Youjo Senki - Volume 10 - Chapter 2

[chapter] II Con Artist

JULY 29, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE EASTERN FRONT

A familiar scene was playing out on the eastern front.

“So we’re being transferred? I had a feeling we would be, but…”

The assembled Imperial Army officers shared a looked of puzzlement after receiving their latest orders.

The eastern front was large beyond belief, so being transferred didn’t seem very out of the ordinary. Despite this, or maybe precisely because of this, the men grumbled as they began filtering back to their respective battalions.

They were on the move again, marching through the vast tracts of land that characterized the eastern front as they made the journey west.

“Heading west again, eh? It feels like we’ve been heading west a lot lately.”

There was a reason for their grumbling.

They were keeping an eye out for roaming partisans as they traveled with the assistance and guidance of the Council for Self-Government. The army was slowly going back from whence it came.

It was a slow withdrawal as they steadily contracted the front line. From the average soldier’s point of view, it felt eerily like committing suicide by letting an open wound slowly bleed out.

After receiving the orders to pull back time and time again, the officers started to think the same way. They were bound to let out a grumble or two after pulling back so many times.

July had seen the Imperial Army perform a series of measured retreats. This change in Lieutenant General Zettour’s tune was stark after the large-scale maneuver warfare he conducted back in June. It felt an awful lot like they were being pushed back by an advancing enemy.

Do we still hold the initiative? The soldiers were beginning to have their doubts.

“…Not again. They want us to pull back even more.”

It wasn’t just one or two soldiers who made small remarks like this.

There was a dangerous edge to their voices. They collectively gritted their teeth as they—yet again—packed up their gear. They often stayed only a single night before they got new orders to move out, crawling ever westward. Most of these soldiers weren’t the type to go charging ahead without thinking.

From a military standpoint, the general withdrawal was essentially inevitable.

Graduates from the academy and the rare, well-seasoned soldier understood this implicitly.

That the endless shuffling of soldiers… That was something that always happened before a large-scale battle. Consequently, in the beginning at least, most of troops in the ranks were hopeful this was the case.

And so they obediently took up their new positions where they would wait for their next orders, only to be disappointed over and over.

Being known for his aggression and decisiveness on the battlefield, the famous strategist Lieutenant General Zettour’s orders were exceedingly simple.

As far as anyone could remember in recent memory, the only command he gave was fall back, fall back.

Thus, officers on the front could only raise idle complaints as they fell in line. They told themselves that higher up, there must be some sort of secret intent behind the orders that they couldn’t grasp.

Their superior officers, however, didn’t have this question to fall back on.

They were confused about the orders they were giving their men. Why are we acting so cautiously?

One glance at the map was all they needed to begin thinking, There’s something wrong with these orders. The more time that passed, the more this incomprehensible feeling reared its ugly head.

Had the orders been fall back and hold the line instead, it would’ve made a little more sense. Enough for the commanding officers to rationalize the orders, at least. But it felt like they were continuing to retreat without any perceivable strategy. It was difficult to process.

At first, they thought it could be an attempt to establish a new defensive line, but their movements weren’t conducive to fortifying any positions. All Lieutenant General Zettour’s orders had them deployed with an emphasis on mobility. Again, the commanding officers chalked it up as preparation for their next strike…but the retreats didn’t stop.

The general was known for using aggressive maneuver warfare to encircle his enemies. This made it exceedingly difficult for the commanding officers to reason out why he would give orders that had them going backward rather than forward. It would be a different story if they were shifting the line back to conserve resources for a major operation. That was textbook military strategy. Unfortunately, there was a major problem with that conclusion.

Such a strategy would have involved retreating, regrouping, then preparing for an eventual counterattack.

Had they been following these three steps, not a single soldier would have questioned their movements even once. The issue was, they weren’t regrouping.

As far as they could tell, the entire front was steadily ceding ground.

They couldn’t shake the feeling that they were yielding to enemy pressure on the front line. That possibility felt all too real.

If they knew what their ultimate goal was, they would quietly listen. Nonetheless, falling back in the face of mounting enemy pressure was beyond their comprehension.

It was enough to make some soldiers furious, and for those tormented by their suspicions—they’d convinced themselves that there must be some grander, well-thought-out scheme. In that sense, the Imperial Army was an organization that didn’t accept silence. Everything started with obedience.

Offering a dissenting opinion was a right and a duty for anyone who had one.

And so the commanding officers raised their concerns with the General Staff Office.

Each time they were met with the same answer: It’s all part of the plan.

They would accept that explanation once.

They would grudgingly go along with it a second time.

But the third time was where they drew the line.

As time passed, their suspicions only deepened. By that point, the field officers had joined their enlisted troops in openly doubting the current strategy.

No one knew what Lieutenant General Zettour had in mind for the eastern front. Quietly questioning his intentions became something of a greeting among the soldiers.

“What do you think the general’s trying to do?”

“We’re probably just going to draw the enemy in. Then we’ll surround them like we always do.” The cautiously optimistic crowd hoped this was the case even as they assured their comrades.

In the end, skeptics and believers alike went quiet and followed their orders.

THE SAME DAY, INSPECTION OFFICE ON THE EASTERN FRONT

The man standing at the center of the quagmire—that was how Lieutenant General Zettour viewed himself.

Friend and foe were desperately trying to figure out his true intentions. The man chuckled bitterly to himself.

“How delightful. I wonder if this is a vice of mine?”

He stretched before relaxing his shoulders for the first time in quite a while. He wasn’t afraid to admit it. On some level, he was enjoying himself as a military man.

His current situation could almost be described as pleasurable.

“What a terrible habit to develop… I’ve been on the battlefield for too long.”

Lieutenant General Zettour continued to chuckle to himself in the corner of his command office. The command center was considerably less busy these days as their bread and butter had become retrograde operations.

The general even had time to enjoy a cigar while he let his mind wander. He scanned the large map spread out before him as he paced around the room in thought.

It was the perfect environment for thinking.

…He paced around the same way he always did at his deputy director’s office when he strategized. The general puffed one of his favorite cigars while he analyzed various war scenarios.

It went without saying that he never forgot the burden he shouldered—not once. He had to fulfill his duty as a general. Having said that… He laughed quietly to himself with that private thought. Lieutenant General Zettour was merely human. When humans realize the true nature of their work, they can only lean into it.

“…I can’t fight against my inner strategist.”

While he was an operations man, he was specialized in a different field compared to his peers. His responsibility included virtually all aspects of the war. That was why he no longer considered operations to be supreme…or so he thought.

“Look at me now.”

A puff of smoke escaped past the cigar in his mouth as he lamented with a mixture of self-deprecation, surprise, and nostalgia.

“Seems there’s still a part of me that sees operations as the deciding factor of warfare.”

Should we focus our efforts and ensure victory in the east?

That was what he thought, though it wasn’t long before he began to feel ire toward the politics, advising, and logistical juggling he was forced to handle.

Naturally, these feelings were wholly unjustified.

“I thought I had separated myself from the church of necessity. Rather surprising that I’m still bound by its precepts deep down inside. I suppose forgetting where we come from is harder than I realized.”

Lieutenant General Zettour’s official title was the deputy director in charge of combat support services for the entire Imperial Army; the idea of prioritizing combat operations over all else should be anathema to him. From that perspective, what he was doing was clearly a huge mistake. If his plan caved in on itself, he would be incredibly hard-pressed to justify the unjustifiable.

But changing one’s position also sometimes offers a new perspective.

Looking at the problem through the eyes of an operational planner flipped the entire war front on its head for Lieutenant General Zettour. There were too many external factors that restricted all activities on the eastern front. This not only put constraints on how they strategized but also made it difficult to pursue a purely military plan of action.

To start off, he needed to take into consideration how they governed their territories similar to the Council for Self-Government. This was a precarious problem seeing as it easily could have knock-on effects for army logistics.

The general questioned whether or not civil administration and military command could be handled simultaneously on the battlefield. Were he to pull it off, it would go down in history as an incredible strategic feat. But he was barely getting started.

The next problem was the troublesome orders coming from the homeland. While it was showing signs of decreasing, the Empire was a classic example of a nation that was addicted to winning. Even the mere idea of retreating provoked reactions of contempt… Whether or not there was precedence for retreating from a military standpoint, the masses had no appreciation for that kind of logical reasoning. Even the more liberal camps in the war college were unwilling to entertain such ideas.

But Zettour’s greatest fear was something else entirely.

The third problem was the quality of his soldiers. What hurt him the most was the severe lack of soldiers who could competently conduct mobile warfare. There simply weren’t enough soldiers to cover the sprawling eastern front, and what soldiers he did have were replacements who were practically children. Who could have possibly foreseen this Great War or whatever they’ve taken to calling it?

“Nobody except for Degurechaff, I suppose. Her sensibilities and perspective on the war are so different from any of the other officers. It’s as if she’s standing on the shoulder of a giant. I have no words.”

He wondered if it was because children lacked a certain level of common sense, which inversely gave them the ability to think more freely than those burdened by the passage of years. Though it did feel strange to lump Magic Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff together with other children.

Lieutenant General Zettour flashed another wry smile as he sat down.

The same old map laid out before him. It had become a habit for him to read the map, make a note of his forces’ positions, and run through potential scenarios in his mind. Being able to put together the entire picture with a single glance at these maps was something of a talent of his—a point of pride for him.

And yet, compared to the past…the situation was incredibly depressing. The disposition of the battalions told the story. They weren’t under his command in the official order of battle. Even the three big restrictions he mentally listed earlier paled in comparison to the greatest systematic flaw facing Zettour.

“I doubt even God…could have predicted this outcome.”

Zettour’s position as the inspector on the eastern front was honorary. His orders had no command authority in his current position; they were considered a form of strategic guidance and were followed thanks to his reputation and insight that stretched over multiple theaters.

In other words, his orders weren’t really orders.

They were nothing more than professional advice. Although he technically had the eastern army’s endorsement, it was hardly proper protocol.

Zettour’s supremely limited ability to issue orders was officially supposed to be something like a precautionary measure that could be temporarily considered should an emergency arise. Or perhaps it could justify him taking charge of a snap evacuation if it became necessary. It may ultimately just have been a means to draw attention away from the commotion that took place before the summer festivities.

Either way, the reality was completely different. The current system had been put into place upon his arrival and had remained in effect for quite some time now. The Imperial Army’s officers were the kind of soldiers who valued substance over form and would rather circumvent the rules than disregard what they considered legitimate command authority.

What resulted was an unofficial chain of command that allowed greater individual freedom.

“…We’re a hop and a skip away from forming a military clique.”

And yet, Zettour found himself enjoying all this.

It was interesting. This strange dynamic only served to rile up his inner-operations officer.

He had an urge to use his dormant skills—and what an incredible urge it was. These three restrictions only added spice to the scenarios as he enthusiastically played them out in his mind.

“This really is such a poor habit of mine. If you want your man to be a gentleman, don’t send him to staff officer training.”

Rubbing his chin in thought, Lieutenant General Zettour chuckled to himself. His habit was neither here nor there, so long as they won the battle. He looked down at the map again. They were one step away from ending this long backward trek.

It was all going according to plan. The final moves were so well executed, he felt somewhat validated.

“This is more alluring than a game of chess, more challenging than a hunting trip. I may end up getting addicted.”

It almost felt like it made his cigar better. He had outwitted his enemies and even kept his allies guessing as he prepared his masterstroke. This was his chance to implement all those theoretical tactics and strategy he had ever studied in the war college… For a commander—especially one who stood on the battlefield like Zettour did now—this was a dream come true.

“Winning this will be the ultimate prize. I yearn for the taste of victory… And wine always tastes the best when you’re already thirsty.”

Delectable wine. The nectar of the gods. An ambrosia so enticing, a single taste would be enough to enthrall you.

To the newly conscripted soldiers who had been sent to the east, it would be like poison.

A way to give them hope and rally them—but should they taste victory here, they would surely ache for it for the rest of their lives, no matter the cost.

It would drown out the voices within the Council for Self-Government who questioned the Empire’s chances of victory.

In other words, it was the spark they needed to set the army ablaze.

“I’m worse than the devil himself.”

If he could win this fight, it meant there was another waiting for him. There was hope for another day.

The only issue was he needed to get his country addicted to the venomous wine he had brewed… It was, unfortunately, the only course of action he could take. What more could he hope for?

“It’s why I must dare to try.”

He knew it was an incorrigible habit.

He also realized that deep down inside, he no longer desired to change his ways. This was a sort of desperation born of the dire situation that he had been placed in by circumstance. It was a catch-22 really, as there was nothing else he could do. It was hard to describe how it felt to know that the fate of his country rested on his ability to salvage the war.

A heavy burden had been laid on his back, though he learned to bear it with composure… He had to be this way if he was going to shoulder this national crisis for as long as he did.

“Hesitation, eh? Maybe I’d be more reluctant if I were a simpleton, like that dolt Rudersdorf who slams windows and screams at the drop of a hat. It seems I can’t afford to be as simpleminded.”

This was why Lieutenant General Zettour was always accused of being too academic in his assessments. He felt a sense of nostalgia well up inside, though such emotions were useless to him now. He turned his attention back to the war plan. He repeatedly tapped his finger on each of the points on the map.

The salient, their base, and their communication lines in the rear.

