Chapter - 5 (part 2)

Hmm, Tanya thinks again. Just like in a trench battle, a reckless charge would result in a marked increase in casualties. Poking the line a bit first to see how it reacts isn't a bad approach if you can allow for a certain amount of tactical losses as necessary

costs.

Basically, that would make it an ultimate form of search and attack where they send in a sacrificial unit… Given how rich the Federation is in human resources, it could employ such a method. But I can't be sure.

"Lieutenant Serebryakov, do me a favor and get me some coffee. Brew it a bit strong. I want to clear my head."

"Understood, ma'am. Right away."

With a thank-you, Tanya reabsorbs herself in her thoughts.

The periodic sound of gunfire is proof that the artillerists are following her directions and limiting their use of ammunition. But Tanya suddenly senses something is off.

Even the shots that should be continuing around the edges of the perimeter seem to have grown sparse. Does that mean they've shifted to hand-to-hand combat?

No. Tanya immediately rejects that possibility. Though the enemy charged, there hasn't been any report of the lines being broken. And besides, there aren't any of the shouts you would expect from a close-quarters fight.

"…I guess waiting is hard."

"Ahhh, sorry to keep you waiting, Colonel."

The one who responds to her quiet utterance is Serebryakov, who has returned.

I didn't mean to imply she was bringing the coffee too slowly…

A wonderfully fragrant cup of coffee is handed to her with a smile.

Though the aroma is somewhat weaker than it was in the beginning, the coffee—again from Lieutenant Colonel Uger—is not half-bad.

After all, it's proper coffee. She gets to drink proper coffee on the front lines. She can't thank him enough, to the point where she finds herself thinking, I should probably send something sweet to the rear again…

"Oh, good coffee requires a bit of a wait. Thanks." "You're welcome. Please enjoy."

"Sheesh, this must be proof that the fight is going in our favor. I mean, the commander and her adjutant are chatting over coffee."

She ventures to speak in a relaxed tone, bursting with confidence and loud enough for the others to hear. It's important for the commander to appear composed in a crisis.

Of course, the fact that she would also like to be allowed to enjoy her coffee is another big part of it. She brings the little cup to her mouth and then gives a small nod, Yes.

As requested, it's black as the devil, hot as hell, and pure as an angel. No, I don't know whether angels are pure or not, and seeing as Being X exists, maybe they're extinct.

Regardless, as the image would imply, this coffee is remarkably free of impurities. To rid your thoughts of noise, you have to have this clear a sense of your work.

Now then, I need to consider the different pieces of this situation. First, the information from Grantz's report.

They aren't feeling much pressure from the enemy?

The possibility that Grantz is a numbskull and misunderstanding something, while slight, does exist. But he is a veteran. He's a mage who's been through plenty of nasty fights and survived. I don't think he would get confused about the force of the enemy. Then the other possibility is that he's become numb to fear and simply can't sense the pressure?

"No, he's not so valiant as that."

I wouldn't go so far as to call him sensitive, but Grantz, like Tanya, is essentially a good person who doesn't approve of war. He's the sort of guy who I'd be able to work well with as government officials or in some other job if the world weren't what it is.

Then I suppose that makes his observation correct?

Which means… Is the enemy attacking with something less than two brigades? But

the one out observing who made that report is Weiss. Would he miscount the number of enemies?

No, that definitely can't be it.

"Nnngh. This really is weird. I can only imagine our premise is wrong." One of these pieces must be off.

Tanya suppresses her agony so her subordinates don't notice.

Maybe the enemy is gathering to take advantage of a weak point in our defensive line? Or are they going to tweak and launch an all-out attack once they get an idea of what our lines are like?

Just as she's about to groan, I don't know…

The infantry phone rings.

At this point, Tanya braces herself for the worst possible news. Feigning nonchalance, she picks up with a hand that is nearly trembling and hears…

"This is Lieutenant Grantz. The enemy attack is petering out." What an unexpectedly calm voice.

"The sparseness of the shots isn't because you're in hand-to-hand combat?" "No, as of right now, we haven't allowed them to storm us."

"You're sure?"

It's such good news, it's a bit hard to believe.

"I'm in contact with all the defense points. None of them has been penetrated." "There's no damage to the phone lines?"

"No, they're fine, too. All the cables are currently functioning normally. I'm in contact with every post."

Grantz's voice is filled with conviction and confidence. He's not lying or confused. Tanya leaves him with an "Okay, got it" and puts down the receiver.

I should probably believe my troops' observations. "I need to get to the bottom of this…"

Then I have no choice but to play my last card. "Lieutenant Serebryakov!"

"Yes, ma'am. Officer reconnaissance?"

This is the very definition of a ready reply.

My adjutant manages to even pick up on my intention—I could give her a bonus. "You're not like that numbskull Captain Thon, right? I'm counting on you."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll get going right away."

She's so dependable. Tanya smiles; the trust she has in her adjutant is genuine.

Which is why while she waits for a follow-up report, she can even let her subordinates see that she's leisurely enjoying the coffee Serebryakov prepared for her before she left.

I want to know. I want to figure out what's going on. She doesn't let them see these urges. She needs to radiate a commander's calm.

Like she has nothing to worry about.

As a commander who puts her troops at ease, she enjoys her coffee and reacts to the outcome. In other words, once you're the commander of a Kampfgruppe, your job starts to be more like a management position.

Well, once you're a high-ranking officer, you already have more opportunities to stay behind at the combat direction center. Personally, Tanya welcomes that—with open

arms.

But she does feel just a tad anxious about not seeing the enemy movements with her own eyes. The benefits to making calls on-site are greater than you might think.

What is going on? she worries. This is such a difficult proposition, but she doesn't have enough time to think.

"Colonel, these aren't brigades. They're the shells of brigades."

"What? It's a night attack by two brigades? What do you mean, shells?"

"I confirmed how they're operating and realized that the Federation soldiers are new recruits as well. So it seems like they're concentrating their forces within reach of the commanders' voices."

"…So they're operating in tight ranks?"

