Youjo Senki - Volume 13 - Chapter 5.1

JANUARY 11, UNIFIED YEAR 1928, SKY ABOVE EASTERN CAMP

Mage company inspection and recon operations involve long-range flight. The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, however, is an outstanding outfit that has paid considerable attention to its deep deployment capabilities. They aren’t given such impossible tasks by General Staff for nothing.

At minimum, battalion members are expected to be able to fly, scout, occasionally engage in combat, and engage in pursuit missions if necessary, all while keeping a cheery tune on their lips.

For a mission like this, where recon must be carried out in secret, two or three days of long-range scouting flight isn’t likely to take much more of a toll beyond a few tired grumbles. The mages quietly form ranks in the sky and begin cruising the eastern skies in high spirits, the flower on the Empire’s instrument of violence.

But no matter how much the spear tip glitters, the shaft itself may still remain dull.

For instance, take their sleeping arrangements. Those buildings are far too simple and shabby for a base, where the essence of that glittering instrument of violence, the mages, now sleep.

Although, thanks to the efforts of First Lieutenant Tospan, this village that is our camp has been transformed into the finest of Potemkin villages.

This is because First Lieutenant Tospan’s field construction has focused solely on camouflage and comfort.

Still, one must credit his creativity and ingenuity. The passion that First Lieutenant Tospan poured into improving our living conditions and disguising our base while we were away is tremendous, allowing us to just barely arrange for everyone to be able to gather indoors for sleep and recuperation without needing to worry about drafts.

Although, in exchange, when it comes to defenses, there are barely even foxholes present. The defensive capabilities differ very little from an ordinary village. Plus, the promised concrete has not arrived. All the better for camouflage, though. No matter how many times she views it from above, even to my deeply suspicious eyes, the camp does not appear to be anything more than a deserted village that is partway through reconstruction.

As a temporary residence, this is probably much safer than building a perimeter of half-assed defensive positions. The one problem, however, thinks I think with a grimace, is that the camouflage is so good that it is difficult to distinguish this place from other villages.

“Well, well. We’re just lucky that the village is next to Eastern Command. Otherwise, we might fly right past it without even noticing.”

Leading the company at its head, I begin descending. As I near the ground, I spot First Lieutenant Tospan.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

Why is the officer coming out to greet them? Has something happened? It seems odd.

“You’re the last, Colonel, so I just thought I’d meet you partway.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant! You didn’t need to go to such trouble.”

The implied meaning is that everyone is waiting for them. With a return salute, Tanya heads toward the barn, which has been made into a command center, to show her face.

Captain Meybert, Major Weiss, First Lieutenant Grantz, and First Lieutenant Wüstemann. Add First Lieutenant Tospan, who was keeping guard outside; and Captain Ahrens, who is elsewhere at the moment due to vehicle repairs; and together with Tanya and Visha, you would have the Kampfgruppe’s entire command element.

This is the Kampfgruppe’s leadership. We are fairly small in number, but on the plus side, this allows for close coordination. Honestly, though, we are actually just short on people. As a Kampfgruppe without exclusive command personnel, command is a heavy burden to manage.

I shake my head and begin speaking.

“We’re back. It seems I’m the last,” I say, turning to the commander who was left behind and getting right down to it. “Captain Meybert, anything to report in our absence?”

“We’ve been receiving regular reports from Eastern Command. As air supremacy throughout the east is in dispute, deep reconnaissance is unavoidably imperfect, but results have been gathered to a certain degree.”

Oh? My face breaks into a smile at word of the decisive efforts of our friendly forces.

“As far as aerial recon can tell, the enemy seems to be hibernating.”

I grimace, not sure if those are good results or bad.

I’ve been thinking…if Air Fleet manages to sniff out something even slightly amiss, it would have been an excuse for the whole battalion to carry out reconnaissance in force and overinflate the threat posed by the Federation Army in reports. As great as it is that everything is peaceful and quiet, it does leave us in a jam.

Captain Meybert continues:

“The eastern army’s frontline units sent out repeated recon in force squads as well, but resistance was fairly limited.”

Captain Meybert has even more good news to share.

