CHAPTER- V

THE END OF MARCH, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, FEDERATION TERRITORY

An old wise man once said that as long as you're prepared, your chance will come. But also that there's no reason for heaven to help those who don't help themselves.

In other words, assertive action is how you seize a chance, and it must be performed boldly.

Principles were always easier said than followed.

What Drake the marine magic officer knew was how to come to terms with a reality that determination alone couldn't fix and wage war—even if the amphibious exercises connected to the plan up north, conducted with the assistance of the Federation Army General Staff, were a mess.

Though they were kind enough to allow them to observe exercises that should have been a military secret, it took only a moment to become disillusioned.

Drake had learned all too well how reckless war in a sky without air superiority was. Ever since the Imperial Air Fleet had advanced into former Entente Alliance territory, enemy air forces dominated the sky there. The bigger problem, it should probably be said, was their skill.

The Imperial Air Fleet was scheming to sever the route between the Commonwealth and the Federation, and Drake had thought of them as a superbly talented crew. Had thought because he now had the latest information.

Having participated in the mission to guard the route, Drake could say with confidence that Intelligence's work wasn't perfect, either. If he were to give his impression after actually fighting them, he would say that "superbly talented" didn't even come close

to describing the enemy. That was their first mistake.

The reality was far beyond anything they had imagined. Assume the worst—ha. They had to accept that the enemy was "extremely dangerous."

Even a ship like the RMS Queen of Anjou, which was fast enough to outrun enemy submarines and had a pile of marine mages like him and his troops as direct support, still got hammered.

The second mistake was underestimating the imperial submarine fleet. Submarines didn't stand out much, but they were a serious threat. The Federation Navy seemed to think there would be only a few, but that was analysis given by guys who didn't seem to completely understand how to patrol for subs.

It was no wonder he was worried one would make it through. All those things together made the problem clear.

Apparently, when planning on landing ground forces in former Entente Alliance territory, they took into account the potential for a fierce counterattack from the Imperial Army, but that was already too optimistic. Sadly, that was nonsense spoken out of ignorance about what an opposed landing entailed.

It was awfully amateurish to not even consider the possibility that they wouldn't have a chance to land. Perhaps the Federation Army's attitude of not wanting to think about it was tied to their domestic situation.

I want things to be fine. So they're probably fine.

In other words, things are fine.

The mood ruled by this baseless argument was vaguely terrifying. An optimistic outlook meant relief, which was their worst enemy. Why didn't anyone question the madness of this plan?

The real cowards were the ones not saying what needed to be said and refusing to think about what needed to be considered. Drake cursed the heavens in spite of himself. Looking back on his military career, he was scared that the whole thing could

be summed up as cleaning up after amateurs and optimists.

At least he didn't need to tiptoe with his brother-in-arms. He felt he should tell him.

"I can't understand those tortoises who thought this would work," Drake admitted to Colonel Mikel in a low voice. "…I mean, there aren't even any landing crafts! This is a bit too novel for my liking. Is it fair to call this a leisurely wartime yacht cruise paid by taxpayer money?"

"Gimme a break," Mikel responded in a suppressed voice and spoke of the Federation Army's internal situation. "Apparently, that was us doing the best amphibious operation we can."

His whisper was an almost robotic voice devoid of emotion. Drake couldn't help but feel that he was suppressing exhaustion and resignation.

Still, even if it made him obnoxious, he had to say it. "I realize this is impertinent and tactless, but please tell me: Wouldn't your prerevolution navy have been able to present something better given even a single day?"

"That's not the sort of thing to ask a mage. It's not my jurisdiction, and I don't know anything about the ocean… I heard the guys who would have known are gone now…"

"All right." Drake broke off the conversation before it veered into more dangerous territory. He didn't want to get into it, and he didn't want Mikel to think he was trying to interfere in Federation administration.

The Federation Navy's circumstances were old hardware and brand-new software.

New might sound pure at first, but it basically meant empty. The shell of the old navy was all that remained, and the predreadnought battleships stuck in the past just barely displayed what you couldn't quite describe as majesty.

With aerial mages, planes, and even submarines having come into their own as fighting forces, the Federation Navy was fairly underpowered for contemporary maritime battles.

"Having witnessed your exercise, I'll give you my conclusion out of duty as an officer from an allied country… Charging into an area where the enemy has control of the sky like that would be suicide."

"Yeah, we don't have air superiority… The premises of the exercise were too different," Mikel answered in a lifeless voice—he must have known. Any soldier who had to weigh the outcome of Operation Tea Party would reach the same conclusion.

"Raid with a carrier strike group and both sides will be hurting. Can you hope for the same amount of air cover without a carrier?"

"Our navy doesn't have aircraft carriers…" "…All I can say is that it's reckless."

On their minds were the results of the "stress test" operations the Commonwealth Navy had carried out some time before.

Commonwealth carrier task forces had conducted strikes that also functioned as recon-in-force against various objectives in former Entente Alliance and former Republic territory, but the results were terrible.

In every area, imperial forces had magnificently repelled them. It was even exposed that their capital ships were weak in anti–air combat.

"We can't expect imperial defenders to be second-rate. This is a pain."

They were taken completely by surprise and were in such a sorry state that they had to send up training units to intercept… is what was officially announced in praise of their heroics, but to anyone who could read between the lines, the Commonwealth Navy's shock was clear.

Imperial fledglings got caught up in an encounter battle, and Commonwealth marine mages had to withdraw because "time had run out"? The fact that trainees the marines expected to be unstable could maintain what counted as combat-ready quality in the Commonwealth exemplified the base quality of the Imperial Army's soldiers.

Naturally, they had anticipated facing tough resistance in the west.

Given that in the west the Empire was facing the Commonwealth mainland, they weren't surprised that the western air fleet and the reserves assigned there would be strong.

But even so, things had apparently gone worse than expected.

If Drake was hearing this much about it despite the gag order and the secrecy classification, things must have been bad.

It would have been some consolation if they had cleaned up in places besides the west, but the stress test results showed that the imperial units in the former Entente Alliance were also tough.

