Youjo Senki - Volume 12 - Chapter 1.1

[chapter] I The World’s Enemy

NOVEMBER 21, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE GENERAL STAFF OFFICE AT THE IMPERIAL CAPITAL

In the innermost room of the General Staff Office, General Zettour sat quietly. He was using the Army’s bastion of tranquility and intelligence as a spot for a quick breather.

Though hardly comparable to the eastern front, the capital was growing increasingly colder. Winter was upon the Empire. Before the war, those with wealth and standing would often go abroad, seeking warmer climes elsewhere.

Unfortunately, the war raged on. With the current state of things, not even the nobility could hope to take their annual trip down south for the winter months.

It was so bad that there was even concern as to whether or not there would be enough fuel for civilian use this year.

The General Staff Office was already feeling the cold.

“I suppose I’m lucky.”

General Zettour muttered to himself with a wry smile.

Luck had nothing to do with it. Thanks to the war, he would be one of the few who got to head south this year for the Ildoan campaign.

Under different circumstances, it probably would’ve been an enjoyable trip.

“That’s it for the paperwork. All that’s left is my luggage.”

He scanned the room until he spotted a wicker trunk. One of his orderlies had prepared it for him.

“I told him to make it light.”

Zettour grimaced at the trunk.

His orderly likely thought that a trunk was the limit. In fact, a ranking general of the Empire traveling so lightly would’ve been unheard of prior to the war.

Were those still the times they lived in, Zettour would’ve complimented the packing job. Alas, there was no room for praise.

“Well this just won’t do. There’s no room for an entire trunk on a fighter.”

He rubbed his chin and let out a sigh before reaching for the tightly packed trunk. He was satisfied to find his orderly had at least done a good job organizing its contents. It didn’t take more than a few minutes to repack what he needed into a single rucksack.

“That should do it.”

With his preparations now finished, the general had a little free time until his next and final appointment before his departure. It wasn’t much time, but he could afford to take a smoke break. It would be his last breather before he crammed himself into a fighter headed for Ildoa. The flight would be a stark difference from the luxurious train ride that once connected the two friendly nations. He would no doubt be as tightly packed into the plane as his belongings were in his rucksack. The fighter in question was an instrument of war, after all. They weren’t built with roomy interiors in mind. It was pretty much the most uncomfortable means of transportation that could be found. But…the discomfort was a small price to pay if it meant he could get to his destination in one piece.

That being said, this would be his last cigar for a while, seeing as smoking was absolutely not allowed on board.

“I’d better smoke while I still can.”

He took out a well-maintained case of cigars from his desk. The attention to humidity control was a sign that even the idiot Rudersdorf was capable of paying attention to finer details when it came to things he liked. Zettour recalled his old friend’s face as he blew out his first plume of dark gray smoke with an unpleasant expression on his face. Then Zettour watched the smoke dissipate as it reached the ceiling of the General Staff Deputy Director’s office.

Given the time of year, the fact that the only visible wisps came from his own cold, white breath made for a sad sight. Zettour yearned for the sound of a crackling fire in the hearth. When the cigar smoke disappeared, all it revealed was the same old lifeless roof he sat under.

“I really wanted to decorate the ceiling with a nice painting, but it doesn’t look like I’ll get the chance.”

He had no time to be picky about his office’s appearance.

“Things are bound to get busy soon enough.”

Time, time, time. Time was the law that ruled over all. Zettour effectively spent his days running away from time as it relentlessly chased him down. The Empire was like a train about to leave the station, and it was his job to make sure the horribly sluggish train that finally began running its course did so on time.

Would it make its trip on time, or would it suffer delays? Could he even keep it on the tracks? The point of departure was now, and the destination was tomorrow, but where would it go next? The answer to that was as painfully clear as it was terrifying should he fail in his role as conductor.

The weight of his duty made him want to tremble, so much so that he even began to grow antsy during his brief smoke break.

His train’s final destination was the Heimat’s future. Derailment meant the end of the Reich.

It was a heavy burden for him to bear. His shoulder gave a quick spasm that was unrelated to the cold office temperature. He continued to fill his lungs with cigar smoke.

“My word. This really hits the spot.”

Another sigh left his mouth as he glanced at his watch.

It is funny how time seems to move so slow only when you’re feeling impatient.

There was still a bit of time before he had to go see Counselor Conrad, the person waiting for him at his next meeting.

