Part 2

"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…"

It wasn't as if the intelligence agency and its officers were doing nothing.

They had arrived at this word coincidence after suffering through investigations that

exhausted every other avenue. Now all they could do was tell their irate boss their

troubling conclusion…that perhaps it was simply chance. Over the course of the hunt,

a few moles had been discovered and purged. Still, they were clear.

At this point, wasn't it just an unfortunate accident? It was only a matter of time until

a number of people began to think that. Actually, some were even saying it, given the

report that the Entente Alliance fleet had been able to escape the Empire's Northern

Sea Fleet to meet up with the Republic fleet in the end.

But that idea was rejected due to one piece of unmistakably clear evidence: the reports

from the intelligence and naval officers dispatched to the Entente Alliance ship as

military observers.

The details written there were enough to silence anyone claiming it was a coincidence

or an accident. No, it blew them out of the water.

"…A big augmented battalion of mages just happens to encounter the battle cruiser

with the councilor who would form the government in exile, and they just happen to

attack and concentrate their fire on where that vital politician is?"

And immediately before, the submarine torpedo attack with perfect timing. Right as

the ships abruptly shifted to counter-sub combat and the direct support marine mages

were flying low on patrol, the imperial mages used their altitude to their advantage

and swooped out of the sky.

It was awfully well coordinated if they weren't waiting for us.

Then, as if they had done what they came to do, the enemy mages left after only one

strike.

For General Habergram, the bad news they had woken him up for was enough to make

him nearly crush the pipe in his hand. The attached photo made it clear that they had

focused their attack on a single area—an area that was almost never considered a

strategic target. In anti-ship warfare, there aren't many methods of effective attack;

maybe a heavy explosion formula or a gravity formula aimed beneath the target's

waterline.

But they took the trouble to aim for the living quarters with anti-personnel explosion

formulas. Maybe against the bridge it would be understandable, but they aimed at the

living quarters. That is, the entire company concentrated their fire on them.

And this had been noted already, but according to the reports, after recklessly charging

in and bombing their target area, they all left without any further combat actions.

They left as if they had no time to lose. They must have been on their way back to base.

Theoretically, it was possible to insist that coincidences had just stacked up.

But what are the astronomical odds of the coincidence where an enemy who waited

so persistently, only to strike once and rush away, subsequently runs into the

Commonwealth's auxiliary ship and sub "on their way back"?

You don't even have to think about it.

"And is there anyone who believes that it was a coincidence that they ran into our boat

on their way back just because it was bobbing out there looking suspicious?" It was a

rhetorical question containing his fury.

He was all but saying that if anyone did, that fist pounding into the table would smash

into them instead. He squared his shoulders imposingly while inside him the

hurricane was raging.

"What a priceless fluke! Of all the coincidences that could possibly happen, this one's

a real riot!" Shouting, he slammed his fist into the table again, paid no mind to the fact

that he'd started bleeding, and fell silent as though he'd lost the power of speech.

He had always been praised as an unflappable paragon of composure, and yet…1

-x-X-x-

SAME DAY, IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF OFFICE, JOINT CONFERENCE ROOM1

-x-X-x-

The situation was bad if the Service Corps staff, the Intelligence staff, and the

Operations staff were all at wits' end. Maybe there was some kind of political strategy

problem or some kind of military issue. It was natural that the staff officers would be

worried about how to get things under control.

Well, they had probably also started thinking about who to blame.

"What? We lost the Entente Alliance ships?" That accurately summed up the sentiment

of all the army officers present. No, all the participants' thoughts could be expressed

that way.

Not that they'd had them trapped like rats, but everyone had believed it was certain,

given the power balance, that they would deal the enemy ships a serious blow in this

naval battle. It had been finally a chance for the idle navy to shine and show some

results, but the staff's expectations had been magnificently betrayed.

"…The Northern Sea Fleet failed to relocate them."

"Even though we succeeded in building up superior fighting capabilities?"

"Yes, it seems they got away."

They let them get away? Not that the fleet was perfect, but they had managed to gather

a fair number of capital ships. They were also able to choose the battleground. It was

only natural to have high expectations under those circumstances.

Were all those fleet maneuvers just a waste of heavy oil?

The stern gazes from the army seemed to contain a rebuke. What is the meaning of

this? The confused naval officers bearing the brunt of it were forced to present

materials and attempt to explain.

"No, the weather was so horrible. The fact that we even made contact twice was a

fluke. It's incredibly difficult to relocate a fleet."

There was nothing easy about finding something in the sea. Even a fleet of warships is

nothing but a speck in the wide-open water.

Unless you controlled all sides of an area, it was impossible to patrol it perfectly. How

well you could do was practically up to probability. For that reason, the navy

prioritized inferences based on past experience. To put it another way, the Imperial

Navy's lack of experience was enough to break them down into tears. Though the

expansion of their "hardware" was on schedule, the personnel operating them still

required improvements.

"But that's your job."

Still, it was true that griping wouldn't get them anywhere. They didn't need to be told

that doing their best with what they were given was demanded of military men. In

that case, the navy had to supplement their perfectly adequate hardware with

"software" that could operate it in the form of quality manpower.

"Still, I guess saying any more at this point won't change anything." Major General von

Zettour figured that was enough useless finger-pointing and chimed in to end the

venting.