“As far as Air Fleet could confirm, despite antagonism, air superiority in the Empire’s field of influence has been generally maintained. A smattering of spy planes have entered our territory, but everything generally seems normal.”

“Understood,” I say, before turning my eyes toward the other commanders, who were sent out with their companies into different areas. “Okay, everyone else…what did you find?”

In response, First Lieutenant Grantz slowly stands up and gives his recently compiled report.

“It was just as Captain Meybert reported. Other than repelling a few small-scale enemy units, my unit did not encounter any fighting.”

“Small-scale recon units?”

“The largest was an approaching enemy mage company.”

“Reconnaissance in force?”

“As recon in force goes, they were fairly passive. Their skill level was passable enough, but they seemed to turn tail pretty much as soon as we entered their detection zone. The enemy is apparently quite skittish. We gave the run around a few times…even tried crossing into their area of influence slightly thinking we could pursue. But interception was positively anemic. The only thing I will say is their antiair fire was above standard. I think they may have bulked up slightly.”

“They’ve built up their air defense grid?” I ask reflexively, inviting a serious response from Major Weiss.

“Hmm. Maybe they’re settling in.”

“How about you, Major Weiss?”

“It was pretty much the same as First Lieutenant Grantz. We didn’t carry out any strikes into enemy territory, but the enemies we encountered were similarly quick to run. What about you, Colonel?”

“We experienced the same. Unless First Lieutenant Serebryakov has anything to add, it seems the sky is the same all across the front.”

“I see,” Major Weiss says, stepping back and turning his eye toward First Lieutenant Wüstemann as if to ask, Anything else? A slightly nervous expression appears on the first lieutenant’s face.

“Major Weiss, I have something to report. On what I saw in the rear…in the autonomous area I was assigned. The effect of increased security is showing. General Laudon carrying out his own inspections seems to have had quite an effect. In any case, partisan activity has calmed down.”

I can’t help but arch my eyebrows in response to this report from the new replacement officer tasked with surveilling the back lines. The fact that things are growing calmer is generally good news. However…

“…A lack of attacks and our army succeeding in suppressing the area are not the same thing,” I respond harshly.

“They have been successfully mopping up.”

“First Lieutenant Wüstemann, are you claiming that a lack of enemy attacks means that the enemy has been successfully neutralized…?”

“Yes—I mean no. Colonel, reports were that several areas have been successfully cleared out, and multiple partisan bases have been suppressed.”

The enemy partisan groups that chip away at our lines of communications, creating damage that accumulates. Their subjugation is a major issue for the Imperial Army in the east, which would make this a remarkable achievement that should be celebrated by all rights.

Hence why Tanya is unable to instantly believe what he says.

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Autonomous security forces and imperial Feldgendarmerie carried out a successful joint pacification operation.”

“The Council for Self-Government actually did something?”

“Yes,” First Lieutenant Wüstemann says, holding out the report. Glancing over it, I’m taken aback.

Security operations are generally dirty work. Being on the front lines of such operations is tough, and most would rather shirk such activity. Moreover, the Council for Self-Government ought to have been still playing with two strings to its bow. How could this be? The Council, with their knowledge of the locale, leading the way!

With appropriate guidance and support, the heavily equipped Imperial Army forces managed to mop up the enemy in a targeted operation with minimal collateral damage! And the resulting pacification allows the Council for Self-Government forces to now maintain a degree of security in occupied territories!

Just the other day, she was speaking with Colonel Lergen of the Council for Self-Government’s “dalliances,” and now here they were, acting like proud partners to the Empire.

“This is too good to be true… Regardless of General Laudon’s efforts, could we really expect to see results this quickly? I’m sorry, but this seems suspicious.”

“But,” First Lieutenant Wüstemann argues, “multiple partisan groups have fallen. My company even assisted in mopping up some enemies at the end…though only the one time.”

Hmph. I nod and urge him to continue.

“Has this put us completely back on track with previous transportation lane initiatives?”

“Initiatives?”

“Led by field engineers to recruit locals in exchange for wages and food. In short, roadbuilding and maintenance as a part of incentive-based pacification ops. Is it being carried out, and can we expect results?”

