Youjo Senki - Volume 13 - Chapter Pr

[chapter] 0 Prologue

JANUARY 15, UNIFIED YEAR 1928, THE GENERAL STAFF OFFICE

General Hans von Zettour was in an excellent mood.

An absolutely excellent, splendiferous mood.

He was refreshed and raring to go, a song of triumph on his tongue. His footsteps bounced lightly off the dull, impersonal floor of the General Staff Office in time to the staccato lilt of his heart, which was beating exuberantly thanks to the rarest stroke of luck.

“My, oh my.”

Zettour was acting rather strangely for his age; he knew that. But he couldn’t help it when he felt like a sudden gust of fresh air had banished the gloom that had been hanging over him since the start of the year. It left him relaxed, and the excitement was visible on his face.

“I see the way out. Yes, how wonderful!”

He had been in dire straits. Torturously constricted, an impossible burden weighing on his shoulders, his stomach twisted in viselike agony, and he was unable to speak except to groan. All the while, he sharpened himself as an instrument of violence in his role as a staff officer and as the devil Zettour, who was an enemy of the entire world, as necessity demanded. For the sake of the Heimat, he played his part in deceiving the world.

“I see it.”

He now clutched a single thread of hope. Just one. The narrowest of paths.

“Yes, like the eye of a needle. But I see clearly now.”

And why was it so narrow? Zettour, old man that he was, knew that it was his own mistakes that had led him here.

First and foremost, he had misjudged the timing of the Federation Army’s offensive.

“My own bungling led to this crisis. I will admit that. It was my mistake. I underestimated the determination of the Federation and the material support the Alliance was willing to provide. Feckless. Absolutely feckless for someone as involved in logistics as much as me.”

The result of Zettour’s miscalculation had been a headfirst plunge toward catastrophe, putting him on the verge of witnessing the dissolution of the very world he wished to protect.

It was either a divine blessing or an unparalleled feat of human intellect that allowed Zettour to secure a miracle while teetering on the edge of utter disaster.

“God is with us, or so they say… Those words can’t help but sound hollow. If God is with us, then what a sad way he makes himself known. Still, a far cry from being abandoned.”

Zettour snorted. Zettour, public enemy of the world, was now prepared to face it. To go beyond the bounds of human intellect, challenge the limits of mankind, vanquish the resentment pointed his way, and force his will upon the world.

He finally had the last piece he needed to make that possible.

The elation welling up inside made it hard for Zettour to maintain his usual smile of composure. Right now, more than anything, he just wanted to shout in exaltation. In Zettour’s subjective opinion, he was, at this moment, the happiest man in the world by far.

When was the last time he had smiled with such genuine joy? It mattered little. Here, in this moment, he was smiling.

There was only one reason. A single spider’s thread. And the man who had brought Zettour such wonderful news was here with him now. Zettour grinned like that would be enough to share his joy with that benign messenger.

“First Lieutenant Grantz, whatever is the matter? You look atrocious.”

If the emotion appearing on the aerial magic officer’s face could have been summed up in one word, that word would have been tragic—so tragic, in fact, that it nearly made Zettour want to cry despite his paroxysms of joy.

“As regrettable as it is that I cannot ask you about the situation…I am actually in quite a good mood at this moment.”

As a superior officer, Zettour was perfectly aware how severe he could be with junior officers and how much he demanded from staff officers. When it came to magic officers, however, especially the ones heading back to the front, Zettour had a mind to be more gentle.

All the more so, thanks to his current mood. Zettour’s high spirits made him feel particularly magnanimous.

Though he was a general now, Zettour had once been a junior officer himself. He was more than ready with a word of pity or two for those poor officers at the mercy of their command.

“Truly sharing this joy with another would likely be impossible, but if I could impart some small share of my good fortune…”

With a gentle smile, General Zettour rested his hand on Lieutenant Grantz’s shoulder, assuming the demeanor of a kindly old man toward this officer he once browbeat in Ildoa.

“No need to be shy. Perhaps you should get some sleep? As a mage, you must endure some rather long flights, I imagine. Don’t worry, I will speak to your commanding officer.”

That reminds me, there’s still the leftover Ildoan champagne from the New Year’s banquet. Why not allow the young officer to enjoy a glass?

General Zettour continued speaking. He was good humor incarnate.

“It is a shame we are in the middle of an operation. Otherwise, we might have celebrated with some of the Commonwealth Embassy’s finest champagne. Truly regrettable!”

“G…General! Get a hold of yourself…!”

“Hmm?”

“Please, General Zettour, calm down. Don’t you see? The situation we’re in…”

The young officer had gone pale. The sight of the young man’s face, so desperate to save the world from annihilation, finally brought General Zettour to his senses.

“Why, First Lieutenant Grantz. You must think I’ve lost it.”

“General?”

“Hmm?”

Before General Zettour could offer another bemused response, his thoughts emerged from the morass of euphoria and returned to dismal reality.

“Ah, of course,” he murmured.

This messenger had just come on a special mission from the front lines, entrusted by Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff to deliver a bombshell. Of course it would be disturbing to see the general laugh like this as that bomb exploded at his feet. The first lieutenant couldn’t say so openly, but he probably suspected the senior officer had just gone mad.

“Lieutenant Grantz, I assure you I am quite sane.”

There in the depths of the General Staff Office, the chief officer of the Imperial Army and the monster who had become the nerve center of the Empire smiled as if he was human.

“Forgive my little outburst.”

Zettour chided himself lightly. It had been more than just a little outburst. He flashed a smile to cover his embarrassment. This was something he hadn’t experienced in quite some time.

Upon further reflection, Zettour realized his giddiness was almost insufferable given his age. He grimaced at his own lack of discipline. It was mortifying, if he was being honest.

“Ha-ha-ha, forgive me, Lieutenant. It wasn’t my intention to worry you.”

However, General Zettour still could not completely disguise his elation as he continued:

“Thank you, Lieutenant Grantz. You’ve brought better news than I could have hoped for. I am now certain that I shall triumph over the world.”