He was set to meet him before departing, but as their appointment was scheduled immediately before the flight, this idle moment felt annoyingly long.

Everything seemed to be like that as of late. The general was overcome with an unshakable restlessness whenever he found himself at a standstill.

“I’m starting to understand why that idiot Rudersdorf was always so uncharacteristically in a rush.”

Zettour would carry this burden on his own. He had the weight of the entire Imperial Army pressing down on his shoulders.

“In the end, we’ve made mistakes at every turn up until here. We started a war we shouldn’t have. Then we failed to end it when we needed to. And had the wool pulled over our eyes by the prospects of victory only to be forsaken by the Lord.”

And yet, the war marched on. He couldn’t even muster up a chuckle at the hubris of a country that refused to end a war it couldn’t win and cry about how unfair the world was. He knew he couldn’t deceive himself. The Empire was alone in the world.

General Zettour shook his head and gave the frigid room a good look before flashing an intrepid grin. He was ready to shoulder any burden he needed to. He was receiving direct orders from necessity, and orders were orders for an Imperial soldier.

Goodness. The grin on Zettour’s face widened.

“This, too, is war. But what is a war?”

Zettour unconsciously began rubbing his chin as he launched into a monologue.

“War is the use of force to bend an opponent to your will.”

This was the textbook definition that all officers learned. Back in the good old days, a young, pure Zettour once blindly believed in these very words when he studied them with earnest aspirations to one day become a good little Imperial soldier. Now, however, he was beginning to question whether he believed in them at all. He recognized that he had only ever taken the words at face value.

It was something he reflected on whenever he was alone with his thoughts. When there was only winning in his mind, he believed that through power and victory, he could create desirable results.

“That is why I always sought after victory…why I always saw victory as a panacea.”

He had been wrong. In the worst way possible. And as a result, he could no longer save his patient, the Empire, be it with a panacea or not.

“If only I’d realized this a few years sooner. I’ve been saying that a lot lately…”

Ironically, Zettour had his suspicions about the prescription after using the every last bit of his will, his ability, and his talent on the eastern front.

He was challenging the value system that he had originally placed so much faith in. Accepting the discomforting reality made it painfully clear that decisive victory was no longer possible.

Zettour could only shake his head.

“The Empire is no longer salvageable. The majority of our nation, even our military, is still chasing after an ultimate victory.”

It felt as if the scale that balanced their objectives against their capability was completely broken. Some might even argue that the Imperial citizenry were quietly allowing their ability to face reality to fall apart.

The Empire defied reality for nothing more than a possibility. A heroic yet sad fight where the military didn’t know when to throw in the towel. Of all the people they could’ve fought, they chose to fight against the entire world.

General Zettour stared at the ceiling of his office. Looking at its bland colors almost made him nauseous. He lamented once more to himself.

“A ceiling really isn’t complete without a good painting.”

It could be a depiction of their fleeting, glorious past, or something that sparked hope. It didn’t matter; he wanted something. Something with color. Staring at the stains on the monotonous ceiling was beginning to take its toll on him. It made him feel like he was staring at the future of the fatherland.

The general sighed, then shook his head once more.

It was the hour of twilight in the fatherland. He had no idea twilight could get this cold.

He could accept his role as the general of the losing side. It would all be for naught, however, should he fail to minimize losses. If he allowed the Heimat to lose its youth at the current rate, his final days would be spent pitifully. It shouldn’t need to be stated that the general hoped for victory as much as anyone else.

It was something he wanted—were it attainable. But he knew it would come with a price.

“When you buy land, it comes with rocks. And meat with bones. Now, what price will my countrymen set for our victory, and what by-products are they willing to accept in the exchange?”

Would the goddess of destiny sell it to them at an affordable price?

“Even the worst victory we’re willing to sell isn’t something the world will agree to buy.”

A frontal assault was out of the question. They needed to sign a deal with the devil, then scrap the paper their deal was written on just to make it even.

Zettour knowingly asked himself a somewhat childish question.

“Can I outsmart the devil?”

The general planned on doing everything within his power. He was far from omnipotent, but he was confident in his ability to keep himself a step or two ahead of his enemies. There was also no lack of sheer determination. Honor meant nothing to him. He was willing to give up his soul if that was what it took.

But he knew the truth. A praying mantis with an ax didn’t stand a chance against the world.

“I doubt it… I don’t have enough cards to dine with the devil, never mind deceiving the world. I’d better find a long spoon.”

A spoon made of silver, if at all possible.

