Infinite Dendrogram - Volume 20 - Chapter Pr

Prologue: The Three’s Circumstances and a Single Stage

Yuri Gautier

“Yuri...where does all the money go?”

“What? What’s this about?” It was nearly the middle of April, and I was sitting in the cafeteria of the prestigious Lorraine Girls’ College when my friend—and fellow Dendro player—Sonya posed that question to me. This was a pretty wealthy school, so her words felt like they came out of nowhere and didn’t really make sense to me.

I could only think of one reason someone like her would be laying her head on the table and whining about her finances.

“You wasted your money again, didn’t you? In Dendro, I mean.”

“Nooo, I didn’t waste it... There was a gacha machine at a shop in Gideon. I saw someone roll a really nice piece of interior, so I tried rolling for something like that myself—and before I knew it, my wallet was empty!”

If that wasn’t “wasting” her money, I didn’t know what was. “Gideon’s gacha has a possible drop range that increases depending on how much money you put in, doesn’t it?” I asked. “There’s basically no restriction on the kind of stuff it can give you, so I really doubt you can get what you want from it.”

“I know that, but... Wait, I didn’t know you’d been to Gideon.”

“O-Oh. I mean, that’s what I heard, anyway.”

I need to be more careful. I didn’t tell her that I was involved in Fran’s scheme.

“Ughhh... Moments like this make me wish I could trade real money for Dendro money...”

“You can’t. RMT is forbidden worldwide.”

“NNGHH! BUT WHYYY, THOUGH?! I HAVE SO MUCH ACTUAL MONEY THAT I COULD TRADE FOR LIR!”

The Real Money Trading Ban—I felt like the full name of the law was slightly longer than that, but it had been in effect all over the world since the 2030s. It banned all and any exchange of in-game virtual currency and property for real currency and property or vice versa. The law was put in place shortly after the announcement of the first dive-type VRMMO, NEXT WORLD. Many people believed that the law’s purpose was to make it so that the wealth earned in these kinds of games wouldn’t have a strong impact on the real economy, since these new virtual worlds had the potential to become second homes for a lot of people.

While NEXT WORLD hadn’t lived up to such expectations, Infinite Dendrogram had greatly exceeded them, so it was now widely believed that creating this law was the right move.

You had to make your own Dendro money even if you were wealthy in real life, and you couldn’t trade your lir for real money even if you were rich in Dendro. And this allowed both reality and Dendro to have stable economies...at least according to Fran.

“Looking at you makes me glad we have that law,” I added.

“Come ooon! Don’t you get it?! It’s not like I can go shopping in the dorms! I can’t get that much new stuff! I can only really cut loose in Dendro, but I can’t even bring my actual money there!”

“Whoa, calm down.” My friend’s frustrations with a lack of shopping and money in her life were obviously really getting to her, so I wanted to help her relax. “Teachers use this cafeteria too. You don’t want to attract Miss Nina’s attention, do you?”

Our sociology teacher was very strict—the true picture of the “ice queen” kind of instructor. She was also extremely serious about proper behavior, so she would definitely give Sonya a talking-to if she saw carrying on like this.

“Why’s the school so strict about leaving the dorms, anyway? I wanna escape...”

“You really shouldn’t do that. Going outside without permission will get you suspended.”

We had soundproof private rooms where we were free to perform music, build models, and even log in to Infinite Dendrogram, but as a trade-off we were strictly forbidden from going outside. This was because one of the school’s goals was to prevent the young ladies here from interacting too much with the wrong kind of people.

“Gnrhh...I guess I’m only really free in Dendro... Ugh, but I’m so poor there. The Love-Duel Festival is right around the corner, but I won’t have enough money for anything.”

“The Love-Duel Festival?” That name really didn’t conjure the image of happy couples.

“It’s an event in Gideon based on some romance from a long time ago. My party came to the city for some quest related to it...but my wallet isn’t ready.”

“Romance?”

“Yep. It’s an event where you go on dates with a special someone and maybe even confess your feelings. You know, typical love festival stuff.”