"Yes, Colonel. I think we can suppose that the artillery's observed fire wiped out the main enemy force."

Tanya finds herself cracking up. That's how important and refreshing Serebryakov's report is when she returns from her reconnaissance.

"I see, I see. That's terrific. Thanks, Lieutenant Serebryakov. That's some great news." "I'm happy to have been the bearer of good news to the colonel I love and respect."

"I haven't gotten news this good since Dacia. Sorry, Lieutenant, but I'd like to have you go straight into an aerial search."

"Yes, ma'am, I'll continue my observation mission!"

"No, that won't be necessary. I'm changing up your mission. Major Weiss and the others I'm going to order to patrol the forward patrol line as they have been, but I want you to take control of the zone."

The moment the words exit her mouth, Tanya realizes she's beginning to shift them into a pursuit battle—putting a controller in the air without worrying about her being shot down.

More than anything, she's sure they're going to trample them. How wonderful.

"Me, ma'am?"

"At the moment, you're the right person for the job. Controlling a pursuit battle will be good experience."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll do my best."

When the wireless cuts off, Tanya puts down the receiver and calmly accepts her error. "…What a surprise. Captain Meybert accomplished the most? I admit my mistake. I'll have to apologize to him later."

The artillery must have done a perfect job.

Even taking Weiss's spotting into consideration, the artillery is more capable than I thought.

This point is something to reflect on as an area to improve when commanding units outside your field as the leader of a Kampfgruppe. I should probably let the General Staff know. Interesting—it's so difficult to understand the other branches. But I can't deny that I misread Meybert. So I should apologize.

Still…

"It can all be done at the party to celebrate our victory."

So Tanya picks up a receiver she hasn't grabbed even once since the combat began. It's obvious where it leads.

It was the armored forces, no doubt waiting on the edge of their seats— Now? Now?

"Captain Ahrens!"

"Yes, ma'am. Is it our turn?"

His question is brimming with ambition. It's undeniable that his attempt to hold back the Please let us go on the tip of his tongue is failing. He must really want to fight. In

fact, he wants it too badly. And that's what makes him the best one to send crashing into the enemy at this moment.

"Most of the enemies were blown away in Captain Meybert's barrage. The rest are pretty much the dregs still following their original attack orders."

"So you're ordering us to obliterate the rest of them?" "Exactly. Do your thing."

The armored forces, one part of the elaborate apparatus of violence that is the Imperial Army, must be used at the perfect time.

And the time to truly unleash their driving force is right now. "Leave it to me."

"Lieutenant Serebryakov is up observing. Let her guide you."

"I appreciate the support! I'll begin the counterattack immediately. We'll take observation support from Lieutenant Serebryakov and commence our armored charge!" Ahrens is so eager he repeats back the orders as if he can't sit still.

"Good," Tanya says, and not a moment later, she replaces the receiver.

Having boarded his tank, Captain Ahrens is no doubt shouting Panzer vor! about now. He's the epitome of restless energy, but… you can also say he's reliable at times like this. I'm sure the counterattack will succeed.

The Federation Army is already falling apart, so I don't think they'll be able to handle the impact of our tanks. And when that happens, she murmurs in her head as she brings her cup of coffee to her lips, the enemy infantry's will to fight will pop like a balloon and scatter to the four winds.

If I send in the right amount of infantry just as the sharp thrust of the armored unit pries them open, our victory is a sure thing. And I'm certain Weiss's group out on the patrol line they built will take care of mopping up any remaining enemies.

We already demonstrated this in Dacia and other battles in the east, but showing again how vulnerable ground troops are with no air support by using a one-sided anti- surface attack against them wouldn't be bad.

No, it wouldn't be bad at all, thinks Tanya just as she's tilting her coffee cup, but then she realizes something.

"…Crap. That was stupid," she mutters.

The suggestion that she had failed to take something into account gathers the attention of everyone at HQ.

"Colonel?"

"I should have had Lieutenant Serebryakov make me another cup of coffee before sending her out. As it is, I can't ask for any more until the fight is over." In response to the inquiries from worried faces, Tanya upends her empty mug to express her failure.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! You're about the only one who has her do odd jobs like that, Colonel!"

The personnel can't hold back their laughter, but Tanya resolutely states her case. "Still, though. We've been together since the Rhine front, and the coffee she makes is the best. It's always better to get someone talented to do the job, right?"

"If you were a stern-faced soldier, that'd be a declaration of love, Colonel!"

"Hmm… I'd be reluctant to marry for coffee. I'd still like to enjoy being a member of the free class of singles."

Tanya currently has no plans to enter into a social contract and abandon her freedom. Besides, having to choose between being mentally homosexual or physically homosexual must be an awfully rare dilemma. This is one of those things it's better not to overthink.

Thus, Tanya adheres to the old saying about passing over things you can't figure out in silence and stops that train of thought.

But apparently, everyone reads her silence and wry smile as composure. "Brilliant, Colonel. No one is nervous anymore."

"Oh, Lieutenant Grantz, are you free now?"

Grantz has shown up, but thankfully he seems fairly relaxed.

"I'm on my way to get supplies before going out for the pursuit battle. I figured I would pop in here while I was at it and see if you had any instructions."

"Right now, Captain Ahrens's armored unit is counterattacking. Eventually it'll be the infantry's turn. Then again, maybe the artillery will finish things off before you get a chance."

"I doubt the enemy will be foolish enough to bunch up again. But wow, Captain Meybert's barrage was magnificent."

"Lieutenant Serebryakov said the same thing. He really did a fine job this time; I'll have to apologize."

As their conversation proceeds at a steady clip, Tanya raises her estimation of Lieutenant Grantz up a notch. He demonstrated sound ability as an infantry commander today.

Grantz has thorough communication habits and is capable of making timely analyses of a situation. The results of his observations should be deemed admirable. Even a subordinate who was so useless I nearly gave up on him at one point has developed into such a fine soldier. It makes me feel like I must be a pretty talented teacher.

At the same time, on the subject of subordinates she's given up on, Tanya suddenly realizes there haven't been any follow-up reports.

