Plus Ultra

by Carlo Zen

  And in Dacia, all expectations had been met. Rudersdorf set a perfect example of how to conduct maneuver warfare with his astuteness, whereas Zettour made arrangements for the efficient deployment of troops, even organizing the dispatch of an advance unit. Both of their talents achieved everything the General Staff had hoped for.

  “Of course, more time spent will mean more waste. But that’s exactly why our basic strategy of knocking out the weakest enemies first, like we did in Dacia, shouldn’t change.”

  “In other words, what you mean to say is, ‘I’ll give you time, so handle the logistics?’ Rudersdorf, I have to warn you, the Anluk E. Kahteijanen as well as the port facilities are already at their limits with the construction jobs and expansion work in Norden. Transporting enough matériel for a winter offensive will be much too large a burden.”

  “If you say it can’t be done, then I guess it can’t. But I’ve known you long enough. You say it’s impossible, but you won’t convince me you don’t have an alternative plan.”

  An ideal mutual understanding between the front lines and the rear. In a way, this was made possible by the rare cooperative relationship the two men had been able to build where they completely trusted in each other’s exceptional abilities.

  “I’m sorry, General von Rudersdorf, but as far as I’ve heard from the managers of rolling stock in the Service Corps, the logistics situation in Norden isn’t going to improve anytime soon.”

  “General von Zettour, do I need to explain to you about the possibility of a maritime supply route?”

  Relaxing both his expression and the mood just a little bit, Zettour dropped all pretenses. “All right, all right. As you say, since the war began we’ve had our sea routes cut off, so there are all kinds of trade vessels anchored in the port that we could requisition.” It was a plan he had considered many times. “If necessary, I can send a nearly three-hundred-thousand-ton ship to a port facility somewhere in the north for a landing operation.”

  “So it’s decided, then? I wish you would just say that from the beginning.”

  “I have to warn you, this discussion is only valid assuming we have control of the sea. I’ll put up with a skirmish or two, but I’m not keen on the idea of losing a unit and a ship for the chance to gamble on an amphibious operation far behind enemy lines.”

  Zettour frowned slightly. He was more worried about the possible losses than he was about the potential success of the operation.

  It was true that the Empire currently had a glut of ships because the sea-lanes had been tenuous since the war started. There was a chance they could solve their supply and operational issues with them. But put another way, the Imperial Navy had nothing but vulnerable sea-lanes, so would they really be able to protect supply lines? That was the risk they faced.

  As long as that was the case, maybe they could use the narrow straits near the Empire, but they had no choice but to be pessimistic about the idea of establishing a major supply route.

  “You worry too much about supposed losses. Even if it’s a bit of a risk, getting behind Entente Alliance lines and cutting off their communications would crush them.”

  Rudersdorf’s reply was almost carelessly optimistic compared to Zettour’s strategic concerns.

  Despite the deadlocked front lines, the substantial gap in national power left the Entente Alliance on the brink of collapse just like Dacia. In other words, Rudersdorf’s take on the situation could be criticized as an oversimplification, but if the Imperial Army could seize a region in the rear the same way their soldiers had trampled Dacia, even the Entente Alliance would collapse on its own.

  “I can’t deny it, but frankly, I don’t think they are much of a threat anymore even if we leave them as they are. Shouldn’t we forget about them and finish off the Republic?”

  “There’s nothing better than having fewer fronts, but…”

  On the point of whether it was actually necessary to force the Entente Alliance to completely collapse, a slight disagreement between Operations and the Service Corps began creeping into their remarks. Zettour didn’t think advancing north would do anything to ameliorate the logistical strain. On the other hand, from Operations’ point of view, cleaning up that front would make things much easier strategically.

  “From the logistics standpoint, the burden of maintaining the amount of troops necessary to hold against the Entente Alliance is not a light one. Even without firing a single round of ammunition, soldiers starve to death if they don’t eat, you know.”

  “I’m aware of that. But it’s true that compared to the Republic, it would be easier to take out.”

  “Fine.”

  In the end, both men had clear criteria for how to optimize the instrument of violence known as state warfare while not losing sight of their greater objective. An operation could be undertaken if it didn’t strain logistics too greatly and if it gave them a chance to shrink their active fronts.

  Given the fact that in those operational terms there were no issues with gaining control of the rear in the north, Zettour agreed to draw up an attack plan.

  “If we’re going to attack, I’d like us to consider the Osfjord.”

  “The Osfjord? It’s too heavily defended. It’s situated inside that narrow bay, but I’m pretty sure they have a few coastal guns.”

  “The city of Os is the main railroad hub. If we take that, all the Entente Alliance’s trains should be out of commission. Then we can stroll in and keep our troops’ supplies using their rails.”

  The city Zettour pointed out was significant because of its role as a transportation center—presenting an opportunity to knock out enemy logistics in one fell swoop. It would be difficult, but if they could cut the enemy’s supply lines… When the thought crossed Rudersdorf’s mind, he could no longer hold back a savage smile.

