Deus lo Vult

by Carlo Zen

  Everyone is sure, though they don’t state it outright, that he requested this reassessment in order to bring up this murky business he discovered while conducting his review of the candidate. The evaluation from Intelligence reflected some sort of secret operation in the past. Certainly in that case, it would partially have been an oversight of his part, but discovering it would work to his credit. And instead of going after him, Intelligence would end up having to issue an apology.

  In other words, the main thing that would register for people was that the personnel section chief did his homework. Basically, he had managed to remain impartial while questioning Intelligence’s secrecy.

  “Nice work, Major von Lergen. We’re not going to reassess her, but we will talk to Intelligence again.”

  “…Thank you.”

  And so, contrary to Lergen’s intentions, no one tries to stop the candidate’s admission.

  Tanya’s days continue on the forward-most line of the Rhine Front in the west—being woken up at any time and thrown into interception missions. As she gets splattered with mud and blood, the smell of gun smoke clinging to not just her hair but her entire body, she is promoted to first lieutenant. The raise in base pay, though small, is a good thing.

  But the part that makes her ecstatic is the accompanying notice that she has been admitted to war college. Luckily, perhaps it should be said. First Lieutenant Schwarkopf assures her that considering Corporal Serebryakov’s proven combat ability, he will recommend her for the officer track so that Tanya can go to war college with no worries. She is glad she can get away without acting like she cares about her subordinate.

  As for the notice itself, getting recommended for admission to the war college is an honor, so that’s a dream come true. To be eligible, you have to be at least a first lieutenant, so she doesn’t even qualify at the moment; apparently, some commendable personage nominated her when recommending her for achievement. Mentally giving thanks to Personnel for their mysterious workings, she naturally accepts the enrollment, which means a transfer to safety in the rear.

  And so…

  First Lieutenant Tanya Degurechaff, eleven years old on paper, has a second opportunity, at least in her subjective memory, to enjoy the life of a college student. To the world, she must look like she’s skipped a few grades, but in reality, it’s my second round of college. From my perspective, it won’t be very hard to fit in.

  Strictly speaking, of course, a war college is quite different from a typical university in terms of both educational mission and curriculum. But in Tanya’s view, it means getting to study in the rear, blessed with three hot meals a day and a hot bath to soak in. What a comfortable life compared to the front lines.

  And to Tanya, a war college and a university are essentially the same thing. As long as I can use signaling theory to market her value as human capital, there is no difference between the two. Not only that, my theory is that war college is even better than a normal university in some ways.

  Certainly in terms of Tanya’s professional future, it’s a sweet deal to not only not pay tuition but also get paid by the state to go and have a career track all laid out for her at the end. So war college freshman First Lieutenant Tanya Degurechaff merrily devotes herself to her studies. Though an elementary school backpack would be more appropriate to someone of her stature, she seems strangely comfortable in her military uniform carrying her officer’s bag.

  Ever since her experiences in the war zones, she can’t go anywhere without her standard-issue rifle and computation orb, so after finishing a few routine tasks, she grabs those as well and heads off for another day at school. Of course, she knows she’s supposed to bring writing utensils to campus, not her rifle…

  Still, at some point, she’s started to feel incomplete without her gear within reach. She never knows when there will be a chance to shoot the mad scientist, a rabid believer, or Being X dead. Therefore, she feels it’s both imperative to consider everywhere a battlefield and be ready to seize any opportunity, and impossible not to.

  Yes, her battlefield is everywhere. That’s precisely why the war college accepted even a little skip grader kid like her so naturally. Even if it isn’t her intention to look tough, it’s difficult to make light of an officer back from the field wearing the Silver Wings Assault Badge and constantly exuding that battlefield tension.

  On top of that, she uses her free time to disassemble her rifle and give it a good cleaning, unconsciously gritting her teeth, dreaming of the moment she will kill Being X. And her response when another officer notices her and asks why she always has her rifle is definitive.

  Looking up with a perplexed expression that makes her seem her age, she says, “I may have to stake my life on this equipment at any moment, so I can’t relax unless I have it with me. I.e., because I’m a coward.”

  “…You mean you don’t feel safe unless it’s within reach?”

  “Yes, sir, something like that. Please consider it the childish habit of a baby who won’t let go of her favorite blanket, and laugh.”

  Yes, that’s probably enough to leave a solid impression. Thus, it doesn’t take long for everyone to perceive First Lieutenant Tanya Degurechaff as less a child than a soldier back from the front lines—that is, they treat their classmate as a frightening but reliable fighter who smiles as she discusses national defense, arguing about the best ways to eliminate enemy troops.

  “Morning, Mr. Laeken.”

  I only realize she’s approaching when I hear her voice. I really can’t even sense her. I do have a little combat experience, but I guess I’ve gotten pretty soft compared to the officers just back from the front. Or is she simply that great of a soldier?

  “Good morning, Lieutenant Degurechaff. Beg your pardon, but do I see you have your rifle again today?”