He painstakingly reorganized his troops and arrayed them carefully against the emboldened enemy, camouflaging their deployments so well that even his own troops were complaining about their seemingly mindless series of retreats.

The Federation was…without a doubt, still cautious. With great chagrin, he needed to acknowledge his formidable opponent. It was likely that they were already aware of his habits and methods.

This meant they had a dedicated strategy to combat his maneuver warfare tactics. It was only natural that they would—it was how he preferred to wage war.

And yet… Lieutenant General Zettour puffed his cigar as he confirmed his suspicions by reviewing the enemy’s positions.

“The enemy is wary, just as I had hoped…or at least it seems that way.”

He had laid the simplest of traps, clear as day—teaching the enemy to be wary of his habits. This was the core of his art. With the way it seemed like they weren’t luring the enemy…his plan was plausible.

Plausible being the key word.

Certainty was like a bluebird of happiness. This was the only certain thing in a terribly uncertain world.

In any case, Zettour had planted his seeds and painstakingly tended to the field. The only thing left now was the harvest.

Harvests are by no means guaranteed—not until the crops are already safely in hand.

“…It depends on if we have enough sickles. Finding out we have too few could be very painful.”

Even the best farmers can’t do good work with rusty tools. To keep their sickles sharp, they needed time, which was hard to come by even in the best of times.

A shortage might not stop the harvest entirely, but it was a sharp thorn in his side nonetheless.

Just the thought of how much wheat he stood to lose from this simple fact was enough to make Zettour’s head spin. All he could do was stare up at the same old, stained ceiling above him with his hands idly laced together.

“…I feel like I have an idea as to why palaces and churches around the world paint their ceilings.”

His predecessors were surely troubled the same way he was. The purpose of ceiling murals was empirical knowledge that could be gleaned only through intense mental anguish.

“Now…what to do, what to do.”

His goal was to show the fresh recruits a ray of hope through victory. The problem was, he didn’t have the budget for it. Taking the safer route should still net them a harvest but most likely a minimal one.

To start off with, centralization is a core tenant of strategy. The worst strategy is one that’s weak because you split your assets between too many goals.

It’s imperative to keep your forces together.

“It’ll be a gamble.”

Zettour knew he could only stare at the map for so long before it became pointless. What were the consequences should he fail? Getting panned by history teachers looking back on this moment?

The need for him to make a decision was lying on his map, staring at him.

“This reminds me of the Rhine. It’s hard to call this the right way to draft an operation… But at the end of the day, an operation plan isn’t something you can create with only a level head.”

No matter what kind of strategy you scheme up, it’s nothing but theory until it hits the battlefield. Plans always have a way of blowing up in your face once the shooting starts. Zettour knew this for a fact, but it was still tough for him to swallow nevertheless. To think that after he risked everything to concentrate his forces only to find their numbers still lacking!

He brushed his hand across the map. There was an ambiguous grin sliding onto his face.

“What would’ve happened if necessity wasn’t driving us forward, whip in hand?”

Necessity is the mother of invention and innovation. If he thought he could have afforded it, Zettour likely would’ve opted for a safer option. Chances were he may have even left the planning to a subordinate under different circumstances.

That was the kind of man he was.

In comparison, he found it much simpler to go out on the front line where danger could be found wherever he looked. Were he to die, it would only be his life that was lost. Commanding an army was completely different. The lives of thousands rested in his hands.

“Now, when to start… Yes, that is the million Reichsmark question… Hmm?”

Just then, there was a firm knock at the door. Zettour had been so absorbed in his planning that he didn’t hear his visitor approaching. The general shook his head to clear his mind and let the young commanding officer in. A nervous-looking fellow entered.

He looked so anxious that it almost made the general worry about his country’s future.

“Is there a problem?”

Preparing for the worst was another habit of his. His tone always tensed at moments like these.

“W-well…sir. There’s someone here to see you from the capital.”

Lieutenant General Zettour laughed a little awkwardly; he wondered if it was his harsh tone that made the young officer nervous.

“Ah, my apologies. I’m not one to kill the messenger. Please show our guest in.”

Had there not been a messenger outside, the general may have very well scoffed… But he wasn’t one to pick on the younger officers.

He needed to make his final decision. It was the worst possible time for some official to pay a visit, but such was the life of an operations man.

He swallowed his frustration and waited for his guest’s arrival. To his surprise, he was quite pleased to see them. A small figure walked down the hall and turned into his office… He lowered his line of sight to better see them.

The short officer was young enough to make the nervous wreck from before seem like a veteran… The Imperial Army was large, but there wasn’t a single soldier shorter than the magic lieutenant colonel standing before him.

“Oh, it’s you. Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff. Had I known you were the official being sent, I’d have prepared some coffee.”

The general smiled warmly. When lost during a hunt, who better to consult than a hunting dog?

“Yes, sir. I’ve come to deliver these to you.”

“Seems that stubborn old man is considerate enough to lend someone of your caliber to the eastern front. I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks. At least this gruesome war has served some purpose.”

“Could you please confirm the messages?”

Tanya overtly shrugged off his jest and, with her tiny hands, held out two sealed envelopes. Degurechaff stood at attention in silence. Her duty was to deliver a message.

“Let’s have a look.”

Lieutenant General Zettour broke the seals and scanned each of the letters before letting out a hearty laugh.

“I don’t have time for either of these. A boring message and a worthless congratulations. It’s an extreme waste of personnel to have someone with your skills delivering these. I take it skies in the homeland are as cloudy as always.”

The first envelope contained a letter from human resources. The second was a political message.

“I thought this would happen, for the most part.”

Zettour reached for the cigar resting on his ashtray, then took out a match to light it. He rubbed his chin as he took a drag.

Though politics in the homeland always moved at a snail’s pace, this was a good sign.

The news wasn’t exactly bad. If the Foreign Office had a newfound recollection of what the words foreign diplomacy meant, there might be a different way to end the war after all. As far as Zettour could tell, this was the best way out for the Empire. Should their fatherland decide to take the right path, he could find a way to hang on.

He was perfectly willing to hold out for the best outcome if it meant getting rid of the army’s need for a Plan B, which might as well have been synonymous with complete and utter destruction. As his friend once said, “Time is limited,” but Zettour wasn’t particularly interested in making a suicidal decision based purely on their lack of time.

All he could do was fight for the sake of the future. This was precisely why it was worth considering his gamble on the eastern front.

“The letters are top secret, but both contain good news in a way. You have my thanks, Colonel. By the way…were you informed about their contents?”

“No, sir. I was only ordered to deliver them to you.”

“Very good. I’d like to celebrate this bright moment with you before the hardships that lie ahead are upon us. It appears the shot callers have recognized my contributions to the war effort. I’m being promoted.”

“So you will be a full general soon? That is great news, sir.”

It wasn’t easy for the general to stifle a chuckle when he thanked Degurechaff for her congratulations. To Lieutenant General Zettour, it was nothing short of irony that he would be promoted to General Zettour right before launching his offensive.

“This is actually Rudersdorf taking a jab at me. That idiot. He sure has learned some useless political techniques. The man might as well become a bureaucrat himself.”

He knew Rudersdorf wanted to leave the eastern front entirely in his control—an unreasonable request for a mere lieutenant general. Though they were late, he finally had the suitable credentials to justify what he was already doing. It was a considerate move as an operational planner but could only be described as insufficient as a General Staff officer.

He had wanted this title when he arrived at the eastern front. Either that or some sort of clear-cut authority to go along with the promotion to general.

The title of general was a major milestone for any career military personnel… But it didn’t excite Zettour.

“…The other message is just as pointless as my promotion. It’s a regular letter. There’s nothing worth noting other than the fact that Rudersdorf is coming dangerously close to doing something drastic.”

“As it was my duty to deliver the messages with the utmost discretion, I can’t speak for the contents.”

“How bureaucratic of you to answer that way, Colonel.”

Or perhaps this was just how they always handled things at the General Staff Office. Zettour never paid mind to such petty politics while he was there, but now that he was on the outside looking in, it struck a different chord. Documents that pertained to political affairs were always considered top secret within the Empire. As a man fighting on the front lines of the war, however, its contents amounted to nothing more than a mental note.

The nature of what was an urgent matter was different for a high-ranking officer standing on the battlefield.

They cared about where the battle would be heading in three weeks or three months from where they were now… Not whatever politics were the flavor of the day.

“I need you to deliver a verbal message for me. Right now I’m an operations man. I’d rather talk about plans than politics.”

“I never would’ve guessed someone as high ranking as you would ignore politics, sir.”

“I don’t ignore them entirely, of course. Politics are a critical part of grand strategy, and strategy is what gives operations meaning. That said, it’s important for those of us fighting on the eastern front to not lose sight of what’s in front of us. For someone like me, there are too many soldiers I need to keep alive to be worried about political maneuvering.” Lieutenant General Zettour rubbed his chin as he continued to speak. “Well, it seems like we’re moving in the right direction, so now I can conduct operations in peace. I’ll let him be the one to fill you in on the details.”

Considering the sensitive nature of the letters she delivered to him, dispatching the magic officer as a courier was a legitimate choice, bureaucratically speaking. Setting aside what Zettour viewed as important information for the moment…these documents spelled out details about the inner workings of the Empire. It would be catastrophic if they ever fell in the hands of their enemies.

In that regard, nobody would second-guess Rudersdorf’s decision to have Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff, the famed White Silver—now known as Rusted Silver—in charge of their delivery.

Zettour had something else in mind for his messenger, though.

“That was a good read,” the general said as he lit the two letters on fire with a match. As their ashes drifted into the ashtray below, he jumped to what he really wanted to speak with her about.

“Colonel Degurechaff, I too have the authority to give you orders. How about it? Would you like to do a little job for me?”

“Sir?”

“I have high hopes that you will go down in history as the embodiment of the ideal aerial mage. Do you have objections to how I feel? I want to hear what you think.”

“No, sir.”

She nodded, but there was something about her expression that showed her bafflement at the words little job. The same expression also showed her strong sense of obligation to follow orders. It was quite the facial expression to see, Zettour thought. He needed more boots, though. So he asked her despite knowing his imposition.

He did this because he knew he could trust the magic lieutenant colonel to do the job right.

“Good. Very good. I’m glad you haven’t forgotten to take some time to enjoy yourself in the east. Let’s start by having a short chat about the war.”

The small soldier held the clue he had been searching for all this time… A highly skilled field aerial magic officer he could trust was more precious than gold on the eastern front.

He wouldn’t let this chance slip by him.

The general always assigns the toughest jobs with a friendly expression—it’s a talent of his. In other words, he knows how to wrap up a burden like a present. This is an important skill for a talented manager, but Tanya cannot help but stand in awe at the way General Zettour has perfected it.

I know how to wiggle out of bothersome work like this from my days as an office worker, but there’s no way out for Tanya when the orders come straight from the dragon’s mouth like this. In other words, General Zettour is skilled at cornering talent. He may even be the best in the game. There’s no choice but to go along with his request.

I’m going to need to be very careful with any attempts to transfer away from a superior like this.

All bosses hate losing people. It makes sense. As they say in Japan, a bird who leaves the nest should leave it clean. Birds don’t need to worry about this, though, until they can actually fly. Tanya should— No, her response needs to be genuine precisely because she’s trying to leave. Not to mention, the more inside information she has, the more likely she’ll be accepted with open arms wherever she goes.

Above all else, while Tanya currently enjoys a certain level of fame within the Imperial Army, that may not hold true when it comes to the surrounding countries. Depending on how much they personally know or how much propaganda they’re subject to—due to their lack of relations with the Empire—talking about Tanya’s stellar military credentials to officials in other countries could be worse than worthless.

Tanya’s name needs to be known in all the countries she could potentially defect to, and she needs to be the one to visit them. To do this, she needs to be sent out into the field more to secure even more accolades.

This is why I meet Zettour’s request with an earnest response.

“At your discretion, sir.”

“Excellent. Take a look at the map. This is the current state of the war.”

He points at the desk, which has a large map spread across it.

Tanya’s eyes, guided by his finger, scan the extensive notes on all eastern front dispositions. These are military secrets worth drooling over. Any career soldier told they were allowed to look would realize in an instant that the Imperial Army is being pushed back. Their entire front is slowly retracting. And with hardly any reinforcements trickling in and a dire lack of firepower on their defensive line, it’s bad enough to be worth crying over.

There are far too many glaring weak points…but for some reason, it isn’t the map of a defeated army.

“It looks bad, but there’s something about the map that doesn’t show signs of collapse.”

“Do you think so? Even though we’re being pushed back this far?”

Lieutenant General Zettour sounds like he’s enjoying this. As he says, the glaring matter of fact is that the Empire has been forced to cede a great deal of ground. Our enemies are hammering a weak defensive line. In that sense, the map is displaying the Empire’s weakness.

And yet, there is one other difference from when Tanya was last deployed to the east—all the fatal choke points are perfectly guarded. A direct result of the continuous contraction of the front is that all the holes in their line have been effectively filled.

To put it nicely, the front line has been completely reorganized. Phrased less charitably, General Zettour has adjusted the line by completely abandoning all positions that seemed difficult to hold.

Setting such details aside, the map paints a picture of an extremely radical strategic redeployment.

“The slow and steady retrograde operation…looks too clean.”

“Regardless of how it looks to the other imperial officers, I’m sure the Federation would agree with your statement. Assuming, of course, that they are as clever as you.”