"We have to admit that they were sturdier than we anticipated. The Imperial Army must be prioritizing severing the support route to the Federation. Their air power was surprisingly robust." As Drake continued, he lowered his eyes to the reports in irritation.

In his hands was the report about what they assumed would be a relatively weak counterattack in the former Entente Alliance territory. Despite a warning from Drake and others, they had apparently underestimated the Empire's forces.

One glance was enough to tell things had gone horribly. Powerful imperial units, including an air fleet they had never seen before, came out to meet them, and the carrier task force got pummeled.

Apparently, they had heard that imperial ground troops stationed in defense were second-rate reservists and then failed to take the entire defense force seriously enough.

Partisan reports specified that there were "no powerful ground units," but someone must have misread it as "no powerful units." That sort of error was infrequent but did happen.

It was bad news if their air forces were top tier. It proved that the imperial armada in former Entente Alliance territory had been reinforced far more than estimated.

If people were only now paying attention to the report from Drake and his troops, who had escorted the RMS Queen of Anjou one way, it was too late.

"It's a nightmare trying to move a convoy through waters under enemy air superiority. What are they thinking over on the mainland?" Drake sounded the alarm quietly but with a sense of crisis.

Ignorance is bliss? Is that it? Though they weren't unhappy to have pulled strong units from places that weren't the main lines, there was a strong air fleet moving into

position to occupy the Federation support route.

Considering how important that route was, it wasn't just the navy who would be losing sleep over this.

We knew this would happen, though. Instead of grumbling, Drake just sighed in a white puff. Mikel looked unwell as he gave his reply.

"As far as I can tell, the higher-ups were just interpreting things as they saw fit. Apparently, they thought the imperial air forces would be concentrated on the front line."

"That's awfully optimistic. And who do they think is going to get bit by it in the end? Certainly, the Empire is known for stationing troops thickly along the front lines, as opposed to how the Federation prioritizes strategic reserves… but I hardly think that would mean they let defense in the rear slip."

The Federation Army had a tendency to see the Imperial Army as specialized in attacking… but in Drake's experience, it was more defensive. The imperial doctrine focusing on mobility was often understood as an embodiment of maneuver warfare, but in fact, its foundation was interior lines strategy.

In other words, they had a reputation for using the cards in their hands to protect and survive.

"…Not sure what to do about that, I guess. So? It's not nice to keep your brother-in- arms in suspense… Do you have some secret plan or script for us this time?"

"It's not quite a secret plan, but…" Drake smiled. "Basically, we'll be a distraction."

"Right. We'll get the Imperial Army focused on a location that isn't the east. Ultimately, your idea must be to divide their forces."

"Exactly," Drake continued with an evil grin. "Do you get it? We'll be going through the back door, so we don't even need air superiority or a landing with enemy resistance. It's fine to be flashy like a proper distraction, but… we don't need to get too serious." Drake grumbled, flicking away his cigarette. It wasn't only the Federation Army who had that problem; soldiers who valued procedure were often overly obsessed with textbook stipulations. "We're going on a sneak attack! If we can't visit our beloved Juliet through the front gate, we'll just have to be Romeo and go through the back."

"Are we lovesick?"

"Yes, it's similar. For a submarine assault, that's the ideal form. The Imperial Army has ripped my heart out."

"Whoa there, that's an indecent affair."

"Let's just say I've fallen for its modus operandi." Sneak attacks, feints, decapitation tactics…

The Imperial Army's shrewd use of aerial mages was terribly effective. They were doing things in naval strategy that he had never considered before. The elegant generals talking around a table might not approve of that sort of assertiveness, but it would certainly rouse the adventurous spirits of the officers in the gun room. Drake felt they could learn something from that resolve.

"…They really got you. I take my hat off—is that the right phrase?" "I guess I'm an Orientalist."

"Ah, let's leave it at that." Mikel ducked his head slightly and scanned the area in silence. From his body language, it was clear what his comment meant.

Something like, If a political officer hears this conversation, it'll be a pain.

Even joking around like this could cause trouble?

"Then it seems like I should be the one to draw up the operation plans?" "…Sorry to make you do all the work, but I appreciate it."

"Oh, it's just a Commonwealth soldier forcing a plan on a Federation soldier. Get ready for some arrogance."

Let's cut to the chase.

Lieutenant Colonel Drake and Colonel Mikel's invasion to take pressure off the east was planned through the proper channels, and although there were some complications, the main framework ended up getting the approval of both the Commonwealth and

Federation Armies.

Maybe it was more correct to say they were extremely welcoming rather than simply approving. That's how enthusiastic the upper echelons were.

The operation the pair jointly submitted was a plan to use a number of large submarines to invade former Entente Alliance territory via the sea. If their landing operation was interpreted as a commando mission in essence, that made it the largest one to date.

The idea of a major counterattack probably sounded good to some of the higher-ups who were anxious to mount one.

The ultimate goal was to aid the flank of the eastern front.

The method was to make a show of the coordination between local partisans and the Federation-Commonwealth allied army to lure imperial troops to Norden and pin them there.

It was a relatively straightforward plan, but the difficulty stemmed from its simplicity.

The issues anticipated due to siloing between branches were handled easily. The Federation subs had been reluctant to have Commonwealth soldiers aboard despite the fact that they were allies, but they finally accepted the plan with an order from Moskva.

Since they were emphasizing political achievement over military gains, it wasn't too hard to get support from the continuing resistance.

You could say a cooperative spirit coursed through every stage of the operation.

The time to get an affirmative response for each step was astoundingly short. For anyone who knew even a little about how slow bureaucracy could go, it was unbelievable.

The history books would probably praise it as a smooth, well-organized endeavor. A solid cooperative structure.

A concrete strategic objective.

Thorough understanding from the upper echelons. A determined commander.

Appropriate intelligence analysis and integration with related organizations. All the factors that distinguished success from a failure were present.

But even after lining up all the comments about how smoothly things were going in the field for Drake and his crew, it was difficult to say it was as nice as the comments made it out to be.

After all, things were always a shit show in the field.

And that went for Drake and his troops in a Federation sub as well.

Their passage had been remarkably uneventful, but the prep had been incredibly rushed.