A love festival, huh? I thought. Wait. Hold on. Why did Ray and that Rook guy who verbally abused me just pop into my head? No! No way! That’s out of the question!

“Yuri?”

“D-Don’t mind me. I’m fine. Anyway, who are you going with?”

“I’ll enjoy what the festival has to offer and do some quests on the side, but I don’t plan to go on any dates.”

“Not even with your party members?” Sonya was in a three-person party with two guys, and she’d told me lots about them and everything they’d done together. Granted, a lot of what she’d said were complaints, but the group seemed to get along despite all of that, so I thought there was a chance that something more had grown between them.

However, Sonya looked like she didn’t know how to react to my question.

“Hrmm...Asuma is a kind, capable, and reliable gentleman with a good heart, but he doesn’t talk and pushes around a baby carriage, so I’m not sure how a date with him would even work. And Grimms is just a scumbag.”

Wow, her opinion on the two sure is uneven, I thought.

“Speaking of Grimms, you won’t believe this! He recently told me that he’s actually the second prince of some country and that he’s only a NEET now because it became a republic. I get wanting to brag, but ‘prince’? Seriously?”

“Uhh...I get what you mean.” If someone had told me that, I would’ve just been weirded out.

“I wish I’d used Truth Discernment. I’m sure it would’ve gone like, ‘BEEP BEEP BEEP.’”

“Is that how the skill works?” Well, even though she called him a scumbag, at least they seemed to get along well enough to crack lighthearted jokes about it.

“That reminds me that while I was losing my money at the gacha, Grimms lost his at the arena. Asuma sure got mad at us for that...I’m glad he still gave us enough to cover our daily spending after that.”

Poor Asuma...you two should really fix your lives so it makes his a little easier, I thought.

Sonya planted her face right back on the table and resumed her whining. “Aaahh... I’m so broooooke... I need more Dendro moneeeyyy...”

“Come on, now—oh.” With Sonya’s head out of the way, I was able to see the person standing behind her—Miss Nina, the infamously strict teacher obsessed with propriety. She was looking straight at Sonya, who was still whining about having no money.

Sonya’s really in for it now, I thought. I could already imagine Miss Nina approaching Sonya and saying something like “What do you mean, you ‘have no money’? Did you break the rules and leave school grounds?”

However, contrary to what I expected, Miss Nina just stopped looking at Sonya and walked away.

“Uh...huh? Yuri? What’s wrong?” asked Sonya, clearly unaware that she’d just escaped Miss Nina’s wrath.

“Nothing,” I responded, and shortly after that, breakfast time was over.

The rest of the day went by in the blink of an eye, and soon the day’s classes were nearly at an end.

“That will be all for today’s lesson, but we still have five minutes of class time left, so I will continue a bit further,” said Miss Nina as she concluded her sociology lesson and looked us over. “Today, I talked about how climate and geopolitics influenced the history of industry and commerce all over the world. However, industry is not the only thing that changes in response to its environment.”

She then went on the computer whose display was being projected for the class, opened a paint program, and began drawing something. When she was done, the screen showed two...bears: one big and one small.

“The polar bears inhabiting the cold arctic have grown larger to retain heat, further supported by their thick fur. On the other hand, you have the sun bears, which have developed smaller bodies and have short hair better suited to the warm tropics.”

Bears seemed a little out of place as the subject, but Miss Nina’s drawings captured the quirks of the species. Personally, I thought they were very cute. My classmates probably thought the same, but then Sonya whispered, “Regional forms,” making a few of the girls chuckle.

“These wild animals developed different features because of the environment they lived in. And this is doubly true for humans. Just like animals, we have certain broad traits we developed over a long time because of our natural environments, but we also have individual personality traits developed by the social environment we grew up in as individuals.”

Social environment and personality traits... I felt that this was the main subject that Miss Nina wanted to get to.

“In modern society, you are oftentimes required to adopt a personality that is suitable for the social environment you are in. People in roles like teacher or nun must possess the bare minimum amount of dignity that one would expect of someone in that profession. And the ‘bare minimum’ for students of this school is far higher than it is for boys and girls in society at large.”