What do you think? the general asks Tanya with his eyes. I’m still baffled.

Could it be that he picked up on the fact that I’ve been entertaining the idea of relocating? It can’t be. I’m thinking too much. But if not, then he is asking Tanya to think from the perspective of their enemies.

“…I’d like to see their sullen faces. They must think they’ve been had, sir.”

“Without a doubt. Look at how cleanly we’ve pulled back. When they draw it out on the map, they should be able to guess what my decision was. I’d imagine their war planners are livid right now.”

He grins. I can almost make out the outlines of the vicious fangs he’s trying to hide. Lieutenant General Zettour boasts to Tanya, “I believe they’ve made a miscalculation about our plan.”

“That the Imperial Army is primarily focused on fortifying its gains?”

“Yes… It appears they’ve forgotten that dominance on the battlefield is and always has been my true goal. I’ll give them all the land they want. The price they’ll have to pay for it is control.”

This was something only a general who pulled this off on the Rhine front could say. A lesser general would never have even attempted such an extreme reshuffling of their forces. This general can, though. He’s a man capable of commanding his army to fall back when he sees the need to. His reasoning is sound, but it’s incredible that he can pull it off so perfectly without compromise.

Most people would hesitate in his position or cave in to the pressure of naysayers. It’s impossible for a strategic retreat as exemplary as this to be pulled off by any ordinary commanding officer.

…I really don’t want to leave a superior this capable. Even if I do intend on changing jobs, I hope I can do so on good terms, with the backing and recommendation from a man as competent as this. The only problem is that not only is Tanya limited in places she can go but also anyone who might be a reference for her would likely fall alongside the Empire should they lose the war.

That’s a huge problem.

But it isn’t something I can figure out right here, right now. I shake my head and focus on the task at hand.

Changing jobs is important, but it’s just as important that Tanya doesn’t fail at her current one. If she’s going to change jobs, it’s imperative that she demonstrate her capableness here until the very end. Only those who are capable and have drive are ever headhunted. What nation wants to recruit someone who makes basic mistakes?

Time to focus on everything I’ve learned as a soldier.

This is also the perfect moment to call upon what I remember of history and two lives’ worth of experience. I scan the map several times before offering some thoughts on the operation unfolding…and then happen upon a stunning realization.

“Allow me to be straightforward with you. I believe you’ve made a bold decision.”

The plan is excellent; I can’t believe he’s gone this far.

It’s harder for most people to let go than it is for them to acquire things. There are many fools who are so fixated on keeping what they have that they eventually lose it all.

This is why it’s important to know when you should cut your losses.

In order to salvage the entire war effort, the general has lured the enemy forces in while discarding territory that couldn’t be held anyway in order to prepare for what’s coming next.

The precision of his calculations makes me want to sing his praises from the rooftops. Using the same reasoning that has led me to the decision to pursue a new employer, Lieutenant General Zettour understands that he needs to cut his losses.

This man absolutely deserves to be promoted to full general.

That might also explain why a thorough analysis of the entire map reveals an unnatural formation. There was a notable swelling at one point in the front line.

Every time my eyes pass over it, I can’t help but notice that specific point. It sticks out like a sore thumb.

In that spot, a salient was forming.

The Empire’s front line had been broken all too easily, and this salient seemed like the beginning of a deadly cancer that threatened to eat away at the Imperial Army’s entire front. And yet…how could there only be one visible tumor? There should be limits on how deliberate you can be with these kinds of things.

“What do you think?”

Tanya answers her superior’s question with a genuine compliment.

“This can only be described as art, sir.”

No one else in this war could possibly pull off a stunt like this. It’s nothing less than the product of expert craftsmanship. Honestly, the Imperial Army should offer the deputy director a bonus.

It’s important that talent and labor are met with commensurate rewards.

“Oh? I’m glad you like it. So you’re one for the finer arts, Colonel?”

“No… I have no confidence in my aesthetic sensibilities. I’m just an officer who likes to move her body, not her paintbrush. But even I can recognize the appeal of something this beautifully orchestrated.”

Any senior officer who uses their head for something other than a hatstand would agree with Tanya’s comment after gazing upon this map. Is Lieutenant General Zettour some sort of con artist?

Whether it’s deviously cunning or terrifyingly brilliant is a matter of semantics. Either way, I’m glad that this strategist on our side is far more talented than those of our enemies. I definitely want to stay on good terms with this man, if at all possible, even if I stay the course and really do end up changing careers.

“Are you planning to cut off this salient, sir?”

“What makes you think that, Colonel?”

He sounded surprised. Tanya answered him without hesitation.

“Their salient is too well-placed.”

“…Look at the map. There’s a hole in our front line where we don’t have the strength to oppose the enemy forces.”

“I see. So the salient seems legitimate to a certain extent. That said, I can tell that it’s artificial. Excuse me for saying this…but I know how you hunt, sir. This is as excellent a trap as I’ve ever seen.”

“Good eyes, Colonel.”

Tanya hit the nail on the head. Or at least she nods as if to make it seem like she did. These are really the only times when Tanya acts her age.

“Does that mean what I think it means, sir?”

“I have indeed lured the enemy army into a trap. It was hard work.”

“Drawing in the enemy all while conducting a careful organized retreat? That’s history book material, sir.”

Draw out the enemy and destroy them—far easier said than done. In fact, the scale of what General Zettour’s trying to do makes it seem virtually impossible. He’s masterfully ceding ground to bait the enemy with the ultimate goal of annihilating their field army. Should this plan succeed, it’ll be studied for years to come.

I quite honestly can’t believe that he’s pulled this off.

“It’s a bit too early for praise, Colonel. No matter how much you plan, it’s nothing more than an assortment of scribbles on paper until you actually pull it off.”

“But, sir, your plan is unfolding exactly the way you want it to, is it not?”

“Our enemies come from the same stock as the soldiers of the Russy empire. As imperfect as they may be, it’s too soon to assume they’ve forgotten how to do ballet. Hopefully, this old bag of bones is worthy of a dance or two.”

Could their enemies really see what was coming? I can’t reject the notion flat out, but it seems highly unlikely…

But then again, there’s always a chance.

“So what do you think they’ll do next, Colonel?”

“May I have some time to think, sir?”

Staff officers are constantly thinking about how they can outwit, outthink, and outmaneuver their enemies. Based on that…

Tanya shakes her head.

The problem is…I don’t have a single clue what the right answer is.

“Colonel, time’s up. This is war. I can’t give you all day.”

“…Then I’ll go with the aggressive option. Despite realizing it’s what we want them to do, they will knowingly play into our hands to force us to show that very hand. It’s not exactly the same as the revolving door operation on the Rhine front, but I believe this is a good opportunity to encircle them.”

“How would you make that happen?”

Tanya answers the moment Lieutenant General Zettour finishes his friendly question.

“A pincer movement targeting the salient’s base would be the textbook approach. Once we cut the fools off from their country, we can close ranks and achieve local superiority…”

It was hard to describe how fulfilling it felt to hear her say that. The best example Zettour could come up with was having a large stag right where you wanted it during a hunt. Was there a greater joy than lying in wait while aiming down your sights at big game before making the perfect shot?

He had managed to dupe even the magic lieutenant colonel who stood before him. This was a senior officer, someone who knew the way he planned. Well, to a certain extent, at least. Still, he had been able to fool her!

“I would’ve marked that answer correct back when I was teaching at the war college.”

“What?”

By the blank look on her face, he could tell she had been taken by surprise. His strategic ambush had fooled Degurechaff, one of history’s greatest magic lieutenant colonels. The feeling of satisfaction was indescribable.

“Things are dire on the eastern front. Drastic times call for drastic measures.”

With a bit of a chuckle, Zettour grabbed a cigarette instead of his cigar. He lit it and took a drag. Even his cheap military tobacco tasted incredible after this small victory he had earned.

He had thought that Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff might be able to see through his ploy. If that were the case, then wouldn’t it stand to reason that his enemies would be able to do the same? …Except she hadn’t. His plan had passed this impromptu litmus test with flying colors.

“So even a field officer as formidable as yourself can’t detect my trap. If that’s the case, then we may be able to stay in the game longer than I’d first assumed.”

“Sir? I’m having a hard time following you…”

“Lieutenant Colonel, I’d like you to go on a recon-in-force mission for me.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get right to it,” Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff said before cushioning her objection politely as she continued. “However, are you sure it’s a good time for such a mission? I feel a probing attack now would be…somewhat provocative. It could end up giving away your plan, sir. This is even more so the case if you intend to encircle the enemy forces, though it looks like there will need to be a proviso added.”

“Your point?”

“I wish to hear what your intentions are.”

He could hear the bewilderment in her voice. Anybody can wrongly interpret a map. Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff was no exception. He recalled his college days, back when he was busy trying to be a good student. The moment of nostalgia put a slight smile on his face.

He thought about how simple things were back then. The reality now was much more complicated. One thing stayed the same. Something that people learned the hard way once they stepped onto the battlefield.

“Lieutenant Colonel, let me tell you one thing.” It was obvious he was speaking from experience. He took a deep breath before he continued. “The rules of war never change.”

“Do you mean that the side lacking in numbers will inevitably have to think up a strategy?”

The general wanted to nod affirmatively at her instant reply. His expression loosened slightly. An officer who knew what they were talking about was always an incredible thing to behold.

Her ability to follow along allowed the general to keep his own answer short and simple.

“Exactly. That is why we’ll use our mobility. An encirclement will work perfectly!”

“But earlier, you said…”

“It’s a matter of where you look. Lieutenant Colonel, perhaps I should resolve some of the contradictions as well.”

The lieutenant colonel wore a dubious expression that screamed, What is he getting at? while she thought as hard as she could. Evidently, he couldn’t be outdone by even the younger officers when it came to creating bold strategies.

“I’ll let you in on the secret, Colonel.” With an ever-so-slight skip to his step, Lieutenant General Zettour continued his explanation. “Just like on the Rhine front, we’re only allowed to retreat a distance that will enable us to conduct a counterattack. These are the orders from the homeland. Assuming this is the case, then we can’t simply encircle the enemy while we retreat. There has to be more to it than that. It’s simple, don’t you think, Colonel?”

The orders to attempt a counterattack were purely political posturing by people in the capital. They were a joke, thought up by somebody in Berun who was too busying polishing their chair with their ass to know what it was like on the front line. Even so, many soldiers would pay the ultimate price if this joke was issued as an official order on the battlefield. Just thinking of the collapse such a pitiful command would result in was enough to evoke a dry laugh or two.

But fret not, for we’re senior officers. There’s nothing to fear.

An impossible mission or two wouldn’t be enough to break them. He was going to push aside logic with the art of war to catch the Goddess of Fate from behind by grabbing her hair.

“We have no choice but to follow orders.”

“…A frontal assault? If we use the soldiers as human bullets, wouldn’t it simply devolve into trench warfare and stop us in our tracks after a few meters?”

“That’s absolutely right, assuming we play it by the book. However, we don’t have the time nor the obligation to mount a frontal assault. Thus, we’ll have to take a more deceptive approach. What do you think about this?”

He tapped a spot on the map. Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff’s eyes widened when she realized what she was looking at. A simple tap of the finger was enough for her to discern his true intentions.

“Sir, this is…”

The small senior officer couldn’t hide the astonishment in her voice, a clear sign she fully understood his plan.

“I had no idea you had ambitions to become a field marshal, sir.”

Though she must have been exaggerating…it showed that it only took her an instant to get on the same page as him. Her perceptiveness was so incredible it made him laugh, though he hid it with a small puff of cigarette smoke.

“It’s too early to tell if we’ll be able to move quickly enough to take over an enemy base. If the enemy reacts poorly, though, I may very well become a marshal.”

Obviously, they were both joking. Should their troops advance that far into enemy territory, their already pitifully overstretched supply line wouldn’t be able to support them. Not only that, but they would need to move much quicker than they did when they trapped the François army in the revolving door.

At most, they would be able to pull off a strategic victory on the battlefield.

Either way, he was impressed that the young lieutenant colonel comprehended the ambitiousness of his plan. The magic lieutenant colonel already knew what Zettour wanted her to do.

“Will I be the diversion, sir? Similar to what we did on the Rhine front.”

“Yes, I need you to seize their attention.”

He had forced the enemy to bring their supply hub forward.

Before, he had put his odds of success at fifty-fifty…but now he had the perfect bait to lure them into his trap. He had everything he needed to win. There was nothing left to worry about. It was time to start the operation.

“With all due respect, you would make an incredible con artist, sir. You’re something of a trickster.”

“That has a nice ring to it, Colonel. General Trickster, soon-to-be Field Marshal Trickster. I’ll make sure to reserve a seat for you on my board of trickery.”

With a big smile, Zettour took out another cigarette.

Just as he was about to give the final order, he realized there was one flaw he had overlooked.

Zettour was a fan of smoking when he planned, and it only just occurred to him that he couldn’t share this with the small lieutenant colonel who had never smoked before. Judging by her stiff expression, Zettour thought there was a good chance she was personally against smoking as well.

That was fine. If Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff had been smoking at her age, he would’ve been obligated to alert the military police. They were a strict bunch. He put on a wry grin at his tactless thought before turning his focus back on the war planning.