Crushing the enemy partisans and ensuring the safety of transportation lanes. What could be considered an extremely important victory if we expect to build up forces and oppose the counterattack that is likely to come in spring or thereafter.

A more-than-perfect result.

First Lieutenant Wüstemann, the one who brought this report, is not the type of officer to go back on his word or to pad his reports. For better or worse, he is a serious officer by nature and, while still inexperienced, is hardly stupid. He has the intelligence to distinguish between what he has seen and his own opinions.

And yet something still bothers Tanya.

Is it just hard to believe that an organization with loyalties to both sides would suddenly roll over and become so faithful and affectionate?

I give it some thought.

Maybe this is just an example of General Laudon living up to General Zettour’s faith in him? No, there is nothing wrong with the idea of a diligent superior officer producing respectable results, but… Lost in thought, I cross my arms and sink into silence.

“Colonel…?”

Looking up in response to her adjutant’s worried voice, I shake my head.

“I know. Can I have the communication logs? I want to see how much communication has been intercepted. Between partisan forces and Federation officials.”

“But it’s encrypted.”

“Yes, I know. Honestly, it doesn’t need to be deciphered. I just want to know how much communication has been passing between the two.”

“In that case,” First Lieutenant Serebryakov says, handing over a report submitted by comms personnel. I quickly glance over it. According to the report, which is mostly just simple notes, despite a slight increase while they were carrying out mopping-up operations, there has been no major change in the total volume of communications.

Essentially, there is nothing particularly suspicious here.

“And the enemy doesn’t seem to be in a position to take proactive action…?”

So it seems. In theory. Thus…

“The Federation is still rebuilding,” I say. “And the enemy partisans are also hunkering down for the winter. So we were able to mop them up with relatively little trouble?”

It sounds like wonderful news. Even Tanya, there on the ground, can find no clear grounds to refute this explanation.

But. But. But.

“Something doesn’t sit right…,” I say, muttering my true feelings. “Backline territories pacified, our defensive line coming together, and the enemy still regrouping. General Laudon has arrived on scene to rearrange eastern battle arrays, which General Zettour had been so worried about. If all this is true, everything is going swimmingly…”

Everything’s coming up Empire. If all these developments can be accepted at face value, the situation is improving. The homeland. Eastern Command. The rear. All in excellent shape.

In other words, the outlook is bright. The dark winter is nearly over, and spring is just around the corner. The Empire is awash in good news.

Hope is a wonderful thing. But even the most delicious of dishes can leave you feeling sick. That’s why I continue to be hounded by vague suspicion.

Have we…fallen for something awful? Fallen for a scam?

The duties of the Commonwealth Intelligence Agency were extremely wide-reaching, with a variety of work taking place within the agency, including anti-Empire espionage, domestic counterintelligence, duties related to the colonies, schemes to build support in former colonies, and efforts to appear as a good counselor to allied nations.

Naturally, much of this work was classified. An extremely busy, high-level agent could find themselves handling several projects that were not to be revealed by any means.

It took a thief to… Well, the rest should be obvious. Thus, in his mind, the man known as Mr. John could hardly fault other nations for their brazenness.

This time, however, Mr. John was forced to humbly doff his cap.

“Very brazen of the Communists… Very brazen indeed.”

The Intelligence Agency office was currently housing the happy pair of Habergram and John. These two, who each had strong opinions about the qualities of desks, were currently face-to-face in a highly controlled corner of office headquarters, gritting their teeth in surprise and displeasure at that latest information that their liaison officer in the east had acquired.

“Sir, could this be a mistake?”

“Unlikely.”

“I see,” Mr. John said, nodding slightly in response to his superior’s words.

An urgent report had come from the officer they had dispatched. According to the report, there were signs of an impending large-scale strategic offensive by the Federation Army. If true, the implications were massive.

Launching an attack at such a time!

Despite being part of allied war efforts, the Commonwealth Intelligence Agency was taken completely by surprise when they learned of these attack plans, which were code-named Rising Dawn.

Agents assigned to the Federation were left speechless, and there were even rumors that the section chief, who had been left with considerable egg on his face, had chosen to drown his mortification in heavy drink—a behavior that was highly out of character for him.

This showed just how little Commonwealth officials had managed to successfully anticipate Rising Dawn.