Though it had become more relaxed since the previous century, Miss Nina emphasized that this was still a prestigious, serious school for high-class ladies.

“Last week, one of our students left her dorm late at night to fool around with male students from another school. Thankfully, it did not lead to any illicit sexual relationships, but it was still a serious violation of the dorm’s rules. Thus, the student in question was severely punished.”

Students who left school grounds without authorization were punished with suspension. I’d told Sonya that very thing this morning.

Miss Nina had gotten there in a roundabout way, but now it looked like the point of this whole thing was to give us a preachy warning.

If Fran were here, she’d probably say something like “Miss Nina drew those little bears and talked about them just to draw you in and trap you in a goddamn sermon.”

Wait, that was more like Fran when she was role-playing Franklin...though honestly, I felt like my mental image of her was really starting to take Franklin as the default.

“‘Blend it with vermilion and it will all turn red.’ That’s an oriental idiom similar in meaning to the quote ‘he that toucheth pitch shall be defiled therewith.’ You must remember that the environment you are in is the Lorraine Girls’ College, and that your role is to be a student of this school. Please make an effort to live with modesty, propriety, and fidelity.” She looked over us again, her gaze lingering an extra long time on Sonya.

That was exactly when the bell of the in-school church began to toll.

“And there’s the bell. That concludes today’s lesson.”

Having said what she wanted with precision timing that almost seemed intentional, Miss Nina ended the lesson.

“Finallyyy...” Upon returning to my room, I jumped right onto my bed. It probably wasn’t good for my uniform, but I’d be handing it over for cleaning soon anyway, so that didn’t matter.

This was the last day of school before a short break. The week’s lessons were over, and I could finally relax.

I grabbed my dog plushie next to the bed and rolled around a bit with it clutched tightly to my chest.

“‘Blend it with vermilion and it will all turn red.’ Hmm...” Somehow, the first words out of my mouth once the week’s fatigue had started to subside were the exact ones said by Miss Nina.

Then, I remembered my current environment in Dendro. Modesty, propriety, and fidelity—there was a huge vermilion stain in my life there that was completely the opposite of all those things.

And by that, I really just meant Teach.

“I don’t think she’s rubbed off on me yet.” There were things about her I found cool or worthy of respect, but I’d never, ever try to be as unscrupulous as her. Yeah—on that front, she was kind of an example of how not to behave.

“Well, we’re separated for now, anyway.” Teach had told me that she had an urgent matter to attend to and that we couldn’t work together during my break. To make up for it, she’d offered me a part-time job. Apparently someone Teach worked with needed some help with something, and she suggested I take the job since it would also be a learning experience.

“She also said ‘he’s a piece of work, but he pays well.’” I wasn’t sure what to expect from someone whom she, of all people, would call a “piece of work.”

Unlike Sonya, I wasn’t in desperate need of Dendro money, but maintenance for Fran’s White Rose was more expensive than for Marshall II, so it wouldn’t hurt to have more funds.

“And I’ll be working on a fancy sand-cruiser...” Even though it was in Dendro, this would be the first part-time job I’d ever had.

And with the location being so luxurious, I was actually pretty excited for it.

◇◆◇

2045, April, Arizona

The hospital was located near mountainous forests, away from any urban area. The exterior of the building was spotless and well maintained. In fact, it was practically overflowing with beauty and cleanliness.

However, since there were no towns nearby that could provide it with patients, it could be argued that it didn’t fulfill its fundamental purpose as a hospital. The moment anyone noticed the high walls and multiple fences surrounding the grounds, though, that impression would completely change.

The building looked more like a mix between a hospital and a prison, and a sign on the entrance read “Buer Mental Hospital.”

That alone made the reason for its location obvious. This was not a place for emergency patients, and it was not a place meant to be seen by ordinary folk.

The facility’s main gate—as secure as everything else about it—opened up, and a luxury car entered the hospital grounds. There were signs at the roadside, but the driver clearly had no need for them. The way the car headed straight for the underground parking lot made it obvious that they’d been here many times before.

