Part 2

THE SAME DAY, IMPERIAL ARMY CAMP

-x-X-x-

"Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha! Ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Hearing that laugh, the unlucky noncommissioned officers who were also in the armored vehicle grimaced.

Well, anyone has the right to grimace if their high-ranking commander bursts out laughing when they're surrounded.

If he's gone insane, this is going to suck. There was nothing terribly strange about their feelings.

Normally, Romel would have been considerate and held his laughter in. But for today, he just laughed and laughed, more than you would think a person could.

"Ah, this is truly amusing. Way to go, Major!"

Just this once, Romel couldn't stop laughing. The scene before his eyes had made a tremendous impact that warranted the reaction.

He thought he could control her somewhat on a leash, but actually, she was much more effective when he let her go. She must have caught a whiff of something—that's why she wanted to go on recon so late!

He was grateful that she had seen through the enemy ruse and alerted him the Republicans were on their way before the main forces encountered them.

Thanks to that, he was able to prepare to face a superior enemy.

At the same time, if there were units outside the encirclement, you'd think they would aim to withdraw. But he felt stupid about thinking that when he saw what was happening.

"Is she—is she retreating forward?! I have to laugh. Major von Degurechaff 's maneuvers are incredible!"

He had been puzzled when he heard the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion was engaging the enemy's right flank. How much will it really do when their encirclement is almost complete? At that moment, he had resigned himself to losing the entire army.

He figured the 203rd Battalion's efforts would only lengthen the time it would take to wipe them out and had even been considering ways to withdraw. If we do everything we can, maybe some units can escape, and if we're lucky, maybe we can sow the seeds of a defensive line reorg.

So it took him a minute to understand that Degurechaff had broken off combat and charged straight into the center of the enemy formations. He didn't realize it wasn't a charge of resignation and self-sacrifice until the confusion in the center of the Free Republican Army gradually spread and enemy movements grew sluggish.

Directly after that, he finally got his answer as to her objective. Surprisingly, striking the right flank was a total diversion. Her real aim was the enemy's main force that he was facing with his troops. And her even bigger ulterior motive was to attack enemy command directly. That was her plan.

"She turned this fight around using maneuvers and securing local superiority!"

She was just like a magician. To an ally, she's surely an evil-crushing shield of White Silver. But to headquarters, she's a mad dog indeed! Oh, she will achieve so much more off the leash.

This had to be a headache for a proud general. A proud general wouldn't want to admit that someone of a lower rank, and a child, at that, was better than them at war, but who would?

"Ahh, so that's why most generals can't figure out what to do with her. No one likes a hunting dog who's smarter than the hunter…"

She's too talented to be a mere field officer. Any superior officer would have a hard time with her as a subordinate.

She might even be too much for me to handle.

I understand very well now why the General Staff, no, the Western Army Group, gave her the authority to act independently. She's a frightfully competent hunting dog.

Thanks to her shaking off enemy reinforcements and ripping through their headquarters, the enemy was in a panic. The Imperial Army, supposedly surrounded by the remnants of the Republican Army, had managed to maintain an organized combat unit, and the situation was now such that it could make a breakthrough.

They were free to push forward or retreat.

And in fact, since the flanks couldn't do much due to the confusion in the center, they could even resurrect their initial plan to take them all out.

We can do this. Romel smiled ferociously.

"Hit the enemy's left flank! This is a mobile air battle! Hit their left flank and drive straight through their central forces!"

They would leave the disordered right flank alone for the moment.

And the connecting unit in the center had fallen into disarray following Degurechaff's attack. Romel saw immediately that the left flank was what remained.

Though it was currently isolated from its chain of command, the left flank actually had

the most organized fighting power left. He would attack it with not a moment to lose.

In order to do that, he needed all the military strength they had. What should I do? he started to wonder but realized he didn't actually have enough troops to think that hard.

"The light division should defend our position! All the rest of you, get on the left flank! Crush that left flank!"

Having decided to leave the greenest of his light divisions to hold down their position, he would take the rest of his forces to clash with the left flank in an attempt to bring down the encirclement and take out their enemies.

If they did that, they would at least be able to secure a retreat. It would probably be possible to deal quite a blow if they hit them while they were already confused.

