by Carlo Zen
“…Then this’ll be over quite soon, I imagine?”
I disturb the optimistic atmosphere by raising my doubts. “I’m not so sure. This is just my impression, but it seems like there are fewer shells falling here than back on the Rhine.”
I’m aware that it’s merely my own perspective, but I don’t get the feeling our enemy will fold so easily. An unpleasant feeling, or maybe you could call it something like a fearsome energy, seems to waft over from the imperial positions.
Is there some sort of beast lurking over there?
“Everyone who was on the Rhine feels the same, huh?”
“That’s only natural.”
Though my gut feeling isn’t specific enough to lend itself to words or an argument, I can’t discount my senses.
A downpour of shells.
The Rhine lines were truly hell. There’s no way to describe it but as a land where shells constantly rained from the sky. The unending sound of the artillery barrages on the Rhine was like rolling thunder.
Even with that unbelievably massive amount of metal turning the earth into a pockmarked landscape like the surface of the moon, the lines on the Rhine never moved. Though I’m ashamed to say so as a reporter, describing with words what skulked across those lands is extremely difficult. The moment you give it a label, its horror is diluted, and you become convinced you might come to understand what is in fact an incomprehensible monster.
In the end, I’m not sure what to say to my colleagues, so instead, I tell benign tales of things I’ve experienced.
“These imperial soldiers can survive even in nothing but a shell hole on the Rhine. I doubt we can eradicate them here.”
“Would you bet on that, Andrew?”
“I make it a point not to bet on human lives. Winning a wager that my allies will die would just ruin the taste of my drink.”
“Whoa, there. Surely it’s not quite that bad, right?”
“Let me remind you that I was there on the Rhine front.”
And I covered war in the trenches. I learned about war through the things I saw. I also learned that the only certainty is uncertainty.
“Once you see imperials counterattack after enduring a fifty-hour Republican preparatory barrage, you’ll understand, too.”
It’s easy enough to describe, but having witnessed that very scene myself, the words simply don’t do it justice.
“But then… Crap, another alarm?”
It’s the siren from the previous enemy attack.
The relaxed atmosphere that has been surrounding the press corps immediately gives way to the sharp desire for a story and ambition; everyone leaps up with their pen and camera at the ready. It’s only natural to try to get the jump on your colleagues if a good photo may come from it.
We’ve got to reach the front line…is what everyone’s thinking, but we’re quickly met with an unexpected scene.
“Here they come! Just as we thought!”
One of the mages shouts. It’s too loud to miss, and when we hear it, we exchange glances.
“…So efficient this time.”
Frankly, I feel like they’re too efficient. The base should have been a chaotic scramble of different languages, but the atmosphere is all too orderly.
Though it isn’t business as usual per se, the troops are more “active” than panicked.
That means…
“They expected an attack?”
Someone murmurs what we’re all thinking. Evidently, this is elementary encirclement battle stuff. Thankfully, I’ll be able to send home a dispatch that communicates some semblance of the tension…but my work here is still undoubtedly lackluster.
I’ve reached the point where I really need to just drag something out of Drake. I make up my mind to approach him more forcefully. I know it might be rough to approach so directly after we just saw combat, but when things seem to settle down to an extent, I head over to the barracks with some cigarettes and alcohol to meet the man—and what good timing that turns out to be.
Perhaps he was enjoying a modest victory celebration? Because by the time I get there, a bottle is open on his desk. A journalist’s best friend is already hard at work loosening the lips of my target.
“Hey, Andrew. I figured it was about time for you to show up.”
Letting his confidence peek out ever so slightly, Drake savors a sip from his glass. If he’s drinking, he must be off duty. Is he unwinding from the stress of combat?
I figure this is the perfect opportunity and sit with him.
“Did you know ahead of time that the enemy would attack today?”
“It’s not as if we’re hiding the fact, you know, but yes. We were fully prepared for them.”
“Nice work seeing through their plan. How did you know they were coming?”
“Andrew, that’s a military secret. If you’re trying to interview me, stop it.”
“Please. Help a fellow out.”
When I insist, he smiles wryly and takes another sip. “If you must know, then I’ll say that it’s the result of carefully analyzing the Lergen Kampfgruppe and its commander’s past actions.”
That isn’t a real answer. It certainly isn’t the kind of answer I should have to struggle for; anyone back home reading my articles by their cozy fireplaces could have guessed that much on their own.
But the word Kampfgruppe catches my attention.
“By the way, I’ve been wondering: What exactly is a ‘Kampfgruppe’? I’m not used to the term, so I’d been wanting to ask someone knowledgeable.”
“What? It’s fairly straightforward… Ah, but you were on the Rhine. I guess it’s not so surprising that you don’t know.” Drake grins wryly. “It’s one of the formation types the Empire has started using recently. They gather a jumble of different units under one commander to create a task force. It’s a bit like our multinational unit.”
“So it’s different from a regiment or a brigade?”