As far as he could tell, the army had already expressed most of their complaints and

discontent. The navy was getting near the end of their rope. Any more of this was just

a waste of time. Yes, he made up his mind to end the witch hunt and proposed that

they work toward a realistic solution.

"All we can do is consider our next step. Does the navy have anything to suggest?" After

finishing his question, he gave a stern look to any army officers who seemed to have

more to say and slowly took his seat. An officer from the navy stood, apparently

waiting for the chance. What a young kid, Zettour thought as he changed gears.

"We would like to prevent their meeting with the Republic by getting some assistance

on the diplomatic front."

In the documents they'd been given, there was a plan that included an opinion from

the Foreign Office. There was not a problem with the proposal per se. He actually

thought it was fairly well put together. At least, it was reasonable.

"Making use of the duties of neutral states, hmm? But do you think the Commonwealth

will actually fulfill them?"

But reason is not all that matters in a fight for the survival of a state. If that were the

case, the world would already be Utopia, and the absence of a heaven on earth made

their position clear.

"The Foreign Office thinks it's tricky. But honestly, they won't, right?"

The Commonwealth would probably just demand they leave within forty-eight hours.

He didn't think it would actually take measures to disarm them like it was supposed

to. The military attache 's confirmation would be resisted with procedural delays.

By the time permission was granted, the boat would have left the bay.

"In which case, those ships will waltz over to meet up with the Republic fleet."

"Ugh. That means Entente Alliance resistance will drag on."

Inconveniently for the Empire, the Commonwealth and the Republic had more than a

little adjacent territorial water. Since it was out of the question to battle in the

Commonwealth's territory, there was no real way to prevent the ships from getting to

the Republic once they'd lost them.

And if the Entente Alliance ships were fighting with the Empire, it could create issues

with convincing them to surrender. Look! Our navy's fit as a fiddle! the enemy could

say. They were trying to discourage further resistance at this juncture, so the issue had

the capacity to develop into a headache.

"…There's not really anything else we can do but sink them ASAP."

There was no other way to rapidly gain control of the situation and minimize damage.

They had to sink all those Entente Alliance ships.

Missing a ship or two was one thing, but they had let them get away. Sinking a few

enemy vessels was no longer enough to resolve the problem.

The only option their current situation permitted was to swiftly sink as many ships as

they could. That was the only way to stop the issue from evolving any further.

"So the orders for the Northern Sea Fleet are still to promptly sink the ships?"

"That works."

The navy had no objections, either.

"We'll continue to provide support. I just want to get this resolved as soon as possible."

-x-X-x-

GARRISON OF THE 203RD BATTALION, BATTALION HQ

-x-X-x-

It had crystallized into something pure and tranquil…a madness that had precipitated

as a faintly black sediment, then festered and condensed.

Those nightmarish eyes seemed to invite insanity into everything they fell upon. It was

all you could do to resist the bewitching gaze if it landed on you.

"Your orders, please, Colonel."

Lieutenant Colonel von Lergen exhaled lightly and finally drew air into his lungs again.

Sunlight streamed in through the window.

It seemed a warm day for winter, but his body felt like it was enveloped in cold.

The reason was simple—the incarnation of madness before his eyes.

"Major von Degurechaff, you're being transferred."

Preparations were under way for a large operation on the Rhine front—planned and

drafted with an unprecedented amount of leverage from Major General von

Rudersdorf, deputy director of Operations, and the support of Major General von

Zettour.

So they needed reinforcements.

And they would need support for those reinforcements.

Of course, as a bit of an obnoxious errand, there was a court-martial waiting for her at

Central—a formality. After all, though she hadn't realized it was a neutral country's

boat, she had sunk a Commonwealth submarine as a suspicious vessel in an

unfortunate accident. That said, it would be a court-martial in form only.

"Of course, I can't say it won't be a bother…but it's really mostly a formality. I'm

expecting your best."

"…So this'll be a chance to redeem my reputation?"

But the little major before him didn't make an effort to understand any of that.

Apparently, she was taking the unofficial transfer orders he'd shown her as bad news.

Maybe she was also a bit nervous about the trial.

She had a warped sense of responsibility, but the thought of being called to account

made her shiver. A mere major had to take responsibility for everything. He had a

strange feeling that something more horrifying than chilly air was blowing through the room. Or maybe like he had been hurled into the fissure separating normal and

abnormal.

"You succeeded in locating the enemy unit. It's not your fault. Nobody was asking any

more than that of you."

"I had our sworn enemy right in front of me, and I let them get away. Next time, next

time, I'll get them for sure."

His intercession didn't accomplish anything. But the words weren't just for show.

That her unit had located the enemy at all in those horrible weather conditions was

impressive. They had also dealt some damage to the enemy marine mages.

Even if the results were not perfect, there was probably only one person who didn't

acknowledge them as acceptable.

"Major?"

"Don't worry. I won't repeat this mistake. I swear to you that it won't happen again."

But that person wouldn't acknowledge anything less than perfect. Horrifyingly, her

frame of mind seemed to be a combination of bloodlust and patriotism molded into

the form of a soldier's psyche. Rather than a soldier, she was more a doll shaped like

one.

The words she repeated over and over, practically delirious, exuded a strange urgency.

One time—just one time—she had gotten merely satisfactory results, and this was her

state. How much of a perfectionist can you be?

She has no interest in anything except for following her orders to the letter. What kind

of education do you have to give a child to warp them like this?