That he had been able to make such a judgment so quickly was a testament to Romel's unusual talent.

At least, maintaining an orderly resistance while encircled was praiseworthy. Once he had a course of action, he moved quickly.

"Tell the major she can do whatever she wants."

And then, no one knew if it was for better or worse, but he let go of the leash. The Chihuahua on the other end was probably cute and lovable.

But on the battlefield, he needed the wild hunting dog. And she could wreak way more havoc on the enemy if she and her battalion didn't conform to the norms.

That was how it seemed to him, so he did it to reach his goals. "Huh? Are you sure, sir?"

"With that one, there's nothing better than to let her do her thing. Hunting should be left up to the hunting dog, right?"

When commanding a corps the same size as his enemy's, Romel himself had no intention of losing to anyone. He could probably even take on Degurechaff just fine. He

was fairly confident of his ability to wage maneuver warfare on the operational level.

But he understood that when it came to running a battalion, he was inferior. Or perhaps more importantly, he had to accept that he would never be as good as her at sensing the time to fight.

The opportunity she seized with her brisk maneuvering was such a brief instant that though I could see it from afar, I couldn't grasp it.

In any case, the more you try to control her, the more energy you waste. She and her battalion really are war's hunting dogs. They're cavalry officers of ancient times, the real deal. They know when, where, and how to go charging in.

They could take prey without you teaching them how. So rather than risk them forgetting how by training them, it was much more logical to let them run wild.

"More importantly, hurry up and get ready for a penetrating raid! Get on the Republican guns before they regain discipline!"

He could think about how to use Degurechaff and the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion later on. Now it was most important to take care of the immediate situation.

If we don't crush the Republican artillery, we'll be caught in a one-sided barrage. If I don't seize this chance, I'll be the most inept of the inepts. I have no interest in being mocked by history as an incompetent general who wasted the hard work of his fellow soldiers.

"Understood! Right away!"

Praise be to the skirmishers and their crisp movements.

Look how briskly they move, even under these trying circumstances. Those are veterans of the Rhine, all right. Even if their units are undermanned, they're more useful since they don't hesitate. A soldier who can move is better than one who can't.

Once the light division acclimates, they'll be a bit more helpful. I'm glad they've at least been learning some fighting techniques.

"Gather all the remaining gunners together! I don't want to get caught 'round the back! As soon as you're done attacking the artillery, blast the hell out of the enemies in the

center. No limit this time on the amount of shells you can use! Just shoot like crazy!" "If we're trying to keep them in check, do we really need that many?"

"We can't bring the artillery on the charge. Plus, the light division staying to hold our current position needs backup. Now, get going!"

But surely, they couldn't be expected to defend on their own. They were liable to collapse if he left them surrounded and alone. That would affect all the units charging, too.

Speed was paramount in a maneuver battle. In order to minimize the time the most vulnerable unit would be exposed, he'd have to make soldiers run.

At that point, they really couldn't take the artillery with them. Then the only thing to do was have them put their firepower on display once they had taken up their position. Artillery employed in a practical way can be useful for both offense and defense, no doubt about it. Firing, distracting, defending—they do it all. If the troops left the guns as a trick up their sleeve, the defensive position could be defended while they fought the maneuver battle.

There was hope. Yes, a path had opened.

"It's a race against time. Be quick! Gentlemen, move out! Put the armored unit out front!"

"Sorry, sir. Right away, sir."

The existence of a light at the end of the tunnel reinvigorated HQ. It was a brilliant transformation, as if their monochrome world suddenly had color again. And he, Romel, was no exception. Though they were surrounded, Romel was in high spirits. Strangely enough, it seemed like things would work out somehow. With this operation and the tireless fighting of his subordinates, they would turn the tables and the feeling was… Man, this feels so great.

If the gods exist, they sure work in mysterious ways.

"Ha-ha-ha! I can't make fun of the major. It does feel good to turn the tables. All right, let's scare the living daylights out of 'em."

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! What a surprise!" "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Indeed!"

At Republican headquarters…

The normally tranquil albeit stuffy room was wrapped in an unusual atmosphere. The tense staffers were watching the two high-ranking officers in the middle of the room who had big, empty grins on their faces.

