by Carlo Zen
What is correct? I decided to start with that question. We had heard a lot of different things, but something was bothering me. I tried doing a statistical analysis of the accounts we amassed. Sometimes they agreed, and sometimes they contradicted one another. That meant there had to be some seed of truth in the rumors, but they took on a life of their own; now it was possible we might never learn what really happened.
It felt like a microcosm of the war itself. Much has been said about the conflict, and everyone understands that it was an awful tragedy, but the truth of it, what really happened, remains unclear.
V600 and the Eleventh Goddess spurred our confusion.
But could they also have been the very heart of the war?
(Andrew, WTN special correspondent)
GENERAL STAFF HEADQUARTERS, FORMATION SECTION
An office with a sign that reads “GENERAL STAFF OFFICE, SERVICE CORPS, FORMATION SECTION, 601ST FORMATION COMMITTEE” has been set up in a corner of the General Staff Office to deal with the creation of a new unit. And the office’s primary occupant, Captain Tanya von Degurechaff, is confronted with the mysteries of the world, truly at wit’s end.
The cause of this is the mountain of application forms that greeted her when she sat down in her made-to-order chair and looked at her desk. The huge volume might make some sense if she were recruiting fresh graduates; the General Staff paid well, so if an open call went out for new alums, even she would have considered applying.
But that isn’t what this is. Although she sometimes senses that her feelings don’t quite match up with other people’s, this came completely out of left field. Figuring there must have been some mistake, she picks up the guidelines that were distributed to all the regional armies and goes over it word by word, but there are no errors anywhere.
We guide him always, abandon him never, go where there is no path, never yielding, forever on the battlefield. Everything we do, we do for victory. We seek mages for the worst battlefields, the smallest rewards, days darkened by a forest of swords and hails of bullets, and constant danger with no guarantee of survival. To those who return go the glory and the honor.
They will be constantly thrown onto the front lines, and the last to fall back in a retreat. It’s a declaration of a perpetual battlefield where they will have to force their way into the enemy lines even when it seems impossible, with neither surrender nor retreat as options. And for taking on the toughest battles, she wrote honestly, there would be minimal reward. Surely, she had more than fulfilled her duty of explanation. She even wrote about forests of swords and hails of bullets—the fact that if applicants let down their guard for even one second, they would be dead. The notice did say that those who survived would be granted medals or whatnot, but that’s practically the same as saying they would get nothing at all.
No matter how she looks at it, it’s as good as saying, Please join me on a one-way tour of Hell, thank you very much. Common sense told her that no one would respond to such a call.
She certainly wouldn’t have answered it, and she was sure most soldiers wouldn’t, either. That way, she could have stalled for time on the grounds that there weren’t enough volunteers. Just a few days earlier, she was marveling that the Service Corps had allowed such an outrageous call for applicants to go out at all.
Mages enjoy top treatment as elites; there was no way they would respond to these ridiculous requirements. It was like sending a want ad to Wall Street that read, “Must work uncompensated overtime; no workers’ comp; must be able to work weekends and holidays; low pay; no health insurance. Upon business success, employees are guaranteed a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment. (Chances of success are extremely slim.)” No one would expect any economists or traders to respond to that.
When Tanya sent out the brutal job description, she had counted on killing at least three months gathering volunteers. And yet here she is, confronted with massive piles of papers that tell her there are enthusiastic applicants from every regional army. It hasn’t even been a week yet.
“Why did this happen…?” she groans to herself, burying her head in her hands on top of her desk. When she established this office, she requested minimal help from the Service Corps on the naive assumption that the number of volunteers would be small enough that she could handle everything herself—a move she now deeply regrets.
It’s disappointing that her plan hasn’t worked out, but the bigger problem is the mountain of applications so large that no one could possibly deal with it alone. She fancies herself adept at paperwork, but even she has limits. Unfortunately, it won’t be a simple matter to obtain the additional personnel she needs.
In a sense, it’s a failure of strategy. Improving the situation with makeshift tricks will not be easy. Part of her wants to know what in the world happened to common sense, but regardless, she has to admit that her assumption was seriously flawed. Yes, Mage Captain Tanya von Degurechaff, formation officer of the General Staff Office’s 601st Formation Unit, confronted harsh reality and lost.
To begin with, being entrusted with the General Staff Office’s far-reaching plan for the experimental creation of a quick reaction mage battalion was unexpected. For Tanya’s part, she had simply hoped to gain some insider knowledge by showing her talent to Brigadier General von Zettour by reporting her reading of the situation. Now she’s suddenly found the brass giving her a battalion to do with as she liked.
There were many times she nearly screamed, I don’t understand! She had murmured the empty words: As a soldier, nothing could make me happier than to be a part of this, but deep down, the situation made no sense to her.
The magnitude of what the organization did for her, this powerful backing, is incredible. This situation is like those unbelievable sights that make people doubt their eyes. It’s so unsettling, she has the urge to put a rifle to someone’s head and pull the trigger just to check if this is reality.