“Enough with this nonsense. It all means nothing.”

Entertaining aimless thoughts like these was nothing more than a way to soothe his mind. The Empire was shrouded in a stifling, cruel reality…and navigating out of this quagmire fell to none other than Zettour.

“A soldier… A mere soldier for an entire country.”

When he thought about how ill-suited he was for the position, an incredible sense of emptiness filled him. It was like admitting he wasn’t smart enough to win. He thought this as he sat with a cigar in his office.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t allow himself to lose. In order to cheer himself up…he repeated his words from only a moment ago.

“War is the use of force to bend an opponent to your will.”

The Empire didn’t possess the power to force anyone to do anything. The foundation for the strength required for that no longer existed.

Any chance of achieving this was long gone. Zettour folded his arms and blew out some more smoke as he sat in contemplation.

“I suppose there was a time when victory had been within reach… Then again, there’s no point wallowing in the past.”

It was time to do away with this self-pity and embrace harsh reality. Zettour could accept his defeat…his strategic failure.

“This isn’t about victory or defeat anymore, but a third path—an acceptable outcome for the Empire. I need to maximize whatever small gains the Empire can eke out of this war.”

What concessions could the Empire, in its weakened state, compel from the superpowers it was fighting? Those hostile superpowers would be the true victors while the fatherland would be…the vanquished. There was no changing this. Praying wouldn’t amount to anything because even divine intervention wouldn’t be enough to save them.

That being said, the fact that the fatherland was on the brink of bankruptcy had yet to be made public information. This small detail afforded Zettour just enough wiggle room for one last desperate act of resistance.

“This may be our final breath, but it also presents an opportunity—however small it may be.”

The pride of the Empire, its instrument of violence, still had its fangs. Its soldiers still had the will to fight. And Zettour was ready to accept whatever was to come. So why not fight tooth and nail until my very last breath?

“If we can’t win, then we will force our will on the world…without winning. So long as I understand the rules I must abide by, I can think of a way or two to make that happen.”

There were prospects for success. Even if the odds of success were incredibly slim and the road ahead would be brutal.

General Zettour knew that on the other side of that seemingly insurmountable challenge, there was a slightly better future awaiting the Empire. It was a hellish future nevertheless—a far cry from paradise, but anything would be better than hurtling straight into the deepest pits of hell. It would be the most minor of improvements, but that meant the world when it came to the future of the Heimat.

“That is why I reject fate. I refuse to let the worst come to pass.”

His own words reminded him of something.

“I really did believe…”

That I was always making the best choices.

Zettour missed the good old days. They were like a fleeting dream now—a dream where he could wholeheartedly believe in the Empire’s victory. These days felt more like a haze, but he remembered being utterly shocked by the mere thought of defeat when he first heard mention of it from a small girl who approached him in the corner of the General Staff library.

“Even now I can remember how caught off guard I was by the notion that avoiding defeat was true victory…”

He wondered if she somehow foresaw this moment back then, considering how she placed so much emphasis on what true victory meant. Or had she been operating under a different logic back then?

“I suppose I’ll never know.”

It doesn’t matter, he thought as he continued to stroke his chin.

“Accepting the notion that there are relative levels of victory makes everything so much easier.”

There was a big map plastered on the wall next to him. It showed the latest developments along the front, and the fact that the front lines were beyond the Empire’s borders told a story. Every expansion outward was a victory for the Empire. These occupied territories, however, were nothing more than tactical victories—tactical victories that would have no impact on the ultimate outcome of the war… Empty victories.

The Empire had won every battle it fought, but this string of victories would eventually lead them straight to their own demise.

“We paid dearly for this land, for all this dirt and rock. So why not put it to good use?”

This space was Zettour’s trump card. He needed to use every last resource the land had to offer if he was going to have any chance of achieving an acceptable outcome.

“I am a soldier of the Reich. There is something I must do for the children of the Heimat. Even if it contradicts my duty as a soldier…”

There were words waiting to come out of his mouth as he murmured this to himself. Hans von Zettour could tell himself whatever he wanted, but bold words meant nothing… He simply had two options before him: accept defeat, or refuse it.

His heart wanted to reject defeat with every fiber of his being. His pride shook and his sense of honor wavered… The mountain of bodies behind him made it nearly impossible to do anything besides cry out in denial, but no matter how much his heart desired victory, the only force that could move the world was cold, hard facts.