"By the way, I remembered, since we were talking about infantry: Where the hell is Captain Thon? No matter how numbskulled he is, you'd think he'd hear the guns from this big, huge fight."

"It certainly is strange."

"Lieutenant Grantz, do you know something?' "Huh?"

Grantz looks blankly at her, but Tanya continues questioning him as if to say, Hey, c'mon

now.

In a sense, who aside from Grantz would know? He was in command of the perimeter. "I mean, no one saw him?"

"…Now that you mention it, I haven't heard from him. But, Colonel, I haven't heard anything about him, either."

"Check with Lieutenant Tospan. I want to figure out where he went." "Understood. Shall I put together a search party if necessary?"

For a second, Tanya almost tells him to do just that, but she rethinks it. They're still in combat. Taking even part of her precious fighting force out of the game at a time like this would be as good as marking herself utterly inept.

Dividing one's forces would undoubtedly lead to defeat. They would probably fall into the dark bottom of a ravine like Communists taking their first step toward Communism.

"No need. And I want you here just in case. Prep for the enemy's counter or an attack from another unit they scrape together."

"Yes, ma'am. So I should participate in the counterattack?"

"Yes, that's right. I'm thinking of leaving command up to Lieutenant Tospan and sending you in. For crying out loud, where is Captain Thon off screwing around?"

"I'm curious, too. He seems a bit headstrong, but I don't really think he's the type to abandon his duties."

"We'll probably learn once we've cleaned up the battlefield."

Has he ended up a corpse? Or maybe a prisoner? In the worst-case scenario—if he fled in the face of the enemy—I'll find him and execute him by firing squad.

In any case, I don't need a numbskull like that in my Kampfgruppe. Lieutenant Tospan is difficult to tolerate, but Captain Thon is impossible.

"…Do you really think that's how it'll turn out?"

"Well, let's quit speculating. Captain Meybert flipped our expectations on their heads, after all."

"Understood. Then I'll be going."

Grantz gives a proper salute before he leaves, but even he used to be a useless youngster. As far as Tanya knows, humans can grow.

The problem is that that growth is only a possibility.

Even Weiss, Tanya remembers, committed the error of evading infantry "anti–air fire" in the war with Dacia.

I can't deny that humans also make mistakes. Even Tanya isn't averse to admitting she's made her share.

Puff up my chest and say all my actions are beyond reproach? I don't want to be such a fool.

But that's precisely why…

All I can prescribe for dolts who can't admit their mistakes and correct them is a bullet. Allowing dolts like that to remain in an organization will ultimately eat away at it.

"Captain Ahrens's unit has succeeded in breaking through and begun cleanup. He's requesting infantry support."

"Okay, got it."

Meditations and contemplations end here. I've got no choice.

What a scarce resource, as always: the time for careful thought! A Kampfgruppe commander is forever desperate for it and endlessly lamenting its scarcity.

"The pursuit battle is going smoothly, then? Actually, quicker than we thought?"

She glances at her watch and the map and sees that Ahrens's unit broke through

sooner than expected.

She had heard he was good. But his skill in commanding that instrument of violence that is an armored unit despite the darkness reaches truly praiseworthy excellence.

And when she catches herself thinking that he must have led from the head of the formation, she can't hold back her wry smile.

An officer who leads the pack, executing their duties properly…

An officer charging out front isn't always a good officer. But one who knows when they need to be out there and doesn't let that moment slip past…

That officer is worth a fortune.

Which is why, as a higher-ranking officer, Tanya can't lose a diligent lower-ranking officer like Captain Ahrens.

"Send a message for me. I expect great things out of you, but I want to celebrate the victory together. Whatever you do, don't be unreasonable. Make sure he gets that."

"Yes, ma'am."

A signaler takes down my message and sends it to Captain Ahrens over the wireless. Ahrens really does show promise. Ordering him to do too much and losing him would be a terrible shame.

It's interesting how in a single battle, the outcome of a person's actions clearly indicates whether they should be killed or survive to be exploited.

"And get the infantry moving on the double. A company with Lieutenant Grantz commanding, and have Lieutenant Wüstemann's mage unit go with them."

"Understood. Right away, ma'am!"

We'll flood the gap the armored unit opened with infantry. Infantry is the branch of the armed forces that is like water. Where there's a hole, it will soak right in.

Thus.

Or perhaps it would be better to say as a matter of course…

By the time the sun rises, the Salamander Kampfgruppe stands on the battleground as the victor. As if our reign will last forever.

And on top of that, the fighter planes Fleet Command dispatched to support us have been strafing the ground one after the other, improving the results of the pursuit battle even more. They may be fighting fierce air battles where entire forces are lost over the main lines, but here in the northeast, imperial air superiority is unwavering.

Faced with the imperial fleet and its all-encompassing control of the sky, the Federation is silent. They recognize the hopeless power disparity.

And so, by the time the sun is setting once more, the imperial troops have complete control of the field.

It's a victory.

Though it was a small battle, this regiment overcame two brigades with furious effort.

And who did it? The provisional Salamander Kampfgruppe, which had only just been formed. This proves without a doubt the flexibility of Kampfgruppe formation and operation for the General Staff, too. Well, they won't not appreciate us, regardless.

In Tanya's mind, they won't not appreciate us means their evaluations of us won't decrease and we won't be overworked.

But Tanya is confident that she's a good, sensible person.

She understands very well that taking on such an unusual attitude when you've won is strange. In most cases, victory is socially recognized as a result to be celebrated.

We've repelled a large number of enemies while incurring few casualties.

Tanya is accommodating enough to understand that her troops would want to celebrate.

In one room of the building where the Kampfgruppe HQ is located…

Chairs and tables are arranged in what seems to have been a dining room at some

point. Here, Tanya bows her head to the key players of the victory. "Nice work, troops."

Prefacing with a comment that the offerings are nothing special, she brings out bottles from her personal stash (which every officer should have hidden away somewhere). These are the drinks she's been keeping to thank her men with, and she pours for them herself. Finally, she lifts her coffee cup and makes a toast.