One was their commander, General de Lugo. The other was the officer regarded as the toughest, most experienced veteran of all of them, Colonel Vianto.

Their most senior commander and the veteran they were supposed to be able to rely on burst out laughing. On a battlefield, there is no greater fear. When the two people who should have been their core cracked up instead of coping with the crisis, the staffers wondered, Have they gone insane? with a shudder, and their faces all twitched.

So for a short while, the staffers were faced with the grave dilemma of whether or not to call a medical officer.

Paying no mind to the confusion around them, de Lugo and Vianto continued to laugh. What's so funny? As some of the staffers watched very, very closely, they realized the laugh was almost their way of saying, Who cares? and that they, too, had no choice but to follow suit.

And after the laughter had run its course, they spat: "This reality is a goddamn joke." That was their complaint against the absurd situation in which they found themselves.

They had been completely confident that their battle formation would lead to victory. It was a simple operation that required only sticking to theory: Apply pressure on the surrounded Imperial Army from three directions.

The Free Republican Army was structured in such a way that prebattle forecasts indicated it could win against the Imperial Army. Was… It had to be discussed in past tense.

"Did they— Did they seriously overturn our strategy with an operational-level power move? They've got some balls."

Now their plans had been completely obliterated—even though they hadn't made any mistakes on the strategic level. As a result of tactical maneuvers performed during operations, their strategic advantage was overcome. Theoretically, that shouldn't happen. But in reality, the situation they prepared for had been reversed.

After attacking the right flank, the enemy regiment essentially traded places with the reinforcements to assault the central forces.

The unit directly under Vianto was out intercepting, but surprisingly, the moment the enemies made contact, they began to retreat. Just like that, the Republicans couldn't stop them with their elite group, but neither could they organize a united resistance.

If the enemy was coming at them on the offensive, some could pin them down and the main group could strike the rest of the imperial forces.

But if the enemy was retreating, they had to attack.

Naturally, that made the logic work in reverse. Still, they couldn't just leave them be. They had to do something.

But in their situation, they didn't have many options to choose from.

The disorder on the right flank was unbearable, and the left flank was in a furious battle against the main enemy force attempting their breakthrough. When the battle was going in such a direction, they couldn't permit a regiment of mages to do as they pleased.

And then—

They could hardly believe it.

The possibility had crossed everyone's mind, but they had dismissed it as unfeasible.

"The enemy mages have broken into multiple groups?! They—they're pulling back around, and fast!"

They were all suddenly speechless.

Of all the—

Is that even possible?

The scene was a vivid reminder of the gap in ability between the two sides. ""It's like they're playing tag with us.""

Just as the pair said, it happened the instant the intercepting unit hesitatingly gave pursuit. The imperial forces smashed through as if they had been waiting for the slightest disruption in the lines.

Since both sides were accelerating past each other, they should have been able to turn and fire, but they were going so fast it made combat difficult. Vianto's mages attacked anyway and barely grazed the enemy, but the imperial mages nailed a handful of Republican mages.

"Agh, send out the reserve unit! Pincer the enemy with the intercepting unit!"

From a simple, bird's-eye view of the shape of things, the charging imperial forces were surrounded by several mages. At a glance, their encirclement and annihilation was only a matter of time. There were almost no gaps to escape through, and the Republican mage units were numerically superior as they closed in.

But to someone actually in that fight, the situation looked totally different.

The enemy ripped right through the surrounding mages. As if laughing at the Republicans' numerical advantage, the imperial mages abruptly overwhelmed them with firepower and mobility. It was like a bad dream.

Then, as if sneering at the Republic's attempt to suppress them, they made a crazy beeline for de Lugo's headquarters.

"It's no good! They're too fast!" someone cried.

They were, indeed, too fast. Before the reserves could get in the air, before the pursuing unit could catch up, they had reached their target.

They had charged all the way over there to eliminate a single person.

But Vianto, at least, had been secretly preparing for this possibility. I'm going to prevent a repeat of what happened on the Rhine front no matter what it takes!

"Hurry and get counter-mage defenses up! A direct hit is coming! Take shelter! HQ personnel, take shelter!"