For him personally, there was a way around this. Zettour could flatly reject his impending defeat until he found himself dead on some battlefield. That way, he would never need to see whatever fate awaited the Heimat. Doing so, however, would be an absurd dereliction of duty.

For a soldier with great responsibility and stature to escape the war by dying…would be nothing less than desertion. Throwing away his life to satisfy his personal desires was a luxury he could ill afford. Zettour was a leader, and he needed to act like one.

“It’s at times like these when I start to envy the field officers.”

Zettour knew that these were words an officer in the rear should never say out loud, especially after considering all the special privileges they received. Nevertheless, it was something he thought on occasion.

He remembered fondly what it was like to be a commander in the field whose only worry was completing the task at hand.

“Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff once jested about missing desk work in the rear… I imagine she was just trying to be considerate in her own way.”

How tactful of her. Or perhaps it was just the clumsiness of a career soldier who didn’t know how else to think.

In any case, General Zettour was pulled away from memory lane by a ringing clock. He looked at the time and saw the second hand hovering over the twelve mark. The general chuckled wryly when he heard a knock on his door. Impeccable timing. He wondered what lengths his visitor had gone to in the name of perfect punctuality.

This was indeed the man Zettour had been waiting for.

Right. General Zettour cleared his mind and prepared for his next task.

“Hello there, Mr. Conrad. Or should I say, Counselor Conrad. You’re just in time. You have my thanks.”

“How could anyone possibly be late when personally meeting with the general himself?”

The man replied in all seriousness after showing up for their meeting on the dot.

Zettour nodded in amusement because that made it sound like the head of the General Staff was capable of controlling time itself. Even if he did have access to such incredible power, it wouldn’t change the fate of his nation. That was the miserable truth. And for better or worse—probably worse—the general had grown so accustomed to absurdity that it barely fazed him anymore. He flashed the gentlest of smiles.

“I’ve been looking forward to speaking with you for a while now. I have high hopes that we can come up with some good schemes together.”

“No, sir. The honor is mine to finally make your acquaintance.”

He was a true gentleman. Such pleasantries were refreshing, given the strange times they lived in. The two men shook hands firmly before Zettour showed the counselor to his seat and, as a sign of good will, offered a cigar to his guest. Counselor Conrad graciously accepted. The odor of the cigars left behind by General Rudersdorf permeated his old office. They were good-sized cigars. The two men savored them as they exhaled trails of smoke.

If an outsider had seen them, they probably would’ve chastised the pair for being too easygoing.

General Zettour took his cigar out of his mouth and gave Counselor Conrad a big smile.

“To think a quiet smoke break like this would come to be seen as such a luxury.”

“War takes away whatever room we have for leisure, I suppose.”

There was a clear detachment in the way Counselor Conrad spoke. To suggest this is just how war is felt blunt. This was simply because he only pointed out the obvious. The days when the Reich was lauded as the strongest nation in the world were no longer.

“It’s what happens when war drags on for far too long.”

Necessity, necessity, necessity.

The cold, logical principle offered no room for play, and its rules had to be obeyed until the end of time.

Imperial citizens had become synonymous with the word necessity in the most extreme of ways. There was no longer room for play even in their minds. The Empire had often been considered a nation of straitlaced people even before the war. Now? The Empire was a completely different place. The war had changed it from top to bottom.

“A superpower with no time to enjoy a cigar is a lonely place.”

“For a man in your position, there isn’t a soul who would dare reprimand you for merely smoking a cigar. If there was, they’d be going out of their way to see you in a bad light.”

General Zettour laughed grimly at Counselor Conrad’s directness.

“Bullets on the front lines don’t discriminate between officer and soldier. Though, I suppose the Federation’s snipers do, if we’re being pedantic. I have no doubt they would do their best to pick me out in a crowd.”

Zettour demonstratively puffed out his chest, which was decorated with medals.

“I take pride in how much Federation snipers obsess about me.”

“That’s an awful joke. Should I be laughing? Or would you rather me tell you that all the attention they give you makes me a bit jealous?”

“You can do or say whatever you wish. It’s not as if it matters anyway.”

The general’s curt response caught Counselor Conrad by surprise.

Though it was nearly undetectable, he allowed a somewhat troubled expression to show while thinking about how to respond.

The middle-aged diplomat was used to a little verbal sparring, but this seemed a bit much… By the time the counselor had started pondering the meaning of the general’s remark, Zettour simply shook his head and grabbed another cigar before continuing.