"To our victory!" """To victory!"""

Now, then. Tanya sets about doing what she needs to get done before the officers get drunk. "First, Captain Meybert, I want to express my respect for your work. I misjudged you a bit. I hope you'll accept my apology."

An officer's apology to a subordinate is the moment they reveal that their view was wrong. It's not an easy thing to do. But it's better than being seen as a fool who can't recognize their mistakes.

"No, it's thanks to the proper observation that we got results. We owe much of our success to Major Weiss's skill."

"But the first shot was so close! Your unit does good work, Captain Meybert. You're so skilled I'm not even sure you need spotters."

"What? No, we were only able to perform so well because you were there. You flew at night, and we even asked you to spot for us! Any run-of-the-mill artillery officer would be able to get results with your support. Having eyes in the sky makes all the difference."

Listening to Weiss and Meybert's exchange, it's clear they're both professionals who know their jobs well and respect each other.

Boy. Tanya cracks a smile. I've got a ways to go.

For better or worse, she's been judging people with the temperaments of craftsmen by the standards of average folks.

They need to be evaluated on their specialized skills. Obsessed with artillery? No, he's a specialist. This is a man who knows how to use the artillery. He has a thorough knowledge of it. That is Captain Meybert. If that's the case, then it's Tanya the staff officer's job to understand how to best use his skills.

Evaluating officers based on prejudices is a grave error.

From now on, I'll have to get over my anger at people obsessed with their specialties and my past traumas related to them so I can learn to assess these craftsmen in more appropriate ways.

"Very good. Major Weiss, you should sincerely accept Captain Meybert's compliments. You did an excellent job, too. Thank you for patrolling. And…" Tanya turns her praise on the equally talented armor commander. "You too, Captain Ahrens. About that last charge in the counterattack, it was magnificent how you maintained unit discipline despite the fact that the operation took place before daybreak. And that's all I can say."

"Thank you, Colonel. I don't know if it makes me lucky or unlucky, but I seem to have gotten used to the east's famous night raids. It feels like I'm back home, or something like it."

"Me too. Man, I'm not sure how I feel about getting used to having my sleep disrupted, though. I wish they would at least let me sleep at night like the kid I am."

When she mumbles how tired she is and bites back a yawn, her subordinates smile awkwardly. Well, it's no wonder she gets laughed at.

That said, it's a physiological demand. As long as my body wants sleep, there's nothing I can do about it. Even Tanya must throw in the towel. Sleeps affects adults and children differently. My great need for sleep is just another facet of my personal situation.

But before she gives in to her sleepiness, Tanya remembers one more thing she must say. "Now then, I'll be honest. Lieutenant Tospan, I'm disappointed. Regardless of any directions Captain Thon gave you, failing to report actions that go against my orders is a problem."

"…Yes, ma'am."

There are way too many people who misunderstand this, which is frustrating. The

only people allowed to take actions not in the manual to cope with situations not in the manual are people who have mastered the manual itself.

If someone who doesn't have a good handle on the basics just does whatever they want, we're only going to have problems.

An officer's permission to act on their own authority is the same. Frankly, it's discretionary power for officers with intelligence. It is absolutely not a justification for numbskulls to act like the idiots they are.

"Given your record thus far, I've judged that you don't deserve the word insubordination

yet. There won't be a next time."

You never know what kind of ways people who don't know the standards will deviate when they tweak the manual, whether it's customer service or following military procedures.

Although Tanya hasn't explicitly explained this to Tospan, she has found one use for this stupid parrot who can only faithfully repeat what Captain Thon said.

First Lieutenant Tospan's only function is to spit back out whatever he's told.

In other words, regardless of what an officer like Tanya orders him, his only function is to stubbornly say whatever his direct superior tells him to… There are ways to use an automaton who doesn't inquire any further than necessary, right?

It's just like shogi pieces. A pawn may not be a critical piece, but it has its uses.

"Lieutenant Tospan only lacks experience. After growing from this battle, I'm sure he'll endeavor to redeem his name in future actions."

"Major Weiss, aren't you going a bit too easy on him? Anyhow, what I said stands. Don't betray my expectations again."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll do what I can."

"Very good. I hope you'll learn well from this."

If Tospan can just learn who his real boss is, that'll be plenty. If he can do that much, I should be able to find a use for him.

The Empire is running out of human resources. We may belong to the General Staff, but that doesn't free us from having to deal with inferior quality resources.

We have to learn how to come to terms with our situation and make what we have work for us.

"Oh, speaking of a lack of experience, Lieutenant Wüstemann. I'm expecting a lot of growth out of you and your mage company. But today I'll be content that you put up a good fight."

In that sense, Wüstemann and the others who were sent to replace the ten we lost are not horrible substitutes.

On the other hand, as a good pacifist, Tanya von Degurechaff is forced to grieve. War wastes so much human capital.

"But seriously, combat where the goal is attrition feels so wasteful. I want to hurry up and get this over with."

The other officers smile and agree with their superior. It's only natural, since war is a risk surely no one welcomes.

For some reason, the world always thinks soldiers are pro-war, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

The fundamental truth is that soldiers detest war. And the officers serving in combat units on the forward-most line wish for peace like the most dedicated of specialists.

And a pacifist as passionate as I am must be a rarity, Tanya thinks as she reflects on herself. I'm opposed to the barbarous concept of war from the bottom of my heart.

I grip this gun and this orb solely due to my contract with the Reich.

"All right, troops, nice work. It may be difficult to relax and celebrate while the tension is still fresh, but… I want to allow each unit their celebratory toast."

From the bottom of my heart, I can pledge my soul and proclaim my wish.

Even in our exceedingly harsh reality, where the god we should pray to is nowhere to be found and an evil called Being X or whatever runs amok…

…It's important to have hopes and dreams.

"Okay, then once again: To victory! And to the hope that this war ends soon! Cheers!"

"""Cheers!"""

