CHAPTER - IV

DECEMBER 10, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, ENTENTE ALLIANCE, ARNELSNE PORT

-x-X-x-

Upon hearing the news that the city of Os had fallen, coupled with the Imperial Army's

advance on the interior, everyone of that generation understood that this was the end

for the Entente Alliance leadership. Some lifted a glass to toast the Imperial Army's

victory. Others downed bitter drinks in anticipation of that victory. Everyone saw it as

the end of the Entente Alliance.

But they cried out to encourage the ones directly involved, who were beginning to

break in the face of their fatherland's looming fate; it wasn't over yet. The Empire's

victory was not certain. Only the government had given up.

The civilians, the people, were not defeated.

"…So are we ready to sow our seed?"

"The Republic agreed and…the Commonwealth also agreed to take someone as a

diplomat."

Resistance could continue outside the fatherland.

Yes, the war against the Empire would carry on beyond their borders.

"Well then, shall we jointly sign over our authority?"

"In that case, I think the recipient should be Foreign Affairs Councilor Abensoll."

"No, I think we should send the youngest, Culture Councilor Korsor, as our

ambassador."

"I disagree. You're the better man for the job, Councilor Abensoll.Someone had to survive and continue the fight, to declare, We're still here.

And it was the soldiers who would act based on the councilors' intentions. The reality

was obvious, but the army did what the government demanded. Everyone would do

all they could for their country, which was how it should be in a unified nation. If there

was one thing that was often forgotten in the big picture, it's that those soldiers who

are asked to give their all and sacrificed by the politicians in the name of the fatherland

have families and happy households. And so that day before deploying, the Entente

Alliance mages had only a short time to say their farewells.

"Good luck."

"…I'm sorry," Colonel Sue quietly apologized as he embraced his tearful wife. She

would evacuate to another country to avoid the fighting. The fact that they were a

family who could choose that option was Sue's only consolation as head of the

household. He should probably have been happy he could have his family go to the

Unified States.

Still, the way things had turned out meant he had no choice but to send them away.

Probably the only thing I—no, every Entente Alliance soldier—can do is hug their family

and exchange hopes of safety. Our fatherland is no longer safe.

"Dad?"

"Mary, look after your mother. And take care of yourself."

"…You can't come with us?"

"I'm sorry. I have work again."

He forced himself to remember that he was still lucky. He had the connections to at

least get his family to safety. Given the congested maritime traffic and issues with

controlling the sea routes, it wasn't an option open to many people. He did feel a bit

guilty, but if he could protect his family, he had no regrets.

Of course, it wasn't what Sue wanted. He would have preferred to spend peaceful days

in the warmth of his family. If he had known this was going to happen, he would have

gone home more often. Why didn't I appreciate what a blessing that was to have my

home so close at hand?

should have spoken to my daughter more. There are so many things I still want to tell

my wife. So many regrets. It was stupid of me to believe our lives would go on unchanged

forever.

It was a feeling even he couldn't explain, but when he loosened the arms he had

unconsciously wrapped around his wife, as if sweeping away some awkwardness, he

managed to put on a smile as he crouched down to his daughter's eye level.

-x-X-x-

[Image]

-x-X-x-

"Anson…"

"I may not have been a very good parent, but I hope someday you'll think of me as a

father you can be proud of."

"It's okay. You're my dad! Oh, but you should shave."

She was such a sweet girl. He had hugged her in spite of himself; he wanted to grin at

her ticklishness.

"You're right. I really should be good and shave."

"Get it together, Dad!"

"Yeah, you're right. I gotta get it together."

The most Sue could do as a father was laugh like that with a wry smile. The moment

where his daughter scolded him for not shaving often enough—that was normal life.

The essence of his precious everyday world.

"Well, this is no good… I can't have you worrying about me. I'd rather remember you

with a smile."

"Please stay safe."

The fact that his wife bravely wished him well, even after she had broken into tears,

pained his heart. He wanted to board the ship with them, to live out their lives

together. But he was a soldier bound by duty.

Duty. Aghh, annoying, noble duty. O Fatherland, I give myself to thee. So, God, please bless

my home, the country my family loves.

"Dad, it's a little early, but…Merry Christmas!"

As Sue steeped in sentiment, his daughter pointed at a large case before she boarded

the ship with her mother, telling him to take good care of it.

Momentary relief filled his heart as he watched them go, as well as the sadness at their

parting that could very well be final. But if there was one thing he didn't want to do, it

was regret the moment. There was nothing unluckier than tears in a send-off. He forced himself to smile and then suddenly realized the case was gone. He was confused

until he noticed an old acquaintance holding it out to him with an easygoing look on

his face.

"Sue, a Christmas present from your daughter. Take it with you."

The bizarre remark came from Councilor Cazor, who was present to see the evacuees

off. Wondering why the councilor would know about his daughter's present, Sue

grabbed the case only to be puzzled by its unexpected weight.

There weren't cookies or a wool sweater inside. It was something much heavier.

"Councilor Cazor, what is this?"

"Go ahead and open it. That's an SMG from A.S. Weapons in the Waldsta tte

Confederacy. Durable with a body like an LMG."

At the councilor's suggestion, Sue moved to the shade and opened the case. What

greeted him was a brand-new submachine gun—a fairly costly model that would work

well in conjunction with his orb. Clips, magic bullets, a set of maintenance tools—it

came with everything.

"How did she get ahold of something like this…?" He admired the solid yet light build

as his examination continued. It accepted the same caliber as his rifle and had a

shorter range, but it was easier to handle in a close-quarters fight. It was a good choice

for facing anyone who snuck up on him. Additionally, the limited range meant a

comparatively lower risk of accidentally shooting an ally, so that was a big plus.

That's why he had to wonder.

How in the world did my daughter get this?

"It's a personal gift from a lousy Commonwealth fellow. For a country with such

horrible food, they sent us a good man, wouldn't you say?"

"Sorry?"

"Apparently, he saw your daughter crying in the park. He put your initials on it."

"Oh, the A.S. is for my name?"

He was sure the engraved letters were the factory's logo; the level of effort made him

smile.

I don't know if my daughter is sinful or if heaven simply loves her, but she sure wooed

that intelligence agent… Now and again, those Albion chaps actually can do something

nice.

"Surely it's the initials for Arnold & Smith Weapons."

"No, apparently, that's stamped on the underside." Councilor Cazor looked somehow

amused as he explained.

"That vexing Commonwealth gent was probably moved by your daughter's tears and

gave her a discount. Apparently, she paid the special price of a hundred pounts. That's

surprisingly cheap, Colonel."

Thanks for giving your dad such a great present, sweetie. He wanted to give her a kiss

if he could.

…So this is what the strength of a hundred men feels like.

"I'm proud to have such a happy family."

"I'm sorry, Colonel. I'm afraid we're going to have to ask too much of you."

"You arranged the ship for me. For my part, I'm prepared to protect my family's home

with my own two hands."

"We're counting on you."

One man bowed, and the other smiled in receipt of the gesture. They didn't need to

say anything more.

-x-X-x-

DECEMBER 11, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, EMPIRE, RHEINE HOTEL DINING ROOM

-x-X-x-

For Tanya, it's a wonderful autumn lunch. The appetizer had been a delightful pa te of

seasonal fish. The skillfully prepared dish used fish so fresh it seemed almost a waste

to make them into a paste. No praise would be enough. It was simply sublime.

The potato soup was legendary. She was used to eating potatoes, so it felt strange to

enjoy them so much. That said, it wasn't a bad thing. Battlefield rations could hardly

compare when it came to the level of care devoted to their creation, and as such, the

dish was an embodiment of humanity's delightful creativity.

She has heard the main course, which hasn't yet arrived, is whitefish. The waiter

explained the dish so proudly she has high expectations. If the hotel's waiter says it's

that good, not only should the quality of the ingredients be high, but she's certain it

will demonstrate the chef's skills, too.

And the fact that her dining mates are also happily expectant makes the meal even

more fun. With her are members of the reservists association and notable figures from

the region. To think that she gets to network with them. She can only marvel at her

luck.

As they have an understanding of soldierly habits, the gift from the troops up north,

Koskenkorva,10 is going over well. I can see why this stuff is notorious for increasing

your chances of becoming an alcoholic.

Though they're old soldiers, they're mainly just men well-known around town who

are getting on in years. They're probably just surprised by the curious flavor. And if

they're happy to have an interesting story of receiving such a gift from a child of my

age, even better. With her scheme going to plan, conversation flows naturally, and

Tanya is able to enjoy herself quite a bit.

Even if she can't drink with them, it was worth the trouble of confiscating a case of the

stuff for private use at parties. She's most satisfied.

As she's thinking how happy she is about the results of her labor, she's looking forward

to enjoying the saute ed whitefish when the waiter brings not the highly anticipated

main dish but the receiver of an ominous-looking black telephone.