“Shoot a man, kill a man—it’s all the same because they’re destined to die from the day they were born. It doesn’t matter how they go.”

His words left his mouth accompanied by cigar smoke. It was merely small talk—an icebreaker to get their conversation started.

“Have you ever thought about death before, Counselor?”

“These are the times we live in. It’s a reality I’m forced to consider, on occasion.”

“That is mighty noble of you. I, for one, find myself only worried about the deaths of my friends.”

He shot Counselor Conrad a glance before flashing another vague grin.

The general could tell by the tense expression on the counselor’s face that he was trying his best to find a good response. Diplomats were tough in ways soldiers weren’t. This is good, Zettour thought as he smiled on the inside.

“I probably don’t need to say this, but I only ended up here because my predecessor met an unfortunate end, so it’s hard not to think about death when you’re in my position.”

With sadness in his tone, Zettour showed his anguish when he mentioned a fallen friend.

“To think he would meet his end in such a way. Fate can be so ironic.”

The general glanced at Conrad once more to see a knowing look. These diplomats sure are clever. The counselor wore a grave expression, as if he were compelled by a preestablished harmony.

“It is a tragedy that General Rudersdorf is no longer with us. I never imagined we would lose a man of his standing.”

The counselor gave his earnest condolences as a representative of the Foreign Office, and it occurred to Zettour that a diplomat could probably cry on command over something they didn’t care about in the slightest. It was part of their job, after all.

Just look at his face!

At a glance, it really did seem as if the counselor felt a deep sense of loss for the deceased general. It almost made Zettour want to clap.

“He died an honorable death on the battlefield, the greatest sacrifice any soldier can make. I want you to know that we mourn every day for the devastating loss.”

Even his timing for lowering his head as he spoke was impeccable. It was the slight quavering in his voice that really sold it for Zettour. As every vestige of tension drained away, Zettour couldn’t help but clap his hands. He gave the counselor a small ovation. That was the natural reaction to seeing such a spectacular performance.

“That was an excellent show of diplomacy, my friend. You are quite the actor.”

“My apologies, but come again?”

A tight expression came over the counselor’s face, making it clear he took offense at the remark, but Zettour pressed on with a laugh.

“You see, I’ve heard about you from Colonel Lergen. I simply decided to be straight with you instead of entertaining this masquerade ball.”

A friend he could scheme with. Someone to commit treason with. Or, at the very least, a person who he could grieve with. It didn’t matter to Zettour what historians would go on to call them, so long as they made sure to mark them both down as patriots who acted according to the times and endured as best they could.

There was only one important detail.

“I see you as a friend, Counselor Conrad. Let me answer the question currently on your mind before you need to ask it.”

He grinned as he enjoyed his cigar before loosening his shoulders and speaking softly.

“It wasn’t me.”

It truly wasn’t. Well, that was true in a certain sense.

Zettour couldn’t stop his grin before he spoke up.

“The goddess of fate is so cruel. She is a benevolent witch.”

Zettour had the intent. He had been more than willing to do the deed. He even had his orders ready. Everything had been ready, but alas.

The goddess was a devil. Despite refusing to save this nation from its future, the whimsical little witch relieved Zettour from the need to bear the guilt of having murdered his own friend.

“I almost wish I could feel responsible for his death. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I have no right to.”

He was certainly ready to commit the act. To quietly bear his guilt under the guise of duty, grit his teeth, and do what needed to be done for the Empire. And yet, it was unclear as to whether or not he was in a place to feel any guilt. He didn’t need to shoulder it in the first place. This had to be some form of salvation. But now that he didn’t have this burden to shoulder, he only felt emptiness. What kind of salvation was this supposed to be?

“I’m certain of one thing: This world has gone to shit. I almost want to become an atheist.”

“General Zettour, does God not stand with the Army?”

“Unfortunately for us, if there even is a God, he is rotten to his core. As someone who only wishes to make the world a better place, I believe the only objects worthy of faith are our nation’s guns.”

Zettour closed his eyes and shook his head as he jested. This much he always understood—that there was a higher power, something more significant than artillery, that ruled the world. Figuring out whether said higher power was pure chance, a god, or some sort of universal natural order was the work of the pious. Zettour only needed to understand how the world worked as a soldier. And he knew well that the God they knew was an incarnation of supernatural evil, not unlike the devil.

It was repulsive to even think about. Whether it be fate or chance, it brought a fearsome cruelty with it.