All that meant was that amid mechanical trouble, the sound of a screw propeller of what must have been a patrol boat that they encountered along the way and general disorder caused by the cramped space, he would write, No trouble worth noting, in the official report.

Considering all those factors, as they drew near to their destination in former Entente Alliance waters… respect for their transporters began to well up inside Drake.

"It's so handy to have submarines facilitate like this. No one thought to use them like this before the war started?" Having been at loose ends, Drake struck up a chat with the duty officer next to him to express some of his respect.

The navy man not only understood Drake's Queen's dialect but responded as well. Not that he really should have found it terribly surprising.

It was standard on the seas.

"'Handy' sounds nice, but you could also say it's making things harder for us… Once you go above and beyond, what used to be above and beyond becomes the default next time."

The way he could say something so dangerous in the conning station where other people could hear proved that submariners were similar the world over. Hearty seamen.

Being on a submarine together meant sharing fates; the crew was basically a family that lived and died together. Apparently, that meant they could gossip without hesitation.

"I understand. That's rough. As an apology, I offer this. It's a bottle of gin I brought over, probably not too shabby."

"Are you paying us off? I may even start believing the party's propaganda about how horrible capitalists are." Though his expression said he was joking, his attitude as he didn't even attempt to refuse was rare for a Federation officer.

"Ha-ha-ha. Yes, it's an evil capitalist conspiracy. We want to win you over by warming you up with toasty alcohol in this cold ship." As Drake laughed in response, it sunk in for him once again how submarines had their own culture. If he had to find fault with it, he would complain like a dandy that there was a limit to the airs he could put on. It was a bit too cramped for him to laugh nihilistically with the Federation soldiers. But the freedom to breathe seemed a fair trade.

Instead of naval mines, they had loaded up on people… but honestly, it was still too cramped. If they forced the issue, it was certainly possible to cram everyone in, but it wasn't something he wanted to do over and over.

Three vessels, three mage battalions.

Marine mages, including Drake, often had to embark on small military ships once formed up. That meant he was relatively used to it. The mages with lots of missions on land probably have more to worry about than we do. Poor sods.

Ahhh. Drake smiled wryly at that point. It wasn't like him to think so much. They had arrived at their go point safely, and apparently, the long wait time after a modest tea toast made one thoughtful.

If there wasn't anyone supervising them, he could have busted out the rum and gotten a little rowdier with the friendly crew… but it was more crowded than the Londinium subway.

"Phew." He sighed and was staring silently at the clock to stay out of the crew's way when he noticed something strange. What the—? This was made in the Empire!

To think the day would come that I'd be inside a Federation submarine watching a clock of imperial make and waiting to commence a landing operation! The Imperial Army guys must have been looking at this same sort of clock just before they landed in the Osfjord. Is this what people mean when they say "curious fate"?

Having thought that far, he realized what a weird combination it was.

I'm in a submarine with a liberal atmosphere watching an imperial clock and speaking freely with Federation soldiers!

Was this the three steps of observation, discovery, and interpretation? The world was a strange place indeed.

But after a little while, Drake's moment of rumination was at its end. "Operation Romeo—it's go time."

The call echoed out in the Federation language.

He didn't wait for it to be translated. Everyone perked up, understanding it was time; of course they turned toward the captain.

"Maintain periscope depth! Checking the area… All right!" "Cease submarine cruising! Surface!"

"Blow the main tank!"

The crew's crisp, staccato exchange echoed throughout the iron casket.

Even in a language they didn't understand, any navy personnel could grasp what was happening. The words may have been different, but operating a ship was the same.

The pressurized air was forced into the water, and the buoyant force had the ship up on the wide-open ocean in no time.

"Gear, check!"

"Open the hatch!"

"Lookouts, to your posts!"

The sailors jumped briskly out of the hatch. With a vulnerable submarine on the surface, they couldn't afford to have their guard down for a second.

But that was the crew's job.

As someone just hitching a lift, Drake had his heart stolen by the influx of fresh air. It was rich in oxygen, and he could breathe without worrying about the carbon dioxide concentration.

"…Sheesh, I didn't realize how delicious the sea air is."

"Ha-ha-ha. I bet not. You don't understand how sweet a smell it is unless you become a submariner." The Federation naval officer who appeared next to him spoke the truth.

His tone was filled with camaraderie due to the respect between the fellow navy officers for each other's seamanship. Drake ducked his head slightly and said, "You're right about that."

Marine mages, like the older marine units, most often served on capital ships. Drake's military career was by no means short, but this was his first time serving on a submarine.

Right. He recalled at that point that there were good and bad things about new experiences, like anything else.

When he realized what the glances he was getting from the Federation personnel in the area were for, he couldn't say it felt good.

There could be only one reason he had to recompose himself and plaster on a hollow expression like he didn't know these guys and conceal the relaxed atmosphere.

It was the approach through the narrow corridor of a woman officer. He didn't think it very tactful to curse in this sweet, pure sea air, but neither did he enjoy holding in his frustration.

It was hard to live authentically in the world.

"Colonel Drake, on behalf of the people, I wish you luck." The political officer bobbed her head politely.

It was sad that he was used to seeing the exhausted face of the officer ordered to interpret, but… Drake had plenty of experience suppressing his dislike of political officers.

Then again, being used to dealing with them didn't make it any less of a pain. "Thanks, Lieutenant Tanechka. You really helped us out in a lot of ways."

"No, I'm glad I was able to accompany you all, since we share the same aim."

"It's an honor to hear you say that… We may be allies, but I'm sure we've put you through some stress."

Did the fact that he could smile and have a hollow conversation with her indicate growth? Or a fall from grace? Considering the higher-ups described this relationship as shaking hands with the devil, probably the latter.

Honestly, he railed beneath his smile, how the Federation soldiers put up with such an incomprehensible system is human history's greatest mystery.

"Well, I'm sorry you had to come along even though you're not with the navy." "Oh, I'm just glad if I can be of some service."

She wasn't navy personnel, and she wasn't participating in the operation.

She was just idly taking up limited space and oxygen. But perhaps he was biased.