“I want you to act as bait, Colonel. I’ll hit the enemy with the main forces while you have their attention. It’ll be a simple but highly effective assault.”

“But, sir, I’m a bit worried about the main troops.”

“What do you mean?”

He shot the lieutenant colonel a look, asking her for elaboration.

“It’s about where they’re currently deployed.”

Her tiny hands pointed out a few numbers on the map, which indicated the Empire’s divisions, with a confused look about her.

“As far as I can tell…some of the forces on the front line are units I’ve never even heard of before. Why have we positioned the newer divisions here for such an important assault?”

“To give them hope, Colonel. It is an investment for the future.”

He looked over at the ace mage. It was very evident that she had no idea what he was talking about. It made sense that an officer with troops as elite as hers would feel this way.

“Did you know, Colonel? Hope is what gives people the will to fight.”

Hope was like a deadly poison, but depending on the dose, it could be used as a miracle drug. It was something only older officers would be able to understand.

“Sir, I’m not quite sure I follow you… Is that some sort of code word above my authority…?”

She was an excellent officer and soldier, but she was still young. Her limited experiences didn’t allow her to notice the subtleties of the human spirit. Zettour thought that was the most likely reason the small child was unable to grasp the core of the issue at hand.

“Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff, I know this is sudden…but could you tell me about your decorations?”

“Of course, sir. Are you referring to my accolades?”

The lieutenant general answered her question with a look, and—still confused—she answered him back.

“In addition to the Silver Wings Assault Badge, I have received the General Assault Badge, a war merit medal, a special skill badge, as well as various other distinguished service awards and campaign medals…”

“I believe the 203rd and the Lergen Kampfgruppe have also both received unit citations, correct?”

“Yes, my subordinates do incredible work.”

The lieutenant colonel seemed proud of herself and the men and women she worked with. It was another one of those moments where she showed her age. Of course, there weren’t many schoolgirls who boasted about their friends’ achievements on a battlefield.

What strange times they lived in.

Zettour felt the need to stifle another sardonic smile when he thought about just how twisted the world could be.

Of course, he had nothing but applause and praise for the young soldier standing before him.

“Superb. Absolutely outstanding, Lieutenant Colonel. You and your subordinates are the cream of the crop and make no mistake: That’s something to be proud of.”

“I believe it’s all thanks to our education and training, along with our unbridled warrior spirit on the battlefield.”

It’s likely that she was proud because she was capable. It was sad, though there was also a strange humorousness to it.

“Let’s have a friendly debate for future reference. What do you think the core of your success is? What was important for elevating your troops to such a level?”

“I believe it’s our training. My battalion prides itself on the blood and sweat we put into our training.”

Success and effort. He figured that she would say something like that. The subordinates who worked for her would likely say the same thing.

They were a group that had experienced significant success, and it was a core part of their identity now.

“Ah…is that so.”

“Sir?”

Lieutenant General Zettour sighed as he spoke with an inquisitive voice.

“Forget about the illusion of success.”

“…What?”

“Do you need me to lay it out for you? I can’t hold it against you, though… You need to understand what it’s like for people who lose battles, Colonel.”

The young officer was visibly confused by his words.

It was rare for her to lose track of a superior’s train of thought… Was it because she was still a child even with her outstanding battle record, impressive accolades, and an incredible battalion? Or perhaps it was because she was too outstanding and simply couldn’t understand those who were not.

He remembered the day he told her not to choose her subordinates. Hopefully, her terrific prowess wouldn’t lead to measuring her peers by impossibly high standards.

“Remember this, Colonel. These are trying times we live in, and there aren’t many who are stoic enough to train as hard as your troops.”

“Insufficient training will kill a soldier on the battlefield as surely as any bullet. Training to the death is the only hope they have of staying alive.” There was a tone of indignation to her voice as she continued, “It’s important to take the state of the war into consideration. Everyone knows there isn’t much time, and what little we do have is tremendously precious. Wouldn’t anyone who wants to survive devote themselves to training body and mind, sir?”

“Ha-ha-ha, that way of thinking would have been just the thing we needed before the war started, Colonel. Our current recruits don’t think that way.”

“Is it a lack of competence causing that? Either way, I believe true soldiers are forged with time and training, then blood and fire…”

“The will to fight is derived directly from victory on the battlefield,” Zettour declared in a firm voice. “For someone like you, whose troops know no defeat, it’s impossible to comprehend this feeling. Fighting a losing war will turn even the finest soldiers into worthless dogs.”

“I’m failing to follow you.”

“See for yourself. Pessimism about our victory quietly plagues the eastern front, even at the higher levels of command.”

“It’s my opinion that people with middling levels of intelligence will inevitably think that way.”

“Colonel, your insight for total war is second to none. I’d venture to say your perception is on a level of its own. That said, you have a tendency to use yourself as an objective measure to evaluate those around you. You’ve placed your own experiences above those of others, which is admittedly quite interesting, considering you’re still a child.”

Would some experience off the battlefield give her a different perspective? Zettour wore a sullen grin when he entertained the idea. Funnily enough, he was the same. The majority of his life had been spent in the service of the military. He supposed that what wisdom he could lay claim to had come with age.

That train of thought was cut short when he suddenly realized something. What about that idiot, Rudersdorf? He was living proof that wisdom wasn’t a matter of age… Zettour then considered whether it was perhaps the degree of hardships he had endured.

“Hmm, I wonder which it is…?”

“Sir? Is something the matter?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about the importance of education. Let’s get back on topic. This is a secret report on the morale of our soldiers on the front line… I want you to read through it, Colonel.”

Zettour pulled out a folder from his desk and set it in front of Tanya while he fiddled with his tobacco in his other hand.

“Wait, have you been conducting a covert investigation on morale?”

“It’s important that we know how the soldiers truly feel. The results were that forty percent of our soldiers still believed that the Empire could win this war. Considering the situation of the war, does forty percent not seem surprisingly high?”

I quickly read through the papers in the folder as requested; the contents are indescribably bad.

Though uneasy, Tanya announces her objection. “Sir, there’s no way to interpret these numbers as good.”

If someone asked me right now whether the Empire can win, I would simply say the answer is self-evident. I know for a fact that we can’t. The most we can hope for is fighting to a draw. If we work incredibly hard to spin that as a victory…there’s a chance the masses might consider it one…but a clear-cut, total victory is the stuff of dreams.

And yet, if the soldiers on the front line don’t believe it’s possible, then who would have the will to fight on? It’s possible that there are officers similar to Tanya who willingly go into battle purely out of a sense of duty.

But could the same be said for the rank and file? Back in my old world, even the holdouts on Saipan believed reinforcements would come for them until the very end!

If the enlisted no longer believe in eventual victory…then our country is in dire straits on the psychological warfare front.

“That’s right, Colonel. Sixty percent of our troops believe the war is already a lost cause. The numbers among the new recruits are even worse.”

“…I would have thought that only the battered and worn down would feel that way.”

“Not too long ago, that would have been the case. It’s incredible when you think about it, but most of the pessimistic veterans have already gone ahead to Valhalla. The ones who remain know exactly what’s at stake and are putting everything on the line for our victory. This has actually inoculated them against the rampant defeatism that currently plagues us.”

While I can understand what the general’s trying to get at on multiple levels, there seems to be a few contradictions.

“Creating a struggle for hegemony in the east, dividing the enemy with the establishment of the Council for Self-Government, and deciphering the nationalist code—are these strategic victories not enough to boost the morale of the troops?”

“The new recruits lack the perspective to see it that way. Besides, if they had that much experience, they’d also be able to recognize the predicament we’ve gotten ourselves into. They need a taste of real victory to rally themselves.”

“What about all the propaganda they gobbled up in the homeland before they made their way here? I’ve always thought they were a naive bunch, but have they really lost their nerve that easily?”

“The propaganda has had the opposite effect. It’s worked too well. They arrive thinking the Empire is due for certain victory. The moment they realize that couldn’t be further from the truth, they fall apart. Frankly speaking, most of the new recruits are shocked by the reality of the eastern front.”

I see. I’m starting to understand what he’s getting at. When the new recruits come here under the impression that our forces are dominating in the east, it must be devastating to learn firsthand what’s really happening around these parts.

That’s how exploitative corporations in my old world worked. The more a company boasts about its ideals and vision, the more shocking it is when new hires realize how rotten it is on the inside. Fortunately, the last firm I worked at was an upstanding company. We performed so well that we could actually afford to lay off all the slackers and underperformers. We did everything by the book and followed all the relevant laws, of course… The Imperial Army, however, is not so kind.

Ah, damn it. Memories of my previous life as an HR manager remind me of how much I miss peace. My desire to find a better working environment has only gotten stronger.

“This is why we need to give them a taste of victory, even if it means asking them to do something slightly unreasonable. In other words, all that nonsense about needing to win is actually right for once.”

While what the general had said sounded nice, the true meaning behind his words makes me want to sigh. This is no different from a company with toxic work culture that tries to convince its employees their work is super important!

Tanya’s gaze shoots up as the sinister scheme comes to light.

“…They didn’t teach us this at the war college.”

“Think of it as learning on the job, Colonel. You should be happy. Like you said, we’ll be walking the path of a great trickster together.”

From the bottom of my heart, I want to scream No!

Tanya von Degurechaff’s military career is steadily growing. I want absolutely nothing to do with this exploitative promotion of artificial job satisfaction. If I could refuse, I would.

If this was a regular company, I’d already have my resignation letter in hand. Tragically, there’s no transferring or resignation for a field officer during a war. The only way to transfer out is defecting. Oh, how I miss Japan. At least then I’d have the freedom to choose my job.

At the end of the day, Tanya is just a humble white-collar worker. I can entertain the idea of leaving all I want, but there’s no way I can change the system from the inside. Not that I would even if I could—I’m not that altruistic.

Therefore, for the sake of my conscience, I decide to confirm one important detail.

“If we can be partners in crime, then make this my first honorable step in joining you. To start off with, it’s important that I fully understand the nature of our con. So please enlighten me, sir. What is the trick you have hidden up your sleeve?”

“You’ve really perfected roundabout speech as an art, Colonel. If you’re asking about my confidence in the Empire’s victory, then there’s only one answer.”

All capable leaders have a firm grasp on what their subordinates are thinking. I’m not sure if I should be glad or if I should be more careful about what I let come out of my mouth.

All I can do now is wait silently for Lieutenant General Zettour’s answer.

“Victory is no longer achievable. Our only option is, just as you pointed out, to continue holding on while preventing total collapse. Even that will prove to be difficult, I’m sure.”

“So you’ll be providing the soldiers with the opium of hope in order to keep them from losing? You’re going to create an army of addicts?”

“While that’s not a great way of putting it, you’re not wrong. I’ll bestow them with hope and confidence by giving them a victory. At this point, the thought that this is what my job has become is enough to bring tears to my eyes.”

He’s not wrong. I can feel something welling up in the corner of my eye as well.

“I see you’re prepared for what will come next, sir.”

Unable to choose where his career leads him, Zettour is just like Tanya.

Not even the amount of authority and experience that comes with his positions as deputy director and inspector are enough to free him from the twisted system. I can only hope that I’ll never find myself in his shoes.

The inability to escape one’s fate is a nasty business. They say that you don’t realize how precious freedom is until you lose it… As obvious as it sounds, it truly is a sad thing.

Also, judging by the nod he just gave me, it seems that while I was pondering the importance of the freedom to change jobs, General Zettour likely mistook it as me understanding his sentiment.

“Good. Very good. Now then, Colonel. Give them the hope and dreams they need. Give the Federation the nightmare they deserve. And give our army the foundation it needs to stay in the fight. I’m counting on you.”

“I hadn’t realized that I’ve been transferred to the circus to become a clown.” Ultimately, Tanya can’t refuse to do her duty. It’ll be tough, but I’ll do my job with my head held high. “It’s not what I’m used to, but I’ll do my best, sir. Please enjoy the show.”

“I look forward to it, Colonel.”

JULY 31, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE MULTINATIONAL VOLUNTEER UNIT GARRISON IN THE FEDERATION

The volunteer troops who had traveled far to aid the Federation came from a variety of backgrounds and were a brave lot, every one. Commanding this band was practically an adventure in and of itself. Every day was filled with exciting episodes born from the unexpected and heartwarming ways that very different yet like-minded people came together for a common cause.

For Lieutenant Colonel Drake, things always got poetic at the end of the month, whether he liked it or not. He even requested a collection of famous comedic poems from his homeland to stimulate what he felt might be a new side of himself.

The reports he wrote about the garrison were filled with nice words to take his mind away from reality.

“…There’s so much to think about and no end in sight.”

This was what it meant to be at war. It felt rather similar to unrequited love. As most could guess, one reason was because it involved a lot of wondering about the intentions of that one person you couldn’t stop thinking about. It also involved a lot of bumbling about, wandering in complete darkness, hoping to find a hint of their shadow.

At this particular moment, however, Drake was reading an old newspaper in a field tent while he thought about how to fix his teakettle. He swallowed the fact that the order for his favorite jam never found its way to his camp while he spent his time thinking about his enemies.

Whether they be asleep or awake, it was sort of an instinctive impulse for officers to think about enemy movements.

“I can’t help but feel impressed by the Federation’s reach…”

Just earlier, the political officer attached to Colonel Mikel visited him to deliver a plethora of top-secret files. The diligently translated documents described the inner workings of the Imperial Army with surprising detail.