“I want you to listen to me, Counselor. I’m under the impression that…something a bit more presumptuous than a deity is controlling our fate. I’m not quite sure how to best describe this something, but…as it is less a god and more a vague existence, I suppose we could call it Entity X.”

“My apologies, General. Are we discussing theology?”

Zettour looked up at Counselor Conrad, who had fixed him a dubious stare, and shook his head.

“I don’t need you to understand. I’m simply talking to myself. You can write it off as aimless grumbling.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t quite follow… What exactly are we talking about right now?”

“I’m merely trying to open myself up to you to gain your trust. If I must add something to convince you, then let me acknowledge that I considered doing what you suspect me of.”

“You what…?”

Still standing at attention, Counselor Conrad asked this with profound interest. Zettour responded with a firm, almost self-deprecating nod.

“Your suspicions aren’t so misguided. Everything was in order for me to dirty my own hands. But before I could do the deed, our kind friends assumed the role of executioner for me.”

It was all too convenient for the general. God, you truly are despicable. Zettour quietly cursed the heavens within the confines of his mind.

“I only wish our creator would save the Empire instead of using such boundless power to bring about miracles as unpleasant as this. I cursed our God and praised the Empire. Quite a few firsts in my life. How much better it would’ve been if the opposite were true.”

“Are you serious…?”

Counselor Conrad’s gaze told the general that he didn’t believe him.

“It is the truth. I swear on my mother and friends.”

“Then that means…?”

The answer that would dispel the doubt and anxiety in the counselor’s gaze was simple. For this all to have turned out so well was an act of pure deus ex machina. It was almost as if everything had been scripted.

If this were a play, this would be where the audience laughs. As this was reality, though, the general sneered instead. After all was said and done, this much was well known throughout the office.

“They are decrypting our messages. The entire world likely knows our secrets. Thinking back on it, we lagged behind the world in one of the most important ways.”

Zettour had his suspicions that their messages were being cracked. Their internal communications were essentially being broadcast to the world.

“I shouldn’t have shrugged my doubt off, thinking it was impossible. I don’t know if it was a sign, but when our war hound Degurechaff caught the scent that something was off, I should’ve paid more attention. Oh, there I go again. Regretting what’s already been settled.”

He accepted this unpleasant reality with a dry chuckle.

Everything discussed in the Imperial Army could no longer be kept a secret from the Commonwealth. The General Staff had access to the strongest ciphers available in the Empire.

Would their enemies pry open the nation’s toughest lock with their thieving hands only to ignore the others? Especially when the information inside those vaults was worth its weight in gold?

The logical conclusion to this question was obvious.

“They’ve even seen our secret telegrams. It’s safe to assume that they know the Foreign Office’s ciphers as well.”

He glanced at the counselor and saw the distress of a man who intimately knew the way things worked.

“You think they know about every message we’ve dispatched…?”

There was what sounded like a hint of resignation in his tone as he voiced his thoughts. Either way, Counselor Conrad fully grasped the gravity of what Zettour was trying to say. He emitted a sigh before continuing.

“Did you see the documents detailing the transfer of power?”

“Ah, yes. Of course I did. They contained a secret telegram meant for a foreign embassy. Something about subversive actions abroad?”

In response, Conrad offered a dry grin and nodded. Of course, that was no reason for Zettour to let the topic pass without comment.

With an expression that was both solemn and dry in the same way the counselor’s was, Zettour gave his frank assessment.

“It’s quite the achievement, really. I wouldn’t be surprised if the nations of the world send that embassy a special thank-you and some flowers. You really gave them the best fuel they could ask for to ignite anti-Imperial sentiment in their respective countries.”

Conrad let his shoulders fall, offering no rebuttal. He was likely already aware of this mistake before he came here. There was no attempt to defend his organization. Feeling a strange sense of satisfaction in this, Zettour extended his hand.

“It seems we’re a good match for each other, as two friends who made the same error.”

“Can I consider you a friend?”

“Why yes, of course you can. We can even think of clever nicknames for each other if you’d like.”

Zettour had offered a hand and a big smile but was politely rejected.

“Let’s stop. I’d prefer not to discuss this.”

“Oh? And here I was thinking we could become companions who could trust each other.”

“I plan on living long enough to go to my grandchildren’s weddings. I’d rather not make friends with someone who will bring me closer to a random encounter with Commonwealth forces. Please, understand.”