"Miss von Degurechaff?" He deliberately asks her if she will accept the call. She's on

her way back to Central, having lunch with these local reservists and celebrities as an

excuse to pass through a resort town. Who gets a wartime phone call in that setting?

My best day off has turned into my worst in an instant.

I'm also now dubious that I'll really get to spend Christmas on leave like I was

promised.

She takes the respectfully proffered receiver with reluctance. If it weren't her duty, she

would want to run away. This has to be just how Churchill felt getting woken up by the

news that his capital ships had been sunk.

Would someone make me a hellish cup of black coffee?

"This is Major General von Rudersdorf of the General Staff. Major Tanya von

Degurechaff?"

"Yes, sir, this is she."

She knew before he even spoke. It was obviously a call from a military person. No

statement of purpose or seasonal greeting. Not to mention, General von Rudersdorf is

still at this moment on the forward-most line fighting the Entente Alliance. The

implications are the opposite of this gorgeous luncheon—the telephone call will be an

invitation back to the wretched front lines.

I want to go home right now. How could I have been so dense to come to this meeting

where everyone would know exactly where I am?

"A notice from the General Staff Office. 'Assemble Major von Degurechaff and her unit

at once. Report in as soon as this is done.'"

"Understood, sir. We'll proceed to the nearest garrison at once, and I'll report in as

soon as we're all gathered."

…It's an impressively impossible-to-misunderstand order to mobilize.

She has already responded to a pile of unreasonable General von Rudersdorf orders,

but it seems he's going to work her some more. If this was going to happen, she should

have blocked the radios and taken her time going back under the pretense of training.

Well, there's no use crying over whatever. She replaces the receiver and slips the

waiter a generous tip.

It's not his fault the news is awful. She doesn't like it, but services must be compensated.

"Oh. Good news, Major von Degurechaff?"

But apparently, people give big tips when news is favorable. I can't help but think of that as emotional, illogical behavior, so I don't do that…but it seems the amount I gave

was a signal to these local names, who hadn't heard, that the message was something

fortunate.

I'm probably supposed to smile at these gentlemen and politely reply, but I'm not sure

I can manage it.

In the end, her face wears an unrefined frown as she shakes her head. "No, sir.

Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be very good news."

"Oh! That's…"

The man with the expression of utter compassion on his face is truly a good person.

Well, they have the goodwill of men who don't have to go to war.

To someone being sent on the assault, it's complicated, but it is what it is.

Polite manners are one of the most basic tools for keeping mistakes to a minimum. As

such, it's only a matter of course that I follow the rules. At their core, human beings

are political animals, but at the same time, they are social ones.

"Apologies, but I have orders. I'll have to leave early."

"…I wish you well, Major."

Can I say for sure that none of them are feeling lucky it's not them? Tanya decides it's

a groundless suspicion and puts on a polite smile as she swallows her bitter thoughts

and stands.

"Thank you. I hope you'll forgive my rudeness. Excuse me."

With those parting words and a bow, she takes her overcoat from the waiter and pays

her bill. She's dressed formally—in uniform. Her overcoat, having been designed for

practical use, is quite substantial. Somehow it bothers me, but the army can be

irrational in the strangest ways.

Of course, I also have to wonder about people who wear trench coats as fashion…

While she was picking up her coat, a military vehicle had been sent over. A thoughtful

waiter must have alerted the orderly in the waiting room. A car with her subordinate at the wheel is already standing by. The efficient arrangements make her feel a little

better. Humans have to live with a positive outlook.

And so she finds the situation genuinely wonderful. She was right not to be stingy with

the tips for the waiters.

It's also nice that they open the door so courteously. She quickly gets into the car, and

it pulls out.

"Corporal, back to the barracks. Sorry, but if you can step on it…"

"Yes, ma'am."

The corporal takes off, and amid the slight jolts along the way, she decides to share her

misfortune. I don't enjoy suffering alone. However, I don't mind making others suffer

alone. Without even giving herself time to sink back into her seat, she boots up her

computation orb. She connects to the garrison and calls the Officer of the Week. The

fact that he answers on the second alert means he passes.

"What can I do for you, Major?"

Well, it's bad news. Rather than beat around the bush, I should just get to the point.

"Leave's been cut short! Issue mobilization orders immediately! All hands should

assemble as of right now."

"…Yes, ma'am, mobilization orders, understood. I'll call everyone back from their halfday leave."

Well, my rest in this resort town is certainly over sooner than planned. Then Tanya

has a vexing thought: the possibility that even before she applied for leave, General

von Rudersdorf had been "kind" enough to hold her unit up near a naval base for a few

days as nominal time off. It's totally possible. If, during a large-scale operation on the

northern lines, they were transferring a unit that could keep itself safe from espionage,

the General Staff certainly might have the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion withdraw.

It's actually quite practical.

"Hurry. It's orders from the General Staff."

"Understood."

The fact that they single her out to give the orders makes her think the General Staff

wants to hide something. Yes, upon closer consideration, there is something very

unnatural about all this. Why now, of all times, is General von Rudersdorf from

Operations personally in Norden on the pretext of an inspection?

-x-X-x-

TEMPORARY CAMP OF THE IMPERIAL ARMY'S 203RD BATTALION

-x-X-x-

"Telegram from the Imperial Navy Northern Sea Fleet Command!"

"…Read it."

From the fleet? That's the doubt in my mind. Tanya shares the question behind the

puzzled looks of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion officers. Why did the fleet's

command go to the trouble of sending us a telegram?

The fact that they aren't going through the regional army must mean this is what the

General Staff wants? Or are they intervening directly? Either way, I have a bad feeling

about this. As Tanya interprets the situation, she presses the radio operator to read

the telegram.

As the officers listen with question marks on their faces, he responds to her request

and reads the mission orders. "These are search and destroy combat orders for the

203rd Battalion. All previous maneuvers are to be halted immediately. You are

requested to proceed directly to the waters indicated, locate the enemy, and block off

the area. That is all!"

Geez. They say "search and destroy" like it's nothing. Plus, nobody uses search and

destroy these days! And mages don't have any way to navigate over the water, so how

are we supposed to find enemies and block off an area? Talk about mission impossible.

As Lieutenant Serebryakov brings the document over, Tanya stares crankily at a

navigation chart of Norden's coast spread out on her desk. She doesn't even usually

look at these things. Realizing this, she can't help an inward sigh. It confronts her with

the reality that she'll have to fly in airspace with no sense of place, and it makes her

awfully depressed.

"Lieutenant, get me the combat control map for the Northern Sea area. Call Norden

Control." This is making my brain hurt. Tanya shakes her head to clear her mind as

Lieutenant Serebryakov brings her the requested map before trying to establish a line

through to the local controllers.

"Yes, ma'am. Right away."

She hands over the map and receiver with crisp motions. It's Norden Control. We

exchange just a word or two, and the radio operator connects me to someone from the

navy. It's the worst when they don't pass you off irresponsibly but actually have good

lateral cooperation.

At this rate, I won't be able to slack off and blame it on bad coordination. Maybe being

too efficient is a bad thing. I suppose I should at least praise the integrity with which

they do their work, though. I'm a good citizen, so it's only right that I commend my

fellow countrymen for performing their duties.

When I think of that, I guess all I can do is stick it out for the public good.

Since I have no other choice, I make all the necessary calls without a minute wasted.

Griping is a luxury and a waste of time. There is not a day in the life of a corporate

warrior that they are allowed the indulgence of wasting time. In order to spend their

off days as they wish, the highest level of job performance is essential.

For a soldier, not a thing changes.

"Lieutenant! Where is the Northern Sea Fleet now?"

"I'll ask right away!"

The military machine is starting to move, and I'm one of its gears, Tanya automatically

thinks. And this gear needs to know the positions of the remaining Entente Alliance

ships, as well as her friendly fleet. She has crammed the general memo on the Entente

Alliance ships into her head at least, so she dredges it up while quickly confirming the

crucial points.

Even if the Northern Sea Fleet deployed in this area isn't the Empire's strongest, the

High Seas Fleet, it has some powerful vessels, including capital ships. Their training is

trustworthy, and ever since the landing operation a few days ago, we've been able to

coordinate to some extent. But an unplanned battle is a different story.

Tanya manages to consider all the most important facts while having Lieutenant

Serebryakov make phone calls. She has no choice but to handle this efficiently, but it's

in an area she has no experience with, not to mention a rapid response mission. Maybe

that's why she can't calm down and has only a tenuous hold on the urge to give a

thousand different instructions.

She takes deep breaths—small ones so no one around her will notice. Sometimes it's

useful to be short. It makes you less conspicuous, but at times like this, it's really

handy.

Still, we've never even done an exercise over water, and now we're being thrown into

a real marine battle? The target is a group of fleeing Entente Alliance warships.

