by Carlo Zen
Ultimately, what convinces me is how bright the city is. The electricity and gas are illuminating the place so well that I wonder more than once about the possibility that the lights are decoys. On a battlefield, that nonchalance is a regular occurrence in its own way, but it’s abnormal at the same time. When she thinks that she might be able to teach them the concept of a blackout, she even fancies herself a bit enlightened.
I’ll teach these fools a lesson through experience. Sometimes I wonder why people would bother teaching the unwise, but now I understand. Behind Tanya’s broad grin are pity and contempt. The satisfaction of channeling those emotions into a lesson by means of kicking their ass is ever so unique.
“Education, huh? I see. Becoming the instructor known as experience and collecting a hefty fee isn’t such a bad gig.”
I guess it’s sort of like being one of those Meiji period foreign government advisors.
The job is simple: Give the poor Principality firsthand exposure to the difference between us in modern war, civilization, and national power. Payment will be made in whole by the Imperial Army. This is a sophisticated enterprise where everything, down to each individual round of ammunition, is made possible by the cordial consideration of the Imperial Army General Staff.
Oh, so this is what it’s like to understand something once you try it yourself. Bringing the light of civilization to barbarians is clearly my sacred mission. Aha, I see why there are people who confuse differences in culture and civilization with racial superiority. It’s far too alluring, and most of all, it provides this horrible sense of omnipotence.
Well, that’s not good. Tanya regrets the thought a bit and wisely admonishes herself. If there’s one thing I won’t resort to, it’s interpreting everything through the lens of God. That would interfere with my personal raison d’être, so I definitely can’t do that. Well, I guess it’s fine to believe in a sacred mission when I shoot Being X…
Anyhow, I pause that train of thought for the moment, like in a video game, and then Tanya flicks her flashlight on and off while whirling it around to call her commanders. It’s almost time to move.
The munitions factory is shining so brilliantly it seems to be trying to turn the darkness into day. Even from our distant position, the bustling energy of the workers is apparent in one area where they’re putting all their efforts into shell production. We have nearly reached our target.
“You called, Major?”
“We’ve found our target as planned. You can see it, right, Lieutenant? Over there.”
“…I can’t believe a weapons factory is unguarded.”
“Honestly, neither can I. This might sound arrogant, but…” That’s what Tanya says, although she scoffs as she continues. It would probably be more accurate to say that she bursts out laughing at the enemy’s foolishness. “Their way of thinking is stuck somewhere about a century in the past. They seem to still be living in two dimensions.”
Ignoring the third dimension in the sky, the Dacians only know of an absolutely flat war. What a splendid concept. How stupid can someone be? Thanks to that, I have it easy—their ineptitude really is wonderful. Any enemy of mine is free to let their intelligence atrophy.
Tanya feels she should be genuinely happy about their enemy’s stupidity while celebrating the favorable circumstances.
“Actually, we should probably be impressed that their factory is operating twenty-four hours a day.”
“Thinkers of the Enlightenment would be delighted to find them so industrious.” Though he was wincing a bit as he agreed, First Lieutenant Weiss knew what he had to do as vice commander to clear his name.
Noticing that he’s trying his best to restore his honor, Tanya adjusts her evaluation of him and decides he can be trusted with assignments.
“Anyhow, I think it’s good that our job will be easy, Major.”
Then, not one to betray expectations, Weiss offers his opinion. A vice commander who can make their own calls but also affirm their superior officer’s judgment despite their lack of experience is surprisingly hard to come by. Having selected Weiss as her deputy, it’s a relief that Tanya seems to have an eye for talent.
“This is a great opportunity to attack. Shall we?”
At the same time, her adjutant, Second Lieutenant Serebryakov, is giving some cause for concern as she’s starting to sound a bit impatient, perhaps due to her “opportunities” on the Rhine front. I’ve been teaching her how to wage war but not how to navigate its rules… Tanya has only received short, intensive officer training, so even if there are no issues with the way she led her subordinates, it may be necessary to pay more attention to the legal side of things.
“Lieutenant Serebryakov, we’re not such brutes that we would ignore the law of war.”
Yes, established by humanitarians and people with legislative experience, these statutes stipulate the sanctioned way of waging war on cities.
It’s a parade of arguments no one could reasonably disagree with: You mustn’t attack facilities that would interfere with people’s daily lives, attacking civilians is prohibited, indiscriminate bombing is inhumane, and so on. Oh, how great are laws that try to bring some sense into the mad realm of war! They are worthy of respect. If we can do this sanely instead of like maniacs, humans are honestly wonderful. Long live humans. If there’s a problem, it’s that many of the laws are just slightly impractical. But poorly conceived laws are still laws.
In reality, though, we don’t have any issues operating within them. What with murky scopes of application and interpretation difficulties, most laws can be handled simply. At least, we don’t have any problems this time.
“Please excuse the error, ma’am.”
“Let all units know that we’re only destroying the arms factory. Hey, put out an evacuation notice—broadcast on the international distress channel according to regulations.”