-x-X-x-

OCTOBER 20, UNIFIED YEAR 1926,

THE NORTHEASTERN PART OF THE EASTERN FRONT, THE SALAMANDER KAMPFGRUPPE GARRISON

It's so simple to say to "make toasts to victory."

But… when Tanya's eyes open in the bed in the house where she's rooming, she grins wryly as she gets up.

Minors are prohibited from drinking and smoking. There aren't any exceptions for that, even in the military. About all you can do is suck on some candy.

More importantly, this immature body cannot resist the sleepiness and stay up at night. Of course, this meant that Tanya went to bed at a healthy hour last night as per usual.

But there was another reason she left early. When their superior is hanging around, the troops probably feel like they can't let their hair down. There's no reason to keep up that tense boss-and-subordinate relationship even off duty.

Tanya was considerate enough to allow them to partake in their post-combat drinks in peace. As a result, she has woken up fairly early, but it's a refreshing wakefulness.

That said, everyone else was probably up late drinking. Having slowly slipped out of bed so as not to wake her adjutant and orderly, Tanya reaches for the water jug herself.

No, she half reaches for it.

The moment her hand touches the ceramic… she suddenly notices an unusual chill. "Hmm?"

Wondering if she has a cold, she puts on her cold-weather high-altitude flying coat, immediately feeling better.

Perhaps the temperature has simply dropped. Even for early morning, this cold is awfully intense. It's cold even for fall. Almost as chilly as when I'm flying.

Am I coming down with something after all?

Should I have the kitchen in HQ prepare me something warm to drink just in case?

With that in mind, Tanya steps outside the house to go see the officers on duty. That's when she realizes.

It's strange. Tanya stops in her tracks, assailed by an intense feeling that something is wrong. Something has changed. Something has appeared that shouldn't be here.

It's… the color.

The color… the color of the world is wrong.

Everything is different from yesterday. With a sigh, she looks up at the sky, which is completely overcast and irritatingly white.

White. She freezes in spite of herself at the brutal color.

She recoils, but as her leg tries to take a step back, she forces it to stay still through her willpower. In front of her dance pale, delicate sparkles.

They're fantastically beautiful. Perhaps if things were different, she could have written a poem about them.

But now all they are to her is a mass of fear.

She glares as if she can melt them with the heat of her gaze, but alas, she is forced to realize she cannot win.

Her clenched fist speaks for her. If she could scream, she would.

She would abandon herself to her emotions and release the You're kidding me stuck in her throat.

She's been keeping a close watch on the weather forecasts.

Yes, even though the weather team guaranteed them two more weeks, she's been requesting the meteorologic maps and going over them every day without fail.

But despite that, despite all that, it's snowing?

It's such a splendidly malicious present. It means the magnificent and most dreadful eastern winter is upon us. Everything will be covered in snow, which will turn to slush and eventually transform the terrain into muddy swampland.

It's the worst season. When armies are forced to give up on the whole concept of

movement and can only writhe in place.

-x-X-x-

[Image]

-x-X-x-

Tanya glares up at the sky and murmurs, "But if the heavens stand in our way, then we'll win against the heavens. We must."

How many more nights will the Imperial Army officers be able to sleep without shivering?

It's easy to deceive herself. This snow is unseasonably early.

She can also cling to the fair weather forecast. Tomorrow it will clear up.

But it's meaningless.

If she can't accept reality and face the terrible situation, all that road leads to is a dead end. She would scatter her bones on this rotten land after becoming a frozen corpse.

That's an exceedingly unpleasant conclusion. Anything—anything but that awful fate.

"…I have to survive. I have to survive and go home. I do and my men do, too. I don't have any surplus personnel to hand over to that fucker General Winter or whoever."

So Tanya sets off once more for HQ. She's in such a hurry, she begins to jog and then eventually run. She calls out to the duty officers.

I suppose this is the usual.

"How are we doing on winter prep?!"

When Tanya comes flying through the door, her question is impatient.

"As far as cold-weather gear, we have high-altitude operation uniforms for the mage battalion, but… Colonel, I'm sorry to say that we don't have enough for the entire Kampfgruppe…"

"I… really don't think we have enough gear for the entire Kampfgruppe."

Despite the party last night, Major Weiss and First Lieutenant Serebryakov, who are on duty, give clear answers.

"Hmph. Lieutenant!" "Yes, ma'am."

"Question the prisoners. Find someone who worked in acquiring clothing. Preferably someone from near this area. I want to ask them about winter and get their opinion."

"Are you sure?"

It makes sense for Serebryakov to be concerned and ask that question. It's definitely a possibility that such questions could reveal to the prisoners that we're hurrying to prepare for winter.

But Tanya is able to make her declaration with confidence. "It's more important to get through the winter than worry about giving the prisoners information they don't need to know."

The difference between a field army having countermeasures for the cold or not is a fatal one.

"The air fleet owes us a favor. Let's have them deliver some warm clothes to us from home."

"I'll authorize that. Major Weiss, if necessary, use funds from the Kampfgruppe treasury. You can also use General Staff classified funds."

"…Are you sure?"

"Of course." Tanya doubles down. "What do you think those classified funds are for? Should I have used them to buy a ticket to my class reunion?"

"Ha-ha-ha! Like to buy your dress."

"For real. We can have a ball on this pure-white dance floor."

It's as good as if General Winter had invited me to a ball—shells with a chance of plasma splatter as we whirl through the sky above this snow-white field.

How wonderful it would be to scream, Eat shit! and leave.

"Excuse the question, Colonel, but do you know how to dance?"

In response to Serebryakov's tangential question, Tanya smiles. "I'm an amateur, and I can't hide it unless I'm dressed up. So I don't mind if I leave the dancing to the people who know what they're doing. But no one knows how, probably," Tanya adds in annoyance.

For better or worse, the Imperial Army is specialized for interior lines strategy with the assumption of national defense.

The winter envisioned by the army mainly deployed around the Empire is not extremely cold, with the exception of Norden.

"Anyhow, wake up the officers. I don't care if they're hung over from their toasts." "Freezing snow will be just the thing to wake them up from their dreams of victory." "I think it might be too effective…"

"While you're at it, have the other officers discuss cold-weather countermeasures in their units. Tell them to maintain at least minimum field operation capability."