  “Got it. You come up with some really nasty plans, don’t you…? But it does make sense. So you want us to capture Os…”

  If the Entente Alliance was crippled like that, their army would die like dogs even if their frontline forces put up a heroic resistance. A military with no head or limbs was just a mob that used to be called an army. Assuming things went as Northern Command hoped, victory could then be achieved with a short frontal assault… It could be so easy that they might want to consider how to achieve an even better outcome.

  “Say you can do it and I’ll give you a unit. If it doesn’t work, I’ll just deal with Norden in a less sneaky way.”

  “No, let’s give it a shot.” With that same grin on his face, Rudersdorf decisively met the challenge. He would try to take them down. It was the dream of every General Staff officer to dramatically shift the tides of war on the operational level with one large-scale battle. He nodded at Zettour as if to say he would even drink down this dirty-water coffee with a smile.

  “Very good. If you need anything, let me know.”

  “Oh, then lend me a mage unit.”

  Rudersdorf was merciless in asking for what he wanted.

  “A mage unit? Sure, but which one?”

  “The pet in your pocket, the 203rd. I want you to let me use the troops that performed so well in Dacia.”

  “That battalion’s a handful. Are you okay with that?”

  The pet in Zettour’s pocket… They were a dauntless combat unit that had waged impeccable maneuver warfare in Dacia and had even bombed a weapons factory. Not only that, but they were an augmented unit equipped with cutting-edge gear from the Technical Arsenal. When Lieutenant Colonel von Lergen had reported on their training progress, he insisted, with undisguised shock, that there was no unit in the Empire that could match them.

  “That’s fine. Besides, I believe the commander has combat experience in Norden. It’s reassuring to have someone who is even a little familiar with the lay of the land.”

  The 203rd’s commander was said to have a distinctive personality, but if she had to be sorted into the groups “useful” or “not,” she was certainly a part of the former. That m
ade her just the type that he could afford to push hard as a game piece.

  “All right. I’ll make the arrangements right away.”

  “Thanks. Here’s to the hope that we win.”

  A glass was raised.

  “Then here’s to the hope the food here improves.”

  The return toast made them both wince.

  “I think the war’ll end first.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  Though grimacing, they stayed faithful to the basic soldiering principle of eating whenever a chance presented itself. That said, neither hid the fact that they would rather dine elsewhere.

  [chapter] II Norden I

  NOVEMBER 4, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, ENTENTE ALLIANCE DEFENSE MINISTRY, PERSONNEL OFFICE 2

  A man in the Entente Alliance Army’s type II dress uniform was receiving a new rank insignia from his superior officer in the Army Personnel Division, who wore a smile plastered over his face like a mask.

  “You’ve been promoted. Congratulations, Colonel Anson Sue.”

  “If I’m getting promoted after suffering such a loss, our country must be at its end.” He didn’t fly into a rage at the state of things, but neither did he bother to hide his murmurings. He simply expressed his sentiment before he realized what he was saying.

  Normally, an officer of his rank shouldn’t have talked like that. But the miserable situation of the Entente Alliance created a peculiar atmosphere in which Sue’s bitter comments could be excused.

  Their defeat was all too clear. The kind of fall that was guaranteed to come. Of course, there was still some hope.

  But in a room full of people who understood their circumstances and could see where they were headed, optimism was in laughably short supply.

  “Now then, here’s your new insignia. We expect a lot out of you, Colonel.”

  And that was why the people who fully comprehended the gravity of the situation were already exhausted. Their hearts were long spent from the intense rage they felt.

  “The fatherland is in crisis. I have to hope you’ll do your duty as best you can. That’s all.”

  “There is no greater happiness than to be entrusted with the fatherland.”

  “Excellent.”

  They did nothing but exchange set phrases. Probably the only thing on Sue’s mind as he delivered his stirring lines in monotone, like a sutra, was simple contempt for formalities. Since the leadership’s choices have been so grievously bad, aren’t the duties we soldiers can actually fulfill rather limited?

  It was for that reason that Sue was miserable. His only reaction to the impassioned commotion caused by mobs of citizens frantic to save the nation was the extreme fatigue on his face.

  He saluted according to protocol and left the room with a gait that grew even heavier when he saw the excited young volunteers, brimming with love for their country, forming up before marching out. They’re so innocent… Eager to go to battle, but what can they even do when they finally arrive?

  “How disappointing. What awful luck to have been born in a country that can only ask its youths to die for it.”

  A patriot would cry. They were supposed to protect their fatherland; they should have been proud of it. Instead, their nation had committed a grave mistake, and now it was ushering young people down a path that promised death. Though he could have sworn he was emotionally spent, he found tears blurring his vision.

  “Colonel Sue?”

  While trying his best to keep up appearances in response to concerned voices, in his heart, with a hint of resignation, he made a vow. If I’m going to send them to their deaths, then the least I can do is fulfill my duty as best I can, too. The commitment to self-sacrifice stemmed from his sense of responsibility and fate as a leader.

  If the youth are going to sacrifice themselves for the fatherland, then there at least has to be someone to accompany them down that path, an adult who will fall beside them. He was grimly determined. How could I let them die alone?