"…Don't fret, Major. We're pleased with what you've achieved. All you need to do is

accomplish your missions."

"Don't worry. I won't leave a single ship behind."

I'm not getting through to her at all. It looks like we're having a conversation, but something is making us talk past each other. All I did was encourage her to accomplish

her missions; why does that make this ball of insanity overflow with a will to fight and

declare her intent to annihilate? How war crazy can you get?

Though she's the best the Empire has ever produced, she's the worst war nut we've seen.

Can a mere person be so joyful about killing their fellow men? Can a mere person carry

out any and every military duty so faithfully with no hesitation?

Unless your foundation as a human being was off-kilter, this level of incongruity was

impossible.

"No one at the General Staff Office has any issues with your actions, Major."

It was a fact he had to express to her as a messenger. Customarily, typical notices to

unit commanders conveyed expectations that they eliminate enemy units. They were

practically season's greetings. But what he had to express this time was not superficial

consolation but unmistakable forgiveness.

But, but… In some corner of his mind, reason was warning him. This monster in front

of you might actually do it.

"But, Major…"

Thus…

"…if you do want to contribute to the fleet's efforts…"

He gave her as much consideration as his discretion would allow.

"…it is planning a war game in the Northern Sea. I don't think anyone would mind if

you participated before going to the Rhine."

"I volunteer."

"Great. I'll make the arrangements."

As she gave the reply he expected, Lergen caught himself feeling relieved that this

would bring closure to the matter.

"I wish you and your unit much success. Good luck."

Feeling a slight chill, he dutifully answered with the required encouragement,

speaking quickly. She and her men were on his side, at least. As long as the tip of her

spear isn't pointed at my beloved fatherland, what is there to fear? He suffocated his

mind with that question to deceive himself.

"Thank you."

Whether she knew it or not as she bowed, Major von Degurechaff was an outstanding

model soldier.

-x-X-x-

BATTALION GARRISON, LARGE AUDITORIUMS

-x-X-x-

To express the feelings of Magic Major Tanya von Degurechaff in a nutshell: I've

escaped by a hair.

I was trembling in fear of a rebuke. But when I opened the envelope my friend Colonel

von Lergen brought from the General Staff, it was just an administrative note. I really

expected a reprimand over my failure in that mission, but I guess the brass is more

lenient than I thought.

Relieved, Tanya drains her cold coffee with an involuntary sigh and smiles wryly,

thinking of how uncharacteristically nervous she's been feeling.

There's the court-martial coming up. But it's supposed be nothing more than a

discussion held as a formality, which means Tanya's been unofficially given a mostly

unexpected pardon. She was only informed verbally, but given that it was the word of

a staff officer, it has to be true.

In other words, the fact that Lergen, someone she knows, delivered the note had to be

a token of consideration from the higher-ups. Lergen's report must be a roundabout

way of saying that the brass hasn't forsaken me yet. It's a kindness that says, We'll keep

you around, so show us you can still get results.

If I'm receiving this sort of understanding, the General Staff must still have high

expectations for my unit and me. I mean, they were nice enough to spare me mental

stress by giving me a heads-up, albeit only verbally, that I would be found not guilty.

If it were me and my subordinate was being incompetent, I wouldn't give a damn about their mental health—I'd advise them to resign. Wouldn't anyone? Even in the army,

where you can't lay someone off, they'd have to be ready for some sort of disciplinary

action.

But apparently the higher-ups are letting me off the hook this time and giving me a

second chance. To put it another way, I can't expect them to be so lenient again.

They're even giving me an opportunity to show off my abilities in this war game. I

definitely have to live up to the expectations of the General Staff and the brass this

time.

"Still, I wonder… Who's the one making allowances for me?"

If I'm getting off so easily, someone in the totem pole is pulling the strings. There are

only a few people it could possibly be. Someone who has influence higher up but

would also deign to do me a favor—it has to be someone in General von Zettour's

camp.

"Hmm, I'll have to thank him sometime soon," Tanya murmurs, her mood improving

slightly after considering her good fortune to have such a great superior in the army,

where soldiers don't have the luxury of choosing their bosses. I really can't thank him

enough.

Then, with a single deep breath, I amble leisurely to the room next door. In the worstcase scenario, I thought the battalion might even be broken up, so I had summoned

them all in case I needed to explain; they're already waiting.

Everyone's exhibiting proper concern, and they seem ready to listen, which is

endearing. I'll tell them the good news. Tanya slowly begins to speak.

"Battalion, I don't believe in God. Not even a little bit."

If you do exist, grant me the power to feed Being X to pigs after cramming him through

a shredder.

Tanya doesn't say that part aloud, but I think it.

Nothing happens.

I sigh inwardly. The troops lined up here are way more useful and a hell of a lot more loyal than some nonexistent god. A great commander of ancient times said that the

hundred men you have are better than the ten thousand you don't, and he was quite

right.

Of course, if I loosen the reins, they'll go racing off to the battlefield, so that gives me a

splitting headache, but… Anyhow, I have a chance to make up for the mistake. She

takes the dais and decides to give her troops a few inspiring words so that she can

restore her reputation.

"Gentlemen, I believe in the General Staff. It's a bastion of logic and wisdom. Dear God,

if you're so great, try being ethical. Then I'll show you that the General Staff's wisdom

is greater than yours."