Zettour, who was caught off guard by this response, started shaking. Without putting too much thought into it, he unconsciously began laughing loudly and heartily, like he was having the time of his life. The counselor was simply being logical. Considering what had happened to Zettour’s last friend, this was the natural reaction.

Not only that, but the diplomat sitting before him intended on living a long and full life!

This civilian was being quite brazen about living a carefree life in front of a soldier destined to die.

One could only laugh in the face of such glaring absurdity. No matter how warped the notion, anything that could replace the immense pressure Zettour felt daily for even a moment was more than welcome.

That was why Zettour chuckled to himself, alone.

“A spectacular answer. I appreciate it. As thanks…when I’m forced to end the Foreign Office, I’ll make sure you die last.”

“How terrifying. Are you going to murder us?”

“Not at all! I need you to live as long a life as possible to serve the Heimat. You need to be worked to the bone.”

Zettour whispered this to the counselor with a devilish grin. There was a strange cadence to his speech. It must have been because he was enjoying himself. Unable to resist his urge any longer, he took up his cigar once more and took a nice, long pull. It was exquisite. A good cigar was enough to make even the toughest of times enjoyable. What a wonderful thing.

With some reluctance, Zettour placed the cigar back onto the tray. After letting go of that last bit of smoke, he looked again at the man he considered his accomplice.

He could tell Counselor Conrad had guts. At the very least, it was clear to Zettour that he had a good sense of humor. There was nothing more for him to say.

All he needed from the counselor—his would-be accomplice as a fellow public enemy—was for him to return the handshake.

“I think we understand each other.”

“Likewise. I believe we’ve gotten to know each other well enough.”

Counselor Conrad gave an unexpectedly firm handshake before showing a somewhat surprised expression.

“A General Staff officer is quite the force to be reckoned with. This may go without saying for yourself…but you all seem out of your minds.”

He really emphasized that there had to be something wrong with the institution known as the General Staff while also expressing his awe for them.

“You may be the Empire’s best and worst invention.”

“You think too highly of us. Though I must admit I’d like to ask why you think that way.”

“I once met a Lieutenant Colonel named Degurechaff.”

“Ah, her.”

That was all Zettour needed to hear.

“Between you and her, it’s clear this institution is off the rails. It brings into question what they’re teaching you over at the military academy.”

“The two of us like to stick to the basics.”

“Oh? The basics?”

Zettour knew the perfect response to the question Counselor Conrad asked.

“It’s much easier than you’d expect, really.”

“Because it’s the basics we’re talking about?”

It was embarrassing to say out loud something that everyone already knew. Zettour hesitated to answer but he could see Counselor Conrad was patiently watching and waiting. If he wanted Zettour to say it out loud, then he would.

“Precisely. You’ve probably heard them at a Sunday mass.”

“Well then, it seems I may not be devout enough because I’m having the hardest time figuring out exactly what you’re referring to. Please do share any useful passages from the scripture.”

“Of course,” General Zettour said as his expression became solemn. Then, like a preacher speaking from atop a podium, he intoned, “Take the initiative to do what people hate the most.”

“Come again…?”

“Simple, isn’t it? At every opportunity, you must do whatever your enemy fears most. It is a virtue drilled into us at church from a young age.”

Counselor Conrad blinked twice with his mouth agape before the general’s words finally sank in.

“How moving… It is almost twisted how much neighborly love I can feel you exuding.”

“Precisely. I consider myself a fundamentally good person, after all.”

“Are you one to turn and offer your other cheek after being slapped?”

“But of course. Which is why we’re spreading the bodies of our fallen youth around the continent. I actually regret the amount of unbridled neighborly love I’ve spread so far.”

He answered the counselor’s joke with a joke of his own, offering a semblance of pleasant banter. Perhaps such a jest was the manifestation of their new friendship. Their lighthearted conversation was all laughs and smiles. Were they not at war, Zettour would surely be enjoying this moment with a glass of wine or champagne. It would’ve been the perfect winter night for a nice dinner. He would much rather use firewood to light his fireplace instead of throwing so many of his nation’s youth onto the fire as kindling.

The reality was that all he could do was bark and howl at the setting sun. Still, people found ways to enjoy themselves, no matter what times they lived in.

“Counselor Conrad, I’ve enjoyed our conversation.”

The diplomat nodded in full agreement.

“It’s been a long while since I’ve had to use my wit in such an entertaining way. A conversation with raison d’état is always as bittersweet as it is fresh. How very bracing.”