“I’ll be there for about two hours, as usual. Wait for me here,” a young man in a nice suit said to the driver as he stepped out of the car. His apparel would not be out of place for a patient at a regular hospital, but this was a mental facility for people who had both sufficient wealth and circumstances. Knowing that, his clothes took on a different meaning—he wasn’t someone who came to be admitted, but rather someone who had made it so that someone else was.

“Hello, Craig. We’ve been waiting for you,” said a doctor who’d been waiting at the entrance for the appointed visitation time.

“Hey, doc. Thanks, as always,” said the youth in response, his tone friendly. “Anyway, let’s get down to business. How is she?”

“She’s doing quite well. Her symptoms have subsided and she hasn’t had any episodes.”

Although it came at a great monetary cost, this hospital guaranteed state-of-the-art facilities, treatments, and privacy. The girl that the young man had hidden away here also had circumstances that made it necessary to conceal her from society at large.

Guided—and observed—by the doctor, the young man was led to a visitation room. There, a girl waited at the other side of the special glass that divided the space.

Upon seeing the young man, her face lit up.

“Rascyal!”

“Hey, Emily. I came to visit you.” The girl—Emily—called out to the young man with a face full of joy and the inflection of a child not quite used to speaking.

However, the word she used puzzled the doctor. He knew this young businessman’s first name, and “Rascal” wasn’t it.

The young man—also known as Rascal the Bloodonyx, a sub-leader of the Illegal Frontier clan in Infinite Dendrogram—noticed the doctor’s confusion and, with a wry grin on his face, said, “It’s like a nickname.”

“I see,” the doctor said in response. It sure is a mean one, he thought to himself, but didn’t say it out loud.

He then left the room, leaving only Rascal and Emily, still separated by the glass.

“It’s been a while since we met here,” said Rascal. “You got any requests?”

“Shooboost!”

“Shooboost...? Shoe? And boost? You want rocket boots or something?” That seems like something more to Machina’s tastes, he thought. Well, she definitely could make a pair in Dendro, but I don’t think they have those in the real world. Or were they already talking about making something like that on the other side...? It wouldn’t be the first time that piece of scrap has used my money and mats to make new stuff.

Rascal’s thoughts drifted to the one-eyed robot maid that he owned. She was in charge of the clan’s tech, but she was so goofy and gave him so much trouble that just thinking about her caused a look of exhaustion to cross his face.

“No. It’s not boots, but sweets!” Emily said, shaking her head.

“Huh...? Oh, do you mean ‘chiboust’?” Chiboust meant a cake covered in what was called crème chiboust—a mix of custard and meringue—that had its surface caramelized by scorching.

“That!” said Emily, her smile growing deeper from getting Rascal to understand her. “Gerberya made some and it was very very tasty!”

“That dumba—that simple girl is delicate enough to make pastries?” Rascal muttered in surprise. He’d only known Gerbera before Shu had sent her to the gaol—though she’d actually had that particular skill even back then, before Sechs’s instruction. “All right. I’ll bring some next time we meet.”

“Yaaay!”

“Anything else you want? Doesn’t matter if it’s here or there.”

“Umm...I wanna...”

The two went on to speak with each other for about an hour.

“We’ll meet on the other side next time,” Rascal said as the conversation ended and he went to walk out of the visitation room. “And I’ll see you here again next week.”

“See youuu!” said Emily with a wave of her hand.

Instead of going straight for the exit, Rascal went to the doctor’s reception office. He sat down on the sofa, and the doctor waiting there handed him a collection of documents—the clinical files of the girl who had been here for over a year.

“These are her records for the latest month.”

“Still a long way to go until she’s fit for society, huh?”

“The episodes may have stopped, but her mental age is still only about half of her actual age...” Physically, Emily was just slightly shorter than an average girl her age, but her manner of speech still seemed unusually childish. However, both her mental age and height were not a result of something innate—they were something she acquired.

