Deus lo Vult

by Carlo Zen

  “Troops, equipment, no problem. The General Staff is very pleased with how efficient you’ve been.”

  “Very funny, Colonel. We’re practically a training battalion—we’re still working on unit solidarity, practical training, and basic consensus among commanders.”

  “So you’re saying your unit has some operational limitations?”

  “Of course. I’d need at least half a year to bring them together.”

  It’s a given, but turning an organization into an organism takes time. Getting everyone to know one another and building the requisite relationships demands at least six months. Even if that weren’t a concern, these troops absolutely need remedial combat training.

  “You completed initial training in just a month. The higher-ups think they can put your unit on the front lines tomorrow.”

  “May I inquire if they’re out of their minds? A unit that has been formed and a unit that can fight are two completely different things.”

  Two fully manned units may look identical on paper, but one may be fresh out of basic, while the other has combat experience and all the supplies and rest they need. The difference would be enormous. To create a well-trained, coherent organization, time is essential.

  “Even if training proceeds quickly after formation, it takes time to get troops disciplined. Everyone knows that.”

  “So we can’t send them into battle the minute they’re assembled? You know, the higher-ups only think they can do this because you’re commanding.”

  That’s no answer. It doesn’t even make sense.

  “They’re more than welcome to send me into battle alone.” I can say that because I know they won’t do it. It’s unthinkable to reassign a commander in the middle of creating a unit, so I don’t hesitate to come on strong. “If they want the battalion to display its power in battle, that’s a different matter, as I believe they well know.”

  It is absolutely ridiculous for them to treat what amounts to a bunch of fresh graduates like they can be instantly combat ready. It’s as if they are admitting that not only can we not spare the time to train the unit but also that there are no usable veterans. In other words, the disease has been revealed as terminal.

  “…Major. The Imperial Army is under a lot of pressure.”

  “So you’re going to throw an unprepared mage battalion into combat?”

  “Most of the Great Army’s mages were drawn off to the west, so the north is in a precarious position.”

  Currently, most of our mages are deployed to the west, precisely because a large number of the Great Army’s mages were transferred there. Still, more than a few remain in the other regional forces. The Entente Alliance is in its death throes, anyway. The Northern Army Group can easily handle it alone.

  Which is precisely why I want to know what’s so urgent in the southeast, far from the front lines. Accelerating our timetable just to stick us in the back seems as foolish as ruining a bottle of wine that would increase in value with age or failing to properly store cheese.

  “That’s why I don’t understand, sir. Why the southeast?”

  If they said the north needed reinforcements, I would understand it was because they were shorthanded. Things would be crystal clear. But now they’re saying they’re shorthanded, yet they’re sending us in the opposite direction of the fighting. It doesn’t make much sense to me.

  “It’s what the General Staff decided.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “There are military secrets involved. Work on your combat capability in the southeast until you receive further orders.”

  So he’s not going to explain the politics behind the decision. In that case, all I can do is guess, but it’s probably a waste of time. I can only bear in mind the bottom line, which is that a unit under the direct control of General Staff has to be sent to the southeast for some reason.

  “If it’s combat capability you want, sir, I suggest you use a fully trained unit.”

  “I presume you’re already above average.”

  “Colonel von Lergen, I feel compelled by the duties of my office to inform you that it is too soon to deploy this unit and that doing so could hinder their preparations to fight in a useful way.”

  My remark is also an attempt to probe. Any battalion commander worth their salt will naturally complain about being deprived of the necessary time to get their unit ready.

  “Your warning is duly noted, but don’t expect this decision to be overturned.”

  What I get back from him is a bureaucratic response. If the hard edge in his voice speaks to the higher-ups’ resolve, it unquestionably indicates that the decision is set in stone.

  “Understood, sir.”

  So I stand down. But they could have handled this with some paperwork or written orders. Why go so far as to send someone? I can’t shake the question. I find the answer in a murmur from Colonel von Lergen, almost to himself, as he starts to pack up his belongings now that his work as an envoy is apparently done.

  “Oh, take this as a word of advice from someone who has lived a little bit longer than you: Since you’ll be going to the southeast anyway, why not take the time to learn Dacian?”

  “Huh? Dacian, sir?”

  “There’s never anything to lose by learning a new language, especially for us soldiers.”

  That is true as far as it goes. But why Dacian specifically? There are two possibilities: Dacia is becoming either an ally or an enemy. If the Dacians are going to join us, we’ll have to be able to communicate with them. And if they are going to fight us, it will be useful in gathering intelligence.

  “If I can find the time, I’ll try picking it up. Thank you for the advice, sir.”

  “Not at all. Congratulations again on your promotion, Battalion Commander von Degurechaff.”

  SEPTEMBER 24, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, RANSYLVANIA REGION, TURAO COUNTY, IMPERIAL ARMY FIELD MANEUVER AREA

  Only a few days after the battalion is ordered to their new base, they undergo the inspection that will conclude the initial selection phase.