The Imperial Army General Staff exists for real; God or whoever only exists as an idea.

In other words, he's a fantasy.

That's ethics. If you want to oppose the rule of law, the generally accepted universal

principles, then you have to show us something greater.

To neglect them, unilaterally claim you exist, and declare your own laws is to ask us to

fulfill a one-sided contract.

On that point, the kindhearted General Staff shows mercy even when we err and gives

us chances to redeem ourselves. But Tanya won't forget her failure. Colonel von Lergen

and the General Staff are considerate enough to be indirect about it, but it's torturous.

It's our—in other words, my—failure.

I want to impress these things on my disheartened troops, so I issue a declaration.

These are the kinds of subtleties middle management has to instill in their

subordinates.

"People don't expect anything from an entity with minimal presence. My brothers-inarms, the General Staff—maybe even the Empire itself—has expectations of us. Our

duty and dedication are our honor."

Of course, Tanya was convinced the higher-ups were disappointed in them. She could

have done nothing if they had been deemed useless.

If a person in manufacturing somehow made an inventory management error by going

out on a business call? It wouldn't matter how well he did in the meeting

He would have to endure castigation for his incompetence.

"It is the will of the army to give us a chance. We've been granted an opportunity to

atone for our mistake."

The General Staff Office even sent someone in person. It means we haven't been

forsaken. There's still the danger of being sent to serve in some penal battalion, but

we'll just have to overcome it by amassing achievements.

"I don't care if it's purgatory—we'll go there, and we'll conquer it, because that's what

soldiers do."

We go anywhere we're ordered. That fundamental principle goes without saying, but

it's important to constantly review the basics. Heinrich's Law is a warning against

letting minor errors pile up.

Taking a heavier hand to prevent accidents is elementary.

"So let's do a mission right now. Let's do it ourselves."

"Commander?"

Vice Commander Weiss is interrupting me? Am I repeating myself too much? I feel

rather hesitant, but something from my education at the military academy crosses my

mind: Never waver in front of subordinates. But I'd rather regret doing something than

aimlessly doing nothing.

Having made up her mind, she just barely maintains her unconcerned expression and

glances around. Well, the battalion personnel don't seem to be so sick of my insistent

confirmations. People who value the basics are the kind of talent I wish I could just

put in my pocket.

"Let's show the Empire how great their watchdog is."

I make sure it registers. Basically, the army is an instrument of violence that serves as

a watchdog. We need to show that we have no intention of bucking the state's control.

You never know whose eyes might be out there glinting as they watch.

It's good to appeal to their loyalty to a slightly underhanded degree. It's a million times

better to have them laughing at me than putting them on their guard and trapping myself. Besides, I can just give anyone who laughs a beating.

"Let's teach those rats that no matter where they run we'll be on their tails."

Let's think a step further. I'm acting like Tsuji right now. Would anyone with common

sense like him? Fat chance. I have the feeling they probably hated him. Why? Because

he would act without consulting anyone?

…Of course. If a sensible person like me had a subordinate like Tsuji, they would stand

him up before a firing squad. After all, he was the kind of guy who'd go making his own

arbitrary decisions. How useless can you get?

And does my vice commander have common sense? In other words, has he concluded

that I'm a Tsuji who might go on a rampage?

Well, that's no good. I'm actually a sensible person who feels shame. I don't want to

make decisions on my own and then shove the responsibility onto others. Plus,

following rules is the meaning of my existence. I don't break them; I find loopholes!

"Lieutenant, we're being transferred to the Rhine. Some of you have fond memories

there. Yes, gentlemen, the Rhine!"

Sweating bullets at this misunderstanding, Tanya racks her brain. Honestly, I want to

avoid being seen like Tsuji, General Brute-Guchi, and those guys. If Lieutenant Weiss

thinks of me like that, I'll need to have a talk with him.

Though brooding inside, she concentrates on getting through the current moment.

"The Rhine?"

"Well, we'll be in a rush, but they're expecting a lot out of us. We're going to do a

counterclockwise sweep of the battlefield."

We just bop the guys who have the gall to show up. That's it.

We don't get paid to do more. There's also the idea of working hard to get promotions,

but in the army, getting promoted doesn't always mean you'll be happy. As long as

that's the case, I'd like to cut off my efforts where my pay grade ends. Why in the world

is this happening? No, I know Being X is at the root of this, Tanya laments. I think twice

about acting too much like Tsuji.

Next time maybe I should speak frankly with my troops. Should I ask Serebryakov

what they think of me? Or should I ask Weiss how they're doing?

"So?"

"Yes, but before that, we're going to play a little game of marine mages. Rejoice. The

navy has better food, right?"

But that's a job for later. For now, I have one piece of good news that is worth telling

them. Navy meals are much higher quality than the army's. The navy lambastes the

army for spending too much on "hardware," and frankly, the army can't deny it—

because on the "software" side, the navy surpasses the army with their quality food.

From a welfare standpoint, the navy is certainly a much more desirable workplace.

"Huh?"

"Courtesy of Colonel von Lergen. We're going to go help out the fleet."

-x-X-x-

JANUARY 18, UNIFIED YEAR 1925, IMPERIAL NAVY, NORTHERN SEA FLEET

COMMAND'S EXERCISE AREA 2

-x-X-x-

At one hundred feet.