“Her condition isn’t just the result of the incident, but also the many years she spent in that family environment. It is not something that can be cured simply with antidepressants or sedatives. It seems quite clear that what she needs most of all is time.”

“No changes there, huh?” Rascal said, his face troubled and his eyes closed, before nodding and saying, “Very well. Please continue as you have. And please continue with the treatment that I’ve suggested.”

“The VR game? Her condition has certainly improved since she began playing it. It does seem that meeting other people is a plus for her, even if it’s in a game.”

“Yes. I’m sure it is.”

The doctor didn’t play Infinite Dendrogram himself and didn’t inquire about the details. He thought of it as little different from the video games he used to play in his own childhood.

“And she can’t exactly kill anyone in a video game, can she?”

“...Yes. That is true.”

The doctor’s careless words didn’t even make Rascal change his expression. He merely nodded—after all, the doctor was half-right. At the very least, as long as she was logged in, the real Emily would never decide that someone was a “minus” or commit any more crime. Not even if, on the other side, she was the Murder Princess herself.

After talking to the doctor, Rascal returned to the parking lot and walked back to his car.

The driver fired up the engine. Rascal, seated in one of the rear seats surrounded by bulletproof and soundproof glass, took out a tablet device and scrolled through it, focusing on data files that had been added or updated.

“Nothing of note, huh?”

The data files were a map of a world and the happenings within it. However, it wasn’t a map of the Earth, but the world in Infinite Dendrogram, and the data on it had been gathered by Illegal Frontier’s supporting Masters.

“Dryfe’s preparing for those peace talks I heard about. Altar too, but they’ve also got the Love-Duel Festival. And Caldina’s...initiating negotiations with Granvaloa.”

Rascal had been prioritizing the info related to Caldina—the country that currently hosted his and Emily’s avatars.

“More localized info says that the armed organization calling itself ‘Dryfe’s Legitimate Government’ is becoming more active, and that Eltram, a luxury sand-cruiser that Crys Fragment worked on, is gonna be put into commission...” To Rascal’s eyes, he’d spotted a handful of sparks that could catch into a roaring fire.

“I wonder what the best course of action is for our clan’s development...and for Emily,” he said to himself. “For now, though...”

Rascal put away the tablet and took out the device he used for his real job. Though he had IF to worry about, there were also living expenses and hospital bills to pay, so Rascal couldn’t neglect his real company either.

◇◆◇

A Story from a Civil War

It was November of 2044 (reality time), and the imperial army base located in the outskirts of the imperial capital of Vandelheim was aflame.

The army that had sworn to protect the imperium had been torn in two, and now it was at war with itself. The burning base was littered with corpses of soldiers and the broken remains of disabled weapons.

And in the heart of it all, a battle raged between one giant machine and countless human-shaped entities.

The former was a Magingear with a generally humanoid body plan, but it stood out among the conventional Marshall II units because of the unusual feature fixed on its torso—a draconic head that made its overall silhouette look more like an upright dragon than a person.

The creatures it faced were wooden marionettes equipped with firearms.

“SMTF Captain...no...Marquis Barbaros! Your conspiracy with Reinhard ends here and now! Missile Darts!” The dragon-headed unit pointed its left arm at the marionettes—and then the armor on its forearm rose up to fire numerous missiles at the wooden marionettes, reducing many to splinters.

“Major General Eldona. You know the rules of inheritance established by the previous imperator. The throne of Dryfe now rightfully belongs to that child. There is nothing to be gained from any more fighting amongst ourselves.”

The marionette soldiers responded only with more gunfire, cooperating as though coordinated by but one mind.

The dragon-headed machine’s pilot continued. “The gall! My cousin, first prince Gustav—his son, Hallon...how dare you say that after killing them and so many other members of the imperial family...?!”

“I...” The machine pilot’s words had robbed the marionette commander of any ability to respond.