And so, standing before the gathered officers, Tanya swallows her sighs and broaches the topic with her usual frankness.

"Now then, officers of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. Let's hear your views on winter battles—if you have experience, that is."

"That's a good point… We do have a problem when it comes to winter battles."

Tanya nods at Weiss's remarks. Sadly, there isn't a winter expert among even the seasoned vets present here.

"That's true. Setting aside our old hands, even the ones from the Eastern Army Group have hardly any winter battle experience."

"I beg your pardon, but since the Eastern Army Group had the Federation as a potential enemy for ages, you should have an idea, shouldn't you, Major Weiss?" Apparently, Lieutenant Grantz is a smart-ass.

Well, when you're young and inexperienced, that's how it goes, I suppose. The horrifying thing is that the person saying this is one of the relatively experienced members of our Kampfgruppe.

Tanya and Weiss, who both sigh, must be worried about the same thing. This is the pain of the commander. Or of management jobs, you could say.

"I'm sorry to say, Lieutenant, that the winter I know is the Reich's." Tanya nods that that's correct.

"In other words, our defense plan mostly involved guarding our borders. It doesn't take real snowfall into consideration. Even if it did, it would have depended on your location."

"Oh, really?"

"Hey, Grantz, how much did you learn about winter camping in the academy?"

Weiss goes back and forth with Grantz to convince him. That said, Tanya smiles wryly. It's no wonder he wouldn't know how much Grantz knew about winter.

The accelerated course had long been the norm at the Imperial Army academy.

If it's not something a soldier is likely to use immediately, the academy leaves off at encouraging self-study. The know-how for winter battles is surely one of the most undervalued subjects. For better or worse, the Empire was focused on protecting its own land… Expeditions were hardly worth the mental space.

"If we hadn't spent a winter in Norden, then we wouldn't have any experience at all." "Norden?"

Grantz's blank face reminds Tanya—although he has the presence of an old hand, Grantz joined them midway.

He went through the academy after her and must have been on the wartime early graduation schedule.

"Oh, right, you were part of the group that came in on the Rhine. So you didn't see any

action in Norden, huh?"

"Nope." Grantz shakes his head. For him, the Rhine was the location of his first training in the field. Though he's flown over the Northern Sea, it's undeniable that his experience is unbalanced.

"Then I guess we should have the people who were in Norden around the start of the war handle the prep work."

"That makes sense. We should leave it to the people with experience."

I guess this is all we can do, thinks Tanya as she decides to leave it up to Weiss. "Major Weiss, sorry, but I want you to get the cold-weather gear even if you have to use up all the confidential funding. I'll give you Lieutenants Grantz and Wüstemann as support."

And she can educate some subordinates at the same time—two birds with one stone. "Yes, ma'am! I'll try ordering as if they're for the aerial mage units."

"However you prefer. Oh, I want all of you to check if any of your subordinates have experience with winter battles or areas known for their extreme temperatures. If anyone knows some tricks, I want to make use of them. Make sure the other units do the same." Then she adds, "Also, Lieutenant Serebryakov, I ordered you to survey the prisoners… but I'm not sure how well that will go. Their resources and experience are fundamentally different from ours. We'll just have to be creative and do our best with what we can."

"Understood. I'll go get started on the survey right away."

-x-X-x-

OCTOBER 20, UNIFIED YEAR 1926,

IMPERIAL CAPITAL BERUN, GENERAL STAFF OFFICE WAR ROOM

When he glanced outside, it looked like fall.

Though it was late autumn, the scenery was still colorful. Not a bad season for puffing on a cigar and gently exhaling—poof.

"…Wish I could take Berun's weather over to the front lines," Zettour murmured

unconsciously.

A clear autumn sky.

Alas. He turned his gaze back to inside the room where Operations staff, having gone pale in their faces, were shouting in a panic.

The cause was a single word.

Snow.

Snow was white and merciless.

On that day at the General Staff Office, the officers were so upset with the whiteness of their bread that they dunked it into their coffee.

White plains.

Oh, how fantastic, how lovely! As long as it's not where our army has to be deployed!

Which was why Zettour and his friend beside him were forced to listen to the screams of the mid-career officers.

"Snow?! It's snowing?!" "Call the weather team!"

Furious, the staffers clutched briefcases; agitated, they shouted out changes to the timetables and marching plans.

The collapse of the weather estimates had a huge impact on the ground forces.

The General Staff had planned for a safety margin and anticipated winter that was earlier than anything they had set in previous years, so having an even more unusually early arrival of winter really pulled the rug out from under them.

"I thought we would have trouble avoiding a winter battle, but… Rudersdorf, we didn't anticipate this, did we?"

"It came out of nowhere."

Rudersdorf—his friend, his accomplice, or simply the man in charge of this room— sounded irritated.

That spoke to the mental state of the Imperial Army General Staff, which was in an uproar like a kicked hornet's nest over the single word snow.

"They don't even have the necessary equipment. Can you expedite shipments of winter supplies?"

"We're rushing to make the arrangements. Supplies should begin getting to the frontline troops within the next few days… but only to troops within reach of the rails."

Shoving his cigar into the ashtray, Zettour looked up at the ceiling with a tired face; he knew how important it was to prepare for winter. Which was why he had prepared for the worst and arranged for the manufacture of winter gear. He had the production lines working at full tilt. But he didn't think he would have to deliver the items to the front lines this instant.

At this critical instant…

What they could send to the front were fuel and shells—essentials for the offensive. That and the horses and fodder Zettour and everyone in the Service Corps had arranged in a frenzy of preparation.

The schedule for the domestic railroad network was already timed down to the week, defying their limited transport capabilities in order to just barely serve up enough of everything necessary for a major offensive.

Now that had to be revised to get winter gear to the front lines while also preserving the supply of essential consumables like shells and food?

Frankly, the gravity of the situation was clear as the point officers of the Railroad Department under Zettour in the Service Corps hurled every curse they could think of at the heavens and then clung to the timetable.