  Due to the tense war situation, the deployment plan was bulldozed through, which pushed the inspection up. The high-ranking General Staff officers are concerned about unit discipline because of how hastily the members were thrown together, but their expectations are betrayed in the best possible way. That day, a sight they never could have imagined leaves them gaping in amazement.

  “You numbskulls. Get your asses in gear and go higher!”

  “It’s only eight thousand feet! You wimps. Can’t you hear me?”

  For some time now, an even, emotionless voice has been coming over the radio. It’s hard to believe, but it’s the voice of a child—a little girl. The glow of her mana blinks ominously, showing her willingness to mercilessly shoot down anyone who dared to fly lower.

  “You can’t? Fine. Then die. Die right this minute. If you die, the resources we’re wasting on you can go to your fellow soldiers.”

  If anyone dared to complain, they would be the target of a serious barrage formula. Anyone who lowered their altitude without either blacking out or using up their mana first would surely be shot out of the sky. It’s an absurd pronouncement, and the mages don’t expect her to follow through, but they soon learn that seeing is believing.

  “Okay, be a sport and either die or go higher.”

  Today is another day that defies precedent.

  The Republican Army mages can reach eight thousand, so we should aim for ten.

  So murmurs Major von Degurechaff before ordering her unit to “immediately” ascend at full speed while the inspectors look on. Normally, trying to fight anywhere over six thousand feet is considered suicidal. But she nonchalantly orders her unit up to eight thousand.

  It seems crazy, but she was serious when she said she would turn this band of inept soldiers into elites in just one month. She wasn’t exaggerating. She did it. She whipped them till they bled, but they were elite.

  “What do you think, Colonel von Lergen?�
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  When Lieutenant Colonel von Lergen had expressed his desire to inspect the 601st Formation Unit, Major von Degurechaff had agreed quite readily, as if to say it was no problem at all.

  And indeed, there are no problems. At least, no one has died in training so far. And the mage battalion they see before them is, as promised, quite powerful.

  “It’s superb.”

  Truly, superb is all there was to say. Taking the troops to their absolute limits was a stroke of genius. She kept them hovering between life and death, squeezing every last drop of ability out of them.

  The inspectors heard that her program involved dramatically increasing soldiers’ capabilities via what amounted to fear of imminent death. And it certainly made sense that spending an entire month hounded by a simulated terror of the great beyond would lead to a jump in ability, though you couldn’t help feeling bad for the tormented soldiers.

  “How can they go above eight thousand without oxygen tanks?”

  The technology officers in attendance are shocked for a different reason. Granted, this is training, but they make the approach to eight thousand so calmly. It has to be Major von Degurechaff. They wouldn’t be surprised to see her flying at twelve thousand feet. But it is significant that she’s able to get her troops to fly so high.

  “Oh, it’s quite simple.” This confident answer comes from the military police officer who is their guide. He sounds like he’s chatting over a cup of tea. “I heard they’re continually using a formula that generates pure oxygen.”

  It takes a second for that to sink in. Continually? In other words, the formula is constantly used.

  “Two perpetually active formulas…?”

  “Yes. It seems that was the absolute minimum required of them.”

  The MP is not an engineer, so he doesn’t realize how revolutionary that is in the field.

  The engineers from the General Staff Office, however, are amazed. A furor breaks out among them, some even whispering that it’s completely ridiculous. Yes. The simultaneous activation of multiple magical formulas is, in theory, possible.

  The researchers have even performed some successful experiments. But the creation of a computation orb that allows for parallel sustained formulas that can also handle combat usage has proven difficult. Where in the world did she get such a thing?

  “Where the hell did she get a computation orb that can put up with that kind of stress?”

  It hasn’t been officially supplied to the military yet. They don’t know who made the prototype, but it’s clear she has some serious connections. They can only marvel.

  Well, she is an exceptionally gifted soldier. It wouldn’t be a surprise if some arms manufacturer asked her to test out a new device. And indeed, that’s what had happened.

  “She commandeered the first of batch of Elinium Arms’s mass-production model.”

  Oh, right—it’s a bit anticlimactic. She did work in tech development there at one point. It must have been a connection from those days.

  But Elinium Arms is full of secret projects. It wouldn’t have been possible for her to get something from them without the implicit consent of the General Staff’s Procurement Department or possibly even the Service Corps Division. Otherwise the MP probably would be fighting her to the death.

  “I told you not to make your maneuvers too repetitive! Why don’t you realize what easy targets you are?!”

  The members of the battalion are struggling to maintain stable flight at eight thousand feet. Major von Degurechaff rises above them, still scoffing at them. Her breathtakingly fluid movements make everyone realize what it means to be a Named. Compared to the tortoise-slow trainees, Major von Degurechaff flies swift as a swallow.

  “Very good. All that’s left is combat.”

  “E-erratic evasive maneuvers! Now!”

  “…I don’t believe it. They can perform evasive maneuvers even while sustaining formulas in parallel?”

  The exercise unfolding before them is basically just the battalion mages darting around. It looks as if they’re playing a game of tag, and at first glance, you would wonder if it’s possible to even be that pathetic.