Missions to assist in pursuit are so hard. It's like trying to negotiate an acquisition

without knowing anything about the other side. If we're in such a superior position

that these talks would work out, it begs the question whether negotiations are even

needed in the first place.

Hence, each minute feels like a hundred years, and when the situation report that

Tanya is waiting for comes in and Lieutenant Serebryakov hands her the receiver, she

snatches it away. With her other hand she holds a pen, ready to make notes at any

moment on the map she had Lieutenant Weiss spread on the table.

"This is Major von Degurechaff of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. We received a

mission to support your ships from the General Staff. What's the situation?"

"The second fleet of battle cruisers has left the Kie l naval base. Submarine Task Force

13 went out ahead of them to build a patrol net."

Luckily, someone from the navy who knows what's going on fills her in. According to

him, the emergency-dispatched battle cruisers are already searching for the enemy.

"So we'll be the vanguard for the battleships? Thrilling!"

Lieutenant Weiss has a penchant for keeping things lighthearted, and Tanya makes a

mental note. A vice commander who stands out by paying attention to the atmosphere

of the troops is hard to come by. But what he said is actually correct. Just being the

vanguard would make them look good.

"What are you getting all excited about? We're a rapid-response mage battalion—it's

what we do."

Soon enough, she receives the report that the unit is ready to sortie, so she goes to

meet them.

"Your commander!"

Battalion Commander Tanya von Degurechaff's expression must look normal to Weiss

and everyone else as they meet her with salutes. I'm confident that I act the part of an

unflappable officer that well. She returns their salutes nonchalantly, glances around,

and nods in satisfaction. Well, internally she's over it all, but still.

"Thanks. At ease. Lieutenant Weiss?"

"Ma'am. I'll give the briefing."

Having one's subordinates do the annoying stuff is the privilege and duty of all officers

throughout history. An organization runs on hierarchy by nature. If a superior is

stealing work from their reports, that workplace is topsy-turvy.

"Yesterday before dawn, a scout plane belonging to the 224th Night Reconnaissance

Team spotted a gathering of vessels."

Photos on the board show multiple Entente Alliance battleships, including a coastal

defense ship. The Entente Alliance is hardly a naval power, but it's still an armament

lineup on par with what you'd expect of a player on the world stage. It's a formidable

threat even the Empire can't ignore.

To Tanya, the obsession with big ships and their big guns is passe . Still, she is aware

they have to be wary of heavily armed combat vessels. As one data point, take the fact

that a battleship's naval gun fires way more iron than an entire division of infantry. On

top of that, the porcupine-like anti–air fire and marine mage interception makes it a

difficult net to slip through.

Still, they should be easier to approach than the U.S. ships in the Marianas were. It's a

question of how much easier.

"Upon analysis, the General Staff has concluded these are the main remaining forces

of the Entente Alliance fleet attempting to escape. It's obvious, don't you think?"

We've estimated the various paths they might take, from a beeline for the Republic to

a meandering route to the Commonwealth. But it's clear that their goal is to shake off imperial pursuit and get away. Naturally, the pursuing side wants to locate and

annihilate them.

We've received reports that the Commonwealth Navy is doing exercises just outside

our territorial waters, which is a real headache. We've been notified to avoid firing

stray shots. On the other hand, we've notified them that regardless of what happens

on the open sea, anything violating imperial waters will be shot at. Overall, it's a

delicate situation that puts a huge strain on the nerves.

"Fleet Command has ordered all ships to find and annihilate the Entente Alliance

vessels. The General Staff's order for us is to support them."

Lieutenant Weiss narrows down the broad range of meanings support could have.

Then he looks to me as if the rest is my job, and yeah, I don't want to look like I'm

getting paid to do nothing, so I take over.

"Battalion, it's as he said. Reconnaissance Mage Task Force 2 with Northern Sea Fleet

Command has gone out ahead of us. And apparently, a 'neutral country' is hard at work

doing exercises in nearby waters. Take care not to hit them."

It must be really hard for the scouts to stay on top of them in this rain. Although I must

say, it seems backward to send a unit to watch the Commonwealth exercise while

we're trying to find the Entente Alliance. But there's no reason to lower morale by

making that kind of remark.

"We're going to head north and meet up with them as soon as we get data. This goes

without saying, but we'll be playing it by ear."

"Understood."

"According to Intelligence, the enemy is fast. And apparently, they have marine mages.

The scope of our mission includes eliminating those, but reconnaissance is top

priority."

Our mission is of the common enough "search and destroy" variety—we're just being

told to prioritize the "search" part.

"Meet at the exercise ground runway in sixty minutes in full gear. Any questions?"

…Well, they're my war-obsessed underlings. They're full of fight.

Without raising any questions, as usual, the unit eventually takes off an hour later. We

head west at cruising speed as we climb.

Apart from a few irritating false reports from friendly submarine units, there is no

news. If there is anything to say at all, it's that the wind and rain have picked up, and

our visibility has rapidly deteriorated.

I look around, but I can't even see my battalion.

I'm confident in our ability to fly in formation, so I'll be pretty upset if we get separated

and can't bring our full power to the fight. Our saving grace is that we shouldn't have

anyone with a sense of direction that hopeless in this unit.

"Control to Pixie. No reports of contact."

"Pixie 01, roger. How about the weather? Can we expect it to improve?"

Still, I'm fed up with these tiresome reports from the rear. No reports of contact means

that even though we've been flying all this time, we have to keep searching.

If we wanted to get above the rain clouds, we would have to climb awfully high.

Instead, we just get wet. Even though our defensive shells repel water, getting rained

on doesn't do much for the mood.

"Sending war zone data from Urban Control… Looks like it won't for a while. I feel for

the ground troops. They must be in hell with this cold."

"The whole combat zone is hard rain and storm winds. A level-two flood warning and

flight restrictions are being issued? Got it. How are the other units in the operation

doing?" Tanya checks the data as it suddenly comes in and gets confirmation that the

weather is only getting worse, which boggles her mind. That said, if the flight warnings

become no-fly advisories, they can return to base.

"First Squadron has left Kie l naval base on a search and destroy mission. The air force

is sending up a special force recon company. Make sure you don't accidentally shoot

them."

We have other forces searching? I suppose that's better than not. Guess we should keep

searching till we get permission to go home. That was what she was thinking when…

"Pixie 01, roger. Can you let me know where the exercising Commonwealth ships a…?"

Far down.

Even in the downpour, an unmistakable roar and the sound of gunfire abruptly draw

her focus to something below her.

"An explosion?"

It was the dull boom of something detonating underwater. It reverberates more than

you would expect, especially in the quiet night sky.

When she squints, she can just barely make out several floating shapes.

The next moment, her eyes pop open. In the searchlight are enemy ships.

It was an awful sight for the men on board the submarine belonging to Imperial

Northern Sea Fleet's Submarine Task Force 13. The captain, who was looking through

the periscope and saw the huge splashes the moment the explosions sounded, was so

shocked at first that he couldn't get his mouth closed again. When they realized they

didn't hear any secondary explosions, everyone looked to the heavens.

The torpedoes had gone off early.

The six aals

11 they'd only just been issued really were more useless than actual eels.

The furious sailors spewed strings of curses, swearing that next time they'd load the

torpedo development team, who were only good for wasting the budget, into the tubes

and fire them.

To them, the results the devs had gotten meant nothing.

The Entente Alliance vessels they'd discovered wouldn't sink; the six torpedoes they'd

launched after making careful calculations in anticipation of success had gotten

impatient and blown up too soon.

It was no surprise that the navigation officer who had gone to such pains to get them

into a striking position was looking dazed. Even the captain's thoughts froze for a

moment at the sudden scene that seemed to scoff at all their hard work.

What he saw through the periscope was the Entente Alliance fleet changing formations for counter-sub combat. Then marine mages began sweeping the water's

surface for periscopes. As the crew hurriedly pulled theirs in, they found themselves

furious—they didn't want to die because of such a stupid failure.

Actually, they didn't know it at the time, but…given the outcome, they had actually

pulled off a fantastic assist. When the Entente Alliance fleet realized an imperial

submarine was targeting it, it entered counter-sub combat. As a result, if only for a

moment…everyone was looking down.

And that's why their response to what came out of the sky in the next moment was

delayed. Make them look down, then have the real attack swoop in from above for the

kill.

To Colonel Anson Sue, who realized they'd been caught, it was an awfully cunning onetwo punch.

"They got us, those bastards!"

"Where was the leak?! No, now they're— Those fuckers!"

It was truly the worst possible timing for the Entente Alliance fleet. Since they had

transitioned into counter-sub combat, the destroyer escorting the flagship had moved

away. Not only that, but the marine mages had rushed out to suppress the submarine,

and the lookouts, staring into the darkness, were all scouring the sea so as not to miss

any torpedo wakes. That was when it happened.