Drake nods. “Yes, think of it as something else entirely. The scale is comparable, but the organization is different, even if it seems similar. It’s a temporary formation created as needed, bringing together available or suitable battalions of infantry, tanks, aerial mages, and so on, regardless of their original commands.”
“And because they’re temporary, ad hoc units…they’re identified by the name of their commander?”
“That’s right. Which means the commander we’re dealing with is the Imperial Army’s Colonel von Lergen.”
“To be honest, that’s not a name I’m familiar with.”
I’m genuinely confused. I’ve never been one to brag, but I’m fairly confident I memorized all the names of the high-ranking officers serving on the front lines.
I learned a lot paying attention while on the Rhine front, and right up until the day I was sent to the east, I stayed up-to-date by absorbing the latest reports in the news office’s reference room. I studied both enemies and allies, of course.
“Maybe something would come up if I combed the card catalog back home, but I can’t say I’ve ever heard of him. What’s the man about?”
“It doesn’t surprise me you don’t know of him.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He originally worked in the heart of the Imperial Army’s General Staff. Not the sort of person anyone would naturally have an interest in unless you were already involved with the man. Above all, he’s spent most of his time in the rear, so he hasn’t had many chances to stand out.”
“I see. So his background is in military administration, then? Hmm, I wouldn’t expect someone like that to be enthusiastic about taking to the battlefield.”
“You may want to brush up on your knowledge of the army, Andrew. These guys are bureaucrats, it’s true, but they’re staff officers by nature. In other words, these fellows aren’t to be taken lightly. Whether or not he was one of the top strategic minds in Operations, there’s no doubt that he’s a brilliant tactician.”
“You say that, but he�
��s a pro from the rear, right? I heard that most of those guys just sit pretty at their tidy desks and are gone as soon as it’s time to clock out.”
Know-it-alls who spout theories they have no idea how to put into practice—armchair commanders.
Recalling the frank, crude insults the Commonwealth troops often directed at people who were supposedly professionals, it isn’t difficult to imagine the type.
“Criticisms you heard in the home country, I guess? Unfortunately, it seems that people from the Empire are different. You can tell just by looking; they’re prepared to stubbornly defend their urban centers to the last, but any areas that aren’t defensible quickly get abandoned at the drop of a hat. Their defenses are unrefined…and pragmatic.”
There’s a hint of tension in Drake’s voice. He may have simply just been on guard against a mysterious enemy, but something about the way he talked makes it sound more concrete than that.
“You mean they’re formidable?”
“The chaps over at Imperial Operations must all be horrible people.”
“Can they really be that bad…? Honestly, the Federation Army’s official briefing made it sound like it would be an easy win.”
I can smell a scoop. I’m aware that the Communist Party is concerned with appearances, but could they be so obsessed, they would allow it to disrupt coordination and communication with the Commonwealth forces that have been deployed here? That would make for a compelling story.
…Well, it’d either end up censored or prohibited from broadcasting.
I figure I can at least tuck it away as an interesting tidbit. Maybe it’ll come in handy later.
“Do you think this will be a difficult fight, Colonel Drake? Frankly, the way the enemy mages come hopping at us like frogs is enough to make me anxious.”
“There’s no doubt the advantage is ours. Even in terms of forces committed to the siege, we have three divisions against their lone Kampfgruppe. Adding in the other Federation troops stationed in the area, we completely outnumber them.”
Yes, hearing that makes it obvious that, at a glance, our side’s combat strength easily outstrips the enemy’s. If anything, the battle should end in a crushing victory.
“Despite that, they don’t waver.”
“…You mean they’re expecting relief, Colonel?”
He nods as if to say, Exactly. “We’re on guard against it. But honestly, I wonder.”
“About what?”
In response to my question, the corners of Drake’s mouth perk up into a slight smile. “Just so you know, this is strictly between us. I’m not telling you because I want you to blab this secret to everyone.”
“I understand, Colonel.”
“Good.” Drake nods. “The Imperial Army shouldn’t have enough reserves to wring out any more reinforcements… If they’re already gathering forces in the south while simultaneously planning to break through the encirclement here…”
“Even the Empire must be getting stretched thin?”
“More like ‘especially the Empire.’”
When the look in my eyes tells him I don’t understand why, he shrugs in disappointment.
Honestly, I feel like I’m being treated like a child… I should try asking, at least.
“Uhhh, Colonel Drake. Would you care to enlighten me as to why you think that?”
“Andrew, have you forgotten why you’re here? The Empire, a single country, is waging a war against the rest of the world.”
“You mean they’ve reached their limit?”
“Well, if you get that much, this’ll go faster. Setting aside the question of whether we should be surprised that they’re capable of waging war with the world or laugh at them for being stupid enough to attempt it…listen,” he says and continues with a solemn expression. “In the end, it’s an issue of maths.”
“Maths?” I wince. “Back home, I was so bad, I made my teacher Mr. Johan sigh in frustration, so I’d appreciate it if you keep it simple.”