Ignoring the uproar around them, Vianto started to shove de Lugo into a dugout. But when he sensed there wasn't enough time, he didn't hesitate. He promptly kicked de Lugo in and dove on top of him as a shield. The staffers who piled in immediately after him were lucky. Right as all of them knocked together in the dugout—

"Ngh!"

Someone shouted a warning in a quaking voice, and everyone went prone by conditioned response. The moment they instinctively, almost in a trance, ducked their heads, partially opened their mouths, and covered their ears, their eardrums endured a roaring blast.

And what met their eyes when they looked up was the area HQ used to be, the aftermath of the mages' flyby. In addition to a smattering of antipersonnel explosion formulas, they had attacked with grenades and fifty-kilo bombs.

As those in the dugout looked on, the imperial mages shook off the defending anti–air fire with ease and picked off pursuing Republican mages.

The dogged pursuit continued, yet despite the strenuous efforts of the defending mages, the enemy broke free as the Republican leaders watched from the dugout.

Most of the staffers were stupefied by that brief moment. The enemy attacked and left, and they hadn't been able to do a thing.

So those are imperial mages. Those are the guys who raged across the Rhine front. The shock was so much that the vast majority of the staffers had frozen, but Vianto, one of the few exceptions, began taking stock of the damage.

The headquarters had taken direct hits with mage formulas and was destroyed. In that state, all its equipment had to be ruined. Their only choice was to use the backup command post. I sure am glad we made a backup.

"…Are you all right, General?"

"By the protection of the Holy Mother! A little later and we would have been in trouble! I never thought the day would come I'd be glad to have a subordinate who would kick

me without hesitating!"

Most importantly, the general was alive.

Luckily, it should probably be said, de Lugo escaped with only bruises from when he dove, or rather was kicked, into the dugout. No one blamed Vianto for them, though, because he had averted catastrophe.

Still, even if their courage was feigned, they were calm enough to joke about it.

Vianto determined they had dodged the worst-case scenario. He remembered the crisis of defeat, the shock at hearing their headquarters on the Rhine had been blown away. They couldn't let that happen again.

Still, when he noticed de Lugo had his eyes squeezed shut like he was praying, he wasn't surprised—he had been terrified himself.

After all, the Republican Army had nearly been decapitated again. On the Rhine, their response had been delayed because it was new to them, but this time they narrowly escaped making the same mistake.

It was probably due to protection from God. He thought of the future of the fatherland, the pride of the Republic that would be passed on. Their determination to maintain that radiant glory, even if it was just an afterglow, was just barely getting them through this crisis.

"What's the damage?"

"Things are a mess, but we can still manage to call it minimal. Shall we withdraw?" They could still fight. At least, they could still crush them in the next round.

This was the southern continent—not the Empire's home base but the territory of the Republic and the Commonwealth.

Our odds in a long fight aren't bad. In that case, it's probably best to conserve our troops and go back to wearing down the enemy.

With those thoughts, de Lugo decided to minimize their losses and withdraw.

Yes, this time they lost. He felt that. They got us. But as a strategist, he had already accepted it and put it behind him.

"Ahh, there's nothing we can do about this… We retreat! We retreat and watch for our chance to make a comeback. Notify all units to withdraw. They're absolutely not to chase any farther. We need to reposition ourselves."

If a battle broke out, they wouldn't be able to win anyway, so the answer was to not fight.

They would lure the enemy into a battle of attrition and grind them down. The fact that they had survived was already a turning point.

He and the Republic would not lose. All they had to do was be standing on their two feet at the end of the war. In short, that was what victory was to the Republic.

"Ha-ha-ha! Did you see them, Major? The looks on those numbskulls' faces!"

"Ha-ha-ha! I understand how you feel, but you might want to watch what you say." In a truly rare occurrence, Major von Degurechaff is in a good mood.

She laughs gleefully from her belly, like a child of her age, as she leads the battalion. When they're feeling good, even the most straitlaced person will crack a smile. Happily, the ability to feel genuinely joyful is the sign of a healthy mind.

"But they couldn't even provide you a proper escort. For how proud of their good taste they are, the escargots are awfully tactless."

"Eh, they're just too slow. That can't be helped."

Of the Imperial Army's officially adopted computation orbs, the Type 97 gets both superior altitude and speed. In fact, it leaves the others in the dust.

