarly outward appearance, Brigadier General von Zettour gave off a sensible impression, characteristic of a man who measured himself as a soldier. He joined the debate, speaking as matter-of-factly as a mathematician reading his finalized results.
“Both of our brigadier generals make valid points… Would you care to comment, General von Ludwig?” Presiding as the chairman, Adjutant General Marchese felt that both brigadier generals presented arguments that sounded too reasonable to simply overlook. Naturally, the adjutant general was experienced enough to ignore opposing views in the debate if he chose to do so.
However, it wasn’t as though Marchese didn’t have his own cause for concern. Considering the General Staff’s stance would have primary influence over the commander in chief’s office, it was worth digging deeper. As such, he had prompted a statement from Lieutenant General von Ludwig, chief of the General Staff, who advocated a large-scale offensive. He intended to hear all sides.
“Prudence is all well and good, but we haven’t caught a whiff of mobilization from our neighboring nations. If we want to conduct a large-scale offensive without the restraint of the given conditions, isn’t this a prime opportunity?”
The chief of the General Staff had risen, a troubled look on his face. He appeared mildly confused that two of the subordinates for whom he had high expectations were rising in revolt against him. Yet he was also angry. As a result, he was trying to figure out how he felt, so what everyone saw was his bizarrely perplexed expression.
“Lieutenant General, sir! At the very least, we should limit the scale of mobilization! A full mobilization would destroy the fundamental premise of Plan 315!” Rudersdorf strongly objected.
His concise criticism stemmed from the Empire’s geopolitical situation. The Empire was the only great power surrounded by other world powers, so in terms of national defense, it was in the difficult position of always accounting for the possibility of a multifront war.
Then there was the historical background behind how the Empire built its reputation as a new military power. Compelled by fear and geographic necessity, the Empire had to pursue military superiority to withstand a two-front war.
“I don’t mean to simply parrot General von Rudersdorf, but we should not alter our policies for national defense, including Plan 315,” added Zettour.
Assuming the Empire was surrounded by potential enemies on all sides, efficiently moving and managing troops along interior lines became its only defense option. The minutely detailed plan called for mass mobilization to neutralize a single potential enemy’s field army with forces superior in both number and quality. Thereafter, the military would prepare to take on the other hostile countries. This was defense policy Plan 315. In order to get them through a nigh impossible two-front war, it had been fine-tuned down to specific train schedules—the plan was something of an artistic masterpiece for the Empire. To put it another way, it would take a massive amount of time to build a new plan if they scrapped this one.
“Zettour, we must avoid sending in forces piecemeal. That hardly needs to be said.”
“I am fully aware of the foolishness of gradual mobilization, but I find it questionable to claim we need to deploy our entire force now that we have destroyed the enemy’s field army.”
On the other hand, Ludwig’s argument also stood to reason. Given that the Kingdom of Ildoa, the François Republic, and the Russy Federation showed no real signs of mobilizing troops, the stage was set to completely crush the Entente Alliance. If the Empire was going to strike, it should go all out.
But as for launching an immediate offensive, Zettour’s notion that they had achieved sufficient victory contradicted Chief of the General Staff Ludwig’s opinion.
“I agree with Brigadier General von Zettour. Victory is within our grasp, so the question we should be asking is how to exploit its fruits! If we needlessly mobilize troops without a clear plan, the tactical objective will be too ambiguous. I fail to see how that will benefit our national defense.” Rudersdorf didn’t feel they needed to add to their achievements. The question he posed was simply how to best utilize their gains once they had an understanding of the situation. While that wasn’t exactly the main point of his proposal, he too was concerned that the army would needlessly compromise their well-established national defense policy without a plan.
“Rudersdorf, as long as the commander in chief doesn’t give us directives, the General Staff can only pursue expanding its military gains.”
“General, with all due respect, it would be unspeakable to conduct a military operation that lacked a clear tactical objective. I am strongly opposed to a reckless large-scale invasion that could consequently ruin our defense policy,” Rudersdorf replied.
Zettour agreed with an outright bitter expression on hi
s face.
“Opportunity waits for no man! We are prepared to settle the territorial dispute over Norden once and for all with this campaign! We can resolve the Empire’s geopolitical problem!”
The cheers that slipped out from a portion of the attendees were not wholly unjustified. Zettour had painted a luscious picture of the future by presenting the opportunity to free the Empire from the ever-present problem of being surrounded on all sides by other nations. If they dealt a devastating blow to the neighboring Entente Alliance, they could successfully eliminate one of the potential threats facing the Empire. It was a prime opportunity to resolve a geopolitical problem that had haunted them for ages.
“Objection! We should not go through with this at the cost of our established defense program!” The point Rudersdorf fiercely made struck at the heart of the disagreement. Should they try to secure a safe future at the risk of jeopardizing their current defense program? “The Empire’s goal is national security. Seeing as we’ve established a de facto border with the Treaty of Londinium, the issue might as well not exist.”
Zettour went so far as to coolly say that they should forget about the Entente Alliance. In other words, he didn’t want to open the can of worms the Treaty of Londinium had shut.
“There’s no need to do what the enemy wants! Should we not rather follow our own plan? Would you have us squander all of our preparations?!”
More importantly, as Rudersdorf vehemently appealed to those present in the conference room, this decision would affect the very fundamentals of the Empire’s national defense.
Plan 315, which the General Staff had continually altered over the years, was the Empire’s only viable defense policy due to the country’s geopolitical environment. Surrounded by potential enemies on all sides, the Empire made the desperate decision that no matter which country set off the invasion domino effect, it would resolutely defend its territory through coordinated counterattacks. In truth, it was unable to conceive any other defense plan with a high chance of success.