  In my time as a warrant officer, I’ve seen a lot of commissioned officers, but probably none of them have as bright a future as she does. She’s barely over ten and enrolled in the war college, which they say is unheard of. Well, it’s incredible that a kid that young would even have enough career experience to be a first lieutenant in the first place.

  But I guess the world’s a big place.

  I was just as good as everyone else on the battlefield, but here’s an officer who can get around my back. Lieutenant Degurechaff is clearly not the type of officer you can judge by looks. I hear she brings her rifle and computation orb to school every day and leaves them with the on-duty commander of the guard.

  The reason she can’t be without her weapons must be related to her combat experience. There are some guys who come back and have psychological issues that don’t let them leave their weapons, but her case seems different. She doesn’t seem like she would be particularly nervous without them.

  Basically, she’s making a habit of carrying her weapons. That means she must be ready to do battle at any time, but—and I’m repeating myself a bit—she did receive the Aerial Field Service Badge very young. She’s well trained and addresses noncoms properly.

  Next time I’m on the battlefield, I won’t separate enemy soldiers out by age—if I don’t shoot, I might die. I’ll count that as one lesson learned.

  “Yeah, it’s embarrassing, but apparently habits are hard to break.”

  I know the feeling. Until I finally got used to sleeping in the moonlight, I was always unconsciously looking for cover. I knew I was safe, but the habits you create while you’re fighting for your life don’t fade so easily.

  “Not at all. I think it’s wonderful.”

  Actually, it means she has a good grasp of the important things on the battlefield. Understanding those while keeping a grip on your sanity is a test for green second lieutenants. On the battlefield, harsh reality crushes the rules they believe in.

  Bravery, glory, honor—all those ideals get covered in mud as they fight to the death, and a handful of exceptions make a name for themselves. The secret that those few know is that it’s not so hard. All they have to do is list
en to what the noncoms have to say and offer opinions that will garner them respect and admiration. But there are really almost no officers who can do that.

  “Thanks. For someone working their way up, nothing makes me happier than some reassurance.”

  That’s why I have to look past this little girl’s exterior, honor who she is, and assist her with sincerity.

  If an officer can appreciate the effort it takes to climb the ranks, they grow. Understanding that fact, I faithfully fulfill my duties as commander of the guard and pay respect to the small yet illustrious first lieutenant.

  “But with all due respect, Lieutenant, may I ask what brings you here? As you know, today is an off day. There aren’t any classes.”

  It’s what is generally known as the Sabbath—in other words, Sunday. Most pious believers go to church, and some go to confession. I hear this first lieutenant is often praying in earnest at church in the morning. Actually, I’ve seen her staring raptly at an icon more than once.

  “Yeah, it’s something straightforward. I want to use the library; the reference room at the dorm isn’t enough.”

  Although it’s an incredibly simple observation, Lieutenant Degurechaff is really, truly hardworking. Even the grumpy head librarian commends her knowledge, curiosity, and desire to learn, so I guess this girl is the epitome of what a soldier should be. I even heard from my former superior that the General Staff’s strategy section was blown away by her analysis of the lessons of war and reexamination of basic tenets.

  I wonder what she’s got crammed in that little head of hers. She really impresses me.

  “I beg your pardon. Then as usual, please leave your weapons here before making your way in.”

  Normally it’s too much fuss to look after officers’ personal effects; keeping an eye on them takes effort, so I don’t usually want to do it, but this first lieutenant is different. A soldier has no greater friend on the battlefield than their rifle. And for a mage, their computation orb is just as invaluable. Watching over these is an honor, so I don’t even notice the workload.

  “Thanks. Then if you’ll excuse me…”

  After quickly filling in the application and accepting the proof of storage receipt with a practiced hand, Lieutenant Degurechaff proceeds onto campus. I glance after her, and even from behind, I can see that although her stride is small, she steps with confidence. Her narrow shoulders seem incredibly broad. The thought that such an officer trusts me enough to hand over her brothers-in-arms with no hesitation makes me happy in spite of myself.

  “She’s an awfully cheeky little bed wetter.”

  But an idiot shows up to rain on my parade. He doesn’t understand how lucky I feel. It’s amazing that she’s a commissioned officer so young, and this bozo doesn’t possess anything to commend him on besides his age.

  “Are you stupid? She may look young, but it’s not piss she smells like! She’s got the scent of combat around her, gun smoke and blood.”

  So even a sergeant with combat experience can be this naive. Achieving that level of perfection as a soldier takes enough skill and love for battle to rival the old-timers. To put it a different way, even if you despise war as a human being, there has to be something about it that you love, or you’ll never be able to understand her.

  “Sergeant, is that all you think about her?”

  “Huh? No, of course I think she’ll make a great officer.”

  Of course she’ll make a great officer. If she were my battalion commander I’d gladly follow her. Whether on an assault or breaking up a penetrating enemy force, performing delaying action or even rearguard duty—I’d follow her anywhere. War loves her.

  She’ll make her mark—her whole unit is sure to get the highest honors. I’m convinced. I know because I’ve observed so many officers: She’s what they call a hero.

  “Pay attention, moron. She carries two computation orbs, but she only gave you one!”