The enemy mage battalion that had been lurking in the sky made a full-speed charge

at the flagship.

Only a few managed to take off, including Colonel Sue.

But the imperial mages plunging down, trading altitude for acceleration, were far

faster than they were, and the fact that they had control of the air meant he couldn't

think of a way this desperate situation could get any worse.

Still, all Sue could do was climb. If he didn't, that ship and the seed of his fatherland's

future would be sunk.

Major von Degurechaff's feelings at that moment, the time, the place, would be the

subject of many inquiries in later years. In reality, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, including Tanya, is in partial chaos at finding themselves in an unexpected encounter,

but they manage to charge as a training reflex.

"Battalion! Break! Break! Prepare to attack!"

Making the split-second decision to engage, Tanya enters a headlong dive; she has no

experience fighting ships. The reason is that supposedly great balance of power.

Thanks to diplomatic efforts, the leading nations have avoided serious armed conflicts

up until this war. In other words, this is practically the first mage attack on a ship in

history.

And that was why it's all they can do to act according to their exercises. She scatters

the unit, and dodging anti–air fire all the while, everyone swoops in at the same time.

It's a tactic championed by a doctrine that has only been verified theoretically. No one

knows whether it will work or not until the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion tests it with

their own flesh and blood.

Really, the receiving end of the attack was in the same boat. The ability of aircraft to

attack ships was only just starting to be discussed, so no one was focused on mages,

who have less firepower. As a result, they had only just touched on anti-mage combat

in training exercises.

In a sense, it was an extremely crude firefight for both sides.

"Pixie 01 to CP! Contact! Contact!"

"CP to Pixie 01. What is it?"

It's hard to do your best when you find yourself stuck in a battle where you weren't

expecting to get shot at. In that sense, Tanya can't help but hate the easygoing CP radio

operator. Internally, she can't stop griping, What the hell did you mean, telling us there'd

be no contact? But a calmer part of her brain isn't very impressed with the enemy's

anti–air fire, which is a relief.

Actually, the enemy's protective fire is so poor it doesn't even come close to the

American empire's anti-aircraft fire Tanya is thinking of. It's sparse enough that she

can evade simply by flying aimlessly, inwardly outraged and wondering what the other

search units have been doing, so it's evident that it isn't much to worry about.

"I'm taking fire! That's definitely the flash of a battle cruiser gun. Two hundred off the coast of Wiengenberg."

As she makes the report, she immediately breaks formation. After all, naval guns are

a much greater threat than small arms or even most field artillery. Even a single

autocannon uses 20 mm ammunition, the same class as a heavy machine gun on land.

The powerful high-angle cannons are 127 mm. The shells they're aiming at her won't

allow anyone with a human body to just walk away from a direct hit. If we stay in tight

formation, the enemy anti–air guns will have their way with us.

"Battalion, don't bunch up! Make sure you attack the mages and the ships. Don't get

too distracted by one or the other!"

Everywhere around me is dark, but I'm sure I'm exposed. When she realizes that, she

can hardly believe how unexpected this is. Her mission was to find the enemy. If the

submarines, the scout planes that went out ahead, or the company of recon mages

discovered the enemy, Tanya's unit might have taken over monitoring, depending on

the situation; it was supposed to be an easy mission. Entering the effective firing range

of enemy ships and engaging was never part of the plan.

But if she squints, she can see a light reminiscent of a muzzle flash from below. It must

be one of our submarines torpedoing them. If it wasn't for the noise from the explosion,

I probably wouldn't have noticed it. The thought that she had narrowly escaped making

an error frightens her. If she hadn't noticed, she would no doubt have ended up being

grilled by an investigative commission. Boy, am I glad the torpedo's wake caught her

eye. But I can't be completely happy because if she had been a little farther away, she

could have noticed and been fine.

"Ngh! Anti-mage counterattack detected! Anti-air disciplined fire incoming!"

"I'm picking up mages! Damn it! We've got marine mages incoming!"

Her talented subordinates have an appropriate understanding of the situation, so she

isn't actually very worried. But any commander asking their subordinates to act in a

situation they haven't been trained to handle has to at least acknowledge their right

to scowl.

"All hands, engage at will! Follow your company commander's lead!"

As long as they are receiving an organized interception, it has to be dealt with, but she

decides that rather than trying to control an entire battalion in the dark, it's better to let each company operate individually. We have to regain some degree of discipline

and get out of here!

"Visibility is poor. Don't lose your depth perception! The air is dense, but don't forget

we're over the sea! Take the humidity from the water into account. Our opponents are

used to it! Maintain your altitude!"

The lower companies, Second and Third, seem to be in good positions. First and

Fourth were on guard above, so they have some leeway in terms of their altitude. And

as long as I'm personally commanding First Company, I want to push all the dangerous

stuff onto Fourth. She makes some quick calculations and decides to adjust some

things.

"Ngh, draw the mages away from the ships! Second and Third Companies, you're the

vanguard! Keep those mages busy!"

Marine mages are a threat to aerial mages. It goes without saying that exposing myself

to anti–air fire and enemy mages isn't a hobby of mine. Even the majority of my warcrazy subordinates probably aren't into it. We'd all like to avoid working in dangerous

areas.

"Fourth Company, guard the rear. Help Second and Third withdraw. A shoot-out with

the ships is out of the question."

Really, I want Fourth Company as my shield, but that's too much to ask for.

In that case, increasing the number of decoys will probably get me the best results.

From the enemy's point of view, it must be easier to target the entire battalion.

"First Company, lament your misfortune—or sob with joy at your opportunity to earn

commendations! Rejoice, for it is we who will harass the ships! Follow me!"

I'll have my underlings do the dangerous counter-mage warfare, and I'll mess with the

boats.

""""Understood!""""

"Plunging into the fleet is a bold move! Allow us to be the vanguard!"

The elated personnel of my company volunteer, but it won't do for me to follow their suggestion.

"Sorry, the commander leads the way. Get back."

This is the only time believing that commanders should lead the way is useful. Don't

get me wrong, it's not like I want to expose myself to enemy fire. Nobody with common

sense wants to be out front charging into a hail of bullets.

But that's an amateur's calculation. Of course, I don't want to do it, but since I know

it's the safer option, I choose it without hesitation. Reason trumps fear.

To explain it simply, most of the bullets aimed at the leader of a pack will end up hitting

the people behind them.

In a little more detail, with deflection shooting, if they open fire assuming I'm coming

in at two hundred fifty, all I have to do is approach at three hundred. The difference

will keep me safe in the lead. But what about the ones behind me? Yes, the enemy will

correct their deflection to my speed, and it's the ones who follow who will rush

straight into that.

Also, when moving away after the attack, it goes without saying that I'd rather have a

shield behind me. Our eyes are in the front of our heads.

The more you think about it, the more dangerous the rear starts to sound.

In other words, being the bold commander out front is the safer policy. It's said that in

war, whether you survive or not is determined by how cowardly you can be. I'm a

coward, so I want to calmly maneuver myself into a safe position.

"Follow me. I say again, follow me."

For the moment, I look for a ship that isn't firing so heavily.

I don't even have to stop and think to know that only war junkies want to get up close

and personal with the dense anti–air fire of cruisers or battle cruisers. You can see it

in war videos or special reports. The anti-aircraft fire density of American ships was

nine parts bullets to one part sky. I would practically despair just watching.

I don't care how strong mages' defensive shells are—I am absolutely not flying into a

127 mm high-angle gunshot.

This is a night battle, but even if we can expect some help from the cover of darkness,

it's too dangerous to aim at one of the big ships known for anti–air fire.

Of course, the sensible way to do this is to attack a destroyer. In war, picking on the

weak is justice. Hooray, justice.

"…Ah. Is that a destroyer? Well, whatever it is, let's get it!"

I can't really tell because it's dark, but there's a turret firing at random, so I can make

out the shape of the ship.

Considering there are no ships in consort, it must be an isolated destroyer?

In that case, we don't have to worry about backup from other ships in the enemy fleet.

Based on that interpretation, we get into assault formation.

In order to dive all at once from forty-five hundred feet, we maintain the spindle shape

and make minute adjustments to the angle of our assault.

"Gah! I'm hit! Heading back to base! No escort necessary."

But I guess you can't underestimate a destroyer. Just as we were about to strike, one

of my men gets hit.

The main gun on a destroyer is 127 mm and can be effectively used for anti–air fire,

so I reappraise the situation and decide we can't take it lightly. My mage who got shot

seems able to fly, well, fine. Still, he doesn't look very good, so he has to drop out, I

guess.

Since his mouth works, he'll fly back to base on his own. There's nothing else we can

do for him. About the only thing we can do is hope he's good bait.

"Go on, get outta here. Okay, everyone, prepare explosion formulas. Given a typical

destroyer's armor, we should be able to take it out if we aim for exposed depth charges

or the torpedo tubes."