After all, even if her permission to ignore the army’s hierarchy to form her unit is only nominal, she has a practically free hand. And the unit she’s forming is an augmented battalion. To top it all off, she can set her own deadline.
Tanya is at wit’s end, mulling anxiously over all of it, when she catches sight of the phone on her desk and remembers something the busy-ness drove clear out of her head: She has an adjutant. Yes, she’s pretty sure she was given an adjutant. Finally recalling that fact, she has an epiphany—can’t I use an adjutant as a secretary?—and picks up the phone.
“Adjutant, adjutant!”
A week has passed since the little office was established in a corner of the General Staff Office. The moment Tanya remembers her adjutant, she picks up the phone and calls for the officer. Her head is completely occupied with thoughts of how badly she needs more people to help work through the mountain of paperwork. If possible, she wants a dozen of those commissioned military police officers, the nagging ones who never miss a detail.
“You called, Captain?”
Hmm? It’s the voice of a young woman, one she remembers.
It makes her pause, but her brain is completely devoted to paperwork. She responds to the voice from the door half-heartedly, without even looking up. But this lady is reporting in for the first time. I should at least look her in the eye. When she raises her head and sees a familiar face looking back at her, she realizes her own features are cramping into a startled expression, like a pigeon hit by a peashooter. It’s not part of her usual repertoire.
“It’s been a long time, Captain von Degurechaff. Second Lieutenant Viktoriya Ivanova Serebryakov, reporting for duty.”
The woman snapping off a perfect salute in front of her was one of the first subordinates Tanya ever had. As she returns the gesture, Tanya checks the rank insignia on Serebryakov’s shoulder and sees she is indeed a second lieutenant. She must have completed the accelerated officer training program and been promoted. After reaching this conclusion, Tanya finally lowers her arm.
“It sure has, Lieutenant Serebryak
ov. Oh, belated congratulations on your promotion.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
It’s a mild surprise to meet such an unexpected person in such an unexpected place.
“So you’re my adjutant?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I see, so the higher-ups are being awfully considerate. Assigning an adjutant of the same gender was already quite thoughtful. She isn’t planning on having her handle any personal matters anyhow, but she appreciates the thought that a woman would make things easier on her, even if the gesture is somewhat unnecessary.
In any event, Tanya was merely hoping for a competent adjutant. She’s more than happy to have miscalculated. With an adjutant who is not only competent but also warrants a measure of trust, work will go much smoother. She’s capable, so luckily I can work her hard.
“Okay, Lieutenant. I’m sorry for the trouble, but I need you to go tell the commander of the guard that I want to borrow a few MPs.”
Really, she wants a phone line directly to the military police office, but for some reason phones that can reach outside lines aren’t allowed at personal desks in the Army General Staff Office. Maybe it is about maintaining secrecy, but it’s tiresome; maybe they just don’t want to bother putting in a switchboard.
“Understood, Captain. How many MPs should I ask for?”
“However many are available, but I’d like a dozen if possible.”
“Got it. I’ll contact them right away.”
The interaction went so smoothly that Tanya feels a smile tug at her cheeks. She’s annoyed by the amount of work she has to do, but having a useful subordinate will reduce her burden quite a bit. Of course, she can’t really say that until they have assembled some manpower. In any case, she has to deal with the fact that there are too many volunteers.
She takes a breath and gives the list a determined second look. Closer inspection reveals that, for some reason, it includes applicants from the western and northern armies, even though she was instructed to choose applicants from forces that are not currently engaged. Given the work involved in sorting through all these applications, it’s probably an administrative error. Thinking along those lines, she hits on the idea that the way to fix the problem is to reissue the call for volunteers.
Her plan is to consider all the applications void on bureaucratic grounds, and put out a new notice.
“Right, I’ll have to go see the brigadier general right away.”
She starts counting her chickens, thinking how just protesting the number of administrative mistakes will buy her plenty of time. But she only gets halfway to her feet before she realizes she is being too hasty.
Wait, wait. You haven’t thought this through.
She originally put the call out on the assumption that no one would respond. The urgent demand for combat potential and strict requirements would mean she had to scrutinize those few applications, which was supposed to buy her time. But then a huge number of people applied. There is a real danger of being accused of taking too much time on the mountain of paperwork if she gets too picky.
So Tanya reconsiders. It would be smarter to form the unit as soon as possible, and then try to drag out their training as long as I can to turn them into a sturdy human shield. For her own safety, the more time she has to prepare the subordinates who will protect her the better. I’ll just pretend I didn’t see the applications from the west and north. At the end of my “strict screening,” I’ll decide to let them off this time—lucky them! They were probably forced to volunteer, anyway; they would be just as happy getting passed over and not sent to vicious battlefields where no one in their right mind would want to go. In other words, the best outcome they could hope for was not to be chosen. Overlooking them would surely count as secret good deeds.