The office that provided him with all this information was known as the Commissariat for Internal Affairs at the Federation… It was infamous for a whole slew of reasons, but the documents were also undoubtedly valuable.

They were so thorough that even the specific brands of cigars and tea the imperial officers favored was listed. Lieutenant General Zettour, for example, evidently preferred coffee over tea. It would seem he liked his coffee black, the same color as his heart. At the same time, Drake had to admit the level of detail the Federation put into these briefs was almost obscene.

What other nuggets of information were they keeping hidden away? Drake grimaced when he saw that the file after Zettour’s was for the infamous Devil of the Rhine. According to the reports, the two were close.

The Federation’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs reports stated that the Devil of the Rhine also preferred coffee and made a special note that the two shared similar tastes. Drake felt compelled to ask the question of whether beverages had the power to bring people together… In any case, he was in awe at the level of information he had on his enemies.

At the same time, it made him feel a bit greedy. It was only natural that he would wonder how the Federation was able to attain such information.

“I’m curious. I’d love to know more about this.”

His whisper to himself could be heard throughout the tent, though Drake knew well that such information was well beyond his reach.

Their source was the most heavily guarded of secrets.

Whoever it was, likely few in the internal affairs office even knew, let alone their foreign allies. It wasn’t something they’d tell him even if he ever had the chance to ask. Approaching them alone was enough to put a dent in their already fragile relationship.

“They do say that all’s fair in the name of love and war… But it’s probably best I keep my nose out of this one.”

He was honestly surprised that those secretive Federation agents were willing to share this much with him. The Federation provided him—a citizen of the Commonwealth—with this level of information before he even requested it.

“Could this be the work of God? I suppose only the impossible is impossible.”

Perhaps the Federation had finally picked up on the fact that they were technically allies.

That was a good thing in and of itself. It was a good sign for the future.

As someone who wanted to pull off a counterstrike against the damned Imperial Army, he felt grateful to the Federation for once.

It’s what convinced Drake to swallow his woes from that day on. He started by mobilizing those who were willing to fight.

His first step was to put on a show for those annoying journalists he detested so much. He sang high praises for the multinational unit in front of the press corps from around the world. He put forward a positive message, painting their collaboration with the Federation Army in the best light possible.

He didn’t enjoy having a picture of him shaking hands with the Communists plastered all over the international news… Nevertheless, he made peace with it by simply considering it part of the job.

He forced himself to shake their hands and smile.

His country was happy with his work.

Drake caught wind of First Lieutenant Sue talking behind his back about how he was so eager to take pictures, but what did he care about the grumblings of a little girl who didn’t know the first thing about politics? He decided to take out his frustration on his journalist friend Andrew anyway.

In the end, Lieutenant Colonel Drake’s guardian angel appeared to approve of his hard work. The multinational volunteer unit was better prepared than ever in anticipation of an imperial counteroffensive meant to blunt their advance west.

Colonel Mikel and Lieutenant Colonel Drake were working even closer together than before on behalf of their Federation-Commonwealth alliance. The Commonwealth even made an effort to accommodate the infuriating political officer corps whenever the opportunity presented itself.

What’s more important was the sheer amount of information he had access to. The Federation Army had almost analyzed the entire plan created by the Imperial Army. The Imperial Army intended on using Lieutenant General Zettour’s preferred tactics of luring out the enemy before encircling and annihilating them. The Federation’s intelligence analysis seemed right on the money.

Ascertaining his enemy’s intent to this extent was enough to make him want to jump for joy. In actuality, their information was almost perfect…like an exposed magic trick. He could see certain victory on the horizon along with his enemy’s defeat. There was a skip in his step as he spent his days preparing for his enemies to taste bitter defeat.

Doing so led him to the very next day when Lieutenant Colonel Drake would come into contact with his enemy, just as he predicted.

AUGUST 1, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, EASTERN FRONT, MULTINATIONAL UNIT GARRISON PROTECTED AIRSPACE

“Bogeys identified. I can’t believe it… It’s just as the reports said. It’s the Devil of the Rhine!”

One of the soldiers Drake had assigned to monitor their airspace called out in surprise.

It was exactly as the Federation Army’s analysis stated—Lieutenant General Zettour had a tendency to use his little apprentice when it counted most.

It seems like his protégé—the Devil of the Rhine—had finally decided to show up.

The enemy’s goal must have been the salient’s supply line. To be honest, when he first read that the Empire was going to use one of Lieutenant General Zettour’s favorite tricks—a surprise attack—he had his doubts, but…

“Are you sure?! How many are there?”

“It’s a two-man cell! Maybe they’re here for recon?”

“That’s what they want us to think. At first glance, it’ll look like nothing more than an imperial scouting mission. But if these documents are correct, then they’re here for more than just information. They’ll either conduct a recon-in-force or try to take out an officer. Either way, we’re not going to make it easy for them.”

Drake could feel it; he had successfully seen through his enemy’s plan. There was a solid chance they would win this fight. This was the good sign Lieutenant Colonel Drake could feel confident in for once.

“We saw right through them… We owe the Federation Army for their expert analysis.”

Yes, this was a diversion. The pair of mages looked like nothing more than a scouting unit. Normally, they would never pay any mind to a pair like them.

The two mages were attempting to present themselves as a simple reconnaissance team, but it wasn’t going to work this time.

“We know all about your little tricks. You’re not going to have your way anymore.”

The salient was crafted by Lieutenant General Zettour.

The whole thing reeked of a blatant trap. After studying what happened on the Rhine front, it was plain as day that their general had an addiction to encircling his enemies. The way Drake saw it, the imperial General Staff Office was full of officers who believed in surrounding their enemies.

He knew that they generally started their attacks by targeting their enemy’s weak points, often aiming for their supply lines.

It was no longer a question about what hand they were going to play. Formulating a plan is the easy part of the job once you know what you need to do. However, the battle-hardened soldier who stood next to Drake didn’t share the same optimism.

“There’s something off about all this…”

“What’s that, Colonel Mikel?”

Mikel was one of Drake’s closest companions, and he wouldn’t openly share his reservations without a good reason.

Unable to take this lightly, Drake questioned his comrade. He was met, however, with a look of doubt.

“It’s just a feeling… Don’t you think there’s something strange about those two?”

Something strange? That was hard to answer.

The enemy had come in a flight of two—standard procedure for a reconnaissance mission. There wasn’t anything particularly unusual about their enemies surveying the battlefield…

Drake was more surprised that he was able to predict their appearance… The rest seemed remarkably run-of-the-mill.

“My apologies, but I don’t notice anything out of the ordinary about their movements. That’s not to say I’m underestimating them. We’re dealing with a Named mage. We’ll hit the bastards with everything we’ve got.”

“Please do. I just can’t shake the feeling that there must be more to all this… Something feels off about their appearance here.”

Before Drake could ask his partner what he meant, his subordinate called his attention back to the enemy duo.

“The enemy has increased their altitude to eight thousand! They’re moving fast!”

Drake looked out at the pair of hostiles. They shot up into the sky with incredible speed. They were moving with such unbelievable speed that it was literally sickening. Just seeing the state-of-the-art Imperial Army magic technology was enough to make Drake’s stomach turn.

It was absolutely infuriating. They were going to take full advantage of their aerial superiority.

“Damn it. Well, the fact that their recon was just a ruse isn’t news for us. They sure didn’t waste any time making their move, though.”

The fact that they treated climbing to eight thousand like it was nothing pissed him off more than anything. Those bastards fully intended on watching his troops struggle for air at six thousand.

But their plan wasn’t going to work this time.

Little do they know that the multinational unit has figured out a way to breach the eight thousand flight ceiling. He had his soldiers condition their lungs at that altitude and reevaluated their flight formula. The sky no longer belonged to only the imperial mages.

“I’ll head out first. We’ll show them what we’ve got.”

“Good luck.”

Drake thanked his friend before speeding off to muster his volunteers.

On short notice, he managed to ready a single battalion for battle. The Devil of the Rhine was a tough opponent, but with these numbers, they should be able to come out on top.

Or so they thought. Once Drake’s unit was up in the air, the two imperial mages gracefully foiled all their attempts to catch up. But why? They had reached the appropriate altitude, and yet they couldn’t quite keep pace.

“Th-they’ve reached ten thousand!”

His subordinate practically screamed that report. Drake didn’t even need the report to know—he could see with his own two eyes.

While he did manage to keep that snide remark from slipping out, he couldn’t stop himself from swearing.

“I thought their Type 97s could only go up to eight thousand? Damn it! Those sons of bitches…!”

There was nothing more aggravating than being at an altitude disadvantage due to inferior hardware. It wasn’t fair… They were being forced to fight a skilled hunter with a collection of rinky-dink weapons.

Would it hurt those nitwits back home to send us some proper equipment for once?

He cursed whoever was in charge of their supplies from a continent away while he commanded the flights in his battalion to take up positions. While each individual soldier still had a long way to go, as long as they stuck with their wingmates and worked together, they’d probably make it through this.

There was just one soldier who didn’t follow suit… She seemed to lack the awareness that teamwork was their only way to fill the technological gap.

“Cover me…! I’ll bring them back down!”

“Lieutenant Sue?!”

Drake hesitated for a split second. Should I stop her? He shook his head.

Fucking hell.

He had to let her do it.

Their altitude difference was far too great. He needed a way to close the distance. Even if it meant relying on First Lieutenant Sue’s suicidal rush into battle.

To his chagrin, Lieutenant Colonel Drake changed the way he thought about it.

He wanted to face the enemy as a cohesive unit as much as possible, but this wasn’t the time to be inflexible.

If Sue wanted to be a wild card, then he was going to use her as just that.

“Cover First Lieutenant Sue! Ready your weapons! Optical sniper formulas! Pay attention to the altitude difference! Fuck the imperials! Aim like they’re four thousand out!”

Things are looking impressive from Tanya’s high perch in the sky.

The enemy commander is doing a bang-up job.

Not only does he have an entire battalion operating at an altitude of eight thousand feet, but he’s even staying on our tail. At the start of the war, six thousand feet was considered a sort of soft altitude ceiling that older orbs had a hard time overcoming. The fact that the enemy unit can blow past this hurdle is a testament to the amount of work he put into training his aerial mages.

Judging by the flight skills of his individual mages, which are dismal at best, this can’t have been easy to accomplish. They’re keeping up reasonably well despite us pushing our dual-core Type 97 computation orbs to their limits. Impressive for their single-core models. There must be some trick to how they’re using them.

What’s worse is they’re already putting suppressing fire on us. It’s a good strategy. They’re even adding optical and guided formulas into the mix. They’re forcing us to choose between throwing up our defensive shells and maintaining our protective films against withering fire or taking evasive maneuvers to avoid getting hit. This makes it slightly harder to act freely.

As someone who works in a similar position, I have to pay them respect where it’s due. Unfortunately, for our enemies, the world is dictated by physical laws.

Some things just can’t be done.

It’s a simple, undeniable truth. To circumvent this natural law—to make the impossible possible—sometimes requires overcoming limits. Limits are still limits, though, and tricks can only get you so far.

It’s time, Tanya gestures to First Lieutenant Serebryakov, who is flying with her.

“02, time to fight back.”

“02 copies.”

Her adjutant responds with just two short words and a wave of her gun. This brings a smile to Tanya’s face.

The enemy forces are completely focused on climbing—something their gear isn’t made for at these altitudes. If we were to say, nosedive right into them… I’m sure they’ll show us some worthwhile reactions.

“The moment they’re unable to climb any farther…”

“That’s when we’ll strike,” she begins to say, but can’t finish her sentence before noticing a small speck rapidly approaching them.

“Hmm? There’s a wild boar flying toward us.”

“You’re right, Colonel. I’m surprised… Are they flying solo? At this altitude?”

Tanya scorns her enemy in response to her adjutant’s admiration.

“More like they’ve abandoned all logic and decided to act recklessly.”

“I feel like the fact that they’re still breathing at this altitude is proof they’re a cut above their peers.”

Tanya’s adjutant isn’t wrong. Compared to the run-of-the-mill aerial mage, this speck is on a level of their own. Regardless, the decision to charge us is a rash one. If they had happened upon us all alone, it could be considered the logical thing to do, but this mage has completely left the rest of their formation behind.

War needs to be fought in an organized manner. This isn’t the Stone Age—it’s not about how strong any individual is. I’m glad this lone mage is our enemy. I’d rather die than work with someone that incompetent.

“I recognize the mana signal. This is one tough customer. I’d rather not deal with them if we can help it… Then again, it might actually play to our advantage having them around this time.”

My adjutant knows exactly who I’m talking about.

“A tough customer…? Ah, of course.”

Their tank is rushing forward, leaving behind all the soft targets. Though not necessarily role theory, we’re extremely lucky that our opponents have decided to break formation despite having total numerical advantage.

“You know what to do, right, 02?”

“02 to 01, your face is scaring me.”

“What, should I be smiling as we charge into the enemy? I’m an upstanding person, you know?”

Laughter fills the air as we dodge our enemies’ lackluster optical sniping formulas with ease. It’s important to keep your spirits up. There’s no room for negativity in a dogfight if you want to win.

Staying calm and collected is also a core part of being a civilized human being—something our opponent evidently isn’t.