Eight thousand is considered the maximum combat altitude for existing orbs, but that's practical for the Type 97. It's such a high-performance orb that if you work extra hard, you can approach twelve.

Naturally, it's the optimal type for the self-preservation-first tactic of hitting and running. With outstanding altitude, speed, and climb rate, the Elinium Type 97, known

officially as an assault orb, boasts performance equal to its name.

The Type 95 is a hugely flawed machine, but the Type 97, I can use—even Tanya is compelled to raise her hands to praise Elinium Arms. She appreciates the safety and peace of mind the Type 97 gives so much that it's her trusty main orb.

Although when she's really cornered, I have to ignore my myriad conflicts and tearfully relinquish that pillar of my being, the freedom of my mind. Life is really irreplaceable.

That said, I don't have to face any extreme conflicts like that this time. You don't have to be Tanya to be happy about getting through something without having to make any tough decisions.

"Well, it's no wonder. Trends move fast in the Empire—especially if you're a Republican soldier holed up in the colonies."

So even Tanya is in a jocular mood, though it's not in her character. It's so wonderful to be free of that curse that makes me sing songs praising God or whatever!

"In any case, let's drink to the Elinium Type 97!" Now and then, Elinium Arms does a decent job.

"Here, here. Thanks to this thing, that duck hunt was a hell of a lot easier."

If you focus on the outline, it looks like my battalion had a tough fight. We can even boast that we gave the enemy a good run for their money basically on our own.

One battalion—augmented, yes, but still one battalion—punched through the encirclement trapping friendly forces!

With the enemy reinforcements at our mercy, we lured in the main forces and stopped them in their tracks!

Then we turned back to attack and even did an anti-surface strike!

If you add some rhetorical flourishes to our running around trying to escape and achieving zero actual war gains, that is what you get. Someone from the Imperial Japanese Army might have said something like, "My spirited unit delivered a bold blow

to the enemy's main forces unscathed as was our mission, and now we're pulling back."

I figured it would be bad to only avoid the enemy, so we did that anti-surface strike at the end in order to have some action to point to—perfect.

Well, there were some newbie amateurs who seemed to think they were mages because they flew now and then, so I was able to rack up some points. Honestly, though, I'm not even sure if I should add them to my score.

It's tricky because if you count little chicks only capable of flying, people think worse of you. The way the Empire assesses kills is quite strict, so even if you don't mean to pad your count, it's better to avoid anything that could look like you might be.

Even if I hunted these guys by the dozens, talking big about that when they don't even compare to the enemies we faced on the Rhine will only make my colleagues ridicule me. I can't stand it when they say stuff like, You want to brag about your hunting numbers that bad?

If I count them, I'm sure people will be talking about my back. How desperate for kills can you get? But then Tanya has an idea.

"We'll have to mark down that this was a turkey shoot." "Yeah, you're right. We can't make misleading reports."

That's right. Didn't they say the same thing in World War II? That a score against the Russkies on the eastern front was totally different from a score against the American or British on the western front.

"This enemy sure is persistent, though. It seems they're still in pursuit."

I don't want to mess up my record, she thinks, but when she turns around to look, the enemies seem raring to go. She thinks for a minute, but who knows what these creeps will do if she lets them follow her home. What a pain.

What's more, it seems like the units coming after us know what they're doing.

It's also aggravating that we can't shake them off even though we're nearing maximum acceleration. I would propose a law against stalkers, but such regulation wouldn't

apply on a battlefield anyhow, so I guess you just have to save yourself.

"All right, let's play with them. Gentlemen, a tsurinobuse. Entertain our guests!"

I want to ambush these creeps so we can get away. We're already in pseudo-Shimazu mode, so it's not a bad idea to take a page from their book here.

They're the ones who are pursuing us. I would much prefer the civilized method of having a peaceful conversation, Tanya grumbles in her head. Once the enemy charges at you, you're left with no other option but to slaughter them, am I right?

"""Yaaargh! Let's give them an avalanche of cuddles!"""

And her subordinates' response to her order is just as lively as she expected.

The troops are thirsty for battle, which is great. That means she won't have any trouble getting volunteers to play the terribly difficult yet fun role of the bait: numbskull imperial soldiers fleeing in a rout. Well, it just means they're the nasty type who like teasing puppies.