There was no guarantee that he wasn't reacting in an overly negative way to the appearance of the foreign element—this political officer—because he was familiar with the coordination and family-like bonds in the navy. He didn't feel it to the same extent Mikel did, but still, although she was a pain in the neck as a political officer, it wasn't as if she was unreasonable as an individual.

But he had to sympathize with the Federation Navy for their troubles nevertheless.

Even a submarine had its own political officer. Then this one had to cram aboard with them—it probably couldn't get more crowded than this.

"We're always causing trouble for everyone in the Federation. I just hope getting a ride like this isn't too much. My apologies." Drake bowed his head to the Federation naval officer.

They were two men of the sea. They didn't require an excess of words. He simply wanted to deliver a good-mannered apology. Which is why, perhaps it should be said, he ended up dumbfounded in the next moment.

"Cultural differences occur between any countries. As long as we're fighting for the same cause, they're nothing more than obstacles to be overcome."

This political officer, Liliya Ivanova Tanechka, is a terror. She just shamelessly barged into a conversation between two officers like it was her own!

To be honest, Drake didn't foresee this at all. It was implied his comments were for the naval officer, not the political officer. And yet she so kindly took the liberty of responding!

"It's as Comrade Tanechka says. Don't worry about it, Colonel Drake." "…Sorry… er, I guess I should say thank you."

"Either or neither." The naval officer shrugged. He must have been used to this. To Drake, it was shocking and surreal.

They say that too many captains will send a ship up a mountain, but here we have someone who isn't even in the navy chain of command acting like she's in charge when the minimal requirement for success on a submarine is unity of the crew!

"Sheesh, I'm no match for you. Let's compete in military achievements. That said, if you give me a huge quota, I won't be able to do it anyhow, so don't expect too much."

He must have had a little self-restraint left if he could go without snapping, I can't take this.

Sorry, he apologized internally, and when he jumped out of the open hatch, he was met by the sweet, rich sea air.

Yesss, the sea.

That his unusually irritated internal state was soothed on deck as he was headed to the battlefield made him feel like he was past saving, and he smiled wryly.

He had missed the salty sea air dearly. Even if he had gotten used to being run around on dismal Intelligence errands, at heart he was a soldier who valued honor.

His conscience complained that duty was calling.

In that case. Drake stood on the narrow deck of the sub and looked up at the sky with a confident nod.

Time for work.

Rather than wavering, rather than getting annoyed, it was better to do his job step by step.

"Marine mages, I need you up on deck!"

The moment of shouting, Move out! came with a brisk feeling he wouldn't trade for anything. Wearing his computation orb, rifle in hand, he faced the water hoping he, too, could be brave.

What did he have to worry about regarding his duties as a soldier, warrior, and individual?

"Commander Mikel gave the signal for all units to move out."

His subordinate's clear reporting voice sounded so full of energy.

"Very good." He responded to the mage's fierceness in kind. "Once we get up there, get into assault formation! Our destination is the Osfjord! Lieutenant Sue, take point! Guide us to your fatherland!"

"Yes, sir! Leave the vanguard to me!" Her reply was decisive.

When he glanced over at the lieutenant, her face was lit up with joy. She was on her way

home. It wasn't a bad thing for her to be excited, and it wasn't surprising.

But he couldn't help but be slightly worried. "Don't get cocky, Lieutenant."

"Understood! You can leave the forward watch to me!" "All right."

Though he nodded, she seemed impatient enough that he wasn't sure if she really understood. He couldn't help but think this was risky.

The location they had chosen to charge as their entryway into the former Entente Alliance was the Osfjord. He had heard Sue's father had fought there. And it was the battlefield where the imperial fleet had landed and made rubble out of the Entente Alliance lines.

Can she stay composed? He couldn't shake his doubt.

But vexingly, no matter how worried he was, he couldn't take her off point.

The mainland's requests always prioritized politics. The nobles in Whitehall wanted to see someone from one of the occupied countries pitted in a flashy fight against the Empire.

She and her Unified States unit of volunteers from the former Entente Alliance would make great propaganda material.

Drake had strict orders to get them into the thick of the fight. It was an operation for political ends directed by politicians.

War may be a continuation of politics, but as a commander in the field, he felt this relationship was a bit too cozy. Given it was a joint operation between the Federation and the Commonwealth for the purposes of propaganda, it was a natural request, but Drake couldn't help but find it annoying.

"I love the sea… Ah, but I can't mess around."

They were up and on their way to the Osfjord. Though he had done exercises on paper a number of times and learned the military geography, this was his first time performing a sneak attack from a submarine.

He had just thought, So this is another first, when he realized something.

"…An invasion via submarine, a sneak attack after sending in an aerial mage battalion. To think the day would come when us pros would be imitating everything those amateurs started."

The navy of a maritime state was playing catch-up to a continental state. This was how it felt for their precious Goddess of the Sea to sleep with someone else.

"That's a pretty sad thing for us champions of the sea."

They thought they were pioneers, but they had been lapped. For a country who had boasted being number one in the field, it was a disgrace. Honestly, it didn't feel very good.

The sailors found both ships and the sea to be quite jealous. But it went both ways. Men of the sea and ship were both full of passionate emotion. This newcomer the Empire is coming into our wide ocean and acting tough? There was no reason something so ridiculous should be happening.

Drake clenched his fists, sucked in the sea breeze, and roared with laughter. "We're late to the trend? No matter! We'll just nail it!"

As someone from his country with a reputation for taking only love and war seriously, he would have to represent. And in the first place, he was the commander of a marine mage unit. It wasn't as if he were a newbie on his first amphibious operation.

He just hadn't factored in the submarine before.

If you had the basics down, application wasn't difficult. If there was any issue, it was that this was a joint mission.

"Boss, Colonel Mikel is…" "On my way."

Drake responded to his subordinate's voice concisely.

"I guess things can't just go smoothly when it's your first time. Man, the Goddess of Fate sure is a bitch. Seems like everything depends on her mood."

Perfect coordination almost never happened outside of armchair fantasies.

It was hard enough to coordinate among your own units, much less troops from an allied army. It took an awful lot of time, bloody vomit, and sweat to turn complete strangers into those organic beings who share your fate on the battlefield known as brothers-in-arms.