But the Railroad Department actually had things relatively easy.

Those in charge of Operations had, up until yesterday, been given "a few weeks," but that time had dropped to zero with no warning.

The Operations officers' debate grew only more hostile.

"The central observatory kept telling us it was going to be a mild autumn…" "It's not a mistake or a fluke?!"

The reply to that wishful thinking was undeniable proof that reality was always heartless.

"The guys at the observatory have thrown in the towel. We have to just assume the coming of winter is an established fact at this point."

There were grumbles, sighs, and a few moments of silence during which cigarettes were plunged into ashtrays. Everyone was gnashing their teeth in frustration and obvious impatience. A suffocatingly grave stillness filled the room.

"…Shit. We're out of time. Have the troops evacuate."

That one comment caused the room to explode like so much lighter fluid.

"The lines are already under as much strain as they can take due to our offensive! We must reorganize now!"

"Don't be stupid! Are you seriously saying we should pull out?"

"We need to secure depth. We could compromise with a partial offensive and a partial reorganization…"

All those speaking were staff officers, the backbone of the Empire.

These men were military specialists, thoroughly trained with intelligence optimized to carry out their duties. And the Reich's staffers, without a doubt, had no equals. Those men in pursuit of a single clear conclusion were forced to disagree.

Of course, it went without saying that matters of operations and strategy should be debated among people with diverse viewpoints.

"This is no joke! Are you serious? Are you planning on telling the frontline troops to just play in the slush?"

"Then are you saying they should stand by shivering until the snow falls? Why don't you think of how we can best use the short time we have left?!"

And since both the argument to attack and the argument to protect had their theoretical grounds, the debate grew ever more emotional and the tone more distressed.

"Are you saying we should gamble our vulnerable supply lines on something as unreliable as the weather?"

"It's a reasonable calculation!" "How?!"

The logistics supporting the troops deployed on the vast eastern front were shockingly fragile. It wasn't only the Service Corps who were forced to understand that but everyone in Operations as well, even if they didn't want to.

The sporadic raids on the supply lines…

The attrition of personnel, the burden of transporting shells and other goods—it was like a hemorrhage that wouldn't stop. Expanding the lines any farther would be a serious burden on their already overworked supply network.

That alone could be fatal… so with the added issue of unpredictable weather, the decision to stay put was utterly sound.

"If we act now, we can still advance! If we put an end to this before the transportation conditions worsen, there will be no obstacle to wintering sooner."

But at the same time… it was still possible to advance if they acted now.

"Are you saying we should advance?! You're saying to go forward without proper winter gear when we're not even sure we can guarantee supply lines will stay open?! How do you expect our army to survive?!"

"If we don't attack fully here, time won't be on our side! Remember what happened with the Commonwealth and the Unified States! Strike while the iron is hot! What other choice do we have?"

The faction advocating action had a point. Time was not on the side of the Empire, their Reich.

Their national power was dwindling, and their working population was suffering serious losses. The last-ditch measure of having women work in the factories was now normal. There was also a serious commodity shortage. Even with a rationing system in place, the Empire was critically low on resources.

"So your plan is to run the whole army into the ground over this hopeless gamble?! If we don't retreat, our army will disintegrate!"

"We can't pull out now! Do you have any idea how close we are?!"

"If we act now—if we act now, we can advance! How do you know we'll be able to break through the reinforced enemy next year?! We can't miss this chance!"

The nation was weakening, as if it were being slowly tortured. Though the Imperial Army still boasted strength, it was impossible to say the prolonged conflict wasn't taking its toll.

So a few officers had to point out that harsh reality in particular. "The army is already disintegrating in the east!"

"We run the risk of wearing the troops down completely! Don't underestimate the cost of delaying our move!"

"You're saying to destroy our troops on a suicidal charge because some cowards are prisoners of fear? That is out of the question!"

Next to the table where the debate between mainly mid-career officers was heating up, at the desk positioned in the back of the room, the two generals letting their tobacco silently smolder exhaled their smoke along with a sigh.

Even the way they silently stubbed out their cigars resembled each other. Lieutenant General von Zettour and Lieutenant General von Rudersdorf.

But one of them was scoffing, fed up with their subordinates' shameful behavior, while the other was so disinterested he wasn't even listening.

Well, it was the natural outcome. Both generals had braced themselves the moment they heard the word snow.

As the deputy chief of the Service Corps, General von Zettour had already given his answer. Thus, urging his subordinates to debate was simply a form of harsh brain training.

The same went for General von Rudersdorf. As the one in charge of Operations, he knew they needed to switch gears to consider realistic measures.

It was because they understood the factor of time that they both gave their conclusions immediately.

Faced with the results of then tossing their conclusions to the mid-ranking officers, knowing it would do no good, Zettour had to admit he regretted it.

"We've got a hundred schools of thought here."

After much debate, their arguments had devolved into mere opinions. And what made his head hurt was that the ones involved didn't even seem to notice.

"When do you suppose they'll realize that even if our answer isn't the right one, it's a waste of time to debate?"

"Hmph, it's because Personnel is always picking these guys who think they are clever enough to be staff officers. We've reached a stalemate. Evacuating the troops is our only choice. Anyone unsure about such a crucial point is a second-rate officer."

"Isn't that just the irritating truth."

Sheesh. This was what it means to want to lament. They're a select group, and yet the Imperial Army General Staff is full of these guys who think they're so smart. Unbelievable… Both generals disapproved.

But… , it had to be added.

To be fair, both General von Zettour and General von Rudersdorf were notorious for having the highest minimal expectations in the General Staff.

The two ravens of the Imperial Army boasting the greatest intellects…

Hardly taking any notice of the average staff officers, the two had already comprehended what the arrival of winter meant and begun their grieving.

"Winter came too early. Since we couldn't predict it, we'll have to put up with the accusations of incompetence and cope with the situation."

"Yes," Zettour agreed and then asked about something that worried him. "But after reorganizing the lines, are we going to mount another offensive?"

There was only one problem.