  But for someone with the right expertise, this is a parade of the incredible. They have already realized the stable activation of parallel formulas, which should have been technically impossible. A computation orb that can handle that and erratic evasive maneuvers—nearly the same thing as combat maneuvers—is like a dream.

  But there’s more. Several of the mages have proactively deployed optical decoys to evade enemy fire.

  “They’re making decoys, too!”

  In other words, they have enough spare resources to create an optical decoy even during evasive action.

  The decoys appear quite deceptive yet rapidly deployable. Several even seem to be taking autonomous action. Truly amazing performance. And all this from something that was standardized for mass production.

  “Elinium’s new model is beyond anything we imagined.”

  This has to be the next thing we adopt. No one would say otherwise when presented with this spectacle. At the very least, reliability isn’t an issue; this unit is practically conducting the endurance test.

  Cost is the only hurdle, but even that would decrease quite a bit once the orb was being mass produced.

  “I want the documentation from Elinium Arms.”

  “I’ll put in the request, Colonel.”

  Lergen leaves that to his adjutant and looks up to the trails in the sky. Truly amazing aerial maneuvers. The trails are so beautiful he could practically get lost in them. Sometimes talent and humanity show up in inverse proportions, huh? He’s annoyed to find the thought, which reveals his own unkindness, prove his point.

  “This is an excellent opportunity. Show the inspectors your worth.”

  “Major von Degurechaff, don’t you think you’re going a bit far?”

  A basic doubt appears in his mind as she spurs her troops on over the radio. They say she hates losses. If that’s true, then this exercise is borderline. It’s certainly too much in terms of cultivating people who can be used.

  “No, we’re still well within accepted parameters. Please observe the results of allowing me to pick my people and purge them of their incompetence.”

  But her answer only deepens his doubt. Why? The ideas of “picking” and “purging” were exactly what she was talking about in her speech at the military academy. She had said, “It is our duty to defend the Imperial Army from the plague called incompetence.” She isn’t developing her people so much as abandoning those who aren’t useful.

  “People have limits. I heard half your candidates didn’t make it.”

  Why?

  “I was able to secure the numbers for an augmented battalion. I don’t have any problems yet in terms of human resources.”

  “I see. Very well. Continue. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  Argh, damn it. So that’s it. Yes, I see. Resources? Human resources? Is that what you call our soldiers?

  Are soldiers just replaceable parts to you?

  Now I understand what felt wrong. She’s treating people like numbers. That’s not so unusual among staffers, but she has unconsciously started counting people as resources. Well then, she’s perfectly logical. She’s calculating the most efficient use of what is available to her.

  “It all makes sense now. Yes, you must have written it.”

  I was sure I had heard of total war and world war before. The source of it was right beside me. That’s why all of this seemed so familiar.

  The madness of numbers. The world has succumbed to insanity. Has everything truly gone crazy?

  I picked a bad time to become a soldier. This war broke out in an era full of horrible people. If some shitty God even exists, I’m sure he’s in league with the devil right now.

  “Sheesh, I don’t know if it’s her who’s crazy or the world.”

  He can’t help but think the scene before him says it all. How terrifying t
o see her true nature laid bare. She is a monster.

  The sighs from the General Staff members could be impressed or apprehensive, but their whisperings and ruminations die down in the face of a single report from the border.

  “Emergency. An army-sized Dacian unit is violating the border. They appear to be heading for Herelmannstadt.”

  Dacia, army, border, violate. He doesn’t want to think about it, but when the words line up, their meaning is hideously clear. The report that came from the border like a scream meant war—with yet another country.

  “The inspection is suspended! Suspended! All troops, reassemble immediately. I say again, all troops, reassemble immediately!” The air was full of shouting commanders’ voices.

  “The inspection of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion is hereby suspended! Put me through to Border Command!”

  Staffers are running around shouting into radios and telephones to be connected to this and get information about that. The proceedings are abandoned. Everyone is moving at top speed, not caring about the mud spattering their dress uniforms.

  Those who don’t have battle stations because they are there as observers head aimlessly back to the Command Post. Lieutenant Colonel von Lergen is among them. Even moving briskly, surrounded by the cacophony, he finds a chill running up his spine.

  “World war. Could something so ridiculous…”

  …really happen? he is about to say, when he is interrupted by Major von Degurechaff, who shows up at the Command Post a bit later.

  “I absolutely agree, Colonel. Why should the Empire have to take on the entire world?” It seemed she arrived after her own subordinates simply because they had longer legs. As if irritated at her short stature, she stomps her booted feet and fairly spits in indignation, “Those stupid Dacians. I’m sure they’re doing it for the sake of world or whatever. They’re just dying for us to burn them to the ground. Who knew international cooperation could be so awful?”

  She is angry at world war itself. She’s furious and assuming that it’s coming.

  It is absolutely absurd, but Major Tanya von Degurechaff is indignant about the insane future she’s envisioning, one in which the Empire will be up against the entire world.