“Yes, Counselor. It is likely a grave misunderstanding.”

General Zettour showed the smile of an innocent child.

“For you see, it’s not our wits but egos that we used here today.”

General Zettour bumped his fist against his own chest before continuing.

“We’re not thinking with our minds, but our hearts. I know I’m no longer an officer who operates solely on logic.”

Counselor Conrad took a moment to think about what Zettour had said before responding.

“Then what do you devote yourself to?”

“My gut. My feelings. Or maybe it should be called an attachment to a nostalgic illusion.”

“Well, I must admit I wasn’t expecting an answer like that.”

“I love the Heimat.”

Cigar in hand, Zettour shared his innermost feelings with the counselor.

“I love my life here, the people of this nation, and our livelihoods. That is why I’m a soldier of the Reich. A loyal citizen of the Heimat, if you may.”

There was so much love in his words. It was a common sentiment throughout the Empire. All who worked in the Empire also lived there. And yet, strangely enough, Counselor Conrad found himself straightening his posture as he listened.

Where exactly was Zettour going with this? Whether or not Zettour knew the counselor was listening intently, the general paused to take up his cigar once more and wedge it between his lips.

His next words would leave his mouth behind a thick veil of smoke.

“The Reich’s soldiers should crumble into dust along with the Reich.”

The general spoke without any hesitation. The passing comment almost made it seem like he was casually commenting on the weather. Ignoring how much his words shocked Counselor Conrad, General Zettour picked up his coffee and continued.

“But can the same be said about the Heimat?”

It was clear what he was trying to say. Despite the general’s crescendo into a question mark, his remark made it clear that he would never allow the Heimat to end. It was intense how clear his intent was even though he never touched on it directly.

“Old men are here to protect the future of the babies still being held by their mothers. Which is why it’s our job to change their diapers.”

“Is that…something the enemy will allow us to do?”

“Counselor, the true nature of war is quite simple, really. Tell me, what do you think war is?”

Zettour coldly answered his own question with his usual answer.

“War is the act of using power to force an opponent into submission. It could be considered a continuation of politics by other means. If this is the case, then let us secure the best loss we can win from the world. That is how we will ensure a future for the Empire that is better than a living hell.”

“That’s quite the defeatist’s ambition. I suppose reality justifies it, though.”

“I suppose we’ll see about that. Whatever the case may be, there’s a next best plan. If we lose our place in the Heimat, then we shall walk another road.”

“May I ask which, if you don’t mind?”

General Zettour gave a light nod as if to say, Of course.

“If we won’t make it beyond the war… If we’re unable to acquire a future for the Heimat, then we won’t die alone. We’ll take them all with us. The entire continent will burn.”

The lone soldier, Zettour, stated his intentions plainly.

Any patriot would wish for this. For the fatherland’s future. To give the fatherland a future.

And if this was unattainable… If, in the future, there was no place for the fatherland, then it was his prerogative, as a patriot, to reject the future entirely. Such a world was unthinkable for a true patriot like Zettour.

“We’ll threaten the entire world. Either let us live, or fall with us.”

“Are you serious…?”

“You be the judge of that.”

General Zettour stood up, then placed his hand on Counselor Conrad’s shoulder.

He then brought his face close, so that they could stare deep within each other’s eyes.

“I want you to take a good look. Do these look like the eyes of a man who’s joking?”

“General…”

“I am a patriot. And a good person to boot.”

Counselor Conrad nodded, showing that he understood the general’s resolution while also expressing his admiration for the man.

“General, I understand this is a decision forced upon you by necessity. Allow me to show my respect.”

For Zettour, who had a bloodcurdling look in his eyes, any mention of necessity was the last thing he wanted to hear in that moment.

“Necessity… I’m getting so tired of the notion.”

“General?”

“I’m tired of being forced into my decisions.”

He slowly brought his cigar to his lips and fiddled around with the lighter as he lit the cigar. Then he continued with a clear note of annoyance in his voice.

“I’ve done everything in my power for the goddess of necessity. This is different. It’s high time for that wretched hag to do her part for the future of the Empire. I’ll grab her by her hair and drag her out of the sky if I need to.”

“How ungentlemanly of you.”

“This is the opinion of a man who’s undergone one trial by fire too many at the hands of this so-called goddess of necessity.”

All but scorched by the flames of total war, the con artist’s voice had become hoarse. And for this, Counselor Conrad had no words.