"…Well, oftentimes your first time is one you'd rather forget." Being in sync had nothing to do with logic.

The Federation Army's Colonel Mikel was a soldier worthy of trust and respect.

Personally, Drake wouldn't be averse to having him cover his back. But even with someone you could trust to some extent, being able to coordinate was a whole different issue.

They'd been on two or three joint missions, but… they just happened to be fighting alongside each other on the same battlefield in those cases.

And he had no idea what to expect from the partisan units.

On your first joint operation, even the best of pals have to be ready to fail. And when it came to cooperation between not only mage units but local partisan ground troops, the risk variables started to accumulate rapidly.

"Whoever said to do what you can and let God do the rest was on to something. If this were poker, I'd be folding about now!"

He didn't want to fall to the earth having mistaken the smile of the Goddess of Luck as being adored by Fate. Flying toward the sun with wax wings would be a ridiculous plan, wouldn't it?

Mikel glanced up at the sky and scowled. Whoever said that the eyes could be just as eloquent as the mouth was right.

"I got some bad news." "What is it?"

"The sub that was supposed to be at sortie point three got detected by the enemy warning line and didn't make it. They're reporting their location, but… it's really far away."

Drake looked down and clicked his tongue in spite of himself.

This was the sort of trouble you could expect in the field, but… to think they would get tripped up on their first step.

"…So one battalion is down for the count? We won't have enough people."

"A third of our troops are out before we even start the fight. If we're going to declare we've been wiped out, it's now or never."

Their situation was extremely grave.

"So you and I are fools who let a third of our troops drop out before the battle even started?" Mikel's voice sounded dry, and Drake's must have seemed just as defeated. He didn't have the fight to put up a strong front. "Do we just call it one of the challenges of submarine operations? I had resigned myself to the fact that we couldn't expect close communications in the fleet… Well, I thought I understood how hard it was…"

Any understanding had to be in past tense now.

Submarines underwater couldn't use wireless communications. If they couldn't use the wireless, they couldn't report their statuses.

Learning precisely how significant that was through experience really stung. "I would think you've got enough of the salt about you to know."

"My job is to go over the sea. I might as well be a newbie when it comes to its depths."

Learning something new was a precious experience—as long as the tuition fees weren't profiteering.

"I hate that even though out in the world we have nothing to fear, the sound of a screw propeller makes us jump. And I'm sick of feeling like I've got the watchful eye of a dorm monitor on my back, even when we've had no major incidents along the way."

"Yeah, even just the memory of that is unpleasant."

So you were a bad kid? They eyed each other and Drake laughed it off. If there wasn't anything he could do about his situation, he had to accept it.

"I'm sick of hearing the engines of unidentified ships."

Approaching by submarine, surfacing, and sending out the mage units—they were all maneuvers performed on the assumption of a sneak attack. If there was even one ship in the vicinity when they surfaced, they could no longer expect secrecy to be maintained. The worries about secrecy were constant.

How ironic, then, that they couldn't even keep tabs on their own subs and found out at the last second that they were short on troops.

"By the way, what are we going to do about the missing battalion?"

"Well… it's impossible to carry out a large-scale feint, so what about switching to a hit- and-run? If we attack enemy torpedo storage, we should be able to secure the Northern Sea route's safety to some extent."

From Mikel's tone of voice, he didn't seem that serious about it. Still, it wasn't a bad idea.

Two battalions were more than enough to get one strike in.

And though people tended to forget, the fact was that torpedoes were a lot to deal with. They fell under the umbrella of extremely good targets.

The average submarine torpedo weighed well over 1.5 metric tons and was between six and seven meters long. They were huge both in terms of size and weight, but what really made them a handful was how sensitive they were. One careless move and the fuse would refuse to work properly. Unlike shells, they couldn't be easily mass- produced; they were essentially large collections of precise machinery. If they struck the imperial torpedo stockpile, there was a good chance the Empire's submarines and torpedo boats wouldn't be able to operate properly for the near future.

"You're saying we should attack the imperial munitions facility on the Osfjord? An eye for an eye, then, huh?" To Drake, as he smiled back at Mikel, it sounded like a thoroughly enjoyable plan. Hitting torpedoes was the kind of idea someone well versed in maritime affairs could get behind. And more than anything, he wasn't against that spirit of revenge.

Yes, it made him crack a smile.

"Sounds like fun." Sadly, it should probably be said, he had to continue, "Please consider our situation, though. Speaking as a member of your allied forces, it's our first joint operation in this mage regiment, and it's expected that we get proper political results."

In other words? Mikel asked with his eyes and Drake continued bitterly.

"Striking the torpedo or whatnot stock and withdrawing isn't a very good way to demonstrate our strong coordination with the partisans on the ground there. We need to take this farce seriously."

While it had military logic to it, this operation was limited by political circumstances.

An air raid on torpedo stores would be quite flashy, but… it wouldn't help them achieve their political goal of coordinating with the partisans.

"Honestly, it's great to have you along for this farce, Colonel Drake. It's hard to be free with a collar on."

"Well, it's a mix of the political situation and what works for the military."

Mikel nodded with an expression that said, That's for sure. It had to be hard for him. As someone in the same field, Drake sympathized from the bottom of his heart.

Fighting such a tough bunch as the Imperial Army was hard enough on its own. But this colonel had to fight them while keeping an eye out for the secret police and conspiracies behind his back.

"A two-front operation is always hard."

"Ain't that the eternal truth. And on that point, my apologies, but I'm glad I come from an island nation."

If his self of a few years ago heard him, he would have questioned his sanity, but he meant it—he had even found a new appreciation for the greatness of his beloved Commonwealth's politicians.

At least I don't have to worry about watching my back, and there's no way any of our politicians would say they want to attach political officers to our units. I do have it better.

A political officer boarding a submarine is more impudent than a rat. "All right, that's enough politics talk."

Drake nodded at Mikel and mentioned something he had been worried about for a while. "I hope we can actually contact the partisans."

"Supposedly, they've been on standby for a week now… Although we won't know until we go see."

Drake could only answer, "Right." But it was incredibly frustrating to him. The Entente Alliance's territory had been under imperial military rule since its defeat.