The enemy manufactory is obviously a military facility. It isn’t baking bread or generating electricity to assist people in their daily lives—nothing like that. Even if someone wanted to insist to the contrary, there’s no such thing as a peaceful purpose for ammunition. Well, maybe the warm-hearted humanitarian Mr. Molotov4 would be making bread baskets. Still, that’s no problem. It would be their fault for making bread baskets in a facility so easily mistaken as an arms factory.
“But, Major, if we do that, we’ll lose the element of surprise!”
“Lieutenant Weiss, common sense says that fear is justified, but you’re thinking a bit too straightforward.”
It seems Tanya’s suggestion that they conduct their attack in line with the rules dictated by international law is completely lost on her subordinate officers.
“We came this far in secret only to reveal ourselves…?”
The same questioning look is on all their faces.
Their expressions share a common type of soldierly doubt. They don’t have any question when it comes to carrying out their military objectives. Of course, the one who was selected for that character was the battalion commander, Major Tanya von Degurechaff—in other words, me. Even if I try to put the blame on someone else, I’m the one responsible in the end.
For a split second, I wonder if I made an error in gathering these particular subordinates, but I console myself with the thought that they are magnificent imperial soldiers who obey orders even when reluctant. Tanya opens her mouth to instruct them in a stately manner.
“Lieutenant Serebryakov! Issue the warning. Order an evacuation according to regulations.”
“You want me to do that?”
But in the next moment, Serebryakov asks a question, without any deep meaning, that unintentionally highlights Major von Degurechaff’s acumen as a specialist. It’s enough to make her sick.
Yes, the warning is only a formality, so less believable is more desirable. In that case, the cruel reality is that Tanya figured Lieutenant Serebryakov’s slightly unsophisticated voice would sound less reliable than the hard, soldierly tone of Lie
utenant Weiss’s.
Of course, Tanya is quietly exempting from consideration the youngest member of the unit—herself.
But now that it has been mentioned, I have to admit Serebryakov has a point. If someone were to ask Tanya afterward why Lieutenant Serebryakov made the announcement, I was planning to say, “My assumption was that if a girl made the warning, they would drop their guard,” but the worst thing that could happen is someone asks, “Don’t you think the commander should have issued it?”
I have to do it. I don’t want to, but…
“…Mm, okay. You’re right, I should do it. I’ll make it really sound like a little kid.”
Agh! Nothing for it. At this point, all I can do is think about increasing our chances of success. Argh, these shitty international laws—what a pain. Can’t they hurry up and meet their de facto death? What genius got on a high horse and suggested upholding rules of war?
Having partially given up, she shouts into the receiver a subordinate handed her, leaning heavily on the infantile sound of her voice. “Thish is a warning.”
And so the warning that day echoed grandly throughout the Dacian capital… Except it didn’t.
It’s true that she is following the law to the letter and broadcasting it over the international distress channel.
“We, the Imperial Army, are now commenshing an attack on a military supply facility!”
However, I suppose would be the appropriate word…only a very tiny number of people will hear the announcement. For starters, radio penetration in Dacia isn’t high enough that every house has a set. Furthermore, households who leave their radio on in the middle of the night are no doubt an extreme minority.
“We will begin maneuvers thirty minutes from now.”
Most of all, would anyone take a threat from someone who is obviously a child at face value? Not really. If someone with a more rigid tone, voice, and manner of speech that practically shouted their identity as a soldier—someone like Rudersdorf or Zettour, with that undeniable military air about them—gave the warning, it would be a different story. But with Tanya as the announcer, objectively speaking…aside from the content, the announcement is awfully heartwarming.
Many people will consider it at most an elaborate prank and think little more of it, going back to sleep with a critical frown.
“We solemnly pwedge—errybody swears to fight fair and square, according to international law.”
On the other hand, there remains the goal of playing the part properly despite the ridiculous voice, so Tanya lets all the emotion drain out of her words. In a way, this performance is a mortification of Tanya’s mind comparable to using Type 95 at full power. Praising God and affirming Being X is bad enough, but I still see my duty through to the end.
Naturally, she is openly indignant as she scowls at their target and shouts that she will crush it. Visha’s emotions as she looks on next to her are probably shared with the rest of the battalion—unshakable solidarity.
…No, her thought is, That’s so low, Major.
Tanya finishes reading the warning in a voice appropriate for a child her age. No matter how you think about it, the only appropriate explanation would be some kid’s prank; anyone would think so. Even we feel like we’ve caught a glance of some gruesome sight.
“Major, do you have experience in acting?”
“Acting? I’m not sure I understand what you mean. I’m just hoping they lower their guard.”
Though the tone matches her age, Tanya murmurs her dissatisfaction in her usual cold voice. It must be a sign of complex internal feelings. Weiss has only known her for a short time, but even he can pick up the displeasure his superior doesn’t bother hiding. Her mood is as dangerous as nitroglycerin.
When Weiss quietly takes a step back, everyone discreetly follows suit. Nobody wants to be so close to Major von Degurechaff when she’s irritated.