Tanya's able to instantly twist her body to evade a shot as she approaches, most

certainly a result of her training. "Well, would you look at that? I can dodge them," she

murmurs. She makes a mental note that her unit probably needs additional training as she returns fire.

The ones firing off interceptor formulas from below must be Entente Alliance direct

support. Since they're a destroyer's escort, there are probably only a few, but if they're

brave enough to come up here, they can't be discounted.

Just as she's thinking that, she seems to recognize one of the enemies, a mage who

gave her a lot of trouble in the fjord. He looks an awful lot like that fanatically patriotic

monster.

Maybe it's a coincidence, but you can kill a lousy enemy with less guilt than a good

one. In that sense, it's a plus that this guy resembles a lousy one. It'll be refreshing to

shoot him.

She changes gears and turns her attention to how best to attack. A heavy explosion

type would blow up a wide area, but she'd be a sitting duck while she's using it. Out of

the question. Shoot with her rifle? That probably wouldn't even count as harassment.

Rejected.

That's when she realizes: A dive at this speed must have a ton of kinetic energy. All I

have to do is literally assault him—with the sharp end of my rifle.

A fleeting intersection.

But Tanya's bayonet, propelled at the speed of her dive, cuts through the Entente

Alliance mage's defensive shell and twists into him. A bayonet thrust by a mage going

over four hundred knots is far more damaging than a lance charge from a medieval

heavy cavalry member.

She jabs it in and, in satisfaction, watches the stunned face of the enemy soldier, who

seems hardly able to believe something is piercing his abdomen, but when she tries to

pull her bayonet out, she frowns slightly because it seems to have gone too far in and

gotten stuck. Even the barrel is sticking into him, and Tanya struggles a bit to remove

it.

-x-X-x-

[Image]

-x-X-x-

"M…Mar…"

The enemy soldier, murmuring something that's not even a word, is fatally wounded.

Geez, what's that about? she thinks, when she realizes he's groping at the air, trying as

hard as he can to bring his writhing right arm around to the submachine gun on his

back. So she decides to make a trade.

"Auf Wiedersehen." She murmurs the curt farewell with a smile. I admire him for his

unexpected stubbornness, but I don't have time to go along with his futile resistance—

I have to hurry on ahead. Shoving his right arm out of the way, she steals the

submachine gun. Then she kicks the corpse away, already pushing it out of her mind,

and takes a quick look at the weapon she's acquired.

It's a standard submachine gun. But oddly enough, it accepts imperial magic bullets.

How nice, this trophy will prove unexpectedly useful. A Christmas present to myself.

Anyhow. Tanya smiles at her clear path, feeling quite refreshed, and murmurs, "Now

there's nothing in my way."

Yes, she's literally kicked the obstacles out of her path. All that's left is to evade the

ship's wimpy anti–air fire, strike her blow, and disappear under the veil of night.

That said, war is a gentlemanly fight for survival wherein one must be the first to do

what the enemy hates. And as a civilized individual with an education, Tanya will not

use her pretty hands for a sophisticated game of cricket;12 she understands the need

to unhesitatingly kick the enemy's ass.

This situation demands the enemy's intentions be thwarted.

So what is the best way to bully them?

It's simple. The enemy fleet is currently being pestered by submarines, so they have

to take counter-sub measures. If I use an explosion formula with short activation time

and get either the ship's depth charges or their torpedoes to blow in a secondary

explosion, this thing will go down easily.

Those torpedoes can be used against even a battleship. If I can get them to explode,

the destroyer won't stand a chance. If I concentrate my attack on the stern, even with

low expectations, there's a possibility of speed reduction and rudder damage, too. And

if it dumps the torpedoes to avoid the danger of secondary explosions, the destroyer's

ability to counter the submarines will definitely take a dive.

Not so much risk on my end. This is perfect.

"There's no law that says a mage can't sink a ship. I'm gonna rock this!"

"We drew off the mages! Holding them at a distance now!"

And the one thing I was worried about, the marine mages, had been pulled away right

on schedule. They made it extremely easy by dropping their altitude to work on the

subs. Now I should be able to dive without worrying about being attacked from above

like an idiot. And I'm nominally here to harass them, so this is too perfect.

"Good. Keep them far enough away that they can't support the ships."

"""Roger!"""

It'll probably be difficult to hold them until our fleet can get here, but they'll surely be

rewarded for hastening the enemy's attrition. After all, we already did a great job by

locating the enemy fleet, and we're even coordinating with our submarines, though

that was rather sudden. All I have to do is report to the brass that we did all we could

with a split-second decision.

The best thing to do right now is give the enemy one good hit and RTB.13 Fighting the

ships is a secondary objective.

If we return fire, I figure our part of the search and destroy mission is accomplished.

Destroying the Entente Alliance ships is the Northern Sea Fleet's job.

"Okay, First Company, if you don't want to be called a bunch of no-achievement

knuckleheads, it's time to go to work."

We begin accelerating again to dive. Unlike air-to-ground attacks, the humidity from

the water makes this descent uncomfortable. But we're also in the rain. As expected,

the intercepting shots can't catch me, and they fly past.

Unless the enemy are hopelessly incompetent, the rest of the company behind me is

in danger. Using your subordinates as bait to survive and climb the ladder is a constant

in a corporate setting and the military.

"…All hands, deploy your formulas!"

That said, to my happy miscalculation, no one has dropped out. Considering it's a

destroyer, maybe the last guy who got hit was a fluke? That would make sense.

The company efficiently deploys their formulas. The concentrated attacks fly one after

another toward the stern of the ship.

"This is Fourth Company with an impact report. The enemy ship seems unharmed."

After confirming impact, I pull up sharply to get out of there. Even if my subordinates

are acting as a shield behind me, human flesh is fragile; their presence is enough to

ease my mind somewhat, but I still move at full speed.

Only an idiot gets shot down while hanging out observing the results of their attack. A

unit spotting from a distance reports the outcome.

And according to Fourth Company, regrettably, the ship is apparently fine. I knew

already since there wasn't a secondary explosion, but it's still disappointing. All we do

now is hope is that they've jettisoned their torpedoes.

"Good enough! We achieved our aim of throwing them into confusion! Let's get out of

here!"

Following the swiftly withdrawing First Company, the other three also begin to move

away, keeping the marine mages in check as they go.

In order to get out of there all at once, I pull us into return formation as fast as possible.

Well, we didn't do so badly.

We failed to take out the marine mages, but the strategic win of locating the enemy

can't be ignored. Basically, any further combat would just wear us down without

gaining anything. We should let our fleet get some of the credit here.

"How did we do?"

"Six mages down and probably moderate damage to an unknown ship. For a destroyer,

it's moving pretty slowly. Its engine must be hurting. If we're lucky, the submarines

will confirm. What's our damage?"

"We also have six with serious injuries and a bunch with scrapes."

Anyhow, no one died. That's a blessing in this curse. If we had been up against an

American ship, there would probably be heaps of corpses…

Taking a look at the actual damage, it's not as bad as I expected. Considering we were

up against a destroyer, we could have come out far worse. I'm kind of glad VT fuses14

aren't unleashing their fury yet.

"…We basically lost. How can we show our faces back at base?"

But the mood is heavy because we weren't able to deal much damage. The lack of

secondary explosion could mean that they had already used up their depth charges,

but still… That's probably wishful thinking, Tanya laments.

"But if we encountered the enemy in these waters…they're advancing too quickly!"

"Major, if you'll forgive me…considering the speed of a destroyer…"

"Yeah, you're right. It's possible. Still, I can't believe we missed our chance to take out

a destroyer…"

All Tanya can do is bemoan the unexpected encounter. In other words, she wasn't

prepared. It was possible for the Entente Alliance ships to be moving faster than the

estimate she'd been given if they had a group of faster than average ships.

And for just a quick destroyer…it was definitely possible.

Calling it unexpected was basically a confession of incompetence.

"It's possible, but…what about the enemy coastal defense ship…? This is going to give

me a headache."

Still, the fact that a superior was wrong is no small matter. Well, the fleet coming after

us has a powerful attack in store. This probably won't be viewed as that much of a

problem. After all, to our fleet of powerful ships, a destroyer is easy prey.

At this point, it's more constructive to think about the damage my unit has taken and

apply for their retraining and rest periods.

Thinking it nearly makes her crack a smile. Of course, I have plenty of experience

controlling myself and faking a sorrowful expression. Nah, I should be genuinely sad.

The damage to the unit I spent my time training really gets me down.

"Mages were able to hold their own against an enemy battleship. That's a fine

achievement."

"We'll leave the rest up to our friends. Back to base!"

We accomplished our mission, Tanya consoles herself, biting back a sigh, and orders

her soldier with the long-range wireless set to radio Command. After a few coded

exchanges, Tanya is told she's gotten through, so she takes the receiver and gives a

straightforward summary of the situation.