The confidence this dignified bearing grants is truly great. It’s what makes us proper human beings. This is where a person’s decisiveness and courage stems from when duty calls.

“All right, watch the timing. On my mark.”

“Copy.”

Utilizing our altitude advantage to its fullest extent, I watch for the perfect moment to get the drop on our enemies.

It’ll be the moment the multinational volunteer unit stops to cover the wild card they’ve deployed forward. Two imperial mages aren’t going to let that chance pass them by.

“Enemy salvo! Three rounds incoming!”

Tanya’s wingmate deserves praise for being able to identify the attack before the formulas have even been completed. Our enemies should also be lauded for presenting us the perfect opportunity with their blunder. It’s time for Tanya to give the order.

“Fools! That’s what we were waiting for!”

For even the most skilled mages, firing in unison means one thing… Their movement is restricted. This holds even more true for mages with little training.

They’ll pay for their foolishness.

“It’s time. We’re going in.”

I begin my nosedive with a grin.

We’re going to utilize our height advantage to drop down and close in on them fast. It’s time to convert our altitude into pure speed. Feeling the air pressure build as wind whips past our protective film, two human bullets are nose-diving toward the poor multinational unit.

For the mages below, who can’t do much more than focus on maintaining their altitude, the two mages descend on them like a literal bolt from the blue.

They can’t respond fast enough to the two imperial monsters that are hurtling toward them at terminal velocity.

Lieutenant Colonel Drake was familiar with the excruciating gap between his enemy’s technological and technical skills compared to his own battalion’s—a feeling that was uncommon for a marine mage officer. Adding in a great deal of strange political idiosyncrasies that he had to deal with during his time abroad, his experience was truly unprecedented.

These unique experiences gave him the perspective he needed to understand the almost depressing importance of mastering the basics. Hunting was a numbers game. Whoever held the numerical advantage and didn’t squander it would almost always come out on top.

Anyone who couldn’t maintain numerical superiority could forget about hunting. They were more likely to become the hunted.

Unfortunately, the multinational volunteer unit he commanded was made up of soldiers who couldn’t even speak the same language; it was nigh impossible to move as a unit with less than a moment’s notice.

What’s worse was that Colonel Mikel and Lieutenant Colonel Drake’s forces were run by two commanders. Having two possibly conflicting chains of command was disastrous. No matter how clear their commands were, they could never shake the looming anxiety that was inherent in such a system.

While their formation was able to function more or less, that was all for show, at the end of the day. Drake watched as his units opened fire in unison with the most pitiful aim.

“The enemies are evading our fire. Shit, their mobility is too much for us.”

He stopped himself from commenting on their superior coordination as well.

Their opponents flew in a way that made it clear they knew where their wingmate was at all times, and yet they were able to move in tandem and keep each other covered. Though it looked simple at a glance, Drake could only gulp at the amount of technical skill that went into making such flight possible.

Their situational and spatial awareness was unparalleled—and they flew with virtually superhuman coordination!

“From that altitude, at that speed…”

It couldn’t get any worse than this. Drake realized that the infamous Named mage had earned that title for a reason. His unit was shooting to support First Lieutenant Sue, who charged without a single thought for safety, but it could hardly be called cover fire. Drake knew this wouldn’t be enough to land a hit on their enemies.

He had trained his troops to the point where they could be considered decent, but against an outstanding opponent like this, things weren’t looking good. First Lieutenant Sue charging in certainly didn’t help. He needed to work the discipline and cooperation kinks out of her… Putting it off until later has come back to bite me in the ass, Lieutenant Colonel Drake thought as he looked up to the sky above.

“Lieutenant Sue should be making contact soon… Hold on.”

It started out with a ringing in his ears. The moment he recognized this battle was three-dimensional, something about it stuck out to him. Drake of course knew how to keep track of their movements in the air, and something about their current position seemed off.

He had a feeling that something terrible was about to happen. He felt a chill run down his spine despite his defensive shell being up.

“What—what am I…?”

Before he could get the missing out, he realized the oddity.

Why did it feel like First Lieutenant Sue was too close to the enemies? True, she was charging them…but had enough time passed for her to make contact?

Lieutenant Colonel Drake’s senses were screaming back at him—NO! That couldn’t be right. As the question flashed in his mind, he suddenly realized what was happening.

The enemy was ignoring First Lieutenant Sue. But why?

“How can they ignore her…? Wait, are they coming toward us?”

Their real target is…us! Shit!

“S-spread out! Scatter! Don’t bunch up!!!”

A moment earlier and he might have made it in time—but it was too late. Even as he called out, the enemy pair had already reached maximum speed in their descent. They slipped right by First Lieutenant Sue without paying her any mind.

There was nothing she could do to change course as they whizzed by her. Without a doubt, the younger members of his unit had nothing but offensive maneuvers on their minds. The lion’s share of them weren’t capable of turning on a dime the moment they heard their commander’s unexpected orders.

The few who managed to disperse were the more battle-hardened Federation Army soldiers. They were the only ones who attempted evasive maneuvers… Everyone else suffered a pitiful fate.

Their formation, a line meant for concentrated, disciplined fire, was what did them in. Caught out in a vulnerable formation, the multinational volunteer unit never had a chance.

Having their comrades close by dulled their senses.

The negative effect this had on their reaction times proved to be fatal.

The two imperial mages took advantage of their proximity and unleashed three explosion formulas each just before they made contact.

There couldn’t have possibly been a better target for their attack than the tightly packed multinational unit. Their enemy was sharp and knew exactly what would hurt them the most. They chose explosion formulas for their large area of effect.

The strength of the attack wasn’t extraordinary. Under normal circumstances, even if the explosions penetrated their defensive shells, the mages should’ve been able to protect themselves with their trusty protective films.

These weren’t normal circumstances, though. Drake’s troops were struggling to fly at an altitude of eight thousand. That had major consequences.

Even the most experienced aerial mages tended to operate within the limits of their gear. It should have been obvious that they weren’t well adapted to severe environments.

The attack was one they should’ve emerged from relatively unscathed, but the lack of oxygen and the freezing temperatures at these altitudes made them sluggish and distracted. It was a matter of seconds before the entire battalion was overcome with panic. The majority of them followed their instincts and dropped their altitudes. This was a sinister trap.

The line fell apart as many of the soldiers, unable to breathe, focused on air-purification formulas. This was when the imperials struck.

Yes—the enemy had attacked with three waves of formulas. The first was to cause panic. The second was to break their line. And the third was to massacre the routing soldiers.

Anyone caught by the three-pronged bombardment—save for the more experienced soldiers—was doomed. The damage suffered by the first two companies, which suffered direct hits, was nothing short of catastrophic.

Bodies were raining from the sky wherever the explosions occurred… If those mages couldn’t regain consciousness before hitting the ground, they were goners. If the superheated air reached their lungs, the agony would be indescribable.

But now wasn’t the time to be worrying about others. Drake would have to come back to them later.

“Enemies approaching fast! Prepare for close combat!”

The imperialists were using gravity to dive at the multinationals at unbelievable speed.

He could see the reapers had their scythes in hand. The magically enhanced blades, held at the ready, shined ominously as the two demons plunged toward their ranks.

Drake felt fortunate that he had any time to gauge their trajectory at all. Or maybe it would only be enough time for him to learn how it felt to be a prisoner who knew they were only moments away from being executed by guillotine…

Ah crap. In no time at all, the enemies had split up and one was coming straight for him.

His opponent’s murderous tenacity was so palpable that he swore he could feel it through both his protective film and defensive shell. Drake cursed as he kept the human missile in his sights. And that was the exact moment he realized what the enemy was really after.

He wasn’t the only target… They wanted to wipe out the entire chain of command! They were here to kill the commanders. With just two mages? No, two was more than enough for them!

The moment Lieutenant Colonel Drake came to this realization, he called out to his troops.

“They’re going for the officers! It’s a decapitation strike! That’s what they’re here for!”

The Devil of the Rhine was apt for the job.

The enemy had come to take out the two commanders of the multinational volunteer unit by themselves. It was absolutely reckless. Drake would normally laugh at the idea if he wasn’t literally dealing with a devil. He barked out his warning to his troops while the two monsters came flying toward them like comets. Lieutenant Colonel Drake cast an explosion formula with everything he had.

The air around his formula warped as an explosion screeched across the sky ahead of him, but it barely fazed the imperial mages, let alone stop them.

“You’re charging me?!”

The two mages continued their advance despite the detonation that had just rocked the skies. Fire should strike fear into the hearts of all! The mental fortitude of these imperial mages was beyond comprehension.

Drake cursed again while he prepared an optical camouflage formula. Then he finally understood why they were so focused on him.

His support fire was almost nonexistent. What in the hell is going on? Due to their insufficient training, they were not only slow to react but the multinational troops were also waiting for orders.

New recruits didn’t know what to do during a battle without orders!

“I need suppressing fire! Hit them with everything you’ve got!”

He commanded the battalion to open fire. A single order was all they needed to start shooting immediately… They really didn’t do anything until they were told. Not only that but their aim was all over the place.

You call that marksmanship? Lieutenant Colonel Drake held in his impulse to swear as he caught on to another enemy trick.

“Watch out for decoys! Shit, is this optical?!”

They had used an optical camouflage formula to create a convincing decoy. He had read about this in the reports more times than he wished to. Projecting illusions had been a common tactic for these mages back on the Rhine front.

It was a simple trick but terribly effective. It was harder than it seemed to distinguish what is real in the chaos of battle—especially if you were panicking.

“There’s no point if you aren’t concentrating your fire! Calm down and aim!”

His orders went unheard. Not only were his troops unnerved but they were also wholly unable to lay a significant amount of firepower on their targets.

The situation was an absolute mess. To make matters worse, the suppressing fire had seemingly no effect on the enemy’s freedom of movement.

Their shots were undoubtedly landing. However, simply hitting the imperial mages with several rounds wouldn’t be enough to penetrate their protective films. This was something he could’ve guessed…but how were they still charging forward?!

Drake then caught sight of a short imperial mage. He didn’t want to imagine the power of the magic blade in their grip. One slash was surely more than enough to end his life, and the enemy was moving far too fast for him to have any chance of stopping the blade.

“They’re here! Cover me!” Drake shouted as he instinctively sped up. Ideally, he would’ve used his reach advantage to land the first blow, but the small imperial mage was already too close. This wasn’t a friendly fencing match… There wasn’t enough time to parry.

He drew his own magic blade to try and mount at least some sort of defense.

“Guh?!”

It felt like he had slammed into a boulder. He couldn’t get the leverage he needed in midair. Unable to maintain his form, he was getting pushed back. The worst part was how small his opponent was. Am I really going to be overpowered by this mouse of a mage?! Don’t make me laugh! He wished he could wake up from his nightmare. Unfortunately, this was reality. Oh, Lord. He tried to gather his wits and recover after being flung wide, only to find two cold eyes staring at him, like a predator watching its prey.

“Goddamnit!”

There was nothing he could do to stop the magic blade from flying toward him once again. There was a moment of desperation before Lieutenant Colonel Drake accepted his fate.

They were close enough for a knife fight.

With their size differences and positioning, the short imperial mage had the advantage. Conversely, so little distance separated them that there was no way for him to miss, either.

He let the imperial mage’s blade pierce his shoulder. At the same time, he began to cast an optical sniping formula. Drake ignored all safety guidelines for casting speeds and worked as fast as possible. Low on air and running out of blood, his brain was sounding the alarm as he manifested his final explosion.

The light from his formula shined, giving Drake a brief glimpse of hope.

“?!!!”

The enemy mage screamed and let go of the blade that should have impaled his shoulder. A moment later, Drake felt something rock-hard—probably a gunstock—hit him in the gut.

An indescribable agony welled up in his stomach, and his formula fell apart, causing his last-ditch effort to fail milliseconds before it was about to go off.

The enemy mage then looked at the groaning Drake and, with perfect command of the Commonwealth language, swore at him as he writhed in pain.

“Stay out of my way, you bastard.”

“Damn…you…”

“Good-bye, Limey.”

With those parting words, a leather boot unceremoniously kicked Drake away.

Lieutenant Colonel Drake came to a realization as he just barely managed to make out what seemed to be his enemy pulling out a submachine gun and aiming it at him while he continued to fall.

Ah, damn it. I’m not going down without a fight. In a fit of desperation, he reflexively converted his failing formula into an explosion formula.

He had pushed his body past its limits long ago, but he forced himself to finish one last formula.

It felt like his brain was going to melt. Despite that, he was still conscious. He knew what he needed to do.

Lieutenant Colonel Drake prepared his formula just before his vision faded to black. On the very edge of consciousness, he managed to spot his enemy gracefully circling in the air.

He knew he couldn’t win, but he wanted to at least burn that damned devil’s tail off.

“Ha-ha-ha! Take this, fucker!”

Unbelievable. This must be what people mean when they say boiling with rage. I’m livid. There’s no way to remain the usual calm Tanya after witnessing such irrational recklessness.

It happened right as I struck one of the enemy unit’s commanding officers.

The attack was surgically executed, keeping unnecessary damage to a minimum. It was the most peaceful and humane assault anyone could perform in a war zone.

A small sacrifice to ensure the safety of the Imperial Army—and myself, of course.

If anything, these emergency evasive maneuvers are about as fair as they could be.