“Or are you simply arrogant because your side has King of Beasts, yourself, and Lady Claudiah?! Do you truly believe your power will be enough to claim this land?! With the exception of Dryfe’s strongest soldier, SMTF Commander Mord Machiné, you all are the strongest individual combatants in the country. However...” The dragon-headed unit thrust a close-range weapon behind it, skewering a marionette soldier that had tried to approach it from behind. “Not a single weapon here surpasses this unit I drive, nor is there anyone whose piloting skill exceeds my own!” The unit continued to destroy each and every single marionette that came too close, and it moved with flexibility and finesse that made humans look dull, fighting with technique that could pass for art.

“As long as I exist, our true imperium will never fall!”

“You were given that unit so you could protect this land. How shameful that you would instead use it to fuel a civil war.”

“If this isn’t protecting this land, I’d like to hear what is...usurper!”

“I know that trying to find any justice in this war is a fool’s errand—and I suppose that is why we have no choice but to fight. But surely you know there is one thing at which I am truly unmatched. And that is numbers.”

The marionettes around the dragon-headed unit had all been destroyed—but they were but a fraction of the entire army.

The marionettes dispersed throughout the base were starting to gather at the site of the battle, and new ones were being made from the metallic remains of the weapons scattered about. These innumerable puppets moved as one to overwhelm and destroy the hostile unit.

The strongest pilot in Dryfe—Over Pilot Curtis Eldona. The wielder of a Mythical MVP reward—Zero General Gifted Barbaros.

This was a deadly clash between the two extremes in the imperium’s army: quality and quantity. It would all come down to which one of them would break through the other’s offense and claim the life of his opponent. The two knew full well that it would be over for them the moment their enemy’s attack reached them, so they gathered their resolve and prepared to face death when...

“The SMTF forces who assaulted the false imperator have been destroyed! And when the Superior...I mean, when Splendida realized that, he stopped restraining King of Beasts and ran away!”

...Curtis received news from his forces that brought the battle to a sudden end.

“What...?!” Curtis could ask for no clearer indication that his side had been defeated. The soldier’s words had revealed the harsh truth—they had gambled everything on this operation, and they had failed.

“This is it, Major General. Let us end this civil war.”

“No! It’s not over yet! This doesn’t mean our ultimate defeat...!” In his heart of hearts, Curtis wished for the battle to continue, but as an army man, he understood full well the choice he had to make now that his forces were being overwhelmed. “I will retreat...for now!” Curtis said, activating the smokescreen installed in his unit.

“Major General!”

“Marquis Barbaros!” Even as Curtis retreated, he gave voice to the will still burning within him. “We will not accept the reign of a usurper! Never forget this moment, and one day, we will surely free...” Here, one of his words was drowned in the noise of an explosion. “...from your vile grasp!” Curtis cried before finally disappearing from the scene.

Those who heard Curtis’s words presumed the inaudible word must have been “Dryfe,” but the truth was unknown to all except the man who had said it.

Whatever his declaration might have been, the civil war sparked by the inheritance of the throne had reached its end, leaving behind only this one smoldering ember.

◆◆◆

April, 2045, Caldina

Curtis Eldona woke up inside his unit.

“...Another dream of that day.” It was more like a nightmare, really—the detestable memory of his escape from his homeland. “I suppose it’s on my mind because we’re preparing for a major operation.”

After losing the civil war that day, the group Curtis commanded—Dryfe’s First Armored Battalion—had moved their operations to Caldina. Reinhard or his pawns would have easily found them had they remained, and Caldina was the only place where they could procure supplies.

These days, the Battalion did their maintenance themselves, obtaining the required parts from the Caldinan black market by either purchase or theft.

“Major General? Are you awake?” a subordinate asked him over the comms.

“I am. I must say, though, as dear as this unit is to me, it is certainly not designed for a pleasant night’s sleep,” Curtis replied, only half-serious.

“There’s no need to sleep in the cockpit every night, is there? Why not use a bed?” the subordinate replied, sounding concerned.

Curtis was well aware that a bed would be preferable, but there were reasons he always chose his unit over a bed.

“Every warrior is at his most defenseless when asleep. If I am to die, I want to rest here, within this machine. This will be my coffin...my Inventory.”