"Pixie 01 to Urban Control. That's it for my report."

"Urban Control, roger. We'll take care of it. Can you stay on the enemy?"

The enemy fleet is several ships, including a battleship. They're on a course heading

north. They've had contact with our submarines. When I promptly gave Command

coordinate data and the details of their speed, they asked us to pursue.

"With all due respect, we've been flying patrol for hours and can't take much more

fatigue. Is it possible to spare us further anti-ship combat while we're flying with

wounded men?"

"Understood. I've made arrangements for you to land at the nearest base. Wishing you

a safe return."

"Thanks. Over."

To Tanya, all she had done was say indirectly that she wanted to go home. The

controller probably hadn't been expecting much when he asked. She had no problems

getting permission to return to base.

But Tanya doesn't know that on the way to the nearby base the controller was

considerate enough to get them accommodated at, she's about to have a rather lovely

run-in.

-x-X-x-

IMPERIAL ARMY NORTHERN PATROL AIRSPACE, B-47

-x-X-x-

Magic Major Tanya von Degurechaff is the most senior officer in the airspace at the

moment. And the senior officer has to make a decision at one point or another. That's

why they're given the responsibility and authority. And the decision, when it comes

down to it, will be whatever they believe is the best thing to do.

There's something you learn if you read a lot of self-improvement books: Decisions

that aren't made in time are pointless. Judgments that come too late mean nothing. Of

course, it goes without saying that careless decisions are prohibited.

In other words, the most important thing is balance. We can call it an essential skill

for any managerial profession.

And on this most inauspicious day, the sky over the freezing Northern Sea has poor

visibility. Not only is this the absolute worst possible weather to fly in, but also the fact

that we encountered a submarine of unknown nationality over the water on our way

home is a turn of events so unlucky I feel like something is wrong with the theory of

probability.

And now that we've found it, Tanya, as the most senior officer, is forced to deal with it.

She has her troops fan out, and when she glances at their faces, she sees eyes so

serious it makes her sick. Just one shot can kill almost a hundred of our own species.

And their expressions mean business—these soldiers will do their best not to miss. I

really hate this world. May ruin befall this place where humans can't act like humans.

And fuck the war laws, too, while we're at it, Tanya grumbles in her head.

Way to blow it by having no provision about a right to innocent passage for

submarines. Were you planning on appealing to the principle of legality? Or waiting

for a decision from a maritime court? This isn't a joke.

Before my eyes, a submarine of unknown nationality is attempting to rapidly flee

underwater from us, the Imperial Army. This has to happen when I'm in charge, of all

times. It's moving awfully fast and will probably be completely submerged in less than

a minute. But although a minute isn't much, we do currently have it.

Right now, we can still make it in time.

Submarine armor is as flimsy as paper. My battalion is prepared for anti-ship combat,

so we can sink a sub instantaneously.

I can't help but feel the eyes of my men turn to me, hoping for permission to attack.

It's practically the same look a hunting dog uses to ask permission from its master.

Externally, Tanya's unfazed, but inside she's raging.

I'm the one in charge. To put it another way, I have to take responsibility.

Sink a boat of unknown nationality? That'd be idiotic! thinks Tanya, flatly rejecting that

fantasy.

The law of war doesn't permit fighting except between countries in conflict. And the

worst part is that there are boats from the Commonwealth sailing near here. I should

break war laws right in front of a neutral country?

The various ensuing problems would wring my neck. It'd be a way bigger issue than

compliance. If I don't want to become a political scapegoat, I have to maintain at least

a veneer of reason.

So do I let it go? Before my eyes? Without inspecting it even though we're right above

it? That could develop into a huge hairy mess in the Imperial Army. It already looks

like I'm forcing a lot of issues in the military org (even though I'm doing it because I

have no choice), so if I let a sub of unknown nationality get away, they wouldn't just

let me off the hook. It's an unknown boat operating in these waters. It must have some

awfully important cargo. I can't overlook that, either.

And with a little effort, that sub can get away in two days underwater. As long as we

don't have sonar of some kind, it'll be practically impossible to find it again if I let it go

now.

…Why? Why must I be driven into this kind of corner?

What started all this, the root of Tanya's suffering in this dilemma, was a radio message

received after the fight with the Entente Alliance ship as we were on our way back to

base.

"…Commander! Urgent report of a suspicious boat running dark in our territorial waters at two o'clock."

I didn't expect to find anything, but if we're flying we get paid for it, so we headed away

from base and ended up involved in a fight with the Entente Alliance.

It happened just as Tanya had started grumbling about how if she couldn't warm up

by the fireplace with a warm cup of coffee she wouldn't be able to go on.

A report of a suspicious boat arrived. Apparently, some industrious guys found it.

Who is doing more work than they get paid for? She was half-impressed and halfdisgusted as she cocked her head and then sighed in irritation that she would have to

work extra hours—with no overtime pay—to deal with it.

My battalion was somewhat worn out by the unforeseen battle we had just been in. I

couldn't imagine wanting to actively enter combat. But we weren't hurting so badly

that we had to avoid it altogether.

"Well, we can't ignore it. Challenge it."

It was a situation that couldn't be ignored, and even though my battalion was on its

way back to base, I acquiesced since we were the nearest force. Albeit reluctantly,

Tanya and her battalion arrived at the reported sector that had been reported, and

they discovered the suspicious boat.

"Is it one of our transport ships? Check the nationality."

"It's a cargo-passenger ship from the Commonwealth, the Lytol."

When she called and got a response, it was even more troubling.

It wasn't strange for a Commonwealth cargo-passenger ship to be there, but that didn't

mean she could just let it go.

"…Tell them we're boarding."

"Are you sure? If it takes too long, it will affect our return time…"

"We can't ignore it now that we challenged it. It's in waters between countries at war."

The boat's nationality was too problematic to ignore, which was also a pain.

Yes, ships from neutral countries have the right to come and go as they please, but at

the same time, we have the right to board in the territorial waters of the country at

war. Obnoxiously, if we didn't inspect this ship, I would need a good reason for it.

It's just one thing after another. How annoying. I want to do my job efficiently, but it's

not as if I want to work, so there's no way this will end well.

"Lytol, this is the Imperial Army General Staff's 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. We order

you to submit to inspection. Cut your engines immediately. I say again, cut your

engines immediately."

"This is Lytol. We are a vessel from a neutral country, the Commonwealth, so we do not

believe we are under obligation to comply."

"Lytol, this is the Imperial Army. Are you carrying any military personnel? Or are you

operating under the orders of military personnel?"

"Lytol to the Imperial Army. We're not required to answer those questions."

"Imperial Army, roger. Lytol, if that is your decision, we're unable to recognize your

immunity to boarding as a neutral country's warship. This is a warning that if you

refuse inspection, it will be considered a hostile action and you will be classified as a

hostile nation's vessel. I say again, if you refuse inspection, it will be considered a

hostile action. We will have no choice but to sink you."

"Lytol, we've cut our engines."

"Good. Start the inspection. Lieutenant Weiss, your company is the boarding party."

"Yes, ma'am."

"The rest of you, keep watch over the area."

Tanya wanted to pull her hair out, the legal exchange was such a pain in the ass, but

just as she was pushing the boarding duty onto her subordinates and having the

smallest acceptable party pull up alongside the ship, something else happened.

"Wait a minute. What's that?" Lieutenant Serebryakov asked, pointing at something on the surface. She seemed to have found something in the mist over the sea. Drawn

by her question, several people followed her gaze and…bingo, I suppose you could

say? There was the cargo-passenger ship flying the Commonwealth flag plus a

submarine of unknown nationality.

…And if I wasn't seeing things, they seemed to be transferring something.

It goes without saying that these were two British ladies15 enjoying a secret meeting.

They couldn't be unrelated. I most certainly wanted to inquire about their

relationship. I might have seemed like a paparazzo, and you could say it was bad

manners, but I just hoped they'd find it in their hearts to forgive me.

Another extra job to do? Tanya lamented. As she was about to send out another

boarding party, she was suddenly unsure what to do.

Submarines go underwater, as their name implies, but war laws cover only surface

boarding rules; there's nothing pertaining to boats that can dive. After all, submarines

are a relatively new type of vessel.

Since they are used in proxy wars, there is research being done into counter-sub

combat and ways to stop them, but most navy personnel are extremely underinformed. Still, it's crazy that there is nothing in the naval war laws about submarines.

I realized it was only a matter of time before unrestricted submarine warfare was

declared.

But every second Tanya fretted, the situation was developing. The sub was trying to

dive before her eyes. In a few minutes, it would be deep enough that our attacks might

not reach—it would be able to make a calm getaway.

"Ngh. Lieutenant Weiss, capture the Lytol with your company!"

I figured we should hurry. I wanted to keep them from hiding evidence before the

inspection.