I can actually take advantage of the fact that there are so many applicants. She’ll put up hurdles to ensure she creates the best possible unit. It’ll end up taking a while to form but still retain a high level of quality. If she’s lucky, she can waste all sorts of time. At worst, she can expect those who survive the selection process to make reliable shields. This isn’t half bad.
Yes. Having come this far, I should focus on damage control. I want to avoid making any stupid Concorde-esque decisions.
Damage control means reducing losses—in other words, not rocking the boat. If she can just do that, there will be no problems. I’ll set the standards so high that they’ll send even evil deities fleeing.
That’s the sort of idea that occurs to someone who’s in a bit of a panic.
IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF AFFILIATED AGENCY, RECEPTION ROOM 7
“First Lieutenant Aisha Schulbertz, reporting for duty.”
“First Lieutenant Crane Barhalm, reporting for duty.”
Two young officers arrived at the capital, summoned from the eastern army. The 601st Formation Committee base had been set up in the suburbs of the city, and they arrived at eleven o’clock sharp, just as instructed. A new elite mage unit was being formed. The applicants had been told to introduce themselves, and the ambitious pair, eager to do their duty, announced their names and ranks with spirit.
“Thank you for coming. I’m Colonel Gregorio von Turner, head of the 601st Formation Committee.”
He eyed them over the desk in front of him as if he could see through to their souls, and his battle-hardened aura made the two first lieutenants straighten up unconsciously.
The colonel’s gaze froze them in place, but then he nodded as if in acceptance.
“I’m sure you’ve both been informed of the day’s schedule, but there’s been a last-minute change of plans.”
Even in the academy, changes in schedules and objectives were commonplace.
No doubt they’re looking for flexibility. After reaching that conclusion, the two lieutenants focused their full attention on the colonel so as not to miss a word.
“Scrap what you were told about reporting to Training Ground Seven by 1400 today. The two of you should head for the Sixth Aerial Combat Unit’s headquarters on the double.”
On the double. They figured that was the important part. It had to be a test of how quickly they could respond to urgent orders.
“Furthermore, this goes without saying, but you’re both required to maintain confidentiality with regard to the selection process.”
A duty of confidentiality, that makes sense, they thought. They began reconsidering how they could travel given they had to maintain secrecy. The city limits were a no-fly zone, but they could probably use regular transportation. Basically, that meant a military vehicle—ideally, one associated with Command or the military police.
“I warn you, if there is any question about your ability to maintain secrecy, you’ll find yourselves returned instantly to your original unit with a note on your record.”
“Sir!” they both replied.
He had hardly needed to warn them. They quickly withdrew and began conferring with each other.
“The Sixth Aerial Combat Unit’s headquarters? Sorry, but do you know where that is?”
“Yeah, no problem. I’m pretty sure they’re stationed at the Auksburg air base.”
Barhalm had never heard of the unit or its headquarters, but luckily, Schulbertz knew it. Auksburg air base was located on the outskirts of the imperial capital. As she recalled, it was home to a transport unit capable of handling a large-scale mission. No doubt an elite unit would want some connection with the air force. And a base on the outskirts of the city would make the most sense from the perspective of maintaining secrecy.
“So it’s on the outskirts, then? How are we going to get out there? I wonder if we can requisition a military vehicle somewhere.”
The reasoning was simple to understand, even for a couple of young first lieutenants. But that left them with the challenge of how to obtain a military vehicle. Sadly, they were currently attached to the eastern army. They had absolutely no authority to give orders to other units, leaving them with limited transporta
tion options. And given the confidentiality stipulation, if they showed up at the base in a civilian taxi or the like, they would no doubt be turned away.
“The MP unit attached to General Staff should have vehicles. Maybe they can lend us an extra.” Thinking quickly, Schulbertz came up with the idea when she saw an approaching MP salute at them. She trotted over, confirming the officer was with the unit attached to the General Staff. She was sure they would have a vehicle of some kind, and since it would come from the General Staff, there would be no issues with secrecy, either.
“Sergeant, could I trouble you for a vehicle?”
“Of course, Lieutenant. No trouble at all.”
The response came just as soon as she asked. Pleased with the efficiency, the pair said their thanks. The MPs saw them off with proper salutes, but the moment the car was out of sight, they all sighed in disappointment.
Their assignment was to see off those who had been tricked and would be flown back to their bases—but there were just so many of them.
“What’s this, the fourteenth pair?” he mused. Man, that’s a lot.
“How many more are there today? I think I heard five.”
They had already been asked for a vehicle fourteen times—and that was just that day. Their superiors had ordered them to march around in a visible way. If there were only one or two, they could have chalked it up to bad luck, but with this many, the intentions of the examiner were showing.
“Oh man. I thought at least four pairs would pass.”
Could they really not notice they were being tricked and sent back to their units? Those two earnest young officers would undoubtedly be put on a transport departing Auksburg and heading back east.
“Looks like Third Platoon was right.”