And inversely, how diligent Federation officials had been in not allowing even the Commonwealth Intelligence Agency to catch wind of what they had in the works.

A thorough deception. What amounted, in the end, to intentional fraud.

And if one was to reassess the various bits of intelligence, under the assumption that what they had seen was what the Federation wished to show, Mr. John thought, asking and answering his own question.

“Yes, now I see it. Efforts to dangle the Empire’s own dream in front of its face.”

The aim of Rising Dawn was a strategic surprise attack. Any attack that caught the enemy with their pants down was always powerful. The Federation must have gone to great lengths not to reveal to the Empire any signs pointing to the timing for their attack.

Knowing of the attack, however, went far in explaining recent movements of the Federation in hindsight. Mr. John flashed a grimace of understanding at the director.

“I thought that it was strange that the Communists hadn’t been undermining the Council for Self-Government lately…”

“It is the opposite. They have finished undermining and have moved on to dividing.”

The Council for Self-Government forces were being extremely cooperative with the Imperial Army. Usually, the council had to skirt around both forces, the Federation and the Empire. At a glance…taking such clear sides would seem to indicated the Empire had come out on top.

But if it was, in fact, a sham orchestrated by Federation officials?

In other words, if they had intentionally incited those taking the Imperial line into a mopping-up operation? Luring them into fighting with the partisans would help to blunt the tip of anti-Federation forces while also damaging public perception… Plus, it would give the Imperial Army the false impression that the back lines were safe.

On the other hand, the latent New Federalists in the Council for Self-Government had considerably expanded their power as a result.

“A perfect example of infiltration.”

“Yes, not even our own office can ignore such a thing.”

“Dividing enemy from friend. Dividing and then telling them to govern. I doubt even we are capable of such malicious intent.”

Hmph. These two men of the intelligence world tittered disapprovingly, snorting—from their gentlemanly surroundings—at such ungentlemanly behavior.

The Federation Army had remained circumspect. Hence why even their allies in the Commonwealth had remained in the dark up until the last moment. To put it another way, it showed just how greedy the Federation was for victory.

“The Empire doesn’t seem to have noticed. It appears the Imperial Army in the east is snuggled up perfectly in their beds, dreaming only of the spring. At this rate…”

“Yes,” Habergram said, agreeing with his underling. “They were supposedly so desperate for mages and yet were sending the multinational volunteer unit on expeditions far and wide.”

“It makes sense now,” Mr. John said, understanding the director’s words. “They must really want to take victory on their own.”

“Understandable. It is a chance for the Federation to snatch a massive gold star for themselves while the Alliance flounders in Ildoa.”

“It’s galling,” he spat.

The two puffed away at their military tobacco, but even after tossing the butts into the growing pile in the ashtray, the bitter taste remained in their mouths.

The Federation and the Commonwealth were on the same side. Together with the Unified States, they formed a Grand Alliance. It was a term that sounded very nice, but regardless of the propaganda or what the world might think about them, in the end, they were just enemies who happened to find themselves in the same boat.

And besides, Mr. John was painfully aware. The Commonwealth, the Unified States, Ildoa, even François and the remnants of the Entente Alliance. They just kept losing against the Empire.

“It sounds better to say we keep hanging on, but…”

“I understand, public opinion would not be favorable.”

Mr. John needed no explanation.

The war was dragging on for too long, and people were growing tired. The public was desperate for someone to do something. What would happen if the Federation was to snatch victory on its own at a time such as this?

Politically, it would be a massive win. A gold mine. The Federation’s prestige would skyrocket, and their external influence would become immeasurable.

In this war against the Empire, they all wanted victory. But the state was a greedy thing. When victory was in sight and one had the luxury to choose the manner in which they won, of course, they’d choose the method that would benefit themselves the most.

For his own part, after all, Mr. John was hardly thrilled at the prospect of their unpleasant neighbors—whom they were already only interacting with reluctantly—soon being able to swing their weight around even more unpleasantly than before.

“It’s honestly confounding. Better if the Empire and the Federation were to both go down together.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“In that case,” Mr. John said, suggesting a curveball, “what if we were to find it in our hearts to issue the Empire a warning?”