Scowling at the spray, Major von Degurechaff gives the order for boarding assault

formation. The idea is to practically skim the water without dropping their speed and

charge their target. Responding to her directions, the companies all get into

formations that support one another.

Beneath her serious expression, however, Tanya is shocked… They were told they'd be

flying into anti–air fire, so despite it being an exercise, she expected an appropriate

interception. Instead, she is compelled to worry. Are they actually shooting? She's

puzzled by the weak intercepting fire. Surely, they're going to fire on us, even though

it's an exercise.

We're performing an attack on a ship using visual combat maneuvers with a clear

view. According to the scenario, we've already deployed a smoke screen to foil the

intercepting fire. Tanya hides in the smoke and gets down to business, finding it

disappointingly easy to reach boarding distance.

"Enemy mage incoming on the starboard side! Prepare for a close-quarters fight!

Anyone not occupied, come starboard!"

A few petty officers on deck begin moving to handle the situation, but they're

hopelessly slow. It's already too late. Once you let a mage get this close, you can't avoid

a fight on deck. Maybe they weren't expecting it, but this is still pathetic.

Inside, she wonders: Is this a trap? Like the wily ones people used to plan back in the

age of sailing ships? I'm pretty sure I've read nautical novels where confusion on the

deck turns out to be a trick.

But no matter how I look at it, the opponents running hither and thither everywhere

I can see seem a bit too inexperienced. The deck may be narrow, but I even see some

sailors tripping. If that's acting, they would have had to spend an awful lot of time

training to fall so naturally.

"Magic blades up! Company, on me!"

Anyhow, leading the charge again, Tanya has no choice but to maintain her speed

perfectly and swoop in. She even deploys an interference formula right into the

panicking cluster of sailors.

As some of them go flying, the sailors grow even more confused, and the marine unit

that came running gets caught up in the mess. The rest of my company coming after

me hinders the marines' efforts to restore discipline. They miss their chance to stop

us, too busy with the exchange of checking fire.

"Don't let up! Keep shooting!"

"Fix bayonets! All hands, fix bayonets!"

A handful of officers and sailors just barely manage to fight back, but they're not

enough to keep the force of the attack at bay.

Tanya and her company easily break through their defense. Then they stab the second

bridge's soft shrapnel shielding and cling to it with their magic blades. We didn't slow

down at all; one of the internal frames probably got dented.

Watching us come in is probably freaky as hell.

"Land and capture! Go, go, go!"

Even though they smashed into them pretty much head-on, the members of the 203rd

Battalion are enthusiasm incarnate.

With brisk movements, they promptly establish a bridgehead. From there, they set

about taking the main areas of the boat. Though outnumbered, their coordination

keeps everyone well-covered.

"Destroy the anti–air gun mounts! Take the next set of points!"

"Gunners, don't let them get any closer!"

"We're taking the second bridge back. Form an assault team around the marine unit."

It takes a little while, but they manage to finish setting up their counterattack team

consisting chiefly of marines.

We may be a battalion, but our strength is our mobility, and that can't be used to its

fullest in the closed space of a ship's interior. That's why the marines and marine

mages are able to put up a fierce fight inside.

"Here's the counterattack! Marines!"

"Dump 'em overboard! Get rid of 'em."

But the members of the 203rd Battalion capture point after point with surprising

efficiency.

Normally, mages focus on mobile battles and aerial maneuvers and tend not to be so

great at close-quarters fighting. The vanguard might be different, but the members in

the rear usually have a hard time with it. But training is about eliminating weak areas.

"Show them what the marines are made of! Don't let those landlubbers think they're

so tough!"

"The next group has arrived! I'm sending them in now!"

And so the 203rd Battalion and the marines, each with their own take on closequarters combat, clash and refuse to give any ground. The marines have a slightly better position, but the situation is fluid.

As both sides struggle to make their next move, the follow-up company lands.

We shall be victorious. Major von Degurechaff and the company commanders grin.

Meanwhile, the marines who had allowed reinforcements to arrive display their

disgrace in their expressions. They're running out of fighting resources to tap into.

Sailors would be some help, but they can't be pulled off the cannons. They hesitate

slightly, and their actions get delayed.

"All unoccupied personnel, prepare for hand-to-hand combat! We're going to drive

them off this ship!"

Still, if the bridges, engine block, and magazine get captured, your ship is done no

matter how much you have left to throw at the enemy.

It's that crisis that makes them hesitate a bit before they scrape together what muscle

they can for a counterattack.

The captain issues the order to gather up any spare fighting power. And when it comes

down to it, a ship has quite a lot of personnel on board. Though it isn't their primary

task, sailors can shoot guns. The mobilized officers and petty officers form provisional

naval brigades and start to reinforce the marines.

It was hopeless to begin with. Their idea is to push and push till they push us off the

boat. It's quite simple, but it's still a valid attack plan for the narrow space inside the

ship. If this is all, though, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion can push right back.

Humming, I cheerfully lay down a smoke screen, and just as the cunning fire from the

attacking side has distracted the defenders—

"All hands, I don't care if they're marines! Teach them what a bad idea it is to mount a

frontal attack on my battalion! Remember that the useless ones who die in war get

sent to hell!"

With that shout, she attacks in a flash to bring the fight into close quarters.

The pressure of two companies is hitting the resistance hard.

Just as the sailors begin to retreat from the mages and their ogre-like game faces,

Tanya takes a small unit on a detour.