Merchants making long journeys, adventurers undertaking jobs given by the combat guilds, career soldiers, and other people in a similar line of work were at high-risk of dying far away from home. Because of that, it was customary to store their remains in time-stopping Inventories when the worst came to pass and bring them back to their homes for burial. That was what Curtis’s odd choice of words referred to.

Another reason he chose to sleep in the cockpit was that he was especially wary of some specific people coming for his head in his sleep.

His group—known as Dryfe’s Legitimate Government or DLG—was a known anti-government force in Dryfe and an armed militia in Caldina. As it was a nuisance to both countries, there was a high chance the group’s leader would become a target for assassination.

“Very well. Also, I am sure you are aware, but the briefing is in ten minutes.”

“I know.”

Curtis cut the comms and opened the cockpit. A leader like him had to look at least passable, so he stood in front of a mirror to get himself ready and caught sight of the look in his own eyes—haggard, so unlike how he’d looked when he was still in Dryfe.

“I certainly have sunk low,” he said in self-derision.

Curtis had lost count of how many crimes he’d committed here in Caldina in order to maintain his group and its power—but he had a goal he had to achieve no matter the cost.

“We will bring down Reinhard. And then...”

For the sake of the desire that he refused to name out loud, Curtis had resolved to accept a particular task.

Ten minutes later, the members of DLG had gathered in the warehouse that doubled as their briefing hall. There were hundreds of them, and they all wore the same clothes—the uniform of the Dryfean military. They were forming orderly lines, and before them stood Curtis’s unit—the majestic dragon-headed Magingear.

“Comrades, we are about to commence our biggest operation since we moved here to Caldina.” Curtis spoke to his subordinates, his Magingear behind him.

A moment later, multiple pictures were projected on the warehouse wall.

“Our target is the desert liner, Eltram. We will break into it, take the passengers hostage, and claim our target object from the energy block. An inside sympathizer has arranged the infiltration process for us.”

The projection showed the ship’s exterior and a sketch of its design, along with a photo of some sort of large device. Curtis used a pointer to indicate specific parts of the picture and lay out the details of the operation.

“If we keep going as we are, we will lose a large amount of our supplies. Because of this, I have sent Lieutenant Colonel Berlin’s squad on a routine supply mission. Now, I am sure you have realized this by now, but this operation will endanger more civilians than any we have undertaken before.”

That last sentence was received with nervous gulps from a few—if not more than a few—of his subordinates.

“But as you know by now, Caldina is our enemy. Do not let their casualties distract you,” Curtis continued, his voice hardened with absolute certainty. “While the false imperator Reinhard was a fool to start a war with Altar in the first place, Caldina intervened in it by attacking only Dryfe, directly contributing to our homeland’s dire situation. And this was not their only hostile action. They ceased food exports to Dryfe while our people were going through a famine and used that opportunity to hoard wealth for themselves. As far as the imperium is concerned, they are evil!”

Curtis justified their upcoming actions out loud in order to alleviate the psychological burden his battalion might carry as they embarked upon their mission. He’d been doing this since they’d begun taking people’s supplies by force.

“And this operation will reward us with something we must have! Something that will grant us power and will be indispensable in taking back our homeland! Indeed—this will be a weapon against the murderer of first prince Gustav and his son Hallon! The blade that strikes down the vile, tyrannical false imperator Reinhard!” Curtis’s assertion of their justice was deceitful, but he didn’t let them realize it—and if they did regardless, they simply looked away from it.

If they didn’t believe themselves to be just, they would be unable to carry out any military actions so far away from their homes.

“To empower our justice and to secure a future for Dryfe, we must make this operation a success even if it means sacrificing all who stand in our way!”

And so, the battalion replied with a passionate roar.

“This operation will bring us closer to our true goal! Victory to the true Dryfe!”

“VICTORY TO THE TRUE DRYFE!” The soldiers of DLG saluted in unison, and Curtis responded the same way.

They would soon carry out their operation—to them, it was righteous, but to others, merely criminal.

◇◆◇

Thus the capriccio set on a sand liner was about to begin.