“…Okay, troops. It appears shaming myself was worth it.”
Still, something has been beaten into them during their training as soldiers.
And that’s why they understand that their superior will vent her feelings on the enemy as they ready themselves for the attack, grabbing their orbs and rifles with as much as a measure of sympathy.
“This munitions factory has been receiving Republican assistance. It’s probably full of flammable materials.” Tanya’s tone contains a clear determination to blow the target sky-high. Normally her inner thoughts are inscrutable, but today, at this very moment, every mage in the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion can understand exactly what’s on her mind. There’s no mistaking it.
She’s motivated.
“I issued the warning. Our obligation has been fulfilled. Now let’s watch the fireworks.”
I’m openly indignant—blowing off steam or maybe taking it out on them.
The expression on Major von Degurechaff’s face while she casts an extra-large yet precise formula and conjures a long-range projection formula is a mixture of intoxication and anger, all indicating very real danger. Let sleeping dogs lie. Since no one has interfered, she’s able to turn her undiluted fury on the enemy.
“Let’s educate them in the name of God.”
That murmured remark informs her unit how serious she is.
“I will manifest the power of God on this earth!”
Their commander continues constructing an extra-large disaster.
“Deploy formulas! Look sharp, observers!”
“Deploy formulas! Target: Carberius Arms Foundry!”
“All companies, match your timing to Major von Degurechaff!”
Not wanting to fall behind, the commander of each unit shouts, and several long-range attack formulas are cast.
Normally, any attacker leisurely launching this slow formula in the middle of a battlefield would end up pummeled by anti-magic artillery or picked off by enemy mages on patrol.
But if the enemy’s even slower, then it’s a different story.
“Deploy formulas!”
“Fire!”
We loose a volley of long-range explosion formulas cast by a forty-eight-man augmented mage battalion. That power and range requires more magic than usual, but this time at least, it’s the optimal solution.
No one interrupts—no one even notices.
The formulas rain down on the target so easily the mages are almost disappointed, and the spells explode on impact with the factory literally filled with ammunition.
“Sixteen direct hits! The rest are close!”
“If we can do that with long-range formulas, then I can’t complain.” Tanya nods in satisfaction.
Then, just as Weiss is about to say something to her, it blows up.
The flare is so dazzling, even the mages are blinded, despite having anticipated the blast. The light fills the quiet night with naked hostility.
The roof of the factory, blown skyward, seems to fall in slow motion, and the Dacian capital has been jolted awake by a glare that lights up everything for miles around.
“There go the secondary explosions.”
Then a quiet, satisfied remark sums it all up.
“Tamayaaa!”
“Huh?”
“It’s just an exclamation. Don’t worry about it.”
She turns around and appraises the scene with a deflecting remark about the fantastic sight.
“I gotta hand it to Dacia. Not only did they help us out with our live-fire exercise, they even arranged for a post-training fireworks show.”
She cackles in amusement, her expression exuberant. If she had to sum it up, the gigantic sunlike explosion below feels just like a fireworks show in honor of her service.
“Anyhow, we achieved our objective. We’re returning to base, troops.”
OCTOBER 23, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF OFFICE, DINING ROOM 1 (ARMY)
“That captain did say it lets you experience war rations.”
An officer who worked in Personnel was reported to have said it. The General Staff Office
dining hall was a “perpetual battlefield café” that didn’t let soldiers forget their combat experiences, even in the rear.
Major General von Rudersdorf had no words to deny that. In fact, he secretly agreed with his junior colleagues’ opinion that the dining room and its “unique” cuisine seemed to be engaging with the Commonwealth in a fierce competition no normal person could comprehend.
And likewise, as far as Major General von Zettour knew, there were no General Staffers who actually liked the food. So perhaps it was ironic that although discussing confidential matters in a cafeteria was generally considered a poor idea, this particular place was actually the optimal venue for strategy meetings if secrecy was desirable.
It was Zettour’s and Rudersdorf’s natures to use whatever they could, together, to the fullest, and when it occurred to them that the dining hall was the best place for keeping things confidential, they reluctantly began taking at least one of their three daily meals there.
“…Time is not necessarily on the Empire’s side, though it isn’t exactly on our enemy’s, either,” Rudersdorf grumbled, sounding absolutely fed up. Irritated, he washed down some bread-like foodstuff with pseudo-coffee. Among all the ersatz items on the table, he could tell from the feel and luster that only the Meissen cup in his hand, and only that, could be called genuine.
“Taking our current situation into consideration, it’s not a good idea for the Empire to deal with two fronts for too long, but you still think time might be with us, Rudersdorf?”
Zettour looked dissatisfied with the food but smiled, somewhat amused, as he replied. He was in charge of logistics. Of course, as a General Staff officer, he could stick his fingers into strategy or operations just as much as Rudersdorf, who had long been involved in operational theory research and development.
The General Staff had simply seen what these two were capable of, so they put energetic, dynamic Rudersdorf in charge of war operations—mainly mobile—while expecting Zettour’s wise, scholarly precision to keep the military organization running smoothly.