He had heard that since the Federation was adjacent, its army's General Staff and central political administration had been giving quite a bit of support to partisan activities since before the fighting had started.

But… Drake could remember more than a few reports in the Commonwealth's domestic records that gave unpleasant hints of what was to come.

Public opinion in a nutshell was, Better the Empire than Communism.

"If the partisans don't have enough manpower, we can always just go wild and pull out."

"In terms of propaganda purposes, it would be better if they had enough…" "Well, let's not expect—"

It happened right as he was about to finish with too much.

"Attention, all units. We have contact with a Wanderer. I'll patch them through."

At the sound of Lieutenant Sue's proud voice, Drake exchanged surprised looks with Mikel.

"Wanderer 03 to all of you. Welcome home."

It must have been Federation language that followed the fluent Commonwealth address.

"We've been waiting for you. I'll be your guide. Please begin your descent promptly."

-x-X-x-

EARLY APRIL, UNIFIED YEAR 1927

The harassment attacks on the fjord were carried out as a distraction by a volunteer company of mages from the Entente Alliance, Commonwealth marine mages, and a battalion of Federation mages. As a commando operation to support the main lines in the east through coordination with the partisans, it was typical.

That's all it would be known as, looking back in history.

The people of this generation would be laughed at in hindsight by those of later ones.

You didn't even realize something so basic?

But that had nothing to do with the people at the time. "What?! An air raid?!"

"Don't be ridiculous! We're not picking up any mana signals! Even for an incursion behind the lines, there has to be a limit to the distance they can strike from!"

"It's true that the local garrisons are experiencing sporadic combat!"

As the officers racked their brains over scattered reports of engagements and sightings in the din of the local Imperial Army garrison headquarters, more and more info came pouring in.

Some half-shrieked reports even said they were taking fire from naval cannons.

At the local garrison headquarters, they had to urgently inform their superiors of the situation while also alerting all units under them. All both the senders and receivers

could do was despise the fog of war.

Thus it was that the upper-level organizations who received the vague, confused information mixed with speculation passed unclear summaries down to the units beneath them.

Even the Empire's precision instrument of violence couldn't run perfectly forever.

And so, is how it should probably be said…

The shameful affair of these chaotic reports arriving at the core of the army caused some discerning officers to be wholeheartedly anxious.

Among the officers who received the urgent report and were forced to sigh were Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff and the other officers of the Salamander Kampfgruppe, a force currently stationed on the outskirts of the imperial capital and prepped for quick response.

For better or worse, a crew used to the battlefield knows that intelligence always comes in tangles. Tanya has thoughts about the guys at high command who can't see through the complications.

But setting her frustrations aside, it takes only a moment for her to get her brain in gear to comprehend the situation.

"…There's a chance they're mimicking us." "You mean they infiltrated via submarine?"

"Yeah," she responds to her adjutant who immediately grasps what she means. "I suppose we can consider it retaliation from the Federation. Even the inactive Federation Navy could probably manage to transport some mages."

Sadly, the Imperial Navy has essentially no antisub capabilities. The main forces of the High Seas Fleet have a unit of destroyers as escorts, and they do about as good a job as can be expected, but… there was no reason the navy would surrender its precious babies.

They had their hands full securing the waters between the mainland and Norden.

The air fleet and submarines deployed in the northern waters were on a mission to destroy the enemy's sea lane, so patrolling against subs was too much to hope for from them.

"So, Colonel von Degurechaff… you're saying this isn't a mistake but the truth?"

"There's a good chance. Well, if the reports are this confused, there's a really good chance. What are the local units doing?"

Tanya is more surprised that the local HQ failed at selecting intel. Was it because they had sent all the brains to the front lines in the east? It's the moment her fear that officer quality is dropping takes on some reality.

But she soon learns that was only the beginning. Faced with the stream of incoming reports, the officers of the Salamander Kampfgruppe all furrow their brows.

Enemy mages have infiltrated a rear area where there are active partisans.

It's a gold-standard tactic we've experienced enough times on the eastern front to be fed up with it.

Though the Council for Self-Government got the Federation partisans under control, everyone can still remember how much trouble they were. Just then, Federation mages cross the border, and we aren't sure how to deal with them.

If we leave them be, our fragile transport net will get attacked. But sending excellently mobile mages after them will cause its own problems. Playing tag along the vast eastern front often simply exhausts the it side.

"…Sparks flying from the east?"

"We can't rule it out. This is how the Federation does things. It would make military logical sense for them to expand their reach to the northern front to take advantage of our fatigue."

Things had seemed quiet in the former Entente Alliance territory. If sparks are flying, they may not stay calm any longer.

"What are the Feldgendarmerie and local garrison even doing?"

Tanya resists the desire to nod at Major Weiss's complaint and urges him to grasp the severity of the situation before denigrating others. "If they're aiming to hit us where we're exhausted, they've made quite the cunning choice."

Once you find yourself on the side getting it handed to, you understand the nature of things.

Tanya was secretly concerned that First Lieutenants Grantz and Tospan didn't have an appropriate sense of the crisis, but even they have begun to frown.

Experience truly is a great teacher.

"…Communists sure know what people hate," Tospan grumbles in a low voice, and the comment is surprisingly on point for him. Tanya feels like celebrating her subordinate's growth.

Sadly, before she can praise him, she ends up warning him. "They probably deserve our respect."

"Huh?"

"Everyone has their strong points. A talent for harassment should probably be appreciated."

Tanya's experiences in the east have taught her that Communists are not to be underestimated.

Between their efficiency in snatching away our cause and their scheming to draw the Imperial Army into a war of attrition, in the area of malice, the Federation's Communist Party is by no means stupid. I have to admit that they're employing the principle of competition well.

Tanya can't very well lose to the Commies on competition, the very foundation of the ideal market. Even if the commodity is ill will, competition is competition. I need to step up like I would to any other.

"…Put together some records of partisan activities." "Their general status isn't enough?"

Asymmetrical data are a problem, but that's why you work hard to erase the asymmetry. Putting in the effort to uncover the truth is always crucial.