  But there’s no use trying to explain that to a numbskull like this. She turned in her rifle and backup computation orb as a compromise to respect my duties. It’s virtually her right to keep the other orb, the one she’s used the most.

  So, yeah, I don’t feel like pointing that out to a guy who doesn’t even notice that I tacitly allowed her to take it because I understood.

  “Maybe she kept it unconsciously, but boy, she doesn’t let her guard down.”

  “If the Officer of the Week finds out, there’ll be trouble.”

  …Agh, is that still all you think of her…?

  Tanya’s mental state as she walks the increasingly familiar war college campus is a bit complicated, as usual. If a human loses their sense of shame, they become shameless, which is dishonorable to a social creature. In that sense, being ashamed is a phenomenon that’s particular to social creatures.

  Which is why… Ugh, how embarrassing… Though I’m intent on revenge, I know I can’t be proud of carrying my rifle with me everywhere.

  So after an instructor indirectly chided me for it, I’ve taken to leaving my firearm with the commander of the college guards. Tanya compromises by carrying a combat knife specifically made for non-magic battles, so she’s never completely unarmed.

  Still, it would be a lie if I said the way they look at me when I go to turn in my weapons doesn’t bother her. I don’t like being exposed to their amused glances, as if I’m some weirdo under observation. But considering they have a point, there is nothing I can do about it.

  Maybe it’s my imagination, but I can’t help but feel the guards are laughing at me—Here’s that dork again, bringing her rifle to school. But Tanya can grasp why they might stare at a fully outfitted mage wandering around the rear. I can’t get upset if it’s something I would do myself.

  Still, I have a reason for always being prepared that I can’t tell anyone else.

  It’s a simple issue of dignity. If my rational mind gets buried in faith, my sense of self will fade; I can just see myself becoming Being X’s toy if I don’t keep my raison d’être16 clear.

  This guy calling himself God has a lot of time on his hands if he’s playing with dolls, but the one being played with isn’t going to stand for it.

  So to clarify and renew her knowledge of her enemy, Tanya has been going to the nearest church on Sundays for a while now and cultivating her hatred before a false idol of Being X. Inside her, a chorus of curses joins her unbounded loathing—a healthy state of mind. That is the individual Tanya Degurechaff’s response to the manipulator of humans, Being X. She takes her rifle with her so that if a chance materializes, she can shoot him, but unfortunately she never runs into him there.

  Of course, I know that’s an unproductive way for Tanya to spend her time. Even so, if I neglect the practice, it’s possible Elinium Type 95’s curse will turn Tanya into a pious believer. She needs to take care of her mental hygiene; it’s an unavoidable necessity to ensure her mind abhors the mere image of Being X.

  Slacking off on that would be the same as slacking off on breathing or abandoning thought.

  “…Hmph. So we don’t want to be dolls?”

  Tanya has an unwavering belief that human dignity lies in thinking. The human race, evolved from monkeys, feels that thought is what sets them apart from other species and makes them human.

  That’s why she can’t understand why believers assume they are blessed and abandon rationality.

  The moment a person loses the capacity to think, to question, Tanya considers them no longer human but a machine. And that is why the individual Tanya Degurechaff reveres thought, loves debate, and sneers at dogmatism from the bottom of her heart.

  So of course she laughs at the fanatics, the blind believers. She can’t stand that those dumbasses are just like the blind followers of Communism and other dogmas (essentially another type of religion) who built mountains of corpses through social experimentation—the feeling stems from her views on humanity. Thinking is sacred because trial and error is inherent to existence. When unthinking people force
their dogmatism on others, she wonders how stupid the world could be.

  Being X, who is trying to make her the vanguard of that sort of dogmatism, is nothing but her sworn enemy; she can’t allow him to remain in this world.

  That said, she is still rational enough to realize that spending all her time building up her hatred is unproductive, so for the time being she’ll set that aside and push ahead with her studies.

  Tanya is ambitious, in the sense that she’s doing what she can do now with her eyes on her future. Hence the frequent library visits. She walks down the already familiar halls, exchanges salutes with the staff she knows, and heads straight for the library.

  “First Lieutenant Degurechaff, coming in.”

  She puts her hand to the library door after giving the usual notice of her arrival. Since a rank of at least first lieutenant is required for admission into the war college, she’s simply the lowest of the low. Although it is Sunday, it wouldn’t be strange for some others to have arrived ahead of her. There could be superior ranking officers inside, so she always has to conduct herself smartly.

  “Hmm?”

  Tanya’s daily efforts to extend the proper courtesies are rewarded. A soldier with a scholarly air and nearing old age looks up from a mountain of resources as she walks in.

  The insignia on his shoulder indicates he is a brigadier general and, judging from his clothing, probably an important one. The fact that one of his rank would be there digging through maps and records—well, it’s unsurprising considering the quality of the materials at the war college. Research for military strategy always ends up dependent on the war college library. When one of the higher-ups needs some data, they often visit. There are mountains of records and papers that aren’t allowed to leave the premises. If they want to browse those materials, they have to come in person.