While everyone is focused on the fierce fighting inside the ship, she seizes the opening

and launches a sneak attack on the port side.

"We're pincered?! Shit! Move some of the crew to the port side!"

"They're all confused?! Success! Major von Degurechaff got around behind them! Now

we destroy them!"

Our opponents look ready to run once they've been pincered, but we don't let them.

Each company commander works to improve their results. The iron law of war is the

harmony of impact and confusion.

Break their composure, disrupt their discipline, and then crush them.

Chaos is spreading on the defensive side between the rear attack, pulled off efficiently

in loyal accordance with the principles of war, and the intensifying frontal attack. Just

like we wanted.

An intense impact crushes the marines faster than they can close gaps and rebuild the

interception line.

"We're clear."

"Us too."

Directly after that, Tanya gives each company their own target as she mops up the

defenders, who are no longer able to operate in an organized way. "Good. First

Company, to the bridge. Follow me. Second and Third Companies, go to the engines.

Fourth Company, to the magazine. Capture your objectives quickly." After eliminating

the main enemy resistance force, we need to gain control of the key parts of the ship.

The plan is to approach each area in order by sweeping outward from captured

locations. We manage to maintain speed by going around any pockets of enemy

resistance, and the decision to share the burden across the battalion is implemented

with high standards.

Once the ship side realizes that we've stormed the critical areas, they give up resisting.

Discipline has collapsed inside, and the sailors look like they're about to flee. At the

same time, their pretend enemy joins up with reinforcements and seems ready for

more. The defense's fighting force is already practically nonexistent, and their methods of resistance are limited. They're forced to gracefully admit their defeat to

the referees.

"Okay, rush them in your two-man cells. Vanguard troops, brace yourselves!"

"Major von Degurechaff, that's enough, that's enough."

The message comes just as she's about to step onto the bridge.

For the referees, who were forced to follow all those insane maneuvers, the end

couldn't have come soon enough. Honestly, so many things had gone through their

minds when she told them to come with her because she was going to seize the second

bridge.

"The exercise is over! I say again, the exercise is over!"

The call ending the game echoes throughout the ship over the loudspeakers.

Hearing this, though they're concerned about all the things on the ship that were

damaged, everyone is finally able to relax. It had been a rare joint combat simulation.

Many things were broken, but there hadn't been any accidents.

"All right, stupid corpses, you can move now."

All the sailors and marines who were judged dead and ordered to lie still, facedown,

sluggishly get to their feet.

We may have been using exercise-grade rubber bullets and low-power explosion

formulas, but that doesn't mean they feel good.

Some of the injured even have to go to the infirmary to get treated by a surgeon.

For example, take the sailors who were unlucky enough to get caught up in the firefight

between the 203rd Battalion and the marines. They said that, despite ducking down,

they came out of it worse for wear because stray bullets kept hitting them.

Although such bad luck was rare, no small number of people were hurt in the melee

on the interior of the ship. A team of medics and surgeons was on call and prepared

for efficient intake, but I imagine the infirmary will still be crowded for a while.

And in the midst of all that hustle and bustle, Magic Major Tanya von Degurechaff is in

the wardroom, which has already been picked up. Although it's small, some thought

was put into the design, so the atmosphere is relaxing. It's now packed full of officers.

In her hand is a cup of coffee she was given; it's supposedly better than the stuff the

army serves. Something smells faintly like baked goods. Surely only in the navy, where

they're allowed to bring their own rations and cookies, can you enjoy that.

Naturally, we're not just having a tea party for no reason. After the exercise, it's time

for the main event.

"Very well, let's review the full fleet close-quarters exercise."

The seamen have been permitted port and starboard liberty and raced off to the PX

still in a holiday mood now boosted by post-exercise cheer, but unlike them, the

officers' real work begins now. We have to go through the referees' commentary and

the reports from each unit commander to find areas of improvement and reflect on

what happened so we can put the lessons to use in actual combat.

This time was different from the usual exercise in that it included a boarding scenario

that aimed to be extremely realistic. But to only do that would be a waste.

"First of all, it's still early in the year, but I think we can say that this exercise was

meaningful."

The all-important ratings showed that the participants thought the exercise was

worth doing.

The navy, who provided the base and ship as the venue, are desperate for anti-mage

combat experience; they can never get enough. Although their main job is countership warfare, they've learned through battle that marine mages can't be ignored.

But they never have enough marine mages for an exercise, and how few mages they

do have allotted internally is a matter of constant contention. Yes, the borderlineoverworked marine mages are in such great demand that they don't have the

wherewithal to participate in war games. And so, the navy was thrilled to have this

joint exercise to gain some of that missing experience.

At the same time, Tanya herself and the 203rd Battalion had little experience with

anti-ship combat or battles to capture ships, so the exercise was in their interest as

well. More than anything, it was what the General Staff wanted. They had no choice but to participate. That notwithstanding, it was still a useful experience.

And when the referees said it was meaningful, they meant it. When it comes to results,

although they were up against particularly elite mages, building some experience

handling that situation was clearly valuable for the navy.

"All right. First some complaints from Captain Gra n of the warship used in the exercise,

Basel."

Captain Gra n stands and bows to Major von Degurechaff. "…To be blunt, you creamed

us. And on top of that, the year has only just started, and we've taken all kinds of

damage." His expression is somewhat resigned as he acknowledges his ship's defeat.