But what about the critical submarine?

If it refuses to be boarded, I can shoot, but first it has to be a warning shot. That's the

standard protocol demanded by the law of war. Submerging isn't denying inspection.

Annoyingly, my opponent has slipped through a legal loophole.

I love slipping through legal loopholes, but I hate it when other people do it to me.

What suddenly crosses my mind is compromise… Does it really matter how deep the

mire goes?

I'm in this bog already. If I'm already covered in mud, it's not a big deal if another kind

of mud gets involved. I'd hesitate to get clean white sheets all dirty, but throwing a ball

of mud covered in mud into the dirt won't hurt it.

"…All units on standby, prepare to attack the submarine! Ready a warning!"

"Major?!"

"Fire sniping formulas! If it doesn't comply with orders to halt and starts to dive, blow

its conning tower off!"

All we can do is shoot.

"All hands, at the same time, prepare to subdue the target. Avoid direct hits. This is for

intimidation purposes only."

So I'll choose the route that isn't pitch-black, even if it is dirty.

The law of war doesn't prohibit shots across the bow. As long as we don't hit them

directly, we can claim they were warning shots. We can't call diving refusing

inspection, but it's not exactly cooperative, either. If we're firing warning shots to urge

compliance, legally speaking, that's got to be the whiter part of gray—in other words,

white.

"All hands! Assault formation! Prepare to fire warning shots!"

The company commanders repeat the orders. My men have just enough self-control

to wait when told to heel. If I tell them to intimidate, they should intimidate.

Submarines have such wimpy armor that one depth charge is enough to crush it. If we

blow multiple heavy explosion formulas in its immediate vicinity, it won't be able to

keep diving. Then all we have to do is stroll aboard once it surfaces.

"You got that? No direct hits!" So I repeatedly emphasize that we're not trying to sink

it. If it sinks, I'll really be in trouble. "The opponent is a sub. One depth charge is

enough to cave in its armor. Stop at a few near misses! I'm not listening to any excuses if you sink it!"

What did they put on board? Depending on that cargo, this could be a major

achievement. We can't go lending them a hand by sinking them and erasing all the

tangible evidence.

We have to secure it.

"Jawohl, Frau Major!"

"Good! Gentlemen, that Commonwealth vessel is watching. Make sure you don't

humiliate us!"

Everyone swiftly gets into formation. The sub doesn't have any anti–air fire to speak

of. Actually, anyone who would be scared of that should be shot. So yes, everyone has

calmly—leisurely, even—assumed their positions. All that's left now is to decide how

much distance to keep.

Heavy explosion formulas are different from the simple kind. About ten meters away

should do it.

Converted to gunpowder, they're a hundred fifty kilos at most. There won't be

fragmentation; the water pressure will be enough.

"Stay ten—no, fifteen meters away from the hull!" The worry that ten meters won't be

enough suddenly crosses my mind.

Submarines are fragile. I'm not about to have them too close and send it to the bottom.

Considering it's half-intimidation tactic, half-warning, fifteen meters should be good.

It might even be a little under-confident, since the water will dull the shock.

That said, it can't be interpreted as an attack. We may be in waters where the Empire

and Entente Alliance are at war, but that doesn't mean it's okay to sink a vessel of

unknown nationality. Which is precisely why commanders forced to make quick,

delicate calls can never relax—I hate it.

"Warning fire at a distance of fifteen!"

"All right. Fire!"

That's why I have them keep their distance.

I shout over and over, so there will be no confusion, that this is only for intimidation.

It must be recorded in the unit logs.

And the fact that I clearly stated to keep fifteen meters away should be in the firing

data table. In other words, I'm compromising myself as little as possible. We've seen

it, so the best thing we can do is perform our duty.

I pour a hefty dose of mana into the computation orb in my hand and put it in firing

mode. The cores regulate the energy, and I aim near the submarine my unit is trying

to keep from diving.

It's a company's worth of disciplined fire from 360 degrees and fifteen meters away—

the heavy explosion formulas burst in the water.

The huge splashes obscure the unidentified submarine.

"Second Company, descend! Prepare to board the sub when it comes up."

Well, they were warning shots, but at that range, the sub is probably taking on water.

That's the weakness of these vulnerable submarines. I'm sure a bunch of confidential

materials will get ruined, so we have to capture it as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, the captain of the Commonwealth S-class submarine Syrtis was nearly

panicking due to the report of an incoming mage battalion.

There's a mole16 in the intelligence agency. He was aware of the rumors. He and his

submarine crew were not about to lose to the subterranean, but unfortunately diving

into intelligence and diving into the sea are two different things. They knew they had

taken measures to preserve utmost secrecy.

Security was so tight that when they were dispatched, he could only tell his crew that

they were performing an utterly normal navigation exercise. Only the captain knew

the true identity of the "technical officer" from the Office of the Admiralty who was on

board; only the captain knew about the sealed orders.

They had been so thorough that even the navigation officer wasn't informed until after they had launched and were setting their course.

However…

There they were at the rendezvous point only a handful of people should have known

about. They managed to make the transfer just as the report came in that the Imperial

Army was approaching, and the situation rapidly deteriorated.

If that hadn't happened, all they would have had to do was play dumb and get past the

Imperial Army patrol line. What did it mean that an imperial mage battalion appeared

out of nowhere just then?

The shock was so great that he momentarily locked eyes with the "technical officer"

from the Office of the Admiralty.

"Multiple Imperial Army mages incoming! They saw our rendezvous with the Lytol!"

The enemy must have known about the cargo and the schedule. If not, they wouldn't

have shown up here. An auxiliary ship might have been conspicuous, but it's nominally

a civilian vessel. The Empire couldn't be rough with a civilian vessel from the neutral

Commonwealth.

But if the vessel was of unknown nationality, handling it as a belligerent to some extent

would be permissible.

If they had known that much planned a raid, there had to be a mole.

"They're ordering us to halt!"

The radio operator's shout jerked everyone back to reality.

The captain had to set aside his doubts for the time being and make it through this

moment. An S-class submarine could dive to a depth of over a hundred meters. Even

mages would have trouble following them if they submerged.

It would be a different story if they took a shot to the hull, but the law of war wasn't

clear on the definition of halting their ship.

No, submerging was not officially recognized as fugitive behavior. After all, the rules

were written before boats went underwater.

"Cut off all radio communications! Emergency dive!"

All they had to do was dive before the mages were on them. Maintain radio silence,

refuse transmissions, and dive, just like that. He thought they would be able to escape

that way.

But his forecast was naive. Just as they opened the vents…

The observer shrieked a warning, and the captain learned, whether he wanted to or

not, their opponent's lack of scruples.

"M-multiple mana signals detected! All hands, brace for…"

They were going to shoot. When he realized that, his head told him to grab hold of

something, but the warning was so unexpected that his body wasn't moving the way

he wanted it to.

Not many on the crew could get their bodies to cooperate. I have to move. Everyone

thought so, and when they reached their hands out, they heard a roar. Then came a

series of huge shocks to the hull, the captain noticed that he felt weightless as the

attacks landed, and he lost consciousness.

"Captain?! Shit! Medic! The captain's wounded! Get to the conning station!"

He awoke to the sound of someone's raised voice but not for long. Noting the captain's

condition, the first officer prepared himself to take command. The scenario was about

as "worst-case" as it could get. Multiple hull breaches. Rapidly spreading flooding.

On top of that, the water pressure around the bridge had destroyed the periscope. The

engines were just barely running, but there was a problem in the battery

compartments—they were emitting chlorine gas. They needed masks for poisonous

gas, but it was all he could do to just get the battered crew moving.

Between the flooding and the gas, the environment in the sub would deteriorate

quickly. It was only a matter of time until disaster.

To make matters worse, the rudder wouldn't budge. It had probably been damaged by

the water pressure. So they wouldn't be able to move properly.

There was a limit to the emergency repairs they could do. Only one of the drain pumps was working, so they would eventually lose balance. With their reserve power

situation looking dire, the only choice they had was to surface.

"…Sir, we can't take any more." He addressed the technical officer.

"There's nothing you can do?"

He had to make a hard decision—and fast. The first officer didn't really think the

mysterious technical officer was a mere officer. So he hinted at him that all they could

do was surrender.

As long as the captain couldn't command the ship, the first officer was responsible for

the lives of the crew. Since they were forced to surface, he had no choice but to say it.

"We're not going to last long. If you need to take care of the cargo, let's do so quickly."

"…Understood."

A murmured exchange, and then the technical officer and the first officer went to

quickly "deal with" the cargo. It was an awful decision to make…but it was the only

way.

-x-X-x-

DECEMBER 12, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, COMMONWEALTH, LONDINIUM,

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION1

-x-X-x-

"What were you doing?!"