“There’s nothing that’s hard to wrap your head around. All you have to do is compare populations. No matter what kind of magic the Empire tries to use, there’s a limit to how much of the population can be turned into soldiers.”
“…And now they must be approaching that limit.”
That has to be it. Even someone who can squeeze out a win fighting five opponents at once will be defeated if they face six. No matter how powerful the Imperial Army is, their homeland is failing on the diplomatic and political fronts. But the most surprising thing is their response. Even under these circumstances, the Empire seems to want to continue fighting.
Could it be that war has a harmful effect on the human mind?
“Much more of this, and they’ll be using children as soldiers!”
I nearly blurt out that I saw one.
My scoop, including the film I used to shoot it, has already been scrapped by a Federation overseer.
Furthermore, the replacement film I received is of questionable quality. When I finally got in the darkroom and was able to develop some pictures, they came out so awful, I wanted to cry.
Sadly, that’s what life tends to be like during total war. The Federation’s film may be poor, but at least they haven’t started resorting to child soldiers…that I know of. I can’t see any fronts besides the one I’m on, so I can’t say for sure.
Still, it has to be better than the Empire, where kids are sortieing with guns.
“I beg your pardon, Colonel, but if they’re that strapped, it’s already checkmate, isn’t it? Doesn’t that mean our victory is near?”
“That’s what you’d think, right?”
“Yes.” I nod. Logically speaking, it seems like the Empire would have to give up soon.
“You really are a sensible guy.”
All I can do is nod again. “Mm…”
“But imperials, they’re all liable to be crazy. Do me a favor and remember that.”
“…On that note, I’d like to interview a sensible Commonwealth soldier. How about it?” When I hold out my notebook like a mic, Drake winces.
“Aside from the volunteer mages from the Entente Alliance, you can question anyone you like. But haven’t you been doing that from the beginning anyway? Don’t be shy. If you need an introduction, I’ll be happy to oblige. Who do you want to talk to?”
“Colonel, if you get it, then…”
“You want me to get you an interview with the volunteers? Could you please not prod the wounds of people who had to witness the fall of their country? There’s a direct connection between the mental state of mages and how they perform on the battlefield. You saw that for yourself on the Rhine, didn’t you, Andrew?”
There’s nothing I can say in response to that.
“Hmm. To point you in a different direction…I’ll give you a hint.”
“I’d appreciate it. What do you have for me?”
I was hoping for a lead, but the colonel responds in a grave voice.
“Do you know about the Imperial Army lieutenant general called Zettour?”
“Hmm? Errr, I’m sure I’ve heard the name before. Let me try to remember… I think he manages rail?”
I don’t know much about him at all. It isn’t that he’s unimportant or anything, but he just seems like one of those run-of-the-mill mid-level officers without much else to him. In any case, he clearly didn’t leave a very big impression, because the name doesn’t ring many bells.
“That’s too bad. He’s a man you’d do well to remember.”
“Okay.”
Is that all? I let his words go in one ear and out the other. Flinging some random factoids around is a pretty sloppy way to distract a reporter…
Remembering the past, I smile wryly in the present.
“Telling me to remember that name really was good advice.”
…But at the time, my younger self ignored it.
[chapter II] Andromeda Eve
MAY 26, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, FEDERATION TERRITORY, CENTRAL MI
LITARY DISTRICT, MULTINATIONAL UNIT GARRISON
The air in the Federation feels chilly no matter what the season. For better or worse, it’s tricky for someone from the Commonwealth to say that the tribe that lives in these parts is friendly. These Communists are a superstitious lot, after all.
My name is John Doe, the man without a name. Sometimes people with good manners lovingly call me Mr. John.
Unfortunately for me, it seems the Commies think I’m a spy—what an outrageous error. Officially, I’m nothing but a simple visa issuer from the Commonwealth who gets sent all over the place in the name of my king and country.
Of course, as a gentleman, I should probably keep the truth a secret.
Having entered the Federation, I toy with that idea in my mind to relax a bit. Even if I’m only a messenger, I feel more nervous than I have been since my very first mission.
It’s bad enough that I actually feel relieved when I find the person I’m looking for and finally make contact. That’s rare for me these days.
“Hey there, Colonel Drake. What a relief to see a familiar face.”
“Why, if it isn’t Mr. Johnson. Can’t believe you made it all the way out here. You weren’t attacked by any savages on the way over, were you?”
“Luckily, I’m playing at being the savages’ friend at the moment.”
The courtesy offered to diplomatic envoys by Federation officials is legendary—though it goes without saying I mean that in a bad way. So naturally, I expected the entry of a “visa issuer” would attract the attention of the Federation’s secret police.
“…Turns out, they’re wise enough to be a bit flexible while at war with the Empire.”
“Indeed, Colonel Drake. I’m rather surprised myself.”
He’s being sarcastic, but I’ve been able to travel safely to the front lines, so never say never during wartime.
“But to be honest, I was nervous. General Habergram works his people to the bone—sending an old man like me all the way out to the eastern front.”
“I’m sorry for the trouble but appreciate you coming.”