"Fairy 01 to 02 and 05. You guys are the bait. Position yourselves in the rear. When those clowns attack, pretend to collapse into disarray and flee."

First, she has two companies pretend to be the rear guard. The point is to get the enemy's attention. An enemy that is raring to fight is often like an enraged bull charging at a red cape. Her subordinates aren't red, but I've heard a bull will charge at anything waved in front of them.

So to borrow from that example, they'll pretend they can't stand up to the enemy's attack and beat a disorderly retreat. She'll have two companies be the waving cape and get chased while the other units pretend to flee before the enemy and get some distance.

Feigning that they've lost the will to fight, they'll scatter to either side. Then all they have to do is wait at the optimal location and lure in those numbskulls who only know how to charge.

"The rest of you split up. After luring the enemy into airspace D-3, we're going to attack from three sides."

The moment the two bait companies lead the enemy into D-3, the rest of the units, who were supposedly fleeing in chaos, will come back around and launch an attack. Then they'll all form a cone shape and cross their lines of fire, taking care not to hit one another.

The moment that formation comes together, the enemy will be like a rat in a trap. "Okay, gentlemen. Time to give these goobs some learning!"

Tanya crows that they'll teach them that being surrounded is just as terrible in the sky as it is on the ground. Sadly, whether or not they'll be able to use what they learn is a matter for another dimension.

And when the imperial mages fire an improbable amount of formulas into that narrow airspace, the Republicans who so enthusiastically pursued them expire and fall one after the other. You don't have to be Tanya to recognize this as a morale-boosting, extremely smooth victory.

Plus, Major Tanya von Degurechaff gets to pad her score, and it doesn't even take that much effort. It's a wonderful job that results in easy, dramatic gains.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha! I can't stop laughing!"

Which is why, in a rare occurrence, she is able to be so cheerful she even cackles.

She nearly says, It would be great if it could stay this easy from now on, but she freezes when she realizes the implication of her words.

Yes, the words from now on.

…From now on?

This is what it means to be so happy you wrap back around to sad. Her thoughts stop for a moment, and then a terrifying premonition of the future sends chills down her spine. After regaining her composure, Tanya objectively recalls the situation she's in. Then after thinking a moment, she shakes her head with an openly bitter expression on her face.

Certainly, we're winning easily at present. Even just now they've downed Republican mages like it was a turkey shoot. But war isn't usually like this.

Having it this easy will ruin you. Taking out enemy rabble certainly makes for a straightforward victory, but it would be a mistake to expect all battles to be like this.

Even before that, if we have such an advantage, shouldn't we be taking action to end the war?

"…Hmm?"

Tanya suddenly wonders why they are still fighting and groans unconsciously. Without even noticing First Lieutenant Weiss's questioning look, she sinks deep into thought as the unit returns to base. After mulling things over for a while, she is forced to acknowledge a shocking reality.

When they land back at their desert base, she drops off her gear and dismisses the troops. Sipping a cup of cold water from the tank with an absentminded expression, she looks out at the endless train of imperial military vehicles coming and going across the desert.

Supplies from the home country and transport trucks. All those things fight a desperate battle against the sand to assist in their victory. She isn't sure who came up with the idea, but they've wisely used camels instead of horses to carry some of the cargo, which probably increases efficiency.

So their hard work is paying off. For now, things are fine.

Their only enemies are the Republican remnants, who are hardly a formidable threat, and the Commonwealth's expeditionary forces. Regardless of numbers, the Imperial Army has them beat in terms of training, so any fight is a guaranteed turkey shoot.

Conversely, though, we're wasting our vehicles on this pathetic enemy and putting serious strain on our supply lines.

…Certainly, in terms of General von Zettour's idea of a purely political deployment to put pressure on the Republic and expand our influence on the Kingdom of Ildoa, a southern continent expeditionary force is one answer.

But that… The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she can't get them out, and she sighs.

remnants and Lieutenant General von Zettour's political plan are choices that assume the number of major players in the war doesn't rise. They have made an expeditionary force a reality using every means possible despite the trying situation in the rear and the limited forces they could muster.

Tanya is compelled to worry. Considering the financial situation, perhaps this plan takes us too far out of our way on thin ice.