  Even so, as the young men paraded proudly down the road, he couldn’t stand the sight of the anxious-looking women carrying children in the crowd of people bidding them farewell. Thinking of those who were left behind, he prayed for salvation and nearly cried out. Anyone, anyone at all, please end this nightmare…

  If there was a hope he could cling to, it was that the Republic or some other great power would maybe, just maybe, show up in the nick of time to save them. Then the Entente Alliance might have a chance to escape total collapse. But can it really? Having thought that far, Sue sneered at the futility of clinging to a wish that couldn’t even convince him.

  He knew they were well and truly cornered, with no way out.

  They were supposed to protect their fatherland, but it was already ticking down its final days little by little, like an hourglass. In the future lay inevitable ruin.

  Facing downfall, he could only stand still, tormented by a sense of helplessness. His resolve to share the fate of the fatherland was unwavering. Nonetheless, when he thought of what hardships would befall the people when they lost their home country, he could only shed tears of grief.

  Wait. It must have been the workings of fate that made him realize something at that moment: Just because a country was destroyed didn’t mean its people had to be. If they couldn’t protect their homeland, they at least had to let its citizens escape. Even after the state was broken, mountains and rivers would remain. Yes, countries fell, but they were made up of people. Perhaps they would have a chance to rebuild their broken home. If they saved the people who would become the seeds, they could dream of a day when the field of the fatherland would bloom once more. It would be a difficult journey. Times would be hard. But this wouldn’t be the end. There was the hope of rebirth.

  A homeland is more than territory; as long as home existed in the hearts of its people, this wasn’t the end.

  He had to help as many fellow citizens escape as possible. Surely that was the great cause worthy of dedication for a soldier of a failing nation. No, it was the one and only way of sacrificing oneself that a soldier who had sworn to protect the fatherland could be proud of.

  “Here it is. Yes, I found it!”

  With a shout so full of hope and purpose you would never have thought the speaker had been on the brink of despair just moments earlier, Colonel Sue made a vow. I’ll never let anyone destroy thee, O Fatherland.

  This country was his family’s home. He was a father, even if he hadn’t been around his child much. Though he regretted that, and it was a bit late to start caring, he swore to leave his wife and daughter a future. Though it was immodest, he wanted to be glad he could use the military connections he hadn’t paid much attention to until that moment.

  Meanwhile, the new Entente Alliance councilors, with traces of difficult-to-conceal resignation and contrition in their gloomy expressions, groped for a way to flip the hourglass back over as time slipped away.

  Nobody had foreseen the start of open hostilities with the Empire. Everyone present had been appalled upon hearing the news. “Why has the fatherland done something so reckless?” When they came to grips with reality and left by the wayside ideologies and the illusion that this was the way things should be, it was clear that the Empire was going to pulverize the cheeky little contender snapping at it.

  Though the gears of destruction had ground to a halt briefly due to the Republic’s surprise attack, the situation had definitely not improved for the Entente Alliance. On the contrary, the Principality of Dacia, after their warrior’s fanfare that sounded like music to the councilors’ ears, had been wiped off the map in the span of a few months.

  The overwhelming military might of the Empire and the pathetic final days of the upstart challenger… To anyone with a heart, this was a nightmare come to life for the Entente Alliance.

  In the midst of all that, the new councilors, despite their fear, were doing everything they could think of to maintain the front and continue the resistance.

  “Now then,
I’ve got some good news for you, gentlemen. It’s only a stopgap solution, but we’ve begun coordinating with our allies.”

  As he read the announcement to the other nine councilors in the meeting room, Foreign Affairs Councilor Abensoll was a little excited by the first good news in a long while.

  Diplomacy had fallen into chaos ever since the war started, but he finally received a favorable reply. Ever since the Republic had entered the war, he had been going around apologizing to all their allies and begging for assistance, and finally someone replied. The Republic had stepped in, fearing the collapse of the Empire’s encirclement following the Entente Alliance’s reckless move, but between the stalemated front and a huge number of casualties, its attitude rapidly soured to the point that the Republic barely even gave the Entente Alliance the time of day after Dacia got involved, addressing them with openly cold contempt.

  What the nation wanted to say was clear: “Your heedlessness is the cause of this catastrophe.” A Republican diplomat had made that remark to Abensoll under the influence of alcohol, but those words said it all.

  “That’s fine, but all the Republic really hopes for is someone to lessen their burden on the Rhine front, no?”

  Because they knew exactly what the Republic was truly after, what should have been good news instead left the ten councilors in a hollow mood with low expectations. At most, the Republic hopes to take some of the heat off themselves by having us continue fighting on a second front, they thought.

  “Councilor Cazor, your apprehension is reasonable, but the Republic is worried about a repeat of Dacia.”

  “You mean they’re worried that if we fall, the Empire will turn its full energy on them? I see. Well, isn’t that a wretched thing to hear.” Army Councilor Cazor shrugged, seeming offended at being treated like a second Dacia, but his arguments weren’t very persuasive given how much he had hoped the Grand Duchy’s entry in the war would lessen the Entente Alliance’s own burden.