The response I was met with is what’s unbelievable.

That officer tried to use an optical illusion at ultra-close range—an act that could already be considered suicidal—and then decided to follow up with a full-blown explosion formula, guaranteeing he’d be caught in the blast.

To think that these people consider suicide bombing an option. This is war—it’s not like this fight is personal. As a means to an end, I can understand viewing soldiers as weapons but to willingly become one is a crime against humanity.

Ah…what a shitty world this is.

It’s not like I’m demanding that people become uppity snobs. This is war, and it’s going to get dirty. I don’t need you to play by the rules. But please, let’s at least try to maintain our humanity.

“So this is what happens to people when they fight war all their lives.”

How repellent. Could anything be more unpleasant?

I pour my frustrations and stress into a formula. Let’s see how they like an explosion formula behind their lines.

I’ll drop a few more wherever they start spreading out.

There’s some incoming fire, but that’s easily countered with an optical decoy. Our enemies are always so easy to deal with when they panic. Most of them would focus solely on the decoy. This is ignoring the large bulk of them who just fly in random directions. Aerial combat is three-dimensional. This is something that soldiers stuck in the realm of two dimensions will never understand.

Speaking of, I still need to keep my guard up.

Stray bullets are a thing, after all.

But, well…I can’t help but snicker as the sky around me fills with screams and explosions. Altitude control is my forte at this point. For a while now, I’ve been able to rely purely on inertia when it comes to achieving air superiority. Most attacks never get past my defensive shell and protective film.

Shoot, evade, then penetrate their line at maximum velocity.

I watch as the distance between me and my enemies widens. There’s no need to worry about their numbers with this much space between them. The multinational army isn’t suited for chaotic combat.

That said, I do believe they’re truly mad in the head.

“…They’re wearing the Commonwealth uniforms, but as far as I can tell, these are no Commonwealth soldiers. They’re nowhere near as tough as the people I fought during the Western Air Battle.”

Even during the fiercest moments at the Rhine front, I never saw a cornered Republic aerial mage choose suicide. Needless to say, there wasn’t a single mage who took such drastic measures during the dogfights over the Commonwealth homeland, either, as far as I can recall.

It’s as if they’ve lost their pride as knights, or perhaps maybe it’s their common sense that has been abandoned.

…There’s something twisted about the eastern front.

Imitate not evil men, lest you yourself become evil. Conversely, any horse can become a stallion if only it takes after a stallion, and any man can be wise, so long as he mirrors the actions of the wise.

I remember learning these old adages back in Japanese class while studying for my college entrance exams… Maybe I should’ve paid closer attention to the snippets of truth my ancestors left behind.

“Even if only in form, it is wise to imitate the wise.”

Hmm. I want to give that old adage a bit more thought.

Unfortunately, the battlefield isn’t a great place for reminiscing about my studies. Is that not the reason why they get so chaotic? If that’s the case, a war is nothing more than a helpless downward spiral.

There’s no stopping it as it falls.

War is uncontained entropy and chaos.

Even though in modern times, people have put tremendous effort into making violence an unusual occurrence, our enemies have made it commonplace because of this total war. Order and disorder have completely swapped places. These soldiers take a daily stroll through hell like it’s a walk in the park. It disgusts me to my core.

It’s normal for the enemy to see Tanya as an object of hatred.

A sad thing, really. All she’s doing is earnestly devoting herself to her job. This is war, after all. A great deal of people will hate her for it.

But really, this isn’t the time for that. I focus on my flight trajectory.

Getting too hung up on negative thoughts will only make Tanya’s already dark life darker. A healthy mind is the key to a healthy body, for the most part.

I’ve finished my withdrawal. Tanya is officially outside enemy lines. The only noteworthy thing is a half-hearted amount of harassing fire coming from behind. They’re not really shots that the enemy is capable of landing; it’s more or less random bullets that just happen to be traveling in the right direction. Nothing to worry about.

I’m effectively out of their range now.

“02 to 01, I see you’ve made it out.”

“01, affirmative. Report, 02.”

Did you down the target? Tanya’s adjutant emits an uncharacteristic sigh in response to the unspoken question. Does this mean she failed?

“I reached the target but failed to shoot down the commanding officer.”

I let out a disappointed chuckle. We’ve both come back empty-handed, so clearly there’s no reason to berate her.

“Same here. They were tough after all.”

“Was it someone that we should’ve taken out while we had the chance?”

Tanya’s partner sounds surprised. I begrudgingly pay our opponents the respect they’re due. Though my response is not without its fair share of snideness.

“They were too much for a sensible mage such as myself. And insane enough to resort to suicide bombing. That said, it is an effective tactic for fending off a decapitation strike.”

Our enemies are like antibiotic-resistant bacteria. The more we kill them, the more they build up an immunity to our tactics.

Whether or not a suicide attack should be considered an actual countermeasure or just plain insanity aside…I can’t deny that our foes are steadily getting better. It’s more clear than ever how important it is to finish off your opponents before they can ever get to this level. But even though I fully understand that…it won’t be possible on the eastern front. That is the inconvenient truth.

“But this should be enough to satisfy the general’s demands…”

Looking at it another way, we’ve successfully created a major distraction, as per the orders Tanya received…

Just as I think that, I notice something strange happening around us.

“Huh?”

There’s a slight burning sensation building up in the air. I can feel it through my defensive shell…an unpleasant stream of magic. I look behind me and see nothing but ants where our enemies should be… And yet, a chill shoots through me as if someone’s pressed a gun against my head.

“Is this radiation?! At this distance?!”

I swallow the rest of my disbelief. Now isn’t the time to talk. We need to move. Both Tanya and Visha immediately begin evasive maneuvers.

We push our dual cores to the limit and make sudden changes in trajectory. We speed up, flying in a serpentine path to throw off the enemy’s aim. This kind of mobility is only possible thanks to our Type 97 computation orbs.

Just barely possible, I should note. As a result, we avoid the blast by the skin of our teeth.

I audibly scoff as the large-scale, long-range optical formula blasts right by me. I quickly cast an optical observation formula to identify the source of the attack.

In the distance is a lone, awfully small figure. It’s giving off the same annoying mana signal I know all too well at this point.

It’s the same wild boar from before. And to top things off, the freak of nature is already in the midst of charging up her second long-range blast.

Wait, is that charge for two blasts? One for First Lieutenant Serebryakov and one for myself? I double-check to be sure, but the computation orbs used by the multinational volunteers are nowhere near ours in specs.

“Isn’t that far too much magic for any single person to use? Damn monster.”

To my disbelief, it isn’t a special technique or advanced technology that made this possible. It’s simply that boar’s raw power.

I can’t help but feel jealous. Tanya was born with an average pool of mana. As someone who needs to carefully watch how I use my precious stores of magical energy, it almost makes me want to cry. This disparity in magic levels can only be described as outrageous. It was called a miracle when I figured out a way to save up my mana in that accursed Type 95, but look at this idiot come blasting without a second thought. Is this what it’s like to have more mana than you know what to do with…?

This monster already defies all logic with that ridiculous amount of magic but then actually takes that power and pours it into a formula that literally alters the world. This convenient, self-serving circumvention of natural law reminds me of Being X.

I shake my head with a groan. There isn’t anything more to it. Why am I, an ace aerial mage, getting upset about someone who has a little extra magic? Let’s look at the facts: Tanya and First Lieutenant Serebryakov are two veteran mages who braved and survived the Rhine campaign.

Experience is the world’s greatest teacher, though the tuition is usually extremely expensive… However, once you’ve paid your dues, experience becomes your permanent ally.

Learning makes it possible to handle anything. And I’ve learned a great deal. I have options.

That boar’s formula was powerful…and accurate to boot. Nevertheless, it’s still a long-range attack formula. An attack like that is merely for show in a fight between mages. That much should be obvious at a glance. There’s ample time to prepare between shots. While there are some practical applications in area denial, it isn’t great for frontal assaults. Especially at this range, where evading such an attack is a simple matter. Frankly speaking, I’d have to be an idiot to get hit by it. Even a sneak attack that doesn’t give itself away with radiation can be avoided if you know what’s coming.

There are times where high speed is a better defense than thick armor.

“Hmph, I guess all the magic in the world is worthless if you can’t land a hit.”

The enemy mage could’ve launched another attack, too, if it weren’t for that one little… What’s more troubling is that she’ll probably fire more of those until we completely leave her range of fire.

Though it would be a pain, there isn’t much cover along our exfiltration path. It’s time to get out of here. Dealing with idiots only makes me tired… But then I realize something peculiar.

“Hmm?”

There is ample distance between us and the enemy, so much that I can barely see them… So what is this tingle? Is it more pre-radiation like before?

That’s when it dawns on me that the enemy is in the process of weaving a ridiculously large formula. It looks like an explosion formula, but considering the range…

“Is that for predesignated fire?! Shit! They can’t hit us, so they’re just going to blow us to pieces?!”

Still in disbelief, I take evasive maneuvers and descend at high speed. Glancing back, I can see that First Lieutenant Serebryakov has made the same decision.

Very good. And then it happens.

I click my tongue as a heavy fwoom whips out past me. The air above begins to coil and twist. It’s an explosion. The sky-warping formula has sent shock waves far enough that I can feel them from here.

“You have to be kidding me… This is supposed to be maneuver warfare. What the hell are you thinking, using this kind of formula?”

To think I’d have to deal with an attack that’s effective at such an extreme range… It can’t get any worse. Terrifying images of the near future bring an abrupt end to the joy I’d been feeling while savoring our small victory up until that moment.

How annoying. This monster is just like Being X.

Then again, if this boar is just like Being X, that means they’re also dim-witted.

I mentally snap my fingers. That’s it—this mage is an idiot. I won’t underestimate their ability, but I won’t overestimate their intelligence, either. After seeing us dodge the big beam, their first thought was to blow us out of the sky… That’s just too trigger-happy.

I mean, it’s not the worst decision…but I highly doubt any of that was part of a coordinated plan. There’s an even better chance of this being the case if this volunteer mage is angry.

Hopefully, angry enough to forget about how high the misfire rates are for explosion formulas. Which gives me an idea.

I quickly calculate my coordinates and change position slightly. Now I just need to lower myself a bit. This should bring the enemy mage’s allies on the ground into the line of fire. With my adjutant close by, we pick out the perfect spot. And then…there, that should do it.

I know my guess pays off the moment I feel the telltale radiation from our enemy mage taking aim. Any decent aerial mage always keeps in mind what’s behind whatever you’re shooting at.

The fact that this mage is still trying to target us means…all logic has flown out the window for our attacker…

“Looks like the fact that we’re flying directly over the Federation Army is completely eluding them. They must be frantic.”

Tanya is wearing a wicked smile as she turns to her adjutant.

“First Lieutenant Serebryakov. What do you think about sharing these fireworks with our friends on the ground?”

“You want to bait the enemy into causing friendly fire…? What another ghastly idea you’ve come up with.”

“Magic needs to be used wisely. It’s called being eco-friendly.”

“As in, good for the economy?”

This is both ecological and economical. That makes it doubly eco-friendly. Good for the environment, bad for Commies. I’m not a huge fan of the idea of getting shot at…but I’ll chalk it up as part of the job. This is war, after all.

THE SAME DAY, FEDERATION ARMY ENCAMPMENT ON THE EASTERN FRONT

Federation generals were pragmatists and placed reality above politics.

They knew that reality could be harsh, but it was politics that destroyed people. The more manipulated they were at the beginning of a conflict, the more likely high-level commanding officers would develop a realistic outlook of the world. This was because fame and power were a type of poison that could end people. Those who served spent their days in the harsh reality that was the war; they had no choice but to wade through a bloody, cursed world in their military-issued boots.

They were in a constant struggle to find out whatever they could on their enemies. The sacrifices they’d made at the start of the war forged them into the officers they were today. They scoured the world for intel, which they analyzed to the fullest extent.

In other words, the Federation Army evolved into one of the world’s most pragmatic organizations. And they continued to evolve in a unique way to excel on the battlefield.

They were professionals. Diligent specialists who both feared and respected their enemies, the Federation generals gave their all to find out everything about those they had to defeat.

Needless to say, they knew a lot about the Imperial Army. In that light, their intelligence gathering even encompassed knowing how the Empire understood itself. As a part of this, they included research on the backgrounds and tendencies of high-ranking military officials for the Imperial Army on an individual level.

Naturally, this was only made possible thanks to the powerful backing of the Commissariat for Internal Affairs… For the greater good, the army was willing to shake hands with the devil. It wasn’t long before objections from the army’s trusted inner circle vanished like smoke. Objections and pushback were to be expected. However, the naysayers swallowed their reluctance. They were forced to comply in the all-powerful name of necessity.

And this deal with the devil bore tremendous fruit. Their folders on the enemy commanders steadily grew thicker with increasingly useful information.

Lieutenant General Zettour was a good example.

They conducted a thorough investigation of his background and military records, gathering all classified information on the man that they could find. The more dangerous the target, the more the analysts pored over their file.

What stood out in General Zettour’s summary was his unrivaled cunning. To put it simply, the Federation Army analysts accurately depicted Lieutenant General Zettour as a con artist on the battlefield.

As far as they could tell, he loved using tricks and deception while conducting maneuver warfare. To be specific, he was an ardent believer in encircling his enemies with his superior strategic mobility, even if it meant risking everything to do so. People who analyzed his tactics revered his ability to consistently pull them off, even when it was evident that they were the best course of action.