There should have been any number of ways to go. The High Seas Fleet could have taken a make-or-break attitude toward taking command of the sea from the Commonwealth, even if both navies ended up destroyed. They could have established a puppet government in the Republic and made peace.

But as far as Tanya can tell, the imperial fleet is resorting to the fleet-in-being strategy of avoiding military risks and conserving its strength. While she can't deny that strategy has its logic, it's definitely not one that will defeat their enemies.

Which is why she has ended up deployed to the inessential Republican colonies on the southern continent to pursue and destroy the remnants of the Republican Army. Even discounting the diplomatic thoughtfulness vis-a`-vis the Kingdom of Ildoa, it's still putting the cart before the horse.

The Empire might as well be idly radiating its superior fighting capabilities. In these separate small-scale battles, the imperial generals won't lose. They're dominating on the tactical level. The General Staff is successfully managing mobility and deployment on the operational level, whether maneuver warfare or breaking through encirclements, as well as supply issues.

Indeed, from a military standpoint, putting military and political pressure on the Republic remnants and the Commonwealth via the situation on the southern continent and planning to cooperate with Ildoa is not a grave error.

But that's only from a purely military standpoint. Or… Tanya has second thoughts and revises her conclusion. Maybe the General Staff is proposing policies from only a military standpoint from the start, and the rest they leave up to the government, not wanting to step on the administration's toes.

-x-X-x-

[Image]

-x-X-x-

"…What good will it do to expand the front any more than this?"

What does the Empire possibly gain by taking former Republican colonies in a desert? Has the will to fight any enemy you find on the battlefield spread to the politicians in the rear, who are supposed to maintain their calm and think about strategy?

As she follows this train of thought, she trembles at her horrible vision of the future. "Then… then how…? How are the politicians at home going to end the war?"

She murmured it to herself.

But that one sentiment gives her a dreadful chill, like a curse. Are the imperial politicians capable of ending the war?

We, the Imperial Army, are winning in the field. We also have the initiative. That's why we're enjoying such good times right now.

Yes, both politically and militarily, this is our finest hour.

…So if this really is our finest hour, then…?

What a waste, she laments. It's our finest hour, but the Empire is still hemorrhaging its national power in a war that has no end in sight.

-x-X-x-

NOVEMBER 1, UNIFIED YEAR 1925, COMMONWEALTH HOUSE OF COMMONS

-x-X-x-

"Subjects of the Commonwealth, today I inform you that the day approaches when the Empire, that dreadful military nation, brings its power to bear on us."

The voice of the prime minister speaking to all the Commonwealth's people over the radio conveyed their harsh reality.

"And unfortunately, I must also inform you that they mean to attack. But allow me to say this: I hope it will be of some small consolation that I promise you on behalf of the Commonwealth, it will be impossible for them to come by sea."

Contrary to the content of his speech, however, his tone contained a hint of humor.

"But even our wooden walls, praised since long ago, would find the evil enemy we currently face a significant trial. War is no longer what it used to be."

So he spoke, touching on the way war had changed.

"At this point, we must frankly acknowledge, without losing heart, that we are entering a terrible age."

Everyone listening carefully understood that he meant it would be a hard fight.

"This war will be harsh, and it will demand lengthy endurance. We will probably have to fight until either we or our enemy collapse. And it will be a fight that takes every last bit of strength our fatherland has."

Along with his predictions, he made a declaration. "But I promise my beloved fatherland."

Each and every word was crystal clear. "Someday, we will destroy them."

Someone in a pub shouted, "You bet we will!" and multiple people nodded in agreement.

"But for now, I simply hope that in the Commonwealth of a thousand years from today, our children's grandchildren will read in a history book written by one of us that now, this moment, was the best of times for the Empire."

That was the history it was their duty to create.

"For us, it is truly the worst of times; dismal, it should be said. At the same time, for the Empire, it is the best of times."

He was even arrogantly confident that they would exist in perpetuity a thousand years later.

"Now then, ladies and gentlemen, a toast to our worst of times. And don't we want our

grandchildren to say it? Don't we want them to say these times were the Empire's best? To now, to our eternal fatherland's worst of times—cheers!"

(The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Volume 3: The Finest Hour, Fin)