No one died during the exercise, but that didn't mean the ship wasn't laid to waste.

It was more than a few broken windows. The formulas and grenades may have been

exercise-grade, but they were still hurled all over the place. Naturally, the crew did

cleanup as an exercise in damage control, but still.

"Damage control went fairly well. The crew was able to make prompt repairs."

The results were all right. They could at least be satisfied with them. There were no

issues during the operation inspection after interior maintenance was performed,

mainly on the engines.

…That said, although the damage isn't bad enough that the ships need to be docked,

there are a number of repairs that need to be made—broken glass exchanged, dents

fixed, and so on—that will take some time.

Luckily, it'll be patched up by the time the Entente Alliance ships have to leave the

neutral port, but the captain still isn't happy about it.

As such, Major von Degurechaff bows as well. Honestly, it might be a bit weird that the

child among all these adults is the one being so considerate. It might be weird, but I

guess I just have to go with it, since it's better than being seen as uncaring.

"Our most urgent task is to reevaluate our anti–air fire. I can't believe we didn't even

graze the incoming mages." He looks like he wants to rough up the men of his who

boasted that they wouldn't let the mages anywhere near the ship.

The gunners who upset him are sure to be trained extra hard for some time. Still, everyone is relieved that they learned their lesson in an exercise rather than in actual

combat.

The observing captains are also sure to tighten up their training regimens in the same

way. If things go downhill when the enemy reaches a ship, then they have to drive the

enemy off before that happens. Learning that is a great outcome for the exercise.

"Major von Degurechaff, do you have any suggestions for improvement from the

attacking side?"

"I believe the fundamental problem is a lack of firepower. I can't imagine anything but

a dense barrage of anti–air fire will prevent an approach." Tanya, who was actually one

of the mages to so easily break through their defense, has an even simpler opinion—

the utterly straightforward one that they don't have enough guns.

Tanya would tell you that if intercepting is a matter of probability, the only way to raise

the probability is to increase the density of anti–air fire. The idea for this comes from

the simple knowledge that at the end of their trials and errors, the navies of countries

outside this world all went running for the solution of adding more anti–air fire. If you

don't outfit ships like porcupines, they'll be vulnerable to an attack from the sky.

Plus, Tanya adds in her head, even the aircraft carriers the Americans used near the end

of World War II that supposedly had great anti-aircraft fire couldn't completely stop a

certain all-in approach taken on the assumption of not returning.

"Basel has some of the most powerful anti–air cannons out of all our existing capital

ships."

To someone who doesn't know yet, charging a ship with a mountain of autocannons

seems like suicide.

The navy officer who brought it up, looking confused, seems to have done so because

he thought the ship had enough firepower.

And it's not such an outlandish thing to believe.

It's a practical truth that human beings, while intending to take in things objectively,

only accept what they themselves can understand subjectively. In a surprise twist,

Lippmann's "stereotype" paradoxically describes how far the human intellect can

expand.

A warship with a pile of autocannons is a floating fortress. Among them, Basel boasts

outstanding defensive firepower, so the question arises: Isn't that enough? To the

officers in attendance, it's a natural question. Or at least to them, it's not a strange one.

"From the point of view of the attacker, it's not much of a threat." But Tanya puts an

end to it easily. "To be honest, it really wasn't even an obstacle." That matter-of-fact

murmur is significant. She has hinted that anti–air fire is not actually an efficient

defense against attacks from the sky. All the Northern Sea Fleet Command, previously

lacking in anti-mage combat and exercise experience, can do is register anew what a

threat mages are.

Still, that's just the opinion of one major, and they would like to hear from a third party

who participated in the assault. The head referee gathers that and discreetly eyes the

referee in charge of the attacking side.

The referee takes the hint and begins giving his general opinion. "I agree with Major

von Degurechaff. I accompanied her on the charge and was surprised to find the firing

line not so imposing." But contrary to most of the officers' hopes, he essentially repeats

what Tanya said. "Overall, I'm forced to say that our current anti–air fire is about as

useful as a bunch of firecrackers."

"…Our defensive firepower is that weak?" The claim is that they have been

overestimating their defense, and in response the officers ask a question that shows

their consternation: Is it really, honestly that weak?

"Yes, we're lacking even more than I expected. In order to halt approaches, we need to

increase the number of guns until the ships are like porcupines."

The reply from the second referee is simple and leaves no room for misunderstanding.

"I agree. And we should be adding not just 20 mm autocannons but 40 mm as well."

Tanya concurs more strongly than anyone. She believes the American military

provided the best example of ideal anti–air fire.

In this world, it's completely unheard of, but it's already been proven in combat. She

indirectly proposes the innovation as her own contribution, albeit dispassionately.

"What do you mean?"

"This is just my opinion, but 20 mm are for short-range defense; in order to create a

multilayered interception shield, I strongly recommend adding midrange guns," Tanya

answers. From what she can tell, the 20 mm guns have the advantage when it comes

to handling and speed, but in terms of range and power, they're weaker. It's logical to

add 40 mm autocannons for intercepting at midrange.

Most importantly, mage defensive shells and aircraft have no chance of withstanding

a 40 mm shell.

From the attacking point of view, capturing a warship with multibarrel gun

emplacements all over like a porcupine would be a difficult task.

"If possible, I'd like to focus on numbers. We probably need ten times the current

amount."