What they needed to discuss now was what to do after winter. On that point, Zettour and Rudersdorf didn't agree completely.

"…What other means does the Empire have? We need a way to end this war. With the front so hotly contested, the chances of settling things via leisurely negotiation are slim."

"If necessary, we could put together a plan to wait it out."

Zettour said that was what total war theory was for. The attritional containment theory he and his division had been proposing assumed that major losses were inevitable but was otherwise quite solid.

A powerful munitions manufacturing network and self-sufficient economic behavior had emerged in the Empire.

So Zettour was sure of it. "We still have the freedom to act. There's no need for us to limit our own choices. We don't have to discard the option of a long war of attrition."

"Logically, that's valid. So I can't deny it, Zettour." There was something sorrowful about General von Rudersdorf's expression as he let his cigar smolder. "I understand, but… ," he continued. "I know you do, too. The Empire is just barely keeping itself afloat. And that's only possible because of the discipline of our total war doctrine."

"Allow me to correct your misunderstanding, General von Rudersdorf. There are no obstacles to maintaining the minimum. At least not at present."

"That only holds true for military supplies, right?"

"I can't deny that. We've nearly reached the limit of what we can do to prop up declining food production. We've seen a rapid increase in shell production, but… the poor quality makes me despair." Zettour nodded and acknowledged the truth his counterpart raised.

The main workforce producing the Empire's agricultural yield was missing a huge chunk of its manpower, and the other critical issue was that the army had requisitioned all the horses they normally used for plowing.

It was none other than the Service Corps that had rounded up the horses they were using to transport supplies, so Zettour was painfully aware of the heavy blow they had dealt to domestic agriculture.

To be frank, the effects were worse than he had expected. In a way, it was their own mistake that they were stuck eating turnip after turnip.

"Expecting a long war is different from hoping for a long war. We think we should leverage our strengths to attempt a breakthrough on the operational level."

"And I'm not denying that, Rudersdorf. But you understand, too, don't you? It's too big of a gamble."

"Curse my incompetence. I hate that I have to gamble for the outcome of this major event in the Empire's history," he muttered.

Compared to the usual vigor in his voice, he sounded so weak. If you were going to give me such a trembling reply, you should have just consulted with me from the start…

"…Hmm. Well, come and talk to me if need be. But we have to start by preparing for General Winter."

"Agh, that pain-in-the-neck General Winter." The timing was completely off.

They couldn't hope for an offensive according to the army's plan. So for the time being, the eastern front would enter what could kindly be called a lull. To put it unkindly… they would be giving the Federation time to reorganize. It was immensely frustrating, but there wasn't anything they could do to combat forces of nature.

Not being able to make any predictions about the operation after the winter was exasperating. And on top of that, there was no telling what kind of attrition they would suffer during the winter.

Having to formulate a strategy under such opaque circumstances was… completely unheard of. How could they plan for the future when they didn't even know what they would have on hand?

Still… There General von Zettour revised one of his opinions. There are infinite variables. But if we can define even one of them, it's not a bad idea to nail it down.

"At this point, I'm going to get that proposal in front of Supreme High Command no matter what it takes."

He was talking about the "autonomy" plan he had hit upon due to a suggestion from Colonel von Degurechaff.

He'd worked Colonel von Lergen to the point of exhaustion, but after the political maneuvering using Lergen's contacts, combined with accepting the huge risk and fortune involved, he was beginning to see results.

It was tangible—Zettour could sense that there was something to it. "The autonomy plan? I agree that it seems efficient, but—"

"Climax rhetoric, Rudersdorf! Listen…" He made his point as simply as if he was explaining a universal truth. "Rather than having an enemy country next door, it's better to have a country that is not friendly with our enemy next door."

"That's for sure."

"And a neutral country would be even better." "Of course. That makes sense."

"In that case," Zettour finishes as if he's proposing an evil scheme, "the best for the Reich would be a friendly country that has interests aligned with ours."

"Are you planning on becoming a midwife or something? That's terribly commendable…" His friend smiled, and Zettour smiled back.

He wasn't looking in a mirror, but he was sure of it…

My— Our faces must look so wicked. That thought suddenly flitted across his mind. But so what?

"If necessary, I'm not opposed. I've even prepared a place for the blessed event to occur. I'll probably choose the godparents. Plans for the baptism are already set. Then if the government only recognizes it, our burden should lighten a little."

"You mean the newborn baby will work for our side like a full-grown adult?" Rudersdorf scoffed as if he found the prospect ridiculous, but Zettour handily knocked him down a peg.

"Listen, friend. Even a little girl has been useful in this war. I'm sure infants and toddlers have their uses. At the very least, they can shield us from bullets."

"That's the worst argument I've ever heard."

"Without a doubt. It's absolutely despicable, and I'm aware of that. That being said," Zettour continued, "I'm a fairly evil member of this organization despite my virtuous nature, and as such, I'll carry out my duty as I must. All I'm permitted—no, all we as General Staff officers are permitted is devotion to our duties."

They had pledged their swords to the fatherland, the Reich. On that day, the day they were commissioned, they swore to protect it from anyone who would do the country or the imperial family harm.

So if the fatherland deems it necessary…

Why don't we, as General Staff officers, become as evil as it takes?

General von Zettour had even begun radiating an air of grim determination, so for a moment, he was taken aback by his sworn friend's hearty laughter.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, in theory, you're quite right. But you seem to have one amusing misunderstanding, so I couldn't help myself."

"A misunderstanding?"

"What are our dear General Staff's staff officers famous for?"

The cheery smile on his friend's face was also a dry one. But rarely had he heard something that made so much sense.

"Well, it's definitely not their great personalities."

"Let's be frank. Shouldn't we make ourselves known far and wide as eccentric, formidable, and cunning?"

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Yes, you're right, of course." Oh, we're already here? "Every one of us looks sensible, but we must all be unreasonable. All we have to do is use brute force to do what must be done."

The lid was open from the beginning. So hell will beget hell by our hands? Shit.

It's all too easy to accept this future he's painted.