His most notable operations always included bold reorganization of his troops with a sharp focus on annihilating the opposing field army over seizing territory, all without exceeding the theoretical limits of logistics. And he would always top off these tactics with what seemed like a sleight of hand.

The bottom line being that he was a nasty man—the nastiest sort one could imagine. His ruthlessness rivaled the Communist Party’s secret police in the eyes of not only those who researched him closely but those close to him as well.

Considering this, there weren’t many analysts who thought he could be defeated in any straightforward manner. He was the type who pulled his troops back to deliberately create salients that could be exploited by flanking attacks, with the ultimate aim of cutting off his enemies from their supply lines.

This was a scenario that even a new student at the war academy could grasp. If the enemy sets a trap, then just destroy them along with their trap.

The Federation Army had been duped far too many times—their chance at revenge was drawing near.

All they needed to do was come up with a plan to neutralize Lieutenant General Zettour’s mobility. Predicting that he would send his most mobile forces there, the Federation Army placed the bulk of their reserves right at the base of their salient.

They even mustered their newest recruits for the large-scale ambush they had planned. And so they made ready to use the trickster’s trick against him and destroy the core of the Empire’s military might.

It eventually seemed like the enemy had fallen for this trap.

They had found what appeared to be aerial mages who belonged to a Kampfgruppe scouting their supply lines on the eastern front. The multinational volunteer unit stationed nearby attempted to intercept. They had been waiting for the imperial mages.

And while they succeeded in driving them back…the multinational forces lost two companies to Lieutenant General Zettour’s deadly fangs in the process. This was a tremendous loss for the Federation.

But it was the final confirmation they needed.

“…He always starts his operations with a big attack.”

As much as it made them want to swear, the Federation Army command knew the presence of highly skilled aerial mages was the signal they had been waiting for. The fact that he was using Named mages revealed the area where he would focus his attack.

“It’s about to begin.”

Multiple people in command expressed this sentiment. An imperial attack had occurred exactly where the Federation Army had predicted a full-scale frontal assault would eventually come. The first shot was fired with a large-scale artillery barrage.

They were inundated with a hail of shells like it was the opening salvo of an all-out attack. It wasn’t the sort of bombardment an enemy could execute if they were on the run. This was what made the Federation commanders believe they had successfully read his intent. The Federation Army was growing confident in their information.

“Seems like our intel about their lack of ammunition was another one of his tricks.”

The same voices expressed another sentiment.

“We’ll get him this time!”

Had they failed to predict his movements, the attack would’ve thrown their troops into a panic. Fortunately, the Federation Army saw this coming and took appropriate precautionary measures.

They deployed their units in the lulls of artillery fire. They set up a tight perimeter and even conducted counter-battery fire.

“Everything is moving as we predicted… We have him right where we want him.”

The commanding officers knew they were ready—this was their chance for revenge.

This time, for sure, they would catch that damn Lieutenant General Zettour. That was the very moment when the Federation Army command had quietly convinced themselves of their impending success.

It was the same moment when the con artist across the table, who they expected to show his hand at any moment, kicked the entire table out from in front of them.

THE SAME DAY, THE IMPERIAL ARMY’S PROVISIONAL COMMAND CENTER ON THE EASTERN FRONT

The senior officers had assembled in the command center. They had been summoned there on short notice, only being informed of Lieutenant General Zettour’s plan moments ahead of time. His orders: Prepare for imminent battle.

They collectively nodded when they saw their target was the enemy salient.

Practically everyone had guessed that would be their goal, after all.

Not only had the front line been reorganized, but most of their firepower was also quietly concentrated around the salient in a way that didn’t immediately stand out. Most of the battalions were comprised of new recruits, but this was the norm for keeping their numbers up on the eastern front. With this in consideration, their current formation was designed for mobile warfare.

Most of them believed this signaled that the master of maneuver warfare, Lieutenant General Zettour, was preparing his counteroffensive.

That was…until they saw their target.

“W-we’re going to advance directly toward their main forces?! We’re not hitting their supply line?!”

The room was immediately filled with astonished cries and dubious gazes. Lieutenant General Zettour quickly blew away their doubts with a laugh as he introduced his plan: Operation Mini–Revolving Door. His goal was the enemy’s field army. It was a bold plan. He wanted to bypass their supply line entirely and punch deep into enemy lines.

Should they succeed, it would without a doubt go down in history as a legendary victory.

Emphasis on the should, as this was all contingent on them not failing. The officers were realists to a man. They all had the same word flash through their minds: reckless. It was a leap of faith that assumed their army could seize the initiative and penetrate deep into enemy territory, achieving total surprise.

It almost felt like a freshly minted lieutenant, straight out of the war academy, had come up with a too-ambitious plan after getting drunk off his ass.

“Sir, are we…really going to attempt this…?”

In an attempt to change the general’s mind, a handful of officers approached their superior with sullen looks about them. Lieutenant General Zettour remained firm as he bluntly cut them off.

“I’ve committed myself to this plan. This is our chance to act, and we need to do so with a steel resolve!”

He slammed his desk with his fist. The officers stared at one another in disbelief as Lieutenant General Zettour began speaking in a delighted tone.

“Think of it less as a strategy and more as a tactical ambush. We stand to gain a lot from this.”

His subordinates timidly listened to his confident words before finally building up the courage to speak. A single officer stepped forward and raised a concrete objection.

“Sir, please reconsider a frontal attack.”

Spare me the excuses, the general’s eyes seemed to say, but the dissenting officer boldly pressed on.

“This is a prime chance to strike the enemy’s supply line! Please reconsider, sir!”

“Let me ask you this… Are you fond of poker?”

“What?”

“Try your hand at playing cards. It’s even more interesting if you bet your cigars. You see, people can really learn a thing or two about over- and underestimating their hand when they have something to lose.”

Card games are good because you have to hide your facial expression, and your opponent hides theirs. A game of bluffing, reading each other, and tricking each other.

Not only that but there was an element of luck to it, too.

Playing cards was like a strategic battle with your opponents, so much so that it was considered a reliable barometer for judging capable General Staff officers.

“Your suggestion is exactly what the Federation Army is waiting for. This is them we’re talking about. You’d be out of your minds to think they don’t have a welcome party waiting for us. Which is why…I’m going with an ambush. We’re going to flank them so hard they fall into the seventh circle of hell.”

When it came to reading their enemy’s movements, the Federation analysts knew what they were doing. The enemy forces had predicted the Imperial Army’s movements, just as Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff had.

This is perfect, Lieutenant General Zettour thought with a smile.

It was easier for him to abuse enemies who knew what they were doing. The most diligent commanders tended to be the easiest to trick. He planned on hunting them, hanging them, draining their blood, and cooking them up nice and juicy.

“You’re at your most vulnerable when you think you have the enemy right where you want them. Convincing your enemy they have you caught in a trap is also the best way to trick them.”

“You mean to tell us, sir, that the Federation Army’s salient is something that we lured them into, and they are already certain that we are going to attack their supply line?”

The officer’s question had a tone of overt suspicion to it…leaving a bad stench in the air.

It reeked of arrogance and underestimation. His contempt for the Federation Army made him biased. There were limits to how much pride one should show in their own ability.

“Are you insinuating the Federation Army doesn’t have the ability to do that?”

“…I find it hard to believe they would. Surely they’ll learn our ways at some point…but would it really happen so soon?”

“They have a good teacher.”

The officer seemed confused. Lieutenant General Zettour puffed some smoke from his cigar. As unfortunate as it was, the Empire wasn’t the only entity capable of research.

War forces its combatants to always continue learning.

Forgoing the slow accumulation of new tactics was the same as waiting for defeat. Relying too heavily on prior experience and habits was another deadly pitfall. He had to prevent these soldiers, who were accustomed to the eastern front, from developing misconceptions.

“It’s all about experience, men. You need to learn from it. As unpleasant as it may be for us, the Federation Army has paid their entrance fee into the university of experience with blood. They should have something to show for it by now.”

While the Federation Army was an extension of the rigid Federation, the same logic couldn’t be applied on the battlefield.

This was when a lone, tense-looking command officer showed up. He was only there to do his job, but with this many higher-ups assembled, he found it hard to jump in.

Lieutenant General Zettour tactfully addressed the poor man.

“You, what is it?”

“Y-yes, sir. I have a message. A message from Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff.”

“Good. Calm down and read it to us.”

“‘The sun has cleared the fog.’ I repeat, ‘The sun has cleared the fog’… She’s succeeded in drawing out the enemy, sir.”

“Excellent.” Zettour nodded with the biggest of smiles on his face. The colonel always accomplished the most with the least.

“Th-there’s also…”

What is it now? All eyes in the room rest on the messenger, who continued.

“Sh-she’s left a complaint.”

“A complaint?”

He didn’t expect to hear that. For once, Zettour found himself on the receiving end of an ambush. He reflexively raised a questioning eyebrow. His surprised expression urged the young officer to continue.

“‘I’d like to request for this to be the last time you send me on a mission this reckless,’ she says.”

“I can make that promise. This will be the last time I give such ambitious orders for this endeavor.”

“Will there be a next time?”

That poor lieutenant colonel. That thought was plastered all over the young officer’s face. Lieutenant General Zettour answered in an easy tone.

“There’s no need to worry about that now. Worry about the next time when there is a next time.”

Lieutenant General Zettour thanked the young officer before turning his scowl back onto his subordinates. He didn’t have time for petty debates.

“Now, gentlemen. It’s time to get to work. Let the Federation know what defeat tastes like.”

And so the mobile forces under the command of Lieutenant General Zettour began to carry out their plan to encircle and annihilate the enemy, just as the Federation Army predicted they would.

The only difference was their true target lay east of the front line. It was an attack the Federation Army would never even dream of.

The Federation Army was ready to withstand a general imperial counteroffensive. It was what they had prepared for. But their experience was what would do them in.

…Knowledge can be a scary thing.

Those who were on the receiving end of the Imperial Army maneuvers would learn a new lesson this day. They had previously learned that the Imperial Army encircles their enemies and cuts them off by pinching a salient at its base.

This was why they had an idea where the Imperial Army would show up when they caught word of them mobilizing for a counteroffensive.

It was a pitfall of the mind. They were too sure of their insight on how the enemy moved.

They’re coming for the supply line was all they could think about. It created a blind spot that allowed Zettour and his troops to lay a relatively basic ambush.

They would feint attacking their supply line when, in fact, they were using the salient as a revolving door. They would be conducting a full frontal assault against now-defenseless enemy positions. The surer of their predictions they were, the harder it would be for the Federation Army to right themselves.

And Lieutenant General Zettour had moved his troops without delay. After all, it was just the other day he had his troops retreating back the way they came in order to lure the enemies out. Despite being in Federation territory, he had created a rare spot where the Imperial Army’s knowledge of the land could more than compete with the Federation Army’s.

It was also a spot the Federation Army hadn’t surveyed yet. Being thrust into the morass of battle there would cause problems for them. Their generals wouldn’t be able to make the snap decisions on how to deploy their reserves. They would know they needed to fill the hole in their defense. They would know they needed to send soldiers there to do it. But they wouldn’t know exactly where they should place them.

They would frantically research the spot they should’ve already had covered, but by the time they came up with an answer, it would already be too late.

It was the newly established supply hubs that were key.

The Imperial Army pushed deep into the Federation Army’s front line to strike at these all-important bases. This spoke volumes about something Lieutenant General Zettour had learned from the Federation. He had also thoroughly studied his enemy—except he hadn’t focused on his counterpart but the idiosyncrasies of how the Federation Army set up its supply lines.

It had become standardized, which, for better or for worse, made it easier to predict. It was simple for Zettour to guess where the Federation supply bases were located when he knew the local geography.

Securing these supply depots certainly did clear logistical hurdles for bringing their troops provisions. He abandoned various precautions and ordered his tanks to accomplish the difficult job of overrunning these bases.

Without enough time to decide on what to do, the enemy would ultimately abandon around half their depots with the supplies intact. The Imperial Army could use what they left behind to fuel the tanks that had led the charge. Even better than this was…the seizure of their field artillery and supply of ammunition.

The heavy guns and shells were a godsend for Zettour’s forces after they had used up what few shells they had held in reserve for their diversion. These are the supplies I needed, a delighted Lieutenant General Zettour thought as he immediately began reorganizing his field artillery.

Imperial artillery corps would finish their battle with Federation artillery pieces.

This was the eastern front, after all. They needed to make use of whatever they could get their hands on. The gunners they managed to scrounge up were already used to operating Federation weapons, so they were more than ready to light up enemy territory with their own equipment.

Unfortunately, the Federation Army command had a very accurate picture of the Imperial Army’s troop strength, thanks to their incredibly thorough research. According to their predictions, the Imperial Army didn’t have enough gunners to be able to spare any for a mission deep behind enemy lines.

That’s why if they were suddenly hit with artillery from a place they deemed impossible, it was guaranteed to throw them into chaos.

Not only would it hit them in their blind spot but reports of enemy artillery behind their defensive line and the chaos that was coming would also muddle their intel on where the Empire’s forces had procured the ammunition.

And after that…well, hitting the enemy where they were weakest was Lieutenant General Zettour’s forte.