"Captain Gra n, what do you think?"

"…It's an interesting suggestion, but we can't change the number of cannons without

doing major overhauls, such as removing the secondary guns on the flanks."

"To go a step further, I would say that secondary guns are worse than useless. We need

to increase the priority of air defense." Tanya knows it's disrespectful, but she sees a

chance for the navy to take a decisive step forward and chimes in. After all, she knows

the era of aerial warfare better than anyone here. She's sure the time will come when

warships will be assigned to aircraft carriers as direct support.

Really, she would like to urge them to change the doctrine from obsessing about big

ships with big guns to focusing on their air forces as their main power. Incidentally,

she's also a believer in fire action and values warship cannons for their supporting

fire.

That said, even one-shot lighters were able to send the then state-of-the-art Prince of

Wales and the Repulse, which had been reconstructed for the modern era, to join the

seaweed. Of course, we should concentrate on removing the secondary guns already

and increasing the amount of high-angle guns and other autocannon emplacements.

She also knows that until a comparable incident occurs, it will be difficult to convince

the ship warfare–oriented navy to accept an air force–centric doctrine.

At the time, the fleet's original mission was set as counter-ship combat, and the use of mages was not yet so widespread. I've heard that requests for vessels to be upgraded

for anti-mage and anti–air combat began pouring in this year as a countermeasure.

Honestly, everyone still thinks mages fight on land.

Computation orb functionality and aircraft specs are both improving. As a result, the

idea that maybe orbs and planes might be threats is only just starting to spread.

Only someone who understands the history of how aviation advanced by leaps and

bounds during the Second World War can understand. Until then, no one had dreamed

war would drive scientific and technological advances like it does.

"Hmm. It's not that we're taking air defense lightly, but…"

"We'll have to think about it if issues arise fighting off other ships."

In truth, even officers who are far from inept have deeply rooted views. Ships are

equipped to counter ships because the navy can't escape the instinct to keep their

original counter-ship combat mission in mind.

And thinking in terms of counter-ship doctrine, they'd like to keep their secondary

guns. Though the importance of being equipped for close-quarters fighting has

lessened, the need to fight off torpedo boats and destroyers, which do press in to

attack, is a factor that can't be ignored to them.

"We'll have to discuss it with Technology. Please let navy command and the

Technology Department handle this issue."

In the end, the conclusion is not to reject the idea but take it under advisement, which

essentially means to shelve it. Well, in a way, by saying her piece Tanya has done her

duty. After all, it's no skin off her back if the anti–air fire isn't strengthened.

As long as it's not a ship I'm on, where it sinks has nothing to do with me. Besides, the

Empire is a continental state, not a maritime state.

Without breathing a word of any of that, she camouflages herself with a sober attitude,

but she is in utter earnest. The best thing for ensuring my own survival is training my

troops.

Of course, she is passionate about identifying issues in this postmortem. Well, she has

to be. She believes that preventing mistakes is best.

"All right. Are there any other remarks from the attacking side?"

"I would say there are cooperation problems."

"Of what sort?"

"The marines and sailors don't seem to be very well coordinated. I felt like the disorder

of the sailors was tripping up the marines."

She had noticed it on her approach—the deck was a real mess. Her impression was

that the two different corps had trouble working together.

If they had been units stationed there today, below-par coordination would be

understandable, but for units that are shipmates, it's a bit problematic. From what I

could tell, it seemed like the marines felt their job consisted of ground and landing

battles.

Of course, I can't deny that those are their primary duties, but we don't want them to

suck at fighting on board a ship. And the confusion and failure to cooperate with

sailors is completely unacceptable. In an organization where sales and systems

engineering become estranged, they have to compensate with a death march. In the

military, the death in death march is literal.

Considering that I could end up a casualty of poor cooperation between our own

troops, it's absolutely critical to suggest an improvement. Having reached this quite

reasonable conclusion, albeit via a selfish argument, Tanya speaks eloquently on the

necessity of increased coordination. Her idea at its root is self-preservation, but at the

same time, she's altruistic; it can't be said that she isn't acting with the aim to benefit

the majority.

And that attitude, for the good of the majority, leads to a proposal that is acceptable

by the whole.

Probably everyone was vaguely aware of the poor cooperation. The head referee

questions the concerned party. Naturally, he does it in a way that is sensitive to their

sense of honor. "I see. What do the marines think about this?"

"I'm embarrassed to admit that we haven't trained much with fighting on ships in

mind. I acknowledge the need for retraining."

In response to the comment from the marines, Tanya declares her unit's need for more

training as well. "After having actually fought inside a ship, I think my unit is lacking

experience, too."

She's half using inadequate training as an excuse; though the 203rd Aerial Mage

Battalion is elite, the group is made up entirely of mages, and their lack of knowledge

of other fields is a real problem.

That's why Tanya hopes to do joint training with the marines, who have the most

experience on this front.

You can't hesitate to borrow wisdom from experts if you want to stay alive. The plan

for what happens next can come after you survive.

If this meeting runs long enough, the navy will feed us dinner—that is, the good food

that navy officers get. It's no problem at all if the exercise schedule takes more time

than planned.

In this way, Tanya continues her hard work, cultivating a heartening friendship with

the navy while keeping an eye on her next battlefield—though it runs against her own

thinking—and thus she takes one step after another toward victory.