An unassuming building stood tucked away in a quiet residential area. Isolated from

the outside in an inconspicuous way, the building's interior was in the midst of a storm

that struck a perfect contrast with its quiet environs. Not so much as a molecule of the

genial Christmas spirit of the world at large could survive there.

Particularly violent was Major General Habergram of the Foreign Strategy Division,

who was abusing the line of intelligence officers. He pounded the desk with his

clenched fist almost hard enough to break it. A half-assed explanation wasn't going to

cut it. The intelligence officers standing there were as pale as prisoners about to be

executed by firing squad.

Well, it was only natural. Of course the general's fury would be violent when he'd been woken from a nap because the plan he'd forgone sleep or rest to realize was ruined in

the span of a single night.

He'd figured out the Imperial Army aerial units' patrol lines and analyzed their

Northern Sea Fleet's patrol routes. He'd checked the speed of that fleet and adjusted

the Commonwealth Navy's exercise schedule accordingly as a distraction. In a single

moment, all his efforts went up in smoke.

General Habergram was by no means the only person in the Commonwealth grinding

his teeth in disappointment; the need for a sweeping investigation into the causes of

the problem had been acknowledged. At this point in time, the ones getting the

murderous looks were the security officers; their stomachs probably couldn't take

much more.

"Why were there imperial mages over there?"

The failures of the intelligence agency had been in question for some time, but now

there were getting to be too many to brush off as coincidences. One or two incidents

could be unfortunate mistakes, but by the time the third one happens, it's inevitable.

When the voluntary army that had been sent out to gather intel and observe was

pinpointed and bombarded by mages, it was still possible to suspect coincidence.

They were working on improving the apparatuses after they concluded that reverse

detection of the surveillance waves could have been the cause. It wasn't out of the

question to call it an unfortunate accident or coincidence.

But this time, it was too hard to fathom as a coincidence; he couldn't accept it. They

were targeted so precisely.

"We're performing a thorough investigation, but we can only imagine it was a

coincidence!"

"The Empire might have a good intelligence team, but I really don't think they could

have known about this…"

"Then explain this video."

The footage of the battle he projected shut up the officers who were trying to object.

Even though the details were hazy with static thanks to the dense concentration of combat mana, what it showed was clear.

The imperial mages moved in perfect formation toward a single target. Other ships

tried to draw their fire by attacking, but the enemy unit ignored them. Not only were

they not afraid of getting hit, they maneuvered as if they weren't even taking the

possibility of damage into account.

Then they held back the marine mages who went up to intercept them and dived in

assault formation.

The log blacked out when an Entente Alliance mage who went to intercept fell as a

corpse into the sea after being mercilessly bayoneted and kicked away. The last image

was the enemy mages darting straight for the battle cruiser.

Yes, one glance made it obvious. They were clearly aiming for a specific ship and

paying no attention to the others.

"I ask you—why?" It was the question of a man about to explode at any moment. "Why

is the Named who was supposedly deployed in the northern zone lying in wait for us

here?"

Then his thunder crashed. All the intelligence officers could do was pray for the storm

to pass. According to their careful analysis, the imperial Named had seemed to be

providing support to the northern lines.

Central had taken the trouble to dispatch this Named unit. And the intelligence officers

had given a partially incorrect warning that they were going to be supporting an

offensive.

Against their expectations, the Named unit appeared far from the sector they had been

stationed in. At first, they wondered if it was an unknown elite unit, but the recorded

mana signatures answered that question immediately.

They matched the signals of the Named unit who had just previously been spotted in

the Entente Alliance.

Looking at the combat logs, it was obviously the same unit who had been so kind as to

demolish the voluntary army there just the other day. Really, it was hard to imagine

them being here. Considering the Imperial Army's rotation of combat and rest, it was

too soon.

"The fighting in the north is intensifying. And they're planning an offensive to mop up

the Entente Alliance. Why would they dispatch a powerful mage unit out here?"

Yes. Their analysis said the Imperial Army, which had carried out a landing operation

that ignored communication lines and the power of the Commonwealth's Navy, was

preparing an operation to finish off the Entente Alliance. Why would they just happen

to send an elite unit to this area at a time when the Northern Army Group probably

needed all the help they could get?

These were the guys who were massing all available arms, ammunition, and personnel

for the northern lines, so this maneuver clearly had to be the result of a plan, not a

coincidence.

This was the same Named unit who was spotted during the landing operation. If it had

been pulled and then appeared on the Rhine lines, you could call it proof that the

Empire was prioritizing the Rhine front. But just when they noticed they had stopped

seeing it on the northern lines, it was instead lying in wait for departing Entente

Alliance ships and their submarine in the Northern Sea.

"Most importantly, look at this. They make a beeline for the middle of the fleet without

even looking at the vanguard."

The attack was too efficient to be explained as a chance encounter. For starters, look

at how the mages suddenly attacked just as a sub distracted the fleet with a torpedo,

causing everyone to look down. How elite mages dropped out of the sky just when

everyone's minds were blank, and physically, the fleet had broken formation to

perform evasive maneuvers with too-perfect timing.

But then they didn't even touch the vanguard destroyers.

As a result, they were able to go undetected for some time. They ignored the

intercepting attack that had just barely occurred at all and headed straight for their

objective. If that was a coincidence, it had to mean about a dozen ladies of luck were

smiling on the Empire. But that seemed impossible.

"We also have record of some kind of transmission above the fleet."

Were the mages filing a report right before going into assault formation? There was

not no chance it was a report of enemy contact, but in that case, you'd think they would

have done it sooner. If they were there to restrain them, they wouldn't have had to approach so closely.

But if they were an attacking unit, there should have been a combat control team.

Unexpectedly encountering an unguided battalion of mages? Don't be ridiculous. Plus,

it happened right after the submarine attack. If it wasn't planned and it wasn't the kind

of coincidence only God can conceive of, it wasn't possible.

"They started drawing off the escorts straightaway, and on top of that, one company

went right for the battle cruiser. All you can do is laugh."

Anti–air fire doesn't score that many direct hits. The navy and even the army know

that. But the difference between knowing something and experiencing it is night and

day. Would you charge a battle cruiser lined with autocannons simply because the

shots don't usually connect?

Normally there would be some hesitation. Even if they didn't hesitate, there would

have been various ways to go about it. If attacking was their aim, deploying barrage

formulas at range would have been one option. A mage's extra-long range barrage

formula would be able to get past most anti–air fire.

Of course, the marine mages were there to keep them from doing that. But they had

been pretty much caught by surprise, so although the handful of direct support mages

put up the best resistance they could, it was futile, and they were scattered. The enemy

mages were emitting such tranquil signals we didn't discover them until they were

right on top of us, so they must have been working really hard to conceal them.

"Look. From the mana signatures, it seems like the Named is leading the formation."

Did the Entente Alliance miss the signature of the Named because they're

incompetent? Observing the mana isotope of the flight leader17 is the most basic step

to take. It's easy to detect it as long as the mage isn't limiting output to conceal

themselves.

A unit putting a check on enemies might be able to limit output. It was a standard way

to extend one's time in the air and liked for the way it lowered one's chances of being

detected. But could a battalion flying at high speeds do it?

It did temporarily increase your endurance, but in the end, your fatigue would spike.

It would be out of the question to enter combat. So perhaps they were limiting output for some other reason, not a sneak attack…

But then right after that, the same unit raided the waters where their auxiliary ship

and submarine were meeting. No matter how optimistically someone wanted to

interpret the situation, it was only natural to suspect a giant leak. Rather, if the enemy

was acting this boldly on their intelligence, they probably weren't even trying to hide

that they were getting it.

They considered saying it was so obvious it was unnatural…but they thought they had

looked deep into all the circumstances…and yet they still couldn't get the possibility

out of their heads—and that was the demands of their job. In an information war, truth

was never guaranteed. Even if something seemed correct, the mere appearance of

accuracy wouldn't help them. And that was why they had to suspect every

possibility—including the hypothesis of a leak.

"…What did you find out in the hunt?"

Acknowledging that hypothesis had serious implications. If there wasn't a leak, they

had no explanation for the enemy's actions.

Naturally, the intelligence agency had launched a major operation in great haste to

whack all the moles and clean out the organization, the assumption being that if they

could just find the culprit…

Everyone was about ready to cry because they hadn't found the slightest sign of the

enemy. The people in charge of the investigation had come up with no evidence and

no support, but if there wasn't a huge leak, then they were saddled with the bigger

problem of having no explanation for the situation. They really were at wits' end,

about to break down sobbing.

"We considered code issues, a double agent, or betrayal, but so far we're clear."

"We're still waiting for the actual results of the investigation, but I can't imagine the

code is broken. We're not using anything except onetime pads."

"A double agent or traitor isn't terribly likely, either. The number of people with access

to this information isn't even double digits."

"It's possible they were a lookout on the flank of the main imperial fleet headed north.

Perhaps it really was just an unfortunate coincidence…"