“That an attack is already on the horizon?”

“Yes,” John said in confirmation.

If they sent the Empire a warning now, situation withstanding, the Empire still had General Zettour in their stable. If they let this information leak through appropriate channels, that warhound was sure to show his worth.

“It would depend on the channels. But if done right, it could ensure us VIP seats to a very excellent future indeed.”

In response to the suggestion, Habergram crossed his arms for a moment before groaning as if in internal conflict.

“It is a very attractive proposal…”

“Thank you very much.” The two quickly put their jokes aside. “It is not really feasible, though, is it?”

“I suppose not. There would be too many issues. We are in an alliance, after all. If the leak were to come to light, it could lead to a chain of problems for us.”

“Besides,” the Intelligence Agency head honcho said, sharing the Commonwealth’s true position with the senior agent. “Some degree of success, at the moment, is not completely unacceptable.”

“But too much is?”

“Well, yes, I suppose that is where the problem lies. But just how effective do you think this offensive of theirs will be, this Rising Dawn? Just from your own personal estimate.”

“The Federation Army has been very careful to keep the operation a secret. At the moment, there’s no way to even be sure how reliable the information acquired by our agent in the field is. In which case…”

…it is impossible to tell. The director folded his arms and shook his head. Mr. John’s answer was absolutely correct.

“It concerns me that the Empire has suddenly appointed General Laudon to Eastern Command. Why shore up command personnel at a time like this? I shrink at assuming that bilk, Zettour, will have nothing up his sleeve.”

“True,” John agreed. “General Laudon may be advanced in age and may have been sent off to fill the reserves, but they pulled him back in once the war began. Since he had been on sinecure for a while at first, we thought he was just another layman brought in to fill up officer numbers…but he had formerly been General Zettour’s superior. It may not be wise to underestimate such a man.”

“Not according to the information they had gathered on him,” the two muttered to themselves.

After essentially being pulled out of retirement, this General Laudon was immediately sent to the east as Regimental Commander Laudon, taking actual command of what was supposedly an honorary post. Then in the recent Ildoan war, despite being a high counselor, he had ridden in a twin-engine light bomber under the guise of studying Air Fleet conditions. Honorary regimental command was a sinecure post, while high counselor was a temporary holdover position, but looking at what the man had actually done, he seemed more akin to General Zettour.

“Most importantly, he was likely entrusted with the east on request of that bastard Zettour, no?”

“So it seems. Anyway, whether he’s of the same level as Zettour, he certainly looks to be of the same type.”

Hmph. The head honcho and the agents crossed their arms. The issue was simple. Had the Empire, and Zettour, grasped the situation with Rising Dawn? Or had they not? Before they could consider this further, however, the director spoke.

“Even if they do suspect an attack, they are clearly not certain. Rising Dawn may, in fact, be successful. Based on information from Ultra, they are currently fortifying defenses in preparation for an inspection by the Imperial family…”

“Wait. I’m sorry, did you just say an inspection by the Imperial family?”

“Yes, why?” the director asked, mashing his cigarette into the ashtray. “I see,” John said, sighing as if annoyed. “Perhaps those fools in the Empire don’t suspect anything after all.”

Mr. John had his doubts about the Empire’s competency when it came to matters outside war. But even the worst organizations, he believed, had at least one area in which they excelled. Yes, sure, they seemed to be shoring up command, and they had General Zettour, with his preternatural nose for such things. However…

“I thought the Empire at least knew what they were doing when it came to war.”

“Yes, it’s possible they have failed to pick up on this. I can’t disagree. Even if they did, though, if they have sniffed out an attack, they seem to have done so imperfectly. In which case, Rising Dawn is likely to succeed,” Habergram muttered, not trying to disguise the displeasure in his voice.

“If the dawn of socialism is coming, it is not going to be very pleasant for two old boys like you and me.”

“Now, now, we are allies, after all. Let’s just pray that it is an underwhelming victory.”

It would have been too much to say they hoped the Federation would lose. They were gentlemen, after all. At the same time, they couldn’t stop themselves from frowning. A great victory for the Federation on the eastern front seemed to be written on the wall.

But before long, they would see:

Zettour’s miracle.