Responding to her adjutant's perplexed question, Tanya gives an order imbued with her powerful will. "They seem to be operating differently from the partisans in the east. I want to compare them. Oh, and once you've collected the materials, check with the General Staff to see what's going on."

"Understood," First Lieutenant Serebryakov says, leaving the papers she'd collected and racing off to contact the General Staff. Tanya watches her go and then looks over the documents.

It happens just after she hands copies around to all the officers present and urges them to read closely. "May I say something?" It's the person she least expected. "This is bad. We don't have the partisans by the roots."

She does a double take in spite of herself, is I guess what you'd say. "Oh?" She's more than a little impressed by Tospan's comment. Apparently, even a first lieutenant who doesn't seem to have any idea how to apply knowledge can come up with a decent idea once he has some experience. She feels like she's seeing another side of her subordinates, whether it be First Lieutenant Tospan or Captain Meybert.

It's not half bad if they can compare the counterinsurgency battles in the east and the north and recognize the differences. Progress should be acknowledged.

"Could it be signs of a general uprising?"

Correction, Tanya whispers internally. She's not opposed to acknowledging Tospan's remarkable progress, but he still seems to lack the ability to think about a situation for himself.

"Lieutenant Tospan, I find that hard to imagine." "Why is that, ma'am?"

That gape-mouthed numbskull face. But questions should be answered.

After all, the ability to admit you don't know something is a virtue. Idiots aware of

their uselessness are a zillion times better than numbskulls convinced of their wisdom.

Tanya isn't averse to appreciating Tospan's honest-to-a-fault nature; it's certainly better than if he pretended to know what he didn't.

"They may be spread out, but we have quite a few troops over there guarding that territory. There's no way at present that the partisans could expect to rapidly capture the urban area."

It's generous of her to explain things to him in an if not careful way, then at least in detail.

"We'd be awfully lucky if the partisans started shit with no prospect of success. Our problem at present is that, sadly, the chances of that happening are slim."

When everyone asks with their eyes, How come? she declares, "Frankly, the enemy mage units that dropped in there are commandos who have come to cause a disturbance. As long as they don't get reinforcements, holding the city center should be no problem for our forces."

As far as Tanya can see, commandos are guerrillas. In other words, they're the guys who are the best at the things people hate. Considering that the Northern Army Group division is prepared to protect against a landing on the coast, it goes without saying that the enemy would target the city.

"The issue is whether the garrison can chase down units so highly mobile as mage units."

Let's be straight. Garrisons are slow, so the best they can do is defend a point. It's questionable whether a slow, second-rate division will even be able to hold the line.

"…It's less about holding a position than searching and destroying."

"Exactly. Which is why—" Tanya is in the middle of saying what everyone figures she will say, this is where we come in, when a knock on the door interrupts her.

"Lieutenant Serebryakov, coming in."

"Welcome back, Lieutenant. What did the General Staff have to say?"

"We've been ordered to help mop up. They assessed the situation as a raid by a regiment-strength number of Federation commandos and are giving the order for multiple strategic reserve units including our Kampfgruppe to deploy."

"Hmm… roger that."

One glance at the written orders is enough to make what the higher-ups are saying clear. They probably figured this would be too much for the local garrison, with their lack of mobility, to handle.

It's an order to go beat them out of the bushes.

This job is always the same when it comes to being sent off somewhere by a single sheet of paper.

"Sheesh, they sure got on top of that faster than I expected." "So?"

"Yes, Major Weiss. You probably already know."

Naturally, the orders in her hand are to sortie. As usual, the General Staff's judgment was quick and decisive.

But the implications of this particular judgment being so quick are terribly grave.

The Northern Army Group has become such a bunch of lazy hermits if they need to rely on the home country to hunt a few commandos for them. The fact that the General Staff made such a fast decision means that the situation is worse than anticipated… It's proof that units with the energy to tolerate maneuver battles are scarce. Or perhaps that the only troops up north are newbies with no experience?

We may not be busy at the moment, but if the strategic reserves under direct command of the General Staff are being mobilized, that's proof that things are bad enough that they're forced to send us.

Anyhow, if we're going to go, we had better get going.

"We have our orders. Troops, how do you feel about winter sports? Let's go north of Norden for a nice game of tag."

Ahhh, fuck.

So much for standing by in the home country.

"Let's do it in grand style with public funding from our beloved fatherland—what do you say?"

"""Understood!"""

"Good." Tanya nods and starts firing off orders in rapid succession. "The situation being what it is, I'll lead the main forces of the Kampfgruppe. Major Weiss, take the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion and go ahead of us."

It's imperative to travel both the sea and air routes to imperial Norden.

"Given the scope of the incursion, they're probably not operating in divisions. If you want to conduct some recon-in-force–level attacks, that's up to you."

"Understood. We'll be the vanguard."

If she leaves things up to her nodding vice commander, she can trust there won't be any mistakes in the details.

"Can we borrow Lieutenant Serebryakov?"

"Sorry, not this time. There won't be enough people at HQ." "…That's true."

Regardless of how it would go in enemy territory, this is territory under our control, even if it is a military government. Considering the condition of the unit… Tanya concisely delivers her decision that they need to prioritize the functioning of their headquarters element.

If there's any issue, it's which route the main forces should take. "What should the artillery do?"

Meybert had been silent up until now, but his question struck at that very point.

"I can't make any promises."

Just as Tanya is regretting having to say that, Serebryakov jumps to answer a phone call from the barracks guard that there's a visitor. The moment she hears who it is, she calls out, "Colonel von Degurechaff, Colonel Uger is here to see you."

"Oh?" Tanya's voice is bright. "Colonel Uger? That's great. We'll have this settled in no time."

She doesn't even have to tell her to show him in. Or rather, he shows up so fast, it's more like he barged in.

If the guy from the General Staff in charge of moving the troops comes at the same time as the order to deploy, that's some blazingly fast work.

Delightfully, the moment he arrives, he gets right down to business.

"I'll arrange land transport to the port. We can send the necessary equipment directly to the north. I just need you to not count on having much heavy gear."

"You mean because we're hunting partisans?"

"The Norden sea route is the bottleneck, and we don't have the capacity to take a ton of heavy gear through there."

I have to say, this omission of even the time-appropriate greeting is exactly what I expect from a member of the General Staff elite. It's so easy to discuss work with someone who gets it.

Straightforward business gets replied to in kind.

"I'd at least like to send the most critical armored forces and artillery…"

The moment he looks at her, he sighs. "The supply system is set up for an alpine battle in Norden."

He implies that it's basically impossible, which prompts Tanya to ask, "…What are the rails like north of Norden?"

"In short, all we have are some prewar lines that we've partially reopened. There's

hardly any capacity for military rolling stock."

"I remember there being heavy equipment in Norden at the beginning of the war…"

"Yeah, we did send some. And we learned our lesson, Colonel. It's too hard to supply armored troops up there."

"Sorry, but are guns an issue?"

"They have spare equipment up there, so you'll be fine. Really." He winced. "The biggest problem is once we send everyone in, it's not so easy to get them out."

When we poured troops into the Entente Alliance after getting embroiled in Norden issues, the Republic blasted us in the flank.

For the Empire and the Imperial Army General Staff, going through that trauma once was plenty. That's why the Kampfgruppe was formed as a compact unit for strategic deployment.

It was all out of a desire for strategic flexibility.

But those in the field have their own ideas. As a commander, Tanya has to state her concerns.

"I understand the situation; however… even if we have artillery, taking away our armored forces is out of the question. Are you saying to take all our tank crews and turn them into infantry?"

The whole point of having a combined arms unit is to have a combination of arms.

If you take tank crews out of their tanks and make them fight, that's what you call "infantry." And tankmen without tanks are little better than amateurs.

"…Hmm. That's a good point…" But after thinking on it, the response Uger comes up with is unexpected. "Oh, what if we made them motorcycle troops?"

"M-motorcycle troops?"

"If you're mainly worried about mobility, they'll definitely come in handy. And against partisans like this, they're not a bad idea. Well, I heard your enemy is actually invading

Federation mages, but how about it?" He's awfully perceptive. Still, even if it's a good plan, an officer needs to know where their supplies are coming from.

"Tell me more about the bikes."

"They were seized from the Republican Army, but the Railroad Department has gotten ahold of some in good condition."

If they were seized, that means they're outside the official count. So yes, it would be possible to be flexible with them. But then again, since they aren't official issue, they may not match.

It doesn't really matter if a group of individuals has different vehicles. But what Tanya needs are vehicles for a unit.

"You'll have to excuse me for asking, but can you get enough of the same model to outfit a whole unit?"

Uger's reply is a silent nod. He continues his confident affirmative verbally, "If a company's worth will do, I'll have them prepped for you right away on my authority."

"They won't break down on us? I just hope they don't turn into decorations while we wait for replacement parts that never come."

Uger laughs off her concern. "That's a great question, Colonel von Degurechaff. It's important to maintain a questioning attitude toward that kind of operational assumption. But I hope you'll remember who you're asking."

The man proudly puffing out his chest is a logistics expert.

This is what it means to have a home front you can be thankful for, one that understands the field of operations and can offer appropriate support. How reassuring it is to have a friend tell you it's no problem. Everybody needs connections they can trust. Long live social capital!

"…What a rude thing for me to ask a logistics expert. I do hope you'll forgive me."

Whether taxis, company cars, or yes, even military vehicles, it's assumed for operation that they will be standardized and uniform. If we discount the detail that they're seized machines, the fact that there are enough to go around is good.

Tanya bobs her head in apology.

If repairs and a supply of spare parts can be guaranteed, then Tanya personally has no complaints.

If there is anything… Tanya throws the ball to her subordinate in attendance who had been sitting quietly.

"Captain Ahrens, what do you think?" "We'd be happy to have them."

"It's all right with you?"

She asked because she wants to honor the opinion of the people who will actually be using them, but the reply that instantly comes back is somewhat unexpected. She didn't think he would agree so readily to being converted from armored troops in tanks into much more vulnerable motorcycle troops.

"It's definitely better than being stuck holding down the barracks in the home country. Our tanks can get a total overhaul, and we can be kids again racing around the fields and mountains."

"I see." Tanya gets it. She doesn't want to leave her troops behind if she doesn't have to, either.

It's not specifically to do with Ahrens. The bonds of all troops to their unit are tremendously strong—even more so when you're an armored unit commander in charge of tight-knit tank crews.

"Oh, there is one thing, though." Ahrens speaks up earnestly in an anxious tone. "This is all just until we get our tanks back after they get spruced up, right?"

"That's an extremely reasonable worry." I'm sure they would hate to have to trade their tanks for motorcycles. His thought makes a great deal of sense, so Tanya chimes in, "Colonel Uger, I hate to force this on a great logistics expert such as yourself, but… can we get that in writing?"

When she glances at him, he seems half-understanding, half-disappointed? You really have to keep your wits about you with this one.

If we hadn't said anything, who knows where he would have sent our equipment! Saying an elite in the General Staff has a nasty personality is a compliment, but surely there has to be some limit.

"I can't get anything past you—all right. I'll make it not just something from me but proper orders negotiated through the Service Corps."

"I appreciate it."

"Well, I get it. You were the guys who would have been losing gear."

For a moment, Tanya's about to rail back at him reproachfully, but she immediately closes her mouth.

She understands how he feels.

When they were short on supplies, she demanded one thing after another. Naturally, the receivers of the requests were the guys in the rear. Given that Uger bore the brunt of that, she probably needs to view his "tricks" with a little more tolerance.

Despising the thrifty one is the very incarnation of foolish sectionalism that disregards the organization as a whole.

Boasting that you can plan absolutely everything the way the Communists do is idiotic, but without a genie on your side, no one can avoid selection and concentration.

"It's an awful lot to juggle, huh?"

For the one making sure the limited resources get where they need to go? Of course it is.

"That's for sure. Well, I'd best be taking my leave."

As he stands with his cap under his arm, he smiles awkwardly. I should probably be grateful for the sort of friendship that gets someone to come out at this time when called.

We're both pros.

So let's do what we need to do.

"Well, I wish you luck."

"